3 – The Light That Wavers
The sun hung high above the battlefield, its golden rays gleaming off the polished armor of the Radiant Knights as they marched forward. The air was thick with tension, a silence that spoke louder than war cries. At the front of the legion rode Grand Inquisitor Malagar, his silver-plated armor adorned with golden etchings of divine scripture. His presence alone was enough to send shivers down the spines of the soldiers behind him.
Among those marching was Lucian, now 14 years old, his once-boyish face sharpened by years of relentless training. His long, golden-white hair was tied back, his radiant silver-blue eyes filled with quiet determination. Though clad in the armor of a knight-in-training, his aura was that of a warrior far beyond his years.
This was not a mere training exercise. This was his first real mission.
A village had fallen to heretics, or so the reports claimed. It was once under the Dominion's rule, but its people had begun rejecting the gods, refusing tributes, and openly practicing forbidden rituals. Now, the Holy Dominion had declared them as heretics, and the Order of the Dawn was sent to cleanse the village.
Lucian had heard whispers before leaving the capital. Some said these "heretics" were simply people who had lost faith, not sinners. Others claimed that monsters had been sighted among them, hinting at abyssal corruption. The truth, however, was still unknown.
As the legion drew closer to the village, Grand Inquisitor Malagar raised his sword toward the heavens. The golden etchings along the blade shimmered, reflecting the sunlight.
The knights knelt in unison, their hands gripping their weapons, eyes closed in solemn reverence.
Malagar's voice rang out, deep and unwavering, a voice that had delivered both salvation and judgment for decades.
"O Divine Lords, keepers of truth, bearers of light, hear our call.
By your will, we stand before the wicked.
By your grace, we raise our blades in your name.
Let the fire of the righteous cleanse the heretics,
Let the steel of the faithful strike down the corrupt.
We are your swords, your shields, your divine wrath.
In your light, we shall not falter. In your name, we shall not fail.
Glory to the Dominion. Glory to the Eternal Light."
A chorus of voices followed, as hundreds of knights repeated in unison:
"Glory to the Dominion. Glory to the Eternal Light."
Then, in one voice, as if the heavens themselves echoed their words, the knights spoke their final vow:
"Lux Vincet." (The Light Shall Triumph.)
Lucian knelt with them, his lips moving along with the prayer. But even as he spoke the words, a strange unease gripped his heart.
Then, Malagar lowered his sword.
"Knights—rise. Judgment awaits."
With a roar, the Radiant Knights charged.
The village was already burning.
By the time the Radiant Knights arrived, smoke had darkened the sky, and the screams of villagers echoed through the fields. Flaming arrows rained down from wooden watchtowers, and armored figures—not simple farmers, but trained fighters—rushed to meet them.
This was not a desperate rebellion.
This was a prepared resistance.
Lucian's first fight had begun.
A heretic soldier, clad in mismatched armor, charged toward Lucian with a battleaxe raised high. He moved purely on instinct.
"Blessing of Endurance."
A faint golden glow surged through Lucian's body, heightening his speed. He dodged the axe by inches, his body already responding as if he had done this a hundred times before.
"Divine Smite!"
His sword glowed with divine energy, and with a single downward slash, he cut through the man's armor like paper. Blood sprayed across the dirt as the soldier collapsed.
He barely had time to process what he had done before two more rushed at him.
The first swung a rusted longsword, but Lucian parried it easily, his blade clashing against the steel with a burst of sparks. The second aimed a dagger at his throat, but Lucian kicked him backward before he could get close.
"Solar Slash!"
A golden arc of energy burst from his sword, striking both enemies and sending them crashing into the ground.
His breathing was steady. His hands were firm.
He had trained for this moment his entire life.
Despite the chaos, something felt wrong.
Lucian noticed that some of the villagers were fighting with unnatural speed and strength. Their movements were too aggressive, too wild, too… unnatural.
It wasn't just a rebellion. Something else was controlling them.
Then, he saw it.
In the heart of the village, a figure stood watching the battle unfold. Cloaked in black robes, with golden markings swirling across its skin, its eyes glowed like molten fire.
It was not human.
Lucian's grip on his sword tightened. This was no ordinary heretic.
As if sensing the shift in battle, Malagar raised his hand.
"Solar Judgement."
A massive pillar of golden fire erupted from the sky, crashing down upon the heretics' defenses. Wood and stone exploded, sending bodies flying. The very earth beneath them trembled from the sheer force of divine power.
Lucian had never seen magic so strong.
But even as Malagar turned toward the robed figure, it simply smiled.
The ground beneath them began to crack.
Lucian felt his heart pound. He did not know who or what this figure was, but its presence alone terrified him.
As the flames of war burned around them, a greater battle was about to begin.
The truth was clear: this was not just a mission. This was the start of something much bigger.
And for the first time in his life…
Lucian was afraid.