Subtitle: The Heir Who Forged a World Beyond Swords.
God's Eyes, Iron Will
Chapter 3: The Heretic of Ironfall
The pulse had barely faded.
Alvanley's hands still hummed from the residual energy. The automaton lay in shards across the testing corridor, its mana dissipated into nothingness. Steam hissed, warning alarms echoed faintly, and yet the workshop fell silent.
No one dared move.
He isn't human.
Rask Calder, the scrap-tier overseer, stepped forward. His mechanical arm clicked against the floor.
"Kid… you've done it. I've never seen a scrap-tier build do that. Ever."
Alvanley's golden eyes scanned the room. Every engineer, every piece of machinery, every structural weakness — the God's Eyes saw it all, calculating, predicting, optimizing.
"Scrap-tier…?" he muttered, almost to himself. "Then Alloy-tier will be fun."
Kaelith Vorn approached, her boots clanging on metal. "Don't celebrate. You just announced yourself to everyone in this city… and probably to the gods themselves."
He shrugged, the weight of her words only lightly touching him. "Good. Let them watch. Let them learn that the future isn't theirs to control."
⚙️ The City Reacts
By mid-morning, the corridors of Ironfall were buzzing. News of the golden-eyed prodigy had spread faster than any system update.
Engineers whispered. Security drones rerouted. Even the city's moving districts seemed to pause in curiosity.
A small crowd formed outside the workshop. Some cheered. Some gawked. Some scowled.
Then came the first challenge.
A mage.
Tall, cloaked, with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. His aura burned with arrogance and authority.
"You there," he said, pointing directly at Alvanley. "Golden Eyes. You are in violation of every law of magic in this city. You will surrender your weapon immediately."
Alvanley tilted his head, watching the pulse of mana around the mage. "Your laws? I didn't come here to follow yours. I came here to build. And I build what works."
The mage's eyes narrowed. "Bold. Foolish. We will see how long that lasts."
🔥 First Public Duel
The mage raised a staff, unleashing a volley of glowing mana bolts. Engineers scattered. Machines whirred defensively, doors slammed shut, and sparks flew.
Alvanley crouched, analyzing.
Mana vector: 47° left, velocity 56 km/h. Energy threshold: 32 joules. Weak points: slight delay in mana burst coherence.
He reached for his rail-blade prototype — a sleek, jagged weapon that could slice through reinforced mana shields.
The System spoke quietly in his mind:
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: NEUTRALIZE WITH MINIMAL DAMAGE]
Alvanley fired.
The kinetic pulse collided with the first bolt, shattering it midair. The next bolts collided with reinforced alloy panels he had prepared in seconds. Sparks and mana fragments rained down.
The mage faltered. He had underestimated technology.
"Impossible!" the mage shouted. "No human—no device—can…"
Alvanley stepped forward. The pulse launcher hummed softly. With one calibrated shot, the mage's staff shattered, its mana corrupting and fizzing into nothingness. The crowd gasped.
The System confirmed:
[TARGET NEUTRALIZED. SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 97%]
[Tier Advancement: ALLOY → ARC-CORE AVAILABLE]
⚠️ Attention Drawn
Far above the city, on the floating platforms of Skyreach Citadel, a golden light flashed across Wain Valdyrion's eyes.
"So… he survived Ironfall."
Boli, at his father's side, clenched his fists. "Father… I want him found. Alive. I want to see this golden-eyed heretic broken before he becomes a threat."
Wain smiled. "Patience. Let him grow. Then we will crush him—and take the God's Eyes for ourselves."
Alvanley did not yet know. But the moment he had fired that pulse, the gaze of his enemies had multiplied.
Every mage in the city. Every hidden agent of the Concord. Every mercenary who valued a paycheck over laws. All eyes were now on him.
👁️ Alvanley's Choice
Alvanley stepped out of the ruined testing corridor, golden eyes gleaming.
Kaelith caught up with him, her expression unreadable. "Do you realize what you just did?"
"I do," Alvanley said calmly. "I just made it very clear: the era of gods and swords is over. And this city? My playground."
He glanced down at his hands. Machines hummed faintly as if responding to him. This is only the beginning.
And for the first time, the System's voice rang louder, clearer:
[WARNING: DIVINE INTERFERENCE DETECTED. THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME.]
Above Ironfall, the clouds split.
A streak of golden lightning tore across the sky, unnatural and pulsing with divine power.
Alvanley's God's Eyes flared.
He whispered under his breath:
"So… the game begins."
And in the shadow above, the first god watching him descended toward the city.
🔥 END OF CHAPTER 3