*PLEASE NOTE THAT I'VE ONLY WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS SO FAR; I WONT UPDATE IN A WHILE. JUST POSTING THESE CHAPTERS TO FIGURE OUT HOW THIS APP WORKS IN A WRITING SENSE. THINK OF IT AS A TEST RUN FOR NOW. THANK YOU FOR UPSTANDING! <3*
Baret stood before the statue, silent and kneeling, his calloused hands resting on his thighs. He was the only one left in the temple now. The villagers had dispersed to spread the word: The god had awoken.
But Baret remained. He didn't bow out of fear or hope.
He bowed out of instinct.
A warm, ambient glow lingered in the chamber—residual divinity. The air shimmered faintly around the statue's base, where Nyxveil, the obsidian blade, was still embedded in the stone dais, pointing downward. It radiated a quiet authority.
Then—
"Baret Orlan."
The voice entered his mind again—not a whisper, not a command. It was presence, heavy as mountain stone.
He looked up.
"I am with you," the god continued, his tone both distant and intimate. "And I require your strength."
Baret bowed his head lower. "You have it. Without question."
There was a pause. Then the voice returned, softer this time:
"Leave Nyxveil."
Baret looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. "The sword you gave me?"
"It is not yours," said Eydros. "It is mine—an extension of my will. It will vanish from this statue and appear in my hand when I enter battle."
As he said this, Nyxveil pulsed once with light—and then slowly disappeared, fading like smoke in moonlight.
Baret's hand twitched. The sword had felt right in his hands.
But he nodded. "Understood."
"In return," Eydros continued, "I offer something more fitting. A piece of my history."
A new pulse of energy flowed from the statue. A thin seam of golden light split the stone in front of it, and from it emerged a weapon—nothing divine, nothing glowing with impossible power—but real, solid, and familiar.
It was a longsword, dull in color but pristine in form. The grip was worn but strong, wrapped in cracked black leather. The blade itself bore scratches and nicks, but had been lovingly maintained. The crossguard was simple steel, slightly bent from years of use.
Baret reached for it with reverence, and as his fingers curled around the hilt—
—Flash.
A memory not his own surged into him.
Flashback – Earth, Nine Years Ago
Rain poured across a narrow alley lit only by neon signs and the distant thud of bass from an underground club.
Michael Eydo, seventeen, crouched low, breathing hard. His hoodie was soaked through. Across from him, a man twice his size held a pipe and grinned with cracked teeth.
"You're dead, kid."
Michael didn't answer.
He adjusted his stance, bare feet slick on the concrete. In his hands was a sword he had bought from a pawnshop for sixty dollars. Final Warden—he had named it that himself after surviving his first real duel.
He moved like lightning. One swing. Disarmed. Second movement. Disable the leg.
The man fell screaming.
Michael didn't gloat. He simply wiped the blade clean, stared at the alley wall for a moment, then turned and walked into the rain.
That night, he felt something strange.
Like he'd crossed a line and didn't regret it.
Back in the present—Kireya Temple
Baret stumbled back slightly, gasping. The sword pulsed in his hand.
"What… was that?" he asked, stunned.
"My first blade," Eydros replied. "The one I wielded when I had nothing but grit and instinct. I call it Final Warden. It represents survival… and the beginning of purpose."
Baret gripped the blade tighter.
"It's not divine," Eydros said, "not yet. But it will grow with you. Your path will temper it—as mine once did."
Baret knelt again, this time with Final Warden in both hands. "I accept."
A new screen unfolded before Michael's consciousness.
[SAINT CREATED]
Name: Baret Orlan
Realm: Mortal Realm — Kireya Village
Title: Saint of Steel
Assigned Relic: Final Warden (Growth-bound Artifact)
Divine Link Established: Yes
Abilities Unlocked:
→ Divine Presence (Passive): Emits faint divine pressure that inspires nearby believers and terrifies lower beings.
→ Godspark (Active): Unleash a burst of divine energy through your weapon, scaling with Faith. 1 use/day.
→ Summon to Divine Kingdom: Available
A new presence settled over the village—subtle but real. The statue's glow dimmed, and yet, Michael felt stronger. Connected.
"You are mine now," Eydros said, "not as a tool—but as a beginning."
Baret sheathed Final Warden across his back and stood up. For the first time in years, his body felt… aligned. Like his purpose had finally found its weight.
"I'll train them," Baret said aloud. "The villagers. I'll make soldiers out of them, priests if I must."
"That's what Saints do," said Eydros. "You walk ahead of the faithful, not above them."
Baret turned toward the temple entrance.
As he opened the doors, he found villagers already outside—waiting, watching.
Some held tools. Others held baskets of food. One child carried a chicken awkwardly in both arms.
"It glowed again," said one man. "What happened?"
Baret stepped forward and raised Final Warden high.
"Our god has named me Saint," he said. "He lives—and he is watching."
A murmur spread, turning to cheers, gasps, tears.
Michael, from within the statue, watched the FP ticker slowly crawl upward.
Faith Points gained: +132Total: 216 FP
The daily yield was rising too.
Michael pulled back inward, into his divine interface.
There, for the first time, the [DIVINE KINGDOM] module flickered to life.
He opened it.
[DIVINE KINGDOM MODULE UNLOCKED]
You may now shape your personal realm using Authority-aligned attributes.→ Current Size: Seed Realm→ Status: Unformed→ Theme: Undefined→ Access: You, and any summoned Saints→ Materials: None→ Population: 0
Reminder: While your statue anchors you to the Mortal Realm, your Divine Kingdom is your sanctuary, battlefield, and stronghold. No mortal may enter without invitation.
Michael's thoughts stirred.
Soon.
He would build it.
A realm shaped by dreams and space, by wisdom and warfare. A place between realities, where only a god could rule.
A realm to house memory… and ambition.
But for now—he had a village to save.
And a world to reclaim.