The evening sky hung heavy over the village, painted in hues of crimson and ash. A slow wind rustled through the quiet fields as Abraham walked the familiar road toward home, unaware that the world he knew had already changed.
He was tired. His shirt clung to his body, soaked with the sweat of hard labor. But even that weight felt lighter when he thought of her—Sarah. His wife. His joy.
They had only been married for six months.
Young. Simple. Happy.
He pushed open the wooden door to their small house and smiled. "Sarah… I'm home."
Silence.
His smile faded.
No scent of her cooking. No humming. No fire in the hearth. Just the dull creak of the door swinging behind him.
His eyes fell on a folded paper placed neatly on the table.
His chest tightened.
He slowly approached, heart pounding, and opened the note with trembling fingers.
---
My beloved Abraham,
They came for me. Today.
They said I have power—holy power. They called me a weapon against the demons. I told them I didn't want it. That I only wanted to live peacefully… with you.
But they threatened to kill you if I didn't go.
So I went. I'm sorry.
Please don't follow me. Don't fight them. Just live.
I will return. I promise you, I will.
— Sarah
---
The paper slipped from his hands.
The room spun.
"No…" he whispered.
He dropped to his knees. His fists clenched against the floorboards, his tears soaking the edge of the letter. "Why… Why her?"
---
### X-Slayer Organization: Humanity's Blade
Ten years ago, the first rift opened in the sky. Demons spilled out, bringing fire, disease, and madness.
Normal weapons failed. Human armies collapsed. Cities were devoured by creatures from the Void.
So the nations formed a single force: X-Slayer.
A global supernatural army made of those born with divine or spiritual gifts—called Vessels.
There were 100 teams worldwide, trained and equipped to exterminate demonic threats. But only the elite Top 10, known as the Deca Order, operated on a godlike level. Their missions were off-record. Their authority, unchecked.
When they identified Sarah as a Vessel with unmeasured power—possibly divine—they didn't ask her to join.
They demanded.
She refused.
And they used Abraham as a hostage.
---
That night, Abraham found himself standing before the old stone church at the edge of the village.
He didn't remember walking there. His body moved on its own. His heart just wanted to cry.
He pushed open the creaking doors and staggered toward the altar.
He collapsed.
"I couldn't stop them… They took her."
His voice broke as tears flowed again. "They said she's dangerous. But she's the kindest soul I've ever known. She just wanted to be my wife…"
A soft voice echoed behind him.
"Love like that… shakes Heaven."
Abraham turned. A tall man in white and gold robes stood at the back of the sanctuary. His silver hair glowed in the moonlight, and his eyes shimmered with something ancient.
"Who are you?" Abraham asked.
"I am merely a priest," the man said. "But I have waited many years to meet a heart like yours."
He stepped forward, carrying a long object wrapped in a white cloth.
He placed it on the altar.
"Take it."
Abraham looked at the bundle. "What is it?"
"A sword," the priest answered. "Forged in Heaven's light. Meant not for warriors… but for those who fight for love."
Abraham hesitated. "I don't know how to fight."
"You don't need to know," the priest said. "You only need to believe."
---
As Abraham walked home under a clouded night sky, the sword strapped to his back, doubt gnawed at him. Was this really his path? Was this really God's answer?
And then he heard it.
Crunch.
He turned.
A massive shadow moved in the treeline.
Two red eyes blinked in the darkness.
A figure stepped forward. Ten feet tall, with a body like burning coal. Cracked skin dripped molten fire. Two long horns curved from its skull, and smoke hissed from its fanged mouth.
A demon.
It grinned.
Abraham froze. His breath caught.
RUN.
His instincts screamed, but his legs wouldn't move.
The demon lunged.
A massive claw slashed across his back. Abraham cried out and hit the dirt, pain ripping through him.
Blood. Fire. Fear.
He tried to crawl. The demon raised its claw for the final blow.
Then—
A voice.
Rise, son of dust. Raise the sword.
His fingers trembled as he reached behind him.
He grabbed the cloth-wrapped handle.
He drew the blade.
FWOOOM.
Light exploded across the field—white and gold, like the sun rising in midnight.
The demon roared and stepped back, blinded.
Abraham stood. Blood dripping from his wounds. The sword burned in his hand, yet it didn't hurt him.
He stepped forward.
For Sarah.
The demon charged again.
Abraham raised the blade and swung—
SLASH.
The light tore through the demon's chest. The beast screamed as holy flames consumed its body.
Ash scattered into the night air.
Silence returned.
Abraham collapsed to his knees, gasping, shaking, still holding the sword.
"I… I did it."
He looked at the heavens.
"Sarah… I'm coming for you."
---
The next morning, Abraham returned to the church, bruised and limping.
The priest waited at the door, smiling like he had known all along.
"You've come back," he said.
Abraham nodded, gripping the sword tightly.
"Train me," he said. "No matter how long it takes. No matter how hard it is."
The priest bowed his head.
"Then let us begin. You walk now… not as a warrior—but as a friend of God."
---
End of Chapter 1