As all the warriors stood tense, shoulders stiff and brows furrowed, I looked across their expressions—some anxious, some determined, others calculating.
I stepped forward and spoke clearly,
"To find out who will become your Vice Leader, I want you to decide among yourselves who you can trust your life with."
"If I appoint someone based on my own judgment, then there's a possibility someone may be disappointed. They already accepted a random leader—at the very least, they should choose a vice leader they trust."
They exchanged looks, whispers passing silently between ranks.
Suddenly, one male warrior and one female warrior stepped forward.
Their footsteps echoed with conviction. I raised a brow.
"Your names?"
The male warrior spoke with a steady voice,
"I am Cortes."
The female added,
"I am Amelia."
I nodded.
"Cortes and Amelia, huh. You know only one person can get the vice leader position, yet here you both stand."
Amelia stepped forward confidently.
"Chief, women warriors learned a different fighting style than the men. So, I suggest—since we are female—we should have two vice leaders."
I turned to her, eyes narrowing with firm disapproval.
"Amelia... becoming a leader doesn't depend on what fighting style you use.
It's about judgment, and whether your fellow warriors can put their lives in your hands.
I could have taught male warriors the Viking fighting style too... but I've seen orcs.
They surpass us in raw strength—and if they have real combat experience, then they surpass us in that too.
That's why I taught the men Spartan-style combat—it's the best counter to brute strength.
As for the women, I taught the Viking style because your build could become a weakness in a Spartan phalanx formation.
Don't think I made this decision based on gender.
I made it because I want every one of you to survive... and win the upcoming battle."
Amelia bowed her head slightly, expression softening.
"...Sorry, Chief. I misinterpreted your actions."
I nodded.
"Well, I can see the female warriors trust your judgment, and the men trust Cortes. So at the very least, I can say... you both are qualified."
Their eyes widened slightly.
"So let's do this," I continued.
"You'll both fight.
Whoever wins becomes the Vice Leader. That way, you'll prove your strength as well."
They both stepped into the circle.
As they took their stances, something happened that stunned everyone.
Both began to radiate aura.
Cortes's golden aura surged through his spear and shield like divine fire.
Amelia's sword, on the other hand, shimmered with a sharp blue aura, flickering like an icy flame.
I stood back, watching with interest.
"Let's see what you've got."
Amelia launched forward first—her movements fast and fluid. She twirled her sword, slicing through the air in wide arcs, her aura leaving streaks of blue like ghostly afterimages.
Cortes, calm and composed, raised his shield to block her opening slash—CLANG! Sparks danced off the edge as blue met gold.
He spun low and jabbed with his spear, but Amelia leapt to the side like a shadow, twisting midair and aiming a reverse cut at his ribs.
He parried just in time, stepping back with precise Spartan footwork.
His golden aura flared brighter, his shield now glowing like a wall of sun-forged iron.
Amelia shifted her weight, ducked low, and aimed a thrust toward his legs.
But Cortes saw through the move.
He stomped hard, cracking the earth, and used the momentum to bash forward with his shield, slamming her back several feet.
Amelia landed, panting, and wiped blood from her lip. Her eyes narrowed.
She raised her sword above her head and whispered something.
Her aura flared sharper, swirling around the blade.
She charged again—this time unleashing a flurry of three strikes in rapid succession.
Cortes's eyes narrowed. He lowered into a tight stance, spear parallel with his arm and shield locked to his side.
CLANG—CLASH—SWIPE—BOOM!
Their weapons collided, creating shockwaves in the air. The final strike from Amelia came from above—but Cortes didn't block.
He stepped inside the strike, rotating his shield to disarm her, then drove his spear toward her shoulder.
Thud!
The blow landed.
She fell back, weapon flying from her hand as she dropped to one knee, chest heaving.
The crowd stood in silence, stunned.
Cortes lowered his weapon and turned to me, a few battle wounds bleeding down his arm.
I nodded with pride.
"Cortes is your Vice Leader.
He can command in my place when I am not around."
He bowed solemnly and rejoined the ranks.
"Cortes. Amelia. Join the formation."
They stood side by side as I stepped forward again.
"Show me the formation."
The warriors moved as one—shields locked, spears angled forward in clean, practiced lines. The female warriors flanked the sides with raised swords and unshakable expressions.
I nodded slowly.
"From now on, you'll train only in formation.
You've proven yourselves as individual warriors. Now, I want to see if you can fight as a unit.
Because in battle, formation is not about individual strength.
If even one person fails, the whole unit crumbles—and that will lead to our defeat."
My eyes scanned each face.
"Do you understand what I just said?"
"HUA!!" they shouted in unison.
I smiled.
"Good. You may now take a break from training."
Cheers erupted, the warriors laughing and wiping sweat from their faces.
As they left, something hit me—a realization about aura.
Every aura I've seen... is different.
It's almost like it depends on the type of training... or maybe even the weapon.
I stood alone in the training ground, staring at my fists.
"If I practice boxing... what will happen?"
I took a stance and began shadow boxing, throwing punches into the air.
Jab. Cross. Hook.
After a few minutes, I began to see it—golden light coiling around my fists, forming a dense aura layer like armor around my hands.
I turned to the side, locked onto a nearby tree, and punched.
BOOM!
My fist pierced the trunk clean through.
Splinters flew like feathers in the wind.
I stepped back and stared at my hand.
"So it's true... With different martial or fighting techniques, aura manifests differently."
I trained late into the night—experimenting with different strikes, movement patterns, even pressure techniques—until my arms ached.
The next morning, I woke up groaning.
My head spun like a wheel, my whole body throbbed in pain.
"Ugh... maybe using too much aura puts a heavy strain on the body," I muttered, massaging my shoulders.
"If I overuse it, it could even cause permanent damage."
I staggered up, washed my face with cold water, and stepped outside the hut.
Waiting for me were the four scouts, their faces serious and posture rigid.
"Chief," metis said, "we've completed your mission."
I blinked.
"That's... very quick. I'm impressed."
I crossed my arms.
"So, tell me. What do you have to report?"
Their faces darkened.
The scout at the front took a breath and said solemnly—
"The orcs are coming."