The night held its breath.
Even the ruins seemed to listen as Aira sat near the dim fire, watching sparks rise and die like fleeting stars. Across from her, Leonard stared into the flames, his face a calm mask carved by centuries.
The silence wasn't awkward—it was heavy, full of things neither dared say.
Aira shifted, hugging her knees. "You know they'll come for us. The Holy Order doesn't forgive, especially after… that."
Leonard didn't look up. "They can't kill what they don't understand."
"Then maybe they'll just burn everything around you," she said, voice sharper than she meant. "You've seen what they do."
"I have," he said softly. "And I'll see it ended."
His tone was final—like he'd already decided the world's fate and no one else had a vote.
Aira sighed. "You really are impossible."
He tilted his head slightly, lips curving in the faintest smile. "So I've been told."
That small flicker of warmth startled her more than the threat of pursuit. She quickly turned away. "Don't flatter yourself."
"I wasn't," Leonard murmured. "Merely enjoying the argument."
By dawn, mist veiled the broken city. Leonard stood on the crumbling balcony, cloak flowing with the morning breeze, eyes scanning the horizon.
Aira joined him, yawning. "Do gods ever sleep?"
He didn't turn. "Only when they wish to dream of being human."
She leaned beside him. "And you?"
"I stopped wishing long ago."
The way he said it made something in her chest tighten. She wanted to ask more—but he turned suddenly, gaze sharp.
"They're coming," he said.
Her heart jumped. "Already?"
He nodded once. "Their scent of divinity taints the air."
Aira frowned. "How do you even—"
Then she felt it too: the faint tremor beneath her boots, the low hum of something vast and merciless cutting through the mist.
They ran north, toward a half-dead village where cracked stone houses leaned like old men. Smoke no longer rose from chimneys; only silence lived here.
Until a small band of survivors stepped from the shadows, spears trembling in their hands.
"Travelers don't come from the south," said an old man. "Only soldiers… or ghosts."
"Then we're the exceptions," Aira said quickly.
Their eyes fell on Leonard—and froze. His golden eyes caught the light like liquid fire.
One woman stepped forward, whispering, "The golden-eyed wanderer… the omen of the heavens' fall."
Leonard raised his hood. "You shouldn't speak that name aloud."
But Aira saw the flicker of recognition behind his calm: these people remembered something the gods wanted buried.
The woman hesitated. "If you are who the stories say… come. There's something you should see."
They followed her down a hidden passage below the well.
The air was cold, humming with power. Runes glowed faintly along the walls, ancient and familiar—Leonard's language, lost to mortals. The tunnel opened into a vast chamber where a cracked statue stood tall: a winged man with a crown and a blade raised skyward.
Aira's breath caught. "That's you."
Leonard stared up at the statue. "It was."
The woman brushed dust from the base. "They said he defied the heavens… and was cast down."
Leonard's hands clenched. "They rewrote the truth."
The ground trembled. The torches flickered wildly.
"Leonard—" Aira reached for him, touching his arm. The tremor stopped instantly.
He looked down at her, eyes glowing faintly. "You stabilized it. My power reacts to yours."
"That's not possible."
"Maybe not for a mortal," he said, studying her. "But you're no longer just that."
Before she could reply, the walls lit crimson.
The runes blazed like open wounds.
A blinding column of light tore through the ceiling. The air screamed as three figures descended—shapes of silver and sanctified fury. Not angels. Not men. Divine Executors—living blades forged by heaven itself. Their armor rippled with liquid metal, their wings crackling with shards of radiant energy.
The lead Executor's voice was both beautiful and cold.
"By decree of the Divine Seat, the heretic Leonard the First shall be erased."
Aira whispered, "They're here for you."
Leonard stepped forward, cloak falling from his shoulders.
"No," he said. "They're here for vengeance."
He unsheathed a blade that hadn't existed a second ago—a black-edged sword wreathed in gold flame, humming like a heartbeat.
The ground splintered beneath his feet.
The First Clash
The lead Executor moved first—faster than sound, spear slicing down in a streak of light. Leonard sidestepped, his sword flashing upward in a brutal arc that sent a shockwave through the chamber. Stone cracked, dust filled the air.
The second Executor dove low, spinning with twin blades that screamed against Leonard's guard. Sparks showered. Their movements blurred—strike, parry, elbow, knee. Leonard ducked under a swing and drove his palm into the creature's chest, sending it crashing through a pillar.
The third appeared behind him in a burst of radiance, blade aimed at his neck.
Leonard pivoted, catching the strike with his forearm guard. The impact rang like a bell. He twisted, dragging the Executor forward and driving his knee into its abdomen, shattering its armor with a dull crunch.
Aira shielded her eyes, the sheer force of the blows pressing her back.
This wasn't divine grace—it was war incarnate.
Aira's Awakening
"Stay down!" Leonard barked as the second Executor lunged again.
"I can help!" she shouted, summoning a barrier of golden light. It flared just in time to deflect a stray slash, the impact sending a pulse up her arms. Pain seared, but she stood her ground.
Leonard's eyes flicked toward her mid-fight. "You're drawing from me. Stop!"
"I can't!" she yelled, the light growing stronger. "It's answering me!"
The Executors sensed it too. The lead one changed targets, wings folding as it hurled its spear toward Aira. The weapon split the air like lightning.
Leonard blurred forward—too far.
Instinct took over. Aira raised both hands.
A golden sigil formed midair, fractal and intricate. The spear struck it—and shattered. The explosion threw her backward, but she landed on her feet, panting, eyes faintly glowing like his.
Leonard froze mid-motion.
"…You're resonating with my core."
"I don't care what that means," she said through gritted teeth. "Just fight."
He smirked. "As you command."
The Final Exchange
All three Executors moved as one, light twisting around them like blades. Leonard's aura ignited, golden fire roaring around his body. The air turned heavy—dense with divine pressure.
They met in a blur of violence.
Spear clashed against sword. Wing collided with wing.
Leonard ducked under a horizontal slash, pivoted, and slashed upward—severing an Executor's arm. A fluid spin followed—heel to jaw, blade through chest. One down.
The next Executor struck low, but Leonard caught its wrist, broke it in two motions, and drove his sword through its heart. Divine ichor burst, sizzling against the stone.
The last Executor—the strongest—unleashed a torrent of radiant blades from its wings. Leonard braced, crossing his arms to block—but Aira stepped beside him, raising her hands. Her golden barrier expanded, absorbing half the attack.
"Foolish girl," he muttered, even as he smiled. "Fine. Let's end this."
He vanished.
To mortal eyes, he simply disappeared.
To Aira, time slowed—a blur of gold carving through white. He reappeared behind the Executor, sword already sheathed.
A pause.
Then the Executor's body fractured, light bleeding from a thousand cracks before bursting apart in silence.
The chamber fell still.
Leonard exhaled, aura dimming. "They've improved their toys," he said, voice rough. "But they still bleed."
Aira swayed, catching herself on a broken wall. "Remind me… never to spar with you."
He caught her before she fell, one arm steady around her. "You fought well."
"I improvised," she muttered, half-conscious. "And screamed."
"That's half of battle," he said dryly. "The rest is refusing to die."
Her laugh was weak but real. "Guess I'm learning."
Leonard looked down at her, eyes softer now. "Too fast for my liking."
Aftermath
The villagers peeked from the tunnel, faces pale. The shrine was in ruins—runes cracked, walls scorched. Only silence remained, broken by the drip of divine blood on stone.
Leonard's gaze rose toward the ceiling where the Executors had descended. The air still shimmered faintly with holy energy. "They'll send more."
"Then we keep moving," Aira said, still leaning against him.
He stared at her—this mortal girl carrying a piece of his power, defying gods with nothing but will.
"You really don't know when to stop," he said quietly.
She smiled, eyes half-closed. "Neither do you."
He let out a quiet laugh—genuine, almost human. "Perhaps that's why fate chose you."
Outside, thunder rolled across the horizon.
And far above, within the clouds of the divine realm, the god of earth watched with cold fury.
"So… she carries his essence now," he murmured. "Then it begins."
Lightning split the sky, and the heavens prepared for war.
End of Chapter 4