THE FARMER WHO BECAME A WAR MAGE

THE MONSTER THAT KNEW HIS NAME

“Give me the girl, little farmer, and I might allow you to die quickly.”

The creature's voice rolled through the burning village like distant thunder.

Rowan Hale stood between it and Lily, his broken knife hanging uselessly in his hand. His shoulder throbbed, his legs trembled, and the strange energy that had allowed him to kill the first monster was already fading.

He had no idea how to summon it again.

But the creature approaching him seemed to know exactly what he had become.

“Who are you?” Rowan demanded.

The towering monster tilted its head.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

A low chuckle escaped beneath its iron helmet.

“Then remember this, farmer. I am General Varkesh, commander of the Ashfang Legion. And I have crossed three ruined kingdoms searching for the bloodline that should have died two hundred years ago.”

Rowan's stomach tightened.

“What bloodline?”

Varkesh pointed his enormous axe at him.

“Your bloodline.”

Behind the general, the smaller monsters began spreading across the road. Their glowing eyes moved between Rowan and Lily, searching for an opening.

Rowan counted four.

Then he noticed another shadow moving across the roof of a burning cottage.

Five.

He swallowed.

There was no way he could fight them all.

“Rowan,” Lily whispered, clutching his torn sleeve. “What does he mean?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you going to tell me the truth?”

He glanced at her.

“About what?”

“About whatever is happening to you!”

Her voice broke on the last word.

“You punched a monster so hard it flew across the road. You have blue light coming out of your hands. And now this thing says you're part of some ancient bloodline. You cannot keep telling me you don't know anything!”

For a moment, Rowan had no answer.

She was right.

He had spent his entire life protecting Lily by keeping his fears to himself. Their father had done the same thing, hiding his pain behind a tired smile until the day he died.

Rowan had promised himself he would never become that kind of man.

Yet here he was, doing exactly the same thing.

“I don't know what is happening,” he admitted quietly. “But I promise you, I will find out.”

Varkesh sighed impatiently.

“How touching.”

He lifted one hand.

The nearest monster lunged.

Rowan shoved Lily behind him and raised his broken knife, but the creature did not attack him.

It went straight for Lily.

“No!”

Rowan moved.

The world seemed to slow around him. He saw the creature's claws reaching for his sister, the terror in her eyes, and the faint blue light gathering around his own fingers.

He reached for that light.

Nothing happened.

The monster's claws were inches from Lily's face when Rowan threw himself between them.

Pain tore through his side.

He hit the ground with a strangled cry as the creature's claws ripped through his shirt and opened three deep wounds across his ribs.

“ROWAN!”

Lily grabbed a stone and struck the monster's head.

It barely noticed.

The creature turned toward her.

Rowan's heart stopped.

He could not let this happen.

Not to Lily.

Not after everything they had already lost.

He pressed his palm against the ground.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Whatever you are, come on!”

For a moment, nothing answered.

Then he remembered the first monster's death.

The blue mist.

The strange sensation of energy entering his body.

He looked toward the corpse lying beside the ruined cart.

A thin thread of light still lingered above it.

Rowan reached for the thread.

It snapped toward him.

Mana flooded his body.

The wounds across his side did not heal, but the pain receded. His fingers tightened around the broken knife, and the ground beneath his palm cracked.

The monster swung at him.

Rowan ducked.

He drove his shoulder into its chest, forcing it backward, then slashed at the exposed joint beneath its front leg.

The broken blade penetrated the creature's hide.

It screamed and stumbled.

Rowan attacked again, striking the same spot until the monster collapsed.

He barely had time to breathe before a second creature leaped from the roof.

This time, Rowan saw it coming.

He twisted aside and caught its foreleg with both hands.

The impact drove him to one knee.

The creature was heavier than a bull, yet Rowan managed to hold it back for a single, impossible second.

That was enough.

He pulled.

The monster lost its balance and crashed into the ground. Rowan seized a fallen wooden stake and drove it through the soft flesh beneath its jaw.

The creature went still.

Blue mist rose from its body.

Rowan felt the mana rush into him.

His breathing steadied.

His muscles tightened.

And somewhere deep inside his chest, something clicked into place.

Mana Assimilation: active.

Physical reinforcement: stabilized.

New combat trait detected.

Rowan blinked.

“What does that mean?”

No answer came.

The third monster attacked.

Rowan met it head-on.

He moved faster now, slipping beneath its claws and striking the weak points in its armor. Every movement felt unfamiliar, yet his body seemed to understand what his mind could not.

He was not simply becoming stronger.

He was learning.

Each time a monster moved, he recognized a pattern. Each time he absorbed mana, his reactions sharpened.

Within seconds, the third creature lay dead beside the others.

Rowan staggered backward.

His hands shook.

He had killed three monsters in less than a minute.

A few hours earlier, he had been a farmer who could barely lift a sack of grain without straining his back.

Now, the air around his fingers shimmered with blue light.

Lily stared at him as if she no longer recognized her own brother.

“Rowan…”

He looked at her.

“Stay behind me.”

She nodded, but her expression had changed.

She was still afraid.

Only now, she was afraid for him as much as she was afraid of the monsters.

Across the road, General Varkesh had not moved.

The general examined the three corpses, then slowly turned his attention back to Rowan.

“Fascinating.”

Rowan raised his broken knife.

“Come and find out.”

Varkesh laughed.

“You believe those creatures were a challenge?”

He planted the end of his axe against the ground.

The impact sent a tremor through the road.

“They were scouts. Their purpose was to locate the surviving bloodline, not to kill it.”

Rowan's confidence faltered.

“Surviving?”

“Your ancestors were among the most feared battle mages in the old world. They commanded armies without banners, destroyed fortresses without siege weapons, and turned the mana of fallen enemies into weapons of their own.”

Varkesh leaned forward.

“Then, two hundred years ago, their greatest war mage disappeared. His armies collapsed. His enemies burned his strongholds, erased his name from royal records, and hunted every descendant they could find.”

Rowan's thoughts raced.

His father had never spoken of any ancient bloodline.

Their family had lived in the same village for generations. Their home was small, their land was poor, and their neighbors had always regarded them as ordinary people.

“You have the wrong person,” Rowan said.

“Perhaps.”

Varkesh's gaze moved to the blue light around Rowan's hand.

“But the power in your body disagrees.”

The general raised his axe.

“Come quietly, boy. My master wishes to see you alive.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take what remains of you back to him.”

Varkesh swung.

Rowan barely had time to react.

The axe struck the ground where he had been standing, splitting the road and sending stones flying through the air. Rowan rolled aside, pulling Lily with him.

The shock wave knocked them against the wall of a cottage.

Rowan's ears rang.

His vision blurred.

He had absorbed mana from three creatures, but the general's attack had nearly broken his bones.

Varkesh drew his axe from the earth.

“Your power is incomplete,” he said. “You have the instincts of a warrior, but none of the discipline. You are like a sword that has just been pulled from a furnace—hot, dangerous, and far from ready.”

Rowan forced himself to stand.

“Then perhaps you should have killed me before I learned how to use it.”

Varkesh's smile vanished.

For the first time, the general looked genuinely angry.

He charged.

Rowan raised both arms.

The axe struck his defense.

The force hurled him backward through the cottage wall.

Wood shattered around him.

He landed among broken furniture, coughing blood. His vision darkened at the edges, and the blue light around his hands flickered.

Outside, Lily screamed.

Rowan tried to move.

His body would not respond.

Through the broken wall, he saw Varkesh walking toward his sister.

“No,” Rowan whispered.

The general stopped in front of Lily.

She held a small kitchen knife in both hands. It was the only weapon she had found, and she pointed it at the monster with tears running down her face.

“Don't touch him!”

Varkesh looked almost amused.

“You have courage, little girl. That is unfortunate.”

He reached for her.

Something inside Rowan broke.

Not a bone.

Not a muscle.

Something deeper.

A memory surfaced, though he could not tell whether it belonged to him or someone who had lived centuries before.

He saw a battlefield beneath a blood-red sky.

Thousands of bodies lay scattered across blackened earth. Above them stood a man wearing dark armor, his face hidden behind a cracked silver mask.

Blue and crimson mana swirled around the man's arms.

An army of monsters approached him.

The masked man raised one hand.

Every fallen creature on the battlefield dissolved into light.

The light entered his body.

And when he spoke, the entire battlefield shook.

The dead do not surrender their strength to the living.

The living must have the strength to claim it.

The memory vanished.

Rowan gasped.

The voice inside his mind returned, louder than ever.

Emergency condition detected.

Hostile entity threatening protected individual.

Mana Assimilation entering unstable state.

Rowan's fingers curled into fists.

“Get away from her.”

Varkesh turned.

Rowan rose from the wreckage.

Blue light spread across his arms, but this time it was different. The glow was brighter, threaded with thin streaks of crimson.

The general's expression changed.

“No…”

Rowan took one step forward.

The ground cracked beneath his foot.

Varkesh tightened his grip on the axe.

“That is impossible.”

Rowan could barely hear him.

All he could see was Lily standing behind the monster.

All he could think about was the promise he had made to their father.

Whatever happens, take care of your sister.

The mana inside Rowan surged.

He did not try to control it.

He let it come.

The energy rushed through his body, gathering around his right fist. His injured muscles screamed, but he continued forward.

Varkesh swung his axe.

Rowan punched it.

The collision produced a deafening explosion.

The axe flew from the general's hands and embedded itself in a nearby building.

For one stunned second, the entire street fell silent.

Rowan stared at his fist.

Crimson light crawled across his knuckles.

He had just knocked a weapon from the hands of a monster that had nearly killed him with a single blow.

But the victory lasted only a moment.

A burning sensation tore through his chest.

Rowan dropped to one knee.

The crimson light flickered violently, and his vision filled with black spots.

Warning.

Mana overload approaching.

His strength was disappearing faster than it had come.

Varkesh recovered quickly.

The general looked at Rowan's trembling body, then at the crimson marks fading from his skin.

A terrible smile returned to his face.

“So the rumors were true.”

He stepped toward Rowan.

“The bloodline has awakened.”

Rowan tried to stand.

He could not.

Varkesh crouched before him and spoke in a voice low enough that Lily could barely hear.

“You have no idea what you are, do you?”

Rowan glared at him.

“Tell me.”

The general's smile widened.

“Your father knew.”

Rowan went completely still.

“What did you say?”

“Your father knew exactly what you were. He spent years hiding you from my master's servants. He changed your family name, buried your birth records, and pretended you were an ordinary farmer's son.”

Rowan's heart pounded.

His father had been a farmer.

A quiet man who had spent his days repairing fences, tending crops, and teaching Rowan how to hold a plow.

He had never mentioned servants, hidden records, or ancient war mages.

“You're lying.”

“Am I?”

Varkesh reached into the torn remains of his armor and produced a small metal object.

A silver pendant.

Rowan recognized it immediately.

It was the pendant his father had worn every day until the night he died.

After the burial, Rowan had searched for it but never found it.

Now it hung between Varkesh's clawed fingers.

The pendant bore a symbol Rowan had never seen before: a black stalk of wheat surrounded by seven crimson stars.

The same symbol had appeared in his vision of the ancient battlefield.

Rowan's breath caught.

“Where did you get that?”

Varkesh closed his fist around the pendant.

“From the man who gave it to me.”

The words struck Rowan harder than the axe had.

His father was dead.

He had buried him himself.

He remembered the grave, the rain, and the rough wooden marker he had carved with his own hands.

“You expect me to believe my father gave you that?”

“No,” Varkesh replied. “I expect you to ask yourself why a supposedly ordinary farmer possessed the seal of the last War Mage.”

Rowan stared at him.

For the first time that night, the monsters were no longer the most frightening thing in the village.

His entire life had become a lie.

And before he could demand another answer, a bell rang from the northern road.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Varkesh's smile disappeared.

He turned toward the sound.

“No,” he muttered. “Not yet.”

A fourth bell rang.

The general stepped away from Rowan, suddenly alert.

From somewhere beyond the burning village came the sound of approaching horses.

A woman's voice cut through the smoke.

“By order of the Royal Military Command, all hostile forces will lay down their weapons!”

Varkesh looked toward the northern road with undisguised hatred.

“So the kingdom finally sends its dogs.”

Rowan struggled to lift his head.

Through the smoke, he saw riders wearing dark blue armor. Silver insignias gleamed on their chests, and magical flames burned along the edges of their swords.

At their head rode a woman with short black hair and a long scar across her cheek.

She dismounted before the others had even stopped.

Her gaze swept over the dead monsters, the shattered cottages, and the injured villagers.

Then she saw Rowan.

She froze.

For several seconds, she simply stared at him.

Then her eyes moved to the silver pendant in Varkesh's hand.

The woman's face drained of color.

“Impossible,” she whispered.

Varkesh took a step backward.

The woman drew her sword.

“General Varkesh, you are under arrest for the slaughter of Eldoria's citizens.”

He laughed bitterly.

“You have arrived too late, Captain.”

She ignored him and walked toward Rowan.

He tried to raise his broken knife, but his fingers barely moved.

“Stay away from my sister,” he rasped.

The woman's expression softened.

“I'm not here to hurt either of you.”

“Then who are you?”

She hesitated.

“My name is Captain Seraphina Vale. I serve the Royal Military Command.”

Her eyes returned to his face.

“And I believe I've finally found the boy we were ordered to protect.”

Rowan's blood ran cold.

“Protect me from whom?”

Before she could answer, Varkesh gave a sharp whistle.

The remaining monsters sprang toward the riders.

The street erupted into battle.

Seraphina turned, shouting orders as her soldiers engaged the creatures. Magical fire illuminated the smoke, and steel clashed against black armor.

Rowan barely registered the fighting.

He was staring at the captain.

“What did you mean?” he demanded. “Who ordered you to protect me?”

Seraphina looked back at him.

For a moment, he thought she would tell him the truth.

Instead, she glanced at Lily, then at the pendant in Varkesh's hand.

“Your father,” she said quietly.

Rowan's breath stopped.

Seraphina leaned closer.

“Your father did not die of a fever, Rowan Hale.”

The battlefield seemed to fall silent around him.

“What?”

“He was murdered.”

Rowan tried to stand, but his legs gave way.

Seraphina caught him before he struck the ground.

“And the people responsible,” she whispered, “are the same people who will come for you now that your power has awakened.”

Behind her, General Varkesh disappeared into the smoke.

His laughter drifted back through the burning streets.

“Run while you can, little War Mage!”

Then the sound of his voice faded.

Rowan looked at the captain, his mind struggling to accept what she had said.

His father had been murdered.

His family carried the bloodline of an ancient War Mage.

And someone had spent years hiding him from the very people who had now found him.

Lily knelt beside him and took his hand.

“Rowan,” she whispered, “what happens now?”

He looked toward the northern road, where the monsters had vanished into the darkness.

He had spent nineteen years believing his greatest weakness was his inability to use magic.

Now he understood that his weakness had never been the real danger.

The real danger was that someone had known what he could become long before he did.

And they had just discovered that he was alive.

End of Chapter Two.