Night blanketed Aelhurst in smoke and flame.
The once-peaceful village was now an inferno of chaos. Crops burned in the fields, wagons lay overturned, and homes—those humble places of laughter and prayer—were nothing but silhouettes of ruin beneath the crimson sky.
The bandits prowled the streets like wolves. There were dozens of them, scarred and armored in scavenged steel, their laughter echoing through the screams. Some bore crude magical brands that glowed sickly green across their forearms—sigils of stolen power granted by lesser spirits or forbidden pacts.
One of them, a brute with a jagged scar over his mouth, raised his palm and unleashed a burst of flame that engulfed a barn in seconds. "Hah! That's how you smoke 'em out!"
Children were dragged from their homes, mothers tied with rope, fathers beaten and forced to their knees. The village elder was among them, clutching his side, his eyes dim with despair.
A tall woman with hair like iron coals—clearly their leader—watched the carnage with arms crossed. "Take everything worth gold. Food, cloth, tools. Then burn what's left," she ordered.
"And the villagers?" one asked.
She smirked. "They'll be worth coins in the slave markets."
The bandits jeered. Torches flared. The light of Heaven seemed a memory lost to time.
Then, from the far end of the road, a different light began to bloom.
Soft. Steady. Golden.
It wasn't a fire. It was too pure, too deliberate—each flicker humming like music. The bandits turned, squinting through the smoke.
Two silhouettes approached through the haze—one wrapped in a pale cloak, the other walking barefoot, his steps calm and unhurried despite the storm around him.
Serena's cloak was flowing gently, her face scared yet determined as she held herself tall beside the stranger she had saved.
Lucien walked at her side. His golden hair glowed faintly in the torchlight, falling in perfect waves despite the grime of the world. His face—once ruined by divine flame—was now whole, sculpted and radiant, yet his torso bore the scars of Heaven's punishment, half-hidden beneath a simple brown tunic and linen pants.
He looked almost human. Almost.
But the air around him said otherwise.
The bandits froze as he and Serena stepped into the square.
One sneered. "Who the hell is this? A priest?"
Lucien's voice rang like steel wrapped in silk. "I am the divine intervention sent to stop you."
A beat of silence. Then laughter erupted around the campfire.
"The gods don't send help to dirt like us," another spat, brandishing his axe. "They haven't answered a prayer in years."
Lucien's lips curved into the faintest smirk. His golden eyes shimmered like dawn breaking through storm clouds.
"I never said the gods sent me," he replied. "I only said I am the divine intervention."
The laughter faltered.
A man shoved a captured villager forward. "So this is why Lady Serena left? To fetch a fool?"
The villagers murmured, confused and frightened. Serena clenched her fists but said nothing.
Lucien simply looked upward, inhaled, and whispered as though reciting scripture:
"Faith is the fuel of Heaven. Emotion is its spark."
The air shivered.
Light blossomed beneath his feet—runic circles forming in concentric rings, each one glowing with symbols no mortal tongue could name. The ground trembled as warmth spread outward like the rising sun.
The bandits stumbled back, weapons raised. "What the—"
Lucien extended his hand toward the largest burning house.
"Heavenforge—activate."
Golden threads erupted from his palm, weaving through the smoke like living fireflies. They connected to every glimmer of faith within reach—the whispered prayers of the terrified villagers, the desperate hope clinging to Serena's heart—and drew it all toward him.
The Faith Engine roared to life.
[Faith Energy Detected: Pure Faith — 67 units.]
[Light Reconstruction Protocols: Engaged.]
The sigils around Lucien spun faster. Flames bent toward him, reshaping from chaos into order, from destruction into creation. The fire that once consumed Aelhurst now gathered above his hand, forming into a brilliant spear of light.
The leader scoffed. "Pretty tricks! Let's see how long they last!"
She snapped her fingers, and two bandits lunged forward, their bodies crackling with crimson magic. Their skin hardened to stone, their blades burning black.
Lucien's gaze softened—almost pitying.
He hurled the spear.
It struck the first man dead-center, not piercing him but unmaking him—his corrupted magic evaporating like mist in sunlight. The second bandit swung his sword in rage, but Lucien lifted a hand. A translucent barrier formed, humming like a hymn. The blow struck, shattered—and the backlash sent the man flying into the mud.
The bandits froze.
Lucien stepped forward, the earth glowing beneath every step. "Your magic feeds on mana. Mine feeds on faith."
He spread his arms. Golden energy surged outward, sweeping through the square. The villagers' bindings snapped apart as if cut by invisible blades of light. Each of them gasped as warmth filled their chests—an unfamiliar calm, a sudden courage.
"Do not be afraid," Lucien said, his voice resonating like a thousand choirs. "Your belief sustains me."
The Heavenforge Core pulsed within him. His veins glowed brighter, tracing divine runes along his arms and neck. The villagers' prayers, unspoken but powerful, swirled around him as streams of luminous dust.
"Impossible…" one bandit whispered. "He's drawing power from them!"
Lucien turned his gaze on the leader. "Faith is not a weapon. But it can defend."
He clenched his fist.
Golden feathers—illusory wings of light—burst from his back. Not the six grand wings he once bore, but two radiant silhouettes, reborn from shattered divinity. They spread wide, illuminating the entire square.
Bandits covered their faces, blinded by brilliance.
The leader screamed, conjuring her dark magic. Shadows surged around her, taking the form of snarling beasts. "You're no god! You're just another liar with a trick!"
Lucien's eyes burned. "Then let the truth judge between us."
He brought his hands together. The sigils merged, forming a radiant forge wheel in the air—a blazing halo of creation. Sparks flew from it, raining upon the shadow beasts. Each spark touched them and converted darkness into light, turning fury into stillness, hate into silence.
The beasts dissolved into harmless embers.
Lucien's voice deepened, layered with something more than mortal sound.
"From faith, I shape. From light, I renew."
He drew back his arm, and from the forge wheel came a blade—sleek and luminous, forged from pure belief. The villagers gasped as he stepped forward, swinging once. The light cleaved through the leader's magic, cutting through her weapon like paper.
She fell to her knees, gasping as her sigils flickered out.
Lucien stopped above her, eyes glowing with quiet judgment. "Leave this place. Tell the world that Heaven still answers—but not as it once did."
The bandits hesitated only a heartbeat before scrambling for their horses. In moments, the square was empty save for smoke, silence, and light.
Lucien lowered his blade, and it dissolved into golden mist. His shoulders sagged. The sigils around him dimmed, flickering out one by one.
Serena rushed to his side. "You did it," she breathed. "You—"
He smiled faintly. "Not I, we. The Heavenforge does not create from power… but from belief."
As he spoke, faint motes of light drifted through the air, settling over the wounded villagers. Burns faded, cuts sealed. The children, who had been sobbing moments before, stared in awe at the angelic glow surrounding the man who had saved them.
Elder Ryn stepped forward, eyes wide. "Who… who are you?"
Lucien turned to him, his expression serene yet distant. "A fallen dawn, seeking to rise anew."
The elder bowed his head, trembling. "Then you have my faith."
And just like that, the Heavenforge pulsed again, brighter than before.
---
[Heavenforge System Update]
[New Faith Bonds Formed: 26]
[System Integrity: 43% Restored]
[Authority Fragment — 'Light' (Tier I) Unlocked]
---
Lucien exhaled deeply, the glow around him softening. He glanced toward Serena—her eyes reflecting the golden light like twin suns.
"You see now," he said quietly, "faith is creation itself. The gods abandoned you, but faith never leaves the hearts of mortals."
She stepped closer, voice trembling with reverence. "And you… what will you do with it?"
Lucien looked toward the horizon, where dawn was beginning to rise over the ruined fields.
"Forge a new Heaven," he said, almost to himself. "One that answers when mortals cry for help."
The light touched his face, and for the first time since his fall, it didn't burn.
It welcomedhim.
And so, from the ashes of one village's despair, the first miracle of the Heavenforge was born.