The walk back from the Whispering Woods should have been a victory march.
Kaelith limped along the dirt path, his body aching in a dozen places. His simple linen shirt was shredded and soaked in a mixture of his own blood and the black ichor of demons. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his hip, but he didn't care. He was smiling. In his mind, he was already sitting by the hearth, watching Julian play with his wooden sword while Mihu rested her head on his shoulder.
He reached the crest of the hill that overlooked the Van-Drakken estate.
"I'm home," he whispered to the wind.
But the wind didn't smell like pine needles or Mihu's cooking. It smelled of sulfur and burnt hair.
Kaelith's smile died. He looked down the valley. The white stone walls of his home were not white anymore. They were scorched black. Thick, greasy plumes of smoke rose into the afternoon sky. The iron gates he had walked through just hours ago were twisted and torn off their hinges.
"No," Kaelith breathed.
He didn't think about his wounds. He didn't think about his exhaustion. He ran. He ignored the way his lungs screamed for air and the way his boots splashed through puddles of blood that hadn't had time to dry.
He reached the main courtyard. The training dummy Julian had been playing with was splintered into a thousand pieces. Beside it lay a small, wooden stick. Julian's "sword."
Kaelith skidded to a halt in the center of the yard. Standing there, surrounded by armored Paladins of the Church, was the High Priest. The old man's silk robes were pristine, untouched by the soot and blood that covered everything else.
"Holiness?" Kaelith's voice was a broken rasp. He looked around wildly. "Where are they? Where is Mihu? My parents?"
The High Priest looked at Kaelith with a calm, terrifying pity. He held up a glowing crystal—the Soul Core. Inside, Kaelith could see flickers of light, like trapped fireflies.
"They have achieved their greatest purpose, Kaelith," the Priest said. His voice was as smooth as oil. "The Gods required a sacrifice of pure, loyal souls to fuel the Great Ascension. Who could be more loyal than the family of the Shield himself?"
Kaelith's world tilted. He looked toward the porch. He saw his father. The old man was slumped in his chair, his eyes wide and vacant, his soul already harvested. His mother lay near her knitting basket, her hand still reaching for a tiny, unfinished blanket.
"Julian?" Kaelith choked out.
The Priest pointed to a pile of ash near the training grounds.
Kaelith's heart didn't break; it shattered. The 100% trust he had held for the Church, for the Gods, and for the System turned into a cold, poisonous venom in his veins.
"And Mihu?" Kaelith asked, his voice deathly quiet.
"The girl was... special," the Priest replied. "Her soul, and the soul of the child within her, were the final keys. They have been sent to the Sanctum's vault. They belong to the Heavens now."
A roar that didn't sound human ripped out of Kaelith's throat. He drew his sword—the same simple steel blade that had closed the Great Rift.
"You lied," Kaelith hissed. "You used us. You butchered them for Experience Points."
"I used the tools the Gods provided," the Priest said, stepping back as the Paladins raised their shields. "Kill him. His level is high, and his soul will be the perfect crown for this harvest."
The slaughter began. But it wasn't a fight. It was an execution.
Kaelith fought like a demon. He didn't use the System anymore. He didn't pray. He used every ounce of his peerless talent to cleave through the Paladins. He took ten spears to the chest just to get one step closer to the Priest. He lost an arm to a holy spell and didn't even flinch. He was a man made of pure, unadulterated rage.
He reached the Priest, his broken sword raised. But the System he had worshipped his whole life turned against him.
[Warning: User 'Kaelith' has committed Heresy.]
[Action: System Lockdown Initiated.]
His muscles froze. The golden chains of the "Divine" system wrapped around his limbs, pinning him to the blood-soaked earth. He fell at the Priest's feet, staring at the ash of his nephew and the empty eyes of his father.
The Priest leaned down, whispering in his ear as he raised a sacrificial dagger. "You trusted too much, Kaelith. That was your only real weakness."
As the blade sank into Kaelith's heart, he didn't look at the Priest. He looked at the sky and spit blood at the sun.
If there is a life after this, Kaelith thought as the world went black, I will burn every temple. I will slaughter every god. I am coming for you.
The Shield of the Sanctum was dead.