Morning never came.
The sun rose, yes—but its light failed to touch the scorched outer ring. A heavy gray smog hung over Oria's slums, ash and silence coating the broken streets like a burial shroud.
Blood pooled in the alleys. It had dried to a rust-colored sheen, glistening under the broken eaves and torn awnings. The scent of char and copper lingered, thick enough to stick to the back of the tongue. Children wandered barefoot, blank-eyed, guided by matrons of the Holy Mother and trembling older siblings who had been forced to grow up overnight.
Koda awoke to this ruin.
He sat beneath a collapsed archway just beyond the orphanage gates—barely more than rubble now. His tunic was shredded, soaked with blood, both his and theirs. His eyes throbbed, sharp pain shooting through his skull.
He blinked slowly.
The world was brighter. Too bright.
And then he caught his reflection—dim and cracked in a shard of glass near his boot.
Gray. His eyes were light gray now, silver almost, shimmering with a soft internal glow like smoke trapped behind a veil of frost.
He remembered—the error, the voice, the throne of black light that poured out of him when he accepted death to protect them all.
And then—nothing.
"You were gone for hours." A soft voice drifted beside him.
Maia sat nearby, arms wrapped around her knees. A thick bandage ran down her left arm, and her cheek was bruised—but she was alive. Her blue eyes, bloodshot, held onto him like an anchor.
"I thought you died." Her voice cracked. "I—We all did."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked around.
The orphanage was barely standing. Its side wall had collapsed. Most of the windows were gone, shards crunching under footfalls even now as survivors moved among the ruins. The once-familiar play yard was littered with blankets turned body shrouds. Some too small. All too still.
Maia followed his gaze.
"They're saying the monsters came from a new scar." She swallowed, voice hollow. "That it opened just beyond the wall before anyone could detect it. No one knows why." A pause. "They say they haven't seen goblins like that before. That they shouldn't have gotten through…"
"They weren't supposed to." Koda muttered, still watching the sky. "But the system wasn't made for this."
Maia blinked. "The system?"
He nodded slowly.
He didn't know why—but the words came with clarity, like echoes from the sermons they'd grown up hearing, rising now from some long-sleeping place in his soul.
"When Heaven sealed itself off, they left behind a final gift for humanity. A divine latticework of guidance and growth… the System. Not magic, not a god's hand… something else. A path. One we were meant to follow on our own." His voice softened. "The Four watched us. Chose us. But they were never meant to interfere again."
Maia sat silently, letting his words settle in the silence.
"Each patron—Mother, Forger, Shield, Librarian—left behind not just their teachings, but their fragments. Divine residue, you could say. When someone awakens, their soul is measured against those fragments. If it's aligned… they're Chosen."
He looked down at his hands.
"If not… they're nothing."
Maia looked over at him. "But you aren't nothing."
"I was something else," he whispered.
The error message echoed in his mind again.
You are the First. You are the Last. You are the Future.
"I didn't awaken through mana stimulation," he murmured. "It was something else. A trace of divinity. A trial of character—from the Guide."
Maia furrowed her brow. "That's not possible. The Eternal Guide never chooses anyone. They're… the balance. The silent one."
"Maybe they had no choice," he said. "Or maybe…" He looked toward the wreckage of their home. "…the world is in need of more than silence."
A moment passed before Maia shifted closer, brushing her shoulder gently against his. "They're saying the city will send priests soon. To claim the bodies. To study the breach. To fix the wall." She hesitated. "But the Church… they'll want to know about you."
"I didn't show a patron," he said.
"But you glowed, Koda." Her voice was hushed now. "Everyone saw it. It wasn't like the others, no. It was… quiet. Dark. But it wasn't nothing. And then… the goblins stopped. They were afraid. That was you."
"I don't know what I am," he admitted.
Maia took his hand.
"You're the boy who stayed. The one who ran toward the fire."
They sat like that for a while, hands clasped in the shadows of a broken home, beneath a sky too red to be kind.
But somewhere in the center of Koda's chest—where the dull black glow once bloomed—there was something else now.
Warmth.
Faint, distant, but steady.
A heartbeat beneath the silence.
The wind shifted.
Koda let go of Maia's hand as a whisper passed through him—not from her, not from the world—but from somewhere else. It curled behind his ribs, warm and deliberate.
He was not broken.
He took a breath and sat up straighter, the bloodstained cloth of his tunic pulling against his shoulders. Ash fluttered around them like snow, settling in the folds of his sleeves.
"I need to see it again," he murmured.
Maia looked at him, puzzled. "See what?"
"The window."
He focused, the way the priests described in the old teachings. Willing it—not from his body, but from within the breath of his soul.
And it answered.
With a soft, low chime, barely perceptible to the world around him, a rectangular pane of glowing light blinked to life before his eyes. Lines of silver script wrote themselves midair—but not in the standard heavenly interface. No sapphire trim. No pristine jade borders.
Black. Glimmering. Ancient.
⸻
[Traits]:
Balance (Divine):
"Each step taken in growth shall echo across your whole."
A single point in any attribute shall reflect in all others.
[Abilities]:
None currently unlocked
⸻
Koda stared.
The text burned with calm finality, each word seared into his memory. The silence that had once echoed inside him now hummed—not with noise, but with the weight of purpose.
He glanced toward Maia, but the window was visible only to him—for now.
He tapped the corner, and a notification unfolded like a closing breath.
[You have slain: Goblin Feind]
Level Up
+1 Stat point earned
+5 Stat Points Applied via [Balance]
Trait Reinforced: Balance remains stable
He remembered it—the first goblin, thick and bloated, slipping under his swing. The spray of black ichor across his vision. The panic. The pain. The surge.
He hadn't imagined it.
He had leveled up.
Not from mana. Not from routine. From something divine—the force left behind by something older than the monsters—the soul.
He leaned back, breath caught between disbelief and realization. "This isn't like the others," he whispered.
Maia tilted her head. "Koda?"
"I don't think I'm part of their system." His voice trembled. "I think I'm outside it."
She furrowed her brow. "But… you have a window now. You're Chosen."
"Maybe." His hand clenched over his chest. "But my patron isn't supposed to choose. Not ever. Not unless…"
He didn't finish.
The Balance trait sat at the core of his thoughts, its elegance terrifying in its simplicity. One point in any attribute—reflected across them all. A system made for harmony, for balance, not brute force.
This wasn't just divine.
This was foundational.
"Koda," Maia said quietly, "what do we do now?"
He looked past the horizon, toward the shattered remains of the wall. Black smoke still curled into the sky. The second invasion wasn't a whisper anymore—it was real. And he was part of it, whether he wanted to be or not.
"We get stronger," he said softly. "We figure out what this is. We stay hidden… until we can't be anymore."
She nodded, her eyes steady now.
And with that, a new path began—quiet and unseen—but no longer directionless.
He sat there in the ruins of the orphanage, the embers flickering low, shadows dancing on cracked stone. Around him, the world felt quieter now—not safe, but watching. Waiting.
With a breath, he summoned the window again.
It answered with clarity.
⸻
Name: Koda, of the Eternal Guide
Level: 2
Health: 60
Mana: 60
Stamina: 60
[Attributes]
Strength: 6
Dexterity: 6
Vitality: 6
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 6
[Traits]
Balance(Divine) - "Each point placed is placed in harmony."
Stat gains are evenly distributed. 1 into all.
[Abilities]
None unlocked
⸻
He traced his fingers through the shimmering air, the numbers glowing faintly. It was subtle, but now he knew: these numbers mattered. They weren't just words.
They were the shape of his soul.
And it was growing.
He closed his hand, and the window faded into smoke.
Tomorrow, the whispers would begin.
Tomorrow, the world would start watching.
But tonight, he was still just Koda of Oria.
And that was enough.