The Holy City of Armathil was a masterpiece of illusion—gleaming towers, marble streets, fountains that sang hymns, and air that always smelled of spring.
Kael hated it.
He walked the streets under the name Ashen, hood drawn low, blending with the pilgrims, merchants, and light-blinded faithful. He passed the very square where they'd once celebrated his victories, where children had thrown petals at his feet. Now, no one recognized him.
Good.
He was a shadow now. A relic reborn not to be honored—but to be feared.
[The Grand Temple – Nightfall]
It was midnight when he returned to the Temple.
He stood before the massive golden doors. Still engraved with the image of the Saint defeating the Demon King—his own likeness, immortalized in polished steel.
Kael stared up at it.
They turned me into a statue before I even died.
He stepped through the servants' passage. Knew the route by heart. Every ward, every priest's shift rotation, every corridor lined with glowing scripture. He didn't need light.
He was the flame.
[Chamber of the Relics]
Deep within the Grand Temple lay a vault of divine relics—artifacts of past Saints, locked away in eternal reverence. Kael entered in silence, unchallenged.
There it was. His old armor.
Polished. Pristine. Untouched since his "death."
Kael touched the breastplate, fingertips lingering on the engraved symbol of the Light. For a moment, his hand trembled.
Not from fear.
From memory.
[Flashback – The Day of His Anointing]
He had stood here once, seventeen, trembling with hope, as High Priest Malric laid the Saint's Mantle over his shoulders.
"You are chosen," the priest had whispered. "The Light walks with you, child."
And Kael had believed it.
[Present]
He ripped the symbol off the armor and dropped it onto the stone floor.
It clanged once. Then silence.
Kael turned, footsteps echoing as he walked away. He left the chamber with nothing but a ring he had once given to Freya—a token that now served only one purpose: bait.
[Elsewhere – Inside the Temple]
Freya, now High Inquisitor, stood over a parchment map of the kingdom. Her once-kind eyes were sharper now, colder. Her faith was her sword. Her memory of Kael… a shadow she never shook.
A knock at her chamber door. A trembling priest entered, pale.
"High Inquisitor. There's been a breach. The Saint's Vault."
She turned slowly. "What was taken?"
"…Nothing. But one of the relics was… desecrated."
Her heart skipped a beat.
She didn't know why.
But she knew who.
[That Night – Kael, looking at the city from the temple's outer wall]
They still wear their masks.
Still call themselves saviors.
He held the ring tight in his palm, blood running from his clenched fist.
They don't realize the reckoning has already begun.