Jakes had always dreamed of becoming a general.
Not because of the title. Not even because of the authority.
Because generals mattered.
When battles were won, their names were remembered. When kingdoms survived, songs were written about them. They stood at the center of history while ordinary soldiers faded into numbers in reports.
So he trained.
Every morning before sunrise.
Every evening after drills ended.
Sword work. Footwork. Endurance.
He was not talented enough to rely on talent, so he relied on effort instead.
And it had worked.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But it had worked.
His officers had begun to notice him. Promotions came. Responsibilities increased. A recommendation for advanced training had even been mentioned.
For the first time in his life, the dream had stopped feeling impossible.
Then, three days ago, everything changed.
He had been among the crowd gathered around the makeshift arena.
Their general had taken the field.
The man was everything he wanted to become one day.
Strong.
Confident.
Respected.
Every step seemed deliberate. Every movement efficient. Watching him fight was like watching a master craftsman work.
The way he shifted his footing.
The way he guarded openings.
The way he created opportunities and forced mistakes.
The young soldier had watched with widening eyes.
There was so much he didn't know. So much left to learn. The realization had been humbling.
Then the Aldorian Sword Saint moved.
Lightning.
That was the only word for it.
One moment she stood still.
The next, the duel was over.
He never saw the strike.
Never saw the sword.
Never even saw her cross the distance.
The general simply lost.
The world he thought he understood suddenly became much larger.
For a while that had bothered him.
If the gap between him and the general was vast...
Then what was the gap between him and the Sword Saint?
A mountain? An ocean?
The thought had kept him awake that night.
Then came the dragon.
And suddenly the Sword Saint no longer seemed like the peak.
He had seen it.
Everyone had.
A creature so large it dwarfed the gate itself.
A monster that looked capable of swallowing castles whole.
When panic erupted, people ran.
He should have run too.
Instead, fear rooted him in place.
He watched.
The Sword Saint moved toward the gate.
And beside her walked the High Archmage.
No guards. No army. No hesitation. Just the two of them.
Tiny figures walking toward a living mountain.
The soldier remembered thinking they looked absurdly small.
Then the dragon stopped.
The creature that could have erased armies.
It stopped.
The High Archmage raised his hand.
And the dragon withdrew.
Just like that. No battle. No spell. No explosion.
Only obedience.
The memory still didn't feel real.
When he closed his eyes, he could see it.
The impossible scale.
The impossible confidence.
The impossible result.
He had spent years dreaming about becoming a general.
Now he wasn't sure that was enough.
Generals commanded soldiers.
The High Archmage commanded dragons.
The thought should have discouraged him.
Instead, it filled him with a strange excitement.
The world was bigger than he had imagined.
Far bigger.
His dream suddenly felt small compared to it.
He looked toward the distant command tents where legends walked and kings sought counsel.
One day, perhaps years from now, perhaps decades...
He wanted to stand closer to that world. Not as a hero. Not as a legend. Not even as a general.
Just close enough to witness what happened next.
Because if the stories were true...
The High Archmage was only getting started.