The confrontation in the market had left a bitter taste in Matthew's mouth—and a throbbing ache in his knuckles. Adrian had dragged him away before Silas could retaliate, the silence between father and son on the walk home heavier than any scolding. Matthew had spent the rest of the afternoon staring at his hands, wondering if the "Hero" Arthur had ever felt this small after a fight.
By evening, the tension in the house was suffocating. To escape it, Matthew offered to take Emily to the edge of the village to gather the wild lavender their mother used to help them sleep.
"Are you okay, Matt?" Emily asked, her voice small as they trekked up the grassy knoll overlooking the valley. "You've been staring at the ground for a mile."
Matthew forced a smile, though his jaw still hurt from a glancing blow he'd taken during the scuffle. "I'm fine, Em. Just thinking. Don't tell Mom about the market, okay? She has enough to worry about with Dad back."
"I won't," she promised, though she didn't look convinced. "But Jayden said you punched the Mayor's son. That was... brave. Or really stupid."
"Probably both," Matthew muttered.
They reached the crest of the hill. Usually, this was the most peaceful spot in the province. From here, you could see the distant spires of the capital and the vast, dark expanse of the Whispering Woods. But as Matthew reached down to pluck a purple stem, a sudden, unnatural chill swept over the ridge.
The birds went silent. Not a single cricket chirped.
"Matt?" Emily's voice trembled. "Why did the sun go out?"
Matthew looked up, and the breath died in his throat.
The Shadow Above
The sun hadn't set. It had been eclipsed.
High above, the sky wasn't its usual twilight orange. It was being torn open. Great, jagged rifts of violet and obsidian light streaked across the atmosphere, like cracks in a porcelain bowl. And from those cracks, shapes began to emerge.
Matthew's heart hammered against his ribs. He knew the Bestiary by heart—every Knight-hopeful did. He knew what common Goblins looked like, and he knew the threat of an A-Class Ogre. But what was descending from the clouds now defied everything he had been told about the safety of their borders.
"Those... those aren't birds," he whispered.
They were massive. Monstrous silhouettes with wingspans that could cover the village square. Their scales shimmered with a sickly, metallic sheen, and even from this distance, Matthew could feel the crushing pressure of their Mana. It felt like being submerged in deep, freezing water.
"S-Class," Matthew breathed, his face turning ashen. "Sky-Rending Wyverns. And... the Obsidian Behemoth."
In the center of the swarm, a creature of pure darkness drifted downward. It didn't fly so much as it erased the space around it. An S-Class monster was a "National Calamity"—a creature that required an army of ten thousand and at least three High-Knights to even stand a chance.
There weren't three. There were dozens. A whole legion of gods-tier monsters was descending upon the human realm.
"We have to go," Matthew grabbed Emily's hand, his grip so tight she winced. "Emily, run. Now!"
The Descent
As they scrambled back toward the village, the first of the roars reached them. It wasn't a sound; it was a physical shockwave that shattered the windows of the outlying farms.
Below them, the village of Oakhaven was waking up to the nightmare. Bells began to toll—the frantic, rhythmic clanging of the "Black Alert." The Knights who had just returned, exhausted and broken from their mission against mere Orcs, were stumbling out into the streets, looking at the sky with faces of pure despair.
"It's happening," Matthew heard an old man scream as they sprinted past. "The prophecy! The True Face of the Gods is showing!"
Matthew didn't stop to ask what he meant. He could see his house now. His father was standing in the doorway, but he wasn't holding his standard-issue broadsword. He was holding a chest Matthew had never seen before—a long, heavy box wrapped in chains.
"Dad!" Matthew yelled, skidding into the yard.
Adrian looked up. For the first time in Matthew's life, the "Lucky Knight" looked truly terrified. Not for himself, but for the world. He looked at the sky, at the S-Class monsters that were now low enough to cast shadows over the town.
"Get inside the cellar," Adrian commanded, his voice cracking. "Matthew, take your mother and sister. Go to the deepest corner and do not come out, no matter what you hear."
"What about you?" Matthew asked, his eyes darting to the sky. One of the Wyverns had dived, its talons leveling the village watchtower in a single pass. Screams erupted from the square.
"I have to fulfill a debt," Adrian said. He began to unwrap the chains from the mysterious box. "I told you I was fast, Matthew. I told you I survived because I was quick. I lied."
Adrian kicked the lid open. A pulse of golden light erupted from the chest, so bright that Matthew had to shield his eyes. When the light faded, a sword lay nestled in red velvet. It didn't look like steel; it looked like it was forged from a fallen star.
"Dad... what is that?"
"The reason they call me a coward," Adrian said, his gaze hardening as he gripped the hilt. "Because I was too afraid to use this and let the world know who we really are. But there's no hiding anymore."
The First Strike
A shadow loomed over the house. Matthew looked up to see a Lesser Sky-Dreader—an A-Class scout for the S-Class swarm—circling above their roof. It opened its maw, and a ball of blue fire began to coalesce in its throat.
"Get down!" Matthew tackled Emily into the dirt.
But the fire never came.
Adrian moved. It wasn't the movement of a man; it was a flash of light. He vanished from the doorstep and reappeared fifty feet in the air, directly in front of the monster. With a single, vertical stroke of the glowing sword, he split the creature—and the clouds behind it—clean in half.
The monster didn't bleed; it disintegrated into ash.
Adrian landed back on the ground, his boots cracking the stone. He was breathing hard, the golden light of the sword reflecting in his eyes. He looked at Matthew, and for a second, the "weak" father was gone. In his place stood something that looked exactly like the illustrations in Matthew's favorite book.
"The cellar. Now," Adrian ordered.
Matthew stood frozen. He looked at his father, then at the sky where hundreds more of those monsters were descending. His father was strong—unbelievably strong—but he was only one man against a sky full of gods.
"I'm not going," Matthew said, his voice shaking but firm. He looked at the broken wooden branch he'd used for practice, lying discarded in the dirt. He picked it up. It was useless, a toy against titans, but his pride wouldn't let him hide while his father fought the end of the world.
"Matthew, don't be a fool!" his mother cried, reaching for him from the cellar door.
Suddenly, the ground groaned. A massive rift opened in the center of the village square, and a pressure ten times greater than the Wyverns hit them. Something was coming up from the earth to match what was coming from the sky.