Chapter 2: The Empire of Thieves
Faith walked into the mist, and the world changed.
The forest beyond Kurohara was ancient — older than the empires, older than the gods. Trees twisted toward the sky like frozen serpents, their bark etched with forgotten prayers. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the crunch of Faith's footsteps and the low hum of power beneath his skin.
He didn't know where he was going.
He only knew he had to leave.
Behind him, the village lay in ruins. Razen's words echoed in his mind: You are justice. But the voice inside him — the one that came with the fruit — whispered something else.
You are not justice. You are balance.
Faith didn't understand what that meant. Not yet.
Three days passed.
Faith didn't sleep. He didn't eat. The powers he'd absorbed from the soldiers sustained him — fire, flight, strength. But they felt foreign, like borrowed clothes that didn't quite fit. He tried to summon flames and ended up freezing the air. He tried to fly and crashed into a tree.
The fruit had given him power.
But not control.
On the fourth day, he reached a clearing.
A ruined temple stood at its center, half-swallowed by vines and moss. Statues of winged figures lined the path, their faces worn smooth by centuries of rain. At the temple's heart, a stone pedestal held a broken mirror.
Faith approached.
His reflection flickered — silver eyes, glowing veins, a boy who looked like a god and felt like a ghost. He touched the mirror. It pulsed.
And then he saw her.
She stepped from the shadows like a blade unsheathed.
Tall, cloaked in black, eyes like molten gold. Her hair was braided with feathers, and her arms bore the marks of battle — scars, burns, sigils. She moved with the grace of someone who had killed before and would kill again.
Faith stepped back.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she raised her hand, and the air shimmered. A wall of wind slammed into Faith, sending him sprawling. He rolled, summoned fire, and hurled it toward her.
She caught it.
Absorbed it.
And smiled.
"You're sloppy," she said. "Too much power. Not enough discipline."
Faith stood, panting.
"Why did you attack me?"
"To see if you were worth teaching."
Faith blinked.
"Teaching?"
She nodded.
"I'm Kael. I hunt fruit users. And you, little sky boy, are the loudest signal I've seen in years."
Kael didn't trust him.
She circled him like a predator, asking questions he couldn't answer. Where did you get the fruit? Who taught you to use it? What empire do you serve?
Faith told her about Kurohara. About Razen. About the book.
Kael listened.
Then she laughed.
"Razen lied to you," she said. "The Setto Setto Fruit doesn't just absorb powers from villains. It absorbs powers from anyone. Good, evil, doesn't matter. It's a mirror. It reflects what you take."
Faith felt cold.
"But the book —"
"Books can be rewritten," Kael said. "Especially by men like Razen."
Faith sat in silence.
Everything he knew was unraveling.
Kael agreed to train him.
Not because she liked him, but because she feared him. The Setto Setto Fruit was rare — one of the Seven Heavenly Fruits scattered across the world. Each granted a different gift. Each came with a curse.
Faith's fruit was the most dangerous.
It didn't just give power.
It stole it.
Kael taught him how to control it.
They sparred in the ruins, surrounded by statues of forgotten gods. She taught him to channel energy, to read auras, to resist the temptation to absorb without thought. She made him fight blindfolded, barefoot, against illusions and shadows.
Faith learned.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But he learned.
One night, Kael told him a story.
"There was once a boy," she said, "born under a bleeding sky. He was given a fruit, told he was chosen, told he was justice. He believed it. He killed for it. He burned cities for it."
Faith listened.
"What happened to him?"
Kael looked away.
"He became a tyrant. And then he died."
Faith didn't sleep that night.
Weeks passed.
Faith grew stronger. Sharper. He could fly without falling, summon fire without freezing. He learned to absorb powers without losing himself. But he still didn't know who he was.
One morning, Kael handed him a scroll.
"South Heavenly Empire," she said. "They're building something. A vault. To store fruit users. Alive."
Faith's blood turned to ice.
"Why?"
"To harvest them," Kael said. "To drain their power. Slowly. Permanently."
Faith clenched his fists.
"We have to stop them."
Kael nodded.
"But not alone."
They traveled east.
Through forests, mountains, ruins. They found others — fruit users in hiding, rebels, outcasts. Some feared Faith. Others worshipped him. One girl, barely ten, touched his hand and burst into tears.
"You're the one from the sky," she whispered. "You're the one who'll end it."
Faith didn't know what "it" was.
But he felt it coming.
They reached the empire's border.
A wall of gold stretched across the horizon, guarded by soldiers in winged armor. Kael led the charge. Faith followed. Powers clashed — lightning, ice, shadow. Faith absorbed, deflected, destroyed.
But something was wrong.
The soldiers didn't bleed.
They didn't scream.
They weren't alive.
Kael shouted.
"They're husks! Empty! The empire's already draining them!"
Faith flew higher.
Beyond the wall, he saw it — a tower of glass and steel, pulsing with stolen energy. Inside, cages. Inside, children.
Fruit users.
Faith roared.
He tore through the tower like a storm.
Walls melted. Guards fell. The air burned with fury. He reached the core — a chamber of mirrors, wires, and pain. A boy hung suspended, eyes wide, mouth silent.
Faith touched the cage.
It shattered.
The boy fell.
Faith caught him.
And then the voice returned.
You are not justice. You are balance.
Faith looked around.
The tower was collapsing. Kael was fighting below. The children were escaping. But the energy — the stolen power — was rising.
Faith made a choice.
He absorbed it.
All of it.
The explosion lit the sky.
For miles, people saw it — a burst of silver light, followed by silence. The tower was gone. The wall was gone. The empire's grip had cracked.
Faith stood in the ruins, trembling.
Kael approached.
"You did it," she said.
Faith shook his head.
"No. I became what Razen wanted."
Kael touched his shoulder.
"No. You became what the world needed."
Faith looked at the horizon.
It was bleeding again.