The first moonrise after his fall tinted the shattered village in ghostly silver. Kaien Veylor stood atop a crumbling well, sword in hand, scanning the ruined huts below. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every muscle in his mortal body screamed with pain. Yet he could not rest.
Behind him, the young survivor—Mira, as she had told him—shivered beneath a tattered cloak. Her wide eyes reflected both hope and terror. Kaien nudged her forward.
"Tell me everything you know about these creatures," he said, voice low but firm.
Mira swallowed. Her lips trembled. "They come from the rift in the sky, south of here. We have no weapons or magic strong enough to stop them. Only you… only you stand any chance."
Kaien's heart clenched at her words. He remembered the roar of those first beasts, the weight of mortality pressing down like a tombstone. A god had fallen and become a man. Now he had to learn what that meant.
He turned to face the horizon. Wisps of crimson cloud curled around a jagged tear in the sky. Through it, the world beyond bled into this one—withered trees half in shadow, twisted spires of rock, and more of those glowing-eyed horrors prowling the ruined fields.
A soft pulse throbbed in his chest. The Dracovault Protocol stirred, hungry for trial. Clenching his fist, he forced the power aside and knelt beside Mira.
"Listen closely," he said, placing a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. "Tonight I hold this line. I will drive them back or die trying. Gather everyone you can and lead them behind those walls." He pointed to a half-standing watchtower still guarded by a single wooden gate. "Barricade yourself inside. Do not come out until dawn."
Mira nodded, fear and relief warring on her face. She hurried off, her cloak flapping like a broken banner. Kaien watched her go. Then he turned back to the fields—his battlefield.
A lone wolf snarled as it padded toward him, jagged ribs visible beneath mangy fur. It lunged. Kaien met its charge with Ashfall—his grip unsteady, his arm trembling under the weight of the sword. The blade bit shallow furrows in the beast's flank but did not fell it.
He staggered back as the wolf snapped at his throat. A hot sting bloomed on his cheek. Blood mingled with sweat, slipping down his jaw. He roared in frustration and swung again, more wildly this time. The blade found its mark, but the beast did not die. It collapsed in a heap, panting blood and bile.
Kaien dropped to one knee, panting through his teeth. His vision darkened at the edges. He stared at his wound—skin pierced, bone intact, no trace of divine healing. He swallowed bile and forced himself upright.
A second wolf emerged, taller, its eyes filled with cunning hunger. Kaien squared his shoulders and readied Ashfall. He could taste fear on his tongue, feel it thrumming through his veins like poisoned wine.
Then, the system voice returned, calm and mechanical:
"Alert: Combat stamina at thirty-five percent. Recommended action: activate basic skill."
Kaien's pulse thundered. He closed his eyes and focused on the faint blue sigil on his chest. His breathing slowed, each inhale a silent command.
"Activate skill: Ember Lash."
A surge of heat flared through his arm. A thin corona of flame danced along Ashfall's edge. The beast snarled and leapt. Kaien swung. A single arc of burning steel split the air, slicing through fur and bone. The wolf collapsed, ashes sizzling where its flesh should have been.
Flames faded from the blade, leaving it glowing with residual warmth. Kaien staggered forward, chest heaving, the acrid smell of charred fur thick in the air. He stared at his sword as if seeing it for the first time.
Ember Lash. A basic skill. First step on a path to reclaim his divinity.
He strode toward the watchtower as more howls rose around him. Every crackling cry reminded him of the lives he had once protected—and all the mortals he had failed since his fall. He clenched Ashfall and pressed on.
Inside the tower, Mira's people worked in tense silence. Broken farm tools became crude weapons. Boards were pried from beams. Mothers embraced children too young to understand. When Kaien arrived, they froze, staring at his blood-spattered figure.
He raised a hand and signaled them to lower their makeshift spears. "They are coming," he said. "You must be ready."
A grizzled old man spat on the ground. "We have no magic. No steel like that. What chance do we stand?"
Kaien met the man's gaze. "Not many," he admitted. "But hope is not measured by numbers." He lowered Ashfall and met Mira's eyes. "Stay behind me. Trust in my blade and in this system. Tonight, you live because I choose to stand here."
The old man spat again, but his eyes glistened with a spark of belief. The others breathed in unison, as if rallying around a lost king.
Outside, the creatures pressed the assault. Black shapes flitted beyond the gate. The first hammer blow cracked wood. Splintered planks flew. Children wailed. Women whispered prayers to gods who had abandoned them.
Kaien stood on the battlements, Ashfall held low. He felt his pulse in his throat, heard the thunder of hooves—or claws—racing toward him. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and invoked the Protocol's next command.
"Activate skill: Flame Volley."
His palm glowed with ember light. He thrust it forward. A swarm of fire globes shot across the courtyard, detonating in bursts of blazing heat. The gate ignited. Beasts keeled over in shrieks of agony as their hides turned to cinders.
The villagers gasped and cheered, as if waking from a nightmare. But Kaien did not smile. His shoulder burned where a stray claw had grazed him. Sweat and soot mixed with fresh blood. He tasted iron on his tongue.
He lowered his palm. The fire faded to embers. Moonlight glinted across the blood-stained floor. He turned to the villagers, voice hoarse. "This is only the beginning. You will survive this night—but only if you fight beside me."
A teenage boy gripped a wooden pike. His knuckles were white, but his eyes burned with newfound courage. "We fight," he said. "But we need a plan for when they return."
Kaien nodded. "At dawn, we will bury our dead and gather supplies. Then we march to the rift. I will close it, or I will die trying."
Silence fell. Then a chorus of assent rose, ragged but determined.
A sudden hush fell over the courtyard. The moon dipped behind a cloud. In the darkness beyond the flames, something moved—too large to be a wolf or a bear. Kaien's hand tightened on Ashfall. His system interface flickered in his mind:
"Warning: Anomaly detected. Creature class: Celestial aberration alpha. Estimated threat: god-tier."
His heart pounded. A shape emerged from the shadows: four limbs like an ogre, wings like a bat, scales glinting like ink under moonlight. Its eyes blazed with the same divine fire he had once wielded.
It roared, a sound that shook the very stones. Villagers screamed and scattered. Kaien dipped into a crouch, ready. Ember light danced on his blade once more.
"Stand behind me," he growled. "Now."
Ashfall ignited with sudden fury—an ember storm swirling around its edge. The beast charged.
Kaien inhaled, braced his feet, and lifted his blade high.
"Then let them come."