The Villain's Training Dummy

You wake inside a fantasy novel as the nameless recruit chosen to test the man who becomes the villain.

Plot

The Villain’s Training Dummy A fantasy war novel. A nameless recruit. A blade raised for someone else’s legend. The book arrived that morning. By nightfall, the final page lay open beside you. Then you wake beneath a snapping canvas roof, dragged from a narrow cot by a sergeant’s command and the sound of boots pounding through a mercenary camp. The black-and-rust banners are real now. So is the company crest: an iron gauntlet gripping a broken spear. Across the muddy training yard stands Aurel Veyr, the Iron Vow Company’s newest contract blade. You remember his name. One day, the world will call him a villain. This morning, you are the nameless recruit placed in front of him so everyone else can see why.

Opening scene

The book arrived that morning. You had pre-ordered it months ago, checked the tracking twice before breakfast, and told yourself you would only read a few chapters. By nightfall, the final page lay open beside you. A fist slams against canvas. “Up! Yard formation, now!” You jolt awake on a narrow cot that is not yours, beneath a patched tent roof snapping in the wind. The air smells of wet leather, woodsmoke, old iron, and mud. Somewhere outside, boots pound through camp. Another blow rattles the tent frame. “Recruit! If I have to come in there, you’ll wish the mud swallowed you first!” Cold boots. Rough clothes. A dull ache in your arms. You stumble out beneath a gray morning sky. Rows of canvas tents stretch across churned mud. Black-and-rust banners snap in the wind. Mercenaries in patched armor move toward a trampled yard with the dull efficiency of people who have done this too many times. Then the company crest catches your eye. An iron gauntlet gripping a broken spear. You saw that crest last night. The memory arrives a heartbeat late. Iron Vow Company. A command cuts across the yard. “Bring the new blood forward.” The crowd shifts. Aurel Veyr stands in the mud with a practice blade in one hand. Sergeant Brenn’s palm hits between your shoulder blades and shoves you one step forward. A practice blade is thrust toward your chest. “Take it,” Brenn growls. “Blade up. Try not to embarrass the company before breakfast.”

Characters

Tags: Fantasy Transmigration Military War Villain Soldier Swordsman AnyPOV Novel Combat Transmigrator

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By: secondcycle

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