The Sovereign System.

"Mr. Drakon against Zack."

The moment Luke heard his name, he let out a sigh of relief.

After waiting nervously for what felt like an eternity, finally being called brought a strange sense of release. His opponent, Zack, was someone he had clashed with on more than one occasion. Whether it was intentional or not, Luke couldn't say.

He shifted his gaze to Zack, the once cocky student now radiating fierce determination. Their eyes met briefly before Zack turned and followed the soldier into the forest.

Luke knew Zack's goal without needing to read his mind. The guy had suffered several defeats at his hands, both in Master Boyd's and Master Gale's classes. This mock battle was clearly Zack's chance for revenge.

Luke's eyes lingered on Zack's retreating figure before turning to his own guide—only to realize the man was already over fifty paces ahead.

Luke nearly jumped in surprise before jogging to catch up. 'This bastard is already showing his true colors,' he thought, irritation bubbling up.

The two walked through the forest in silence. Luke's mind raced as he considered the challenge ahead. The first step would be getting his troops under control. If he failed at that, winning the battle would be impossible.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the red team's starting point.

Luke glanced around the small clearing, taking in the layout. His eyes landed on his "army," a group of City Lord's men lounging about without a care in the world. They chatted amongst themselves, blatantly ignoring his presence.

A surge of irritation welled up in him, but he quickly reined it in. He had anticipated this kind of treatment.

"Troops, get into formation," Luke commanded, his voice firm and carrying a surprising weight for someone of his small stature.

Out of the forty soldiers, only one glanced his way, and even that was brief. The soldier scoffed before resuming his idle conversation.

The disrespect and humiliation might have been enough to make an ordinary student crumble, but Luke wasn't ordinary. For him, this mock battle was essentially a fight for survival. Failure was not an option.

His eyes scanned the soldiers, landing on the largest man in the group. Without hesitation, he walked toward the hulking figure and tapped lightly on his armor.

The man turned, his face twisted in annoyance. "What the fuck do you want, runt?"

Luke smiled sweetly, but the expression quickly disappeared as his demeanor shifted.

With a sudden burst of speed, he grabbed the man's arm, slung it over his shoulder, and hurled the 300-pound mass of flesh and iron into the air. The soldier let out a startled wail before crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

Before anyone could react, Luke hooked his leg around the man's massive arm, holding it securely with both hands. Planting his foot firmly on the soldier's face, he held his position, his eyes cold and unyielding.

[Activating Domineering Air]

"I said, get into formation."

This time, Luke's voice carried a haunting edge, a deep timbre laced with an undertone of violence. The words whispered through the ranks like an eerie specter, freezing the soldiers in place. He could see their hesitation, a brief falter as they debated whether to obey.

"Y-You bastard! Let him go!"

Several soldiers snapped out of their shock, their earlier confusion replaced by anger. They raised their weapons, pointing them at Luke with fierce determination.

Luke's lips curled into a frosty smile. Without a word, he twisted the arm in his grasp, a sickening crack echoing through the clearing.

"A-ARGH!"

The scream that followed was shockingly high-pitched, utterly out of place coming from the hulking man. The sight and sound drained the color from the soldiers' faces, though a flicker of defiance still lingered in their eyes.

"It seems you won't learn easily," Luke remarked, his tone casual yet cold.

Releasing the man's arm, Luke shifted his grip to the soldier's neck, his thumb and forefinger pressing against the windpipe with unsettling precision. He looked back at the rest of the soldiers, his frosty smile returning.

"Will you listen to my orders, or will this soldier suffer the unfortunate fate of having his windpipe ripped out?"

The words were delivered as if they were part of an ordinary conversation, but the soldiers' reactions made it clear the threat had hit home. The bravado and defiance in their eyes crumbled under the weight of his ultimatum.

One by one, they scrambled into formation, moving with urgency as they assumed their designated positions. Luke only released the man's neck once every soldier had fallen in line.

"Great choice," Luke said, his voice sharp with satisfaction. He turned to survey his army.

Each unit was marked by two red flags, signifying their roles. Ten soldiers stood in each group, apart from the spearmen, whose ranks were now one short.

"I suggest you think twice before striking again," Luke said, his tone ice-cold.

The big soldier's breath was sharp, his face twisted in anger. Gripping his spear tightly, he hesitated for a moment, the weapon's tip hovering mere inches from the back of Luke's neck.

Even though the spear was wrapped for the mock battle, Luke knew it could still snap his neck with enough force.

"While I have spared you," Luke began calmly, "your lord may not be so forgiving when he has to explain to the King why the Academy's most promising first-year student was murdered under his command."

The words settled over the group like a heavy fog. The soldier hesitated, his grip tightening on the spear.

Then, with a growl of frustration, he withdrew his weapon and trudged back to his unit.

'Fuck me, that was close!'

Luke's outward composure didn't waver, but beneath his robe, sweat drenched his back. His heart pounded in his chest as he replayed the moment. The force of the wind created by the thrust had been terrifying, a clear indicator of the soldier's raw strength.

Had the soldier completed his thrust, Luke's life would have been over. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. Even so, the near-death experience left a lingering fear he couldn't quite shake.

With the first test behind him, Luke now faced the greater challenge: the mock battle. He had only 20 minutes to locate and capture the enemy General—Zack in this case—before the exercise concluded.

Before he could address his troops, a horn blared, its echo bouncing through the dense forest.

[Steady Heart Activated.]

'Just in time,' Luke thought, feeling his heart steady and his mind sharpen. His breathing slowed, and his entire demeanor shifted, exuding calm confidence. A few soldiers exchanged startled glances at the sudden change, but Luke ignored them.

Surveying his troops, Luke took a moment to consider his options. The soldiers fidgeted slightly, their restlessness betraying their impatience, but they remained silent, awaiting orders.

"You will split into three groups," Luke began, his voice steady. "Group A: ten infantry and five spearmen. Group B: five cavalry, five archers, and five spearmen. The remaining units will follow me."

The soldiers hesitated, their uncertainty evident in their expressions. Luke's brow furrowed.

"Quickly!" he barked, his commanding tone snapping them into action.

The troops scrambled to form the groups as instructed. Luke observed them closely, his earlier irritation giving way to curiosity.

'Perhaps they've never been ordered to split up before?' he mused. It made sense; with only ten soldiers per unit, dividing their numbers would feel counterintuitive.

Pushing the thought aside, Luke began issuing orders with clarity and precision, his voice carrying an authority that left no room for confusion. Despite this being his first time commanding an army, he delivered his instructions with surprising confidence.

Once the groups were in position, Luke directed Group A to march along the main path toward the enemy force.

Closing his eyes briefly, Luke summoned a mental image of the map he'd memorized earlier—a perk of his Scholarly Pursuit. Not only did it grant him a photographic memory, but it also allowed him to access and analyze information at will.

As Group A advanced, the rest of the army followed at a measured pace. The mock battle area was neither too large nor too restrictive. A winding main path separated the two Generals, with several offshoots ideal for scouting or ambushes. Luke intended to exploit the terrain to its fullest.

After a few minutes, they reached a chokepoint where the path narrowed. Luke signaled for Group B to split into two. Without hesitation, the soldiers disappeared into the forest on either side, lying in wait for the enemy.

Luke led the remaining troops further down the path before veering westward into the woods. His group, now reduced to five cavalry and five archers, would serve as a stealth unit tasked with capturing Zack.

However, there was one glaring problem.

The cumbersome red flag Luke was forced to carry, with the word "General" emblazoned in bold letters, stood out like a beacon. It snagged on branches and underbrush as he moved, announcing his position with every step.

'This is the farthest thing from stealthy,' Luke thought, gritting his teeth as he untangled the flag from a low-hanging branch.

However, it would also be unexpected to have the General embedded within the strike party—a risky gambit Luke hoped to exploit.

Crouched in the trees some distance from the main path, Luke and his group remained concealed. While his plan was in motion, he knew flexibility was key. If Zack committed a large enough force to pursue Luke's main squad, adjustments would be necessary.

It wasn't long before Luke heard the commotion. His main force came into view, retreating in apparent disarray, their voices carrying through the forest.

"That damn bastard doesn't know what he's doing!" one soldier yelled, frustration lacing his tone.

"Argh, I just want to go home," another grumbled, kicking up dirt as he ran.

The group hurried past Luke's position, followed closely by 20 enemy troops—10 spearmen and 10 infantry. Their pursuers laughed and jeered, clearly overconfident.

"Hahaha! Don't run! I promise I won't hurt you too much this time!" one enemy soldier taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

Luke grinned as he watched the scene unfold. As expected, Zack had sent his melee units to harass and cut off any advances. The cavalry and archers were likely held in reserve, positioned for a decisive engagement if the situation escalated.

Even though the cavalry were unmounted in this exercise, they were to be treated as if they were. The archers, meanwhile, carried practice arrows—blunt-tipped but capable of "killing" any unit they struck in this exercise.

A clash echoed in the distance, signaling that Luke's ambush had sprung into action. His 30 troops had descended upon the 20 pursuing spearmen and infantry, their coordinated attack exploiting the element of surprise.

As Luke anticipated, the skirmish was over within minutes. Soon, his remaining troops emerged onto the main path, regrouping after their victory.

Luke scanned the survivors, quickly counting 25 of the original 30 soldiers. A loss of only five troops was better than he had expected, and it confirmed the success of his ambush.

With his forces nearly double the size of Zack's, Luke could simply wait out the timer and claim victory. Yet, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him.

'Would this count as an overwhelming victory?'

He shook his head. In a real battlefield, this would barely qualify as a skirmish. Only when the enemy General's banner was seized—or their head taken—could a commander claim a decisive victory.

With a wry smile, Luke stepped out from the forest to join his troops.

He offered no words of praise for their earlier performance. There was no time for it.

"Execute the next part of the plan," he ordered, his voice calm but commanding.