The Weight of Power, the Price of Mercy

The battlefield was still soaked in silence.

Not the peaceful kind—but the eerie, tense silence that only followed madness. The silence after explosions, the calm before screams. Blood soaked the soil. Coker's boots squished against the mud as he stepped forward, dragging his sword behind him. It wasn't broken, but it looked tired—like it had been forced to kill too many lives in too little time.

He didn't want to swing it again.

Not tonight.

Not after what he just saw.

Smoke spiraled up from the burned-out trees. Craters pockmarked the land like disease. Magic residue still crackled in the air like angry ghosts refusing to leave. But the worst part? The worst part wasn't the burnt limbs or the half-dead groans echoing behind him. It was the eyes.

The enemy general had begged. On his knees. Pleaded with Coker, saying he had kids. A wife. Said he was only following orders.

Coker had looked at him.

And walked away.

He spared him.

But behind him, one of the mage generals from the Alliance stepped forward and stabbed the man through the back.

The man hadn't even screamed.

He'd just stared at Coker as the light left his eyes.

Like asking—why?

Why show mercy if it meant nothing?

Coker fell to his knees and punched the earth. It didn't bleed. But he wished it did.

Back at camp, it was quiet again. This time, the awkward kind. Soldiers avoided eye contact. The few who could still walk pretended to be busy cleaning weapons or counting supplies. Coker sat by the fire, arms crossed, cape singed, his hair messy and wild like a thundercloud. The campfire danced in his eyes, and the flicker of pain made even the most confident warriors keep their distance.

"You good?" asked Brax, his burly friend with the booming laugh and a heart too big for his fists.

"Nope," Coker muttered.

"That's what I figured." Brax dropped beside him with a grunt and handed him a drink. "You saved three villages tonight. Doesn't feel like it, huh?"

Coker didn't answer. He just stared at the fire. Then muttered, "I spared him, Brax. I spared him. And still…"

"Yeah. Someone else didn't."

There was a pause. The kind where the only sound is your own thoughts screaming.

"Brax," Coker finally said, his voice low. "What if I'm too soft for this war?"

Brax chuckled bitterly. "You're not soft. You're human. That's what scares them."

Coker tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"They see how much you care," Brax said. "Even after everything. After being rankless. After they laughed at you, hunted you, used you. You still care. You've got power now, Coker—real, terrifying power. But you still hesitate to kill when it's not needed. That's strength most of us don't have."

Coker exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "But sometimes mercy feels like a joke."

"Only when people don't understand it."

Later that night, Coker walked alone.

He passed the healing tents, where people moaned in pain. Passed the corpses being lined up for burial. Passed the wreckage of war until he found himself on a hill that overlooked the entire field.

Moonlight poured over him.

He raised his hand and looked at it. It glowed faintly—the cursed magic still pulsing, whispering inside him. Power that could bring down nations… or protect the weak.

Behind him, a voice spoke.

"I thought I'd find you here."

He turned. Kaela. The second of his two companions. Smart, quiet, dangerous with her runic daggers and sharper tongue.

"I'm not in the mood," he said.

"Tough. You're going to want to hear this."

Coker raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

Kaela stepped closer, handing him a sealed letter. "Intel just came in. There's a new bounty posted."

Coker unfolded the parchment and read it.

His jaw clenched.

His fists curled.

A bounty on children. Mage children. Potential future threats.

By order of a rogue god-rank noble who believed in "preventive purification."

Coker's hand lit with magic—red and black, violent and beautiful. "Tell me this is fake."

"It's real."

He stood. "Then I'm done waiting. I'm done hesitating. If they want a monster, I'll show them one."

Kaela gave a small smile. "That's the Coker I know."

"No," he said. "That's the one I never wanted to become."

Two days later, a fortress stood in flames.

The rogue noble—a man called Vaelric the Divine—had laughed when he saw Coker approach alone.

"You? The rankless rat-turned-hero?"

Coker didn't speak. He didn't flinch.

"You think you can just waltz in here and stop me? You have no title. No status. You're filth that crawled too close to the sun."

Coker raised his hand. "You talk too much."

And then the world exploded.

The battle that followed was one that would be whispered about for decades.

Coker didn't just fight. He dismantled the entire fortress.

Walls collapsed. Magic barriers shattered. The sky itself seemed to rip as his cursed power surged. And still—still—he didn't kill Vaelric.

Instead, he brought the noble to his knees and forced him to watch as every child he tried to kill was saved.

"You live," Coker said, breathing hard, one eye bloodied, his voice like thunder and ash. "But you'll rot in your own guilt. In a cage. Forgotten. A god-ranked nothing."

And then he turned and walked away.

When he returned to the camp, the soldiers stared at him differently.

Not with fear. Not even awe.

But with something closer to… belief.

For the first time, many of them believed in him—not just as a weapon. But as a leader.

Still, Coker didn't celebrate. He sat back at the fire again, silent, thoughtful.

Kaela joined him this time. "You showed him mercy again."

"Yeah."

"Was it worth it?"

Coker didn't answer for a while.

Then, softly, "If I don't draw the line somewhere… who will?"

That night, he dreamed.

He saw himself—young, still powerless, being laughed at by guild members. Being pushed into mud, insulted, ignored. Then he saw now—him standing atop mountains of wreckage, holding the power of legends, yet still carrying the same pain.

At the end of the dream, a child approached him.

"Are you the Rankless Mage?" the child asked.

Coker knelt. "I was."

"What are you now?"

He looked up at the moon.

And said nothing.