《Haldareth's Saint》 Wooden sword The clang of wooden swords echoed through the orphanage yard, followed by laughter and the occasional shout of a name. It didn¡¯t matter whose name it was; to him, every name was a placeholder for a legend, a future knight whose deeds would be sung in ballads and whispered in taverns. Maybe even his own name one day, though that seemed far off now. "Huff Huff" He adjusted his grip on the crude sword¡ªa stick, really¡ªand swung it with an exaggerated flair, cutting through an imaginary foe. ¡°Sir Andrew the Bold,¡± he muttered under his breath. That sounded right, didn¡¯t it? A name worthy of glory. ¡°Andrew! You''re doing it wrong again!¡± The voice jolted him from his fantasy. It belonged to a girl who always seemed to know how to ruin his most heroic moments. Lyra. She stood by the edge of the yard, arms crossed, her long blue hair flowing like a silken wave, catching the sunlight just so, making her look almost ethereal. Her beauty was both a blessing and a curse¡ªat least to him. She was the girl every other boy in the orphanage adored, the one everyone admired from a distance, but only Andrew ever really knew the quiet moments between them. Andrew wasn¡¯t much to look at, at least not yet. Stocky, a little ugly in a way that made him blend into the background, with messy black hair and a face that hadn¡¯t quite come into its own. His cheeks were round and his nose too large, but there was a potential hidden beneath the rough edges. He could grow into something more¡ªa tall, striking figure with sharp features, if he trained his body and honed his spirit. His broad shoulders and strong arms suggested that his future might hold something handsome, if only he had the right direction. But for now, he was just Andrew¡ªanother orphan with grand dreams. ¡°I¡¯m not doing it wrong!¡± he shot back, planting the stick in the ground like a sword in stone glaring with his red eyes. ¡°Yes, you are.¡± Lyra walked closer, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and pity. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to keep your feet steady, not... flail like a drunk chicken.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t flail!¡± She just smiled, and it was infuriating. Not because she was wrong, but because her smile was like sunlight¡ªit disarmed him, made him forget whatever point he was trying to prove. He hated that. Their bickering was interrupted by a loud snort from behind them. Andrew didn¡¯t need to turn to know who it was. ¡°Look at the knight and his little princess,¡± sneered Markus, the biggest bully in the orphanage and, as far as Andrew was concerned, the biggest idiot as well. Markus wasn¡¯t clever, but he didn¡¯t need to be. His size did the talking for him. And like all bullies, he had a habit of picking on the prettiest girl in the room¡ªprobably because he didn¡¯t know how to talk to her like a normal person. Andrew stepped in front of Lyra without thinking. It was automatic by now, a reflex honed over years of dealing with Markus. ¡°Go away, Markus,¡± he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. ¡°What are you gonna do, Andrew?¡± Markus smirked, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Wave that stick around and pretend you¡¯re a knight?¡± Something inside Andrew snapped. Maybe it was the way Markus looked at Lyra, like she was a prize to be won. Maybe it was the way he said ¡°pretend,¡± like Andrew¡¯s dreams were nothing more than a child¡¯s fantasy. Whatever it was, it pushed him past his usual cautiousness. He swung the stick. It wasn¡¯t a graceful swing, not the kind he imagined knights making in the stories. It was wild and unrefined, driven more by anger than technique. Markus dodged easily, laughing as he stepped back. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± Markus said, grabbing a stick of his own. ¡°But guts won¡¯t help you now.¡± The fight that followed wasn¡¯t much of a fight. It was messy and clumsy, more a flurry of awkward movements than anything resembling combat. But for all his size, Markus wasn¡¯t as fast as Andrew, and that gave him an edge. Their clash drew a crowd. The other orphans gathered in a loose circle, cheering and jeering as the two boys traded blows although it was more of Markus tormenting the short andrew . Andrew could feel their eyes on him, their expectations weighing heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to win¡ªnot just for himself, but for Lyra. He didn¡¯t notice the rock until it was too late. Markus, ever the cheater, had scooped it up in his free hand and hurled it with surprising accuracy. It caught Andrew in the side of the head, and he stumbled, the world tilting as pain blossomed behind his eyes. He hit the ground hard, the stick slipping from his grasp. ¡°Andrew!¡± Lyra¡¯s voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. Markus loomed over him, his shadow long and menacing. ¡°Guess you¡¯re not much of a knight after all,¡± he said, raising his stick for the final blow. But it never came. Adoption - 1 Clack! In the blink of an eye, Lyra intercepted the descending stick meant for Andrew. Markus, caught off guard, barely had time to react before she skillfully twisted the weapon from his grasp and flung it away. He reached out instinctively to grab it back, but Lyra shoved him with a surprising force. Markus stumbled, his balance momentarily lost. Just as she prepared to unleash her fury upon him with a well-deserved beating¡ª "Stop!" A sharp voice rang through the orphanage yard. It was Sister Luna. A middle-aged woman, her beauty had long been softened by the hardships of life. She was the only other religious figure in this remote village besides the priest from that obscure temple. Her face was flushed¡ªwhether from anger or from the heavy pack she carried, it was hard to tell. "Half an hour. Just half an hour! And you lot have already turned this place into chaos!" she exclaimed, her tone exasperated. At her outburst, the gathered children scattered, vanishing into the orphanage like frightened mice. Only Andrew, still lying on the ground, Lyra, frozen in shock, and Markus, stiff with fear, remained.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Sister Luna¡¯s sharp gaze landed on Markus. "How many times, Markus? How many times must I do this before you stop picking fights?!" Then, her eyes flicked to Andrew, widening in alarm. "Oh, my goddess Prithvi¡ªhe¡¯s bleeding!" She hurried to Andrew¡¯s side. Lyra, snapping out of her daze, quickly followed. "Let me help, Sister," Lyra offered, supporting Andrew as he struggled to sit up. Sister Luna knelt beside him, murmuring a soft prayer under her breath. "Please do," she said, then turned a stern gaze to Markus. "And as for you¡ªgo to your dorm. No evening snacks for a week!" "But¡ª!" Markus protested. "No buts. Now!" Markus lowered his head and trudged away. No evening snacks were bad enough. But worse¡ªfar worse¡ªwas what came next. "From today onward, you will recite the Metal Scriptures with me every evening," Sister Luna added. A murmur of sympathy passed through the children who overheard. Sitting in a rigid position for three straight hours, chanting scriptures? That was a punishment worse than hunger. Still, considering it was Markus, no one felt too sorry for him. Adoption 2 Sister Luna gently laid Andrew on the bed and placed her hand over his injuries. A warm, golden glow emanated from her fingertips as she invoked the Earth¡¯s Healing Mystery. "I¡¯m fine, Sister," Andrew said with a small smile. Lyra, standing nearby with her arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed, huffed. "No, you¡¯re not. I should¡¯ve stepped in sooner and beaten the wannabe bully out of him today." "Lyra, my dear, watch your mouth. We are in the Goddess¡¯s Sanctuary right now, and you know what the Goddess teaches," Sister Luna chided. Andrew grinned, his voice light with mischief. "No violence unless thou art protecting thy livelihood, life, and loved ones." "Yes, exactly! Oh! But if you promise to marry Andrew in the future, then it would be okay, since you¡¯d be¡ª" Before Sister Luna could finish her teasing remark, Lyra cut her off. "NO!! As if!" she shouted, her face instantly heating up. Andrew groaned. "Stop teasing us, Sister." Sister Luna watched the two blushing eight-year-olds with amusement. Their reactions had completely softened her earlier frustration. Deciding not to push further, she stood up to attend to her daily duties, leaving the two embarrassed children alone. --- Later that Evening "Oh! Thank you for earlier," Andrew said. "For what?" Lyra asked, tilting her head. "Of course, for saving your beloved future lover," Andrew smirked. Smack!Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "Stop spouting nonsense, little brother," Lyra retorted, but the redness in her ears didn¡¯t go unnoticed. Andrew grinned. "Then, little sis, you know what the Mother Goddess says¡ªyou shouldn¡¯t hit your elders." Smack! "Owww! Hey, what if I start bleeding again?" Andrew whined. Lyra only rolled her eyes. --- The Turning Point of History There was a time when Aura Knights, Grand Wizards, and Divine Bearers stood right below the gods themselves. They were the supreme authorities in this world. However, everything changed with the Great Continental War of Saint Caldrea Year 1723. That year, for the first time in recorded history, an Arch Spiritist emerged outside the Elvish community. This was soon followed by the Second Great Continental War (1756-1764 SC)¡ªa brutal conflict that coincided with the rise of industrialization. The cost of these wars was unfathomable. Entire civilizations were wiped out, and the chaos allowed the banished beings of the Cursed Continent to bare their fangs once more. Yet, amidst the devastation, humans learned something crucial¡ªthe art of war. They learned that, with the right tactics, traps, and research, mere mortals could kill beings once thought invincible. Not gods¡ªno, the gods had long since abandoned this realm, bound by the Laws of the Ancients. But for the first time, a well-trained group of mechanized magic users¡ªbarely at Rank 4¡ªmanaged to bring down a Rank 6 Aura Swordsman using their slinger-like mechanical tools. A feat once deemed impossible. There were countless such stories, but in the end, it all came down to one thing: fatigue. A century of endless wars had drained the world¡¯s will for battle. The international community placed so many checks and balances on war that large-scale conflicts became virtually impossible. Weapons of mass destruction acted as deterrents. Gods, though distant, blessed countless oracles to maintain balance. The Race Treaty ensured peace between species, enforced by severe international laws. And so, the world entered the Great Industrial Era. Railways stretched across continents. Air travel became possible. Markets flourished, and races intermingled like never before. Superhuman academies no longer prioritized raw combat ability alone¡ªthey placed magic machines and alchemical research on equal footing. For a time, it seemed like true progress had been achieved. Until the year 1860 SC. That was the year when the banished beings struck for the first time since the Great Demonic War of the 11th Century SC. The world would never be the same again. Chapter 4 Chapter 3: The Turning Gears of Fate Half a century ago, in 1862 SC, the world faced an unprecedented crisis. The banished beings¡ªmonsters long sealed away¡ªsuddenly surged in both number and strength, reaching their highest recorded levels since the Great Demonic War of the 11th Century SC. In the years that followed, demons reappeared, and tragedies unfolded across the Saint Roland Empire and beyond. To combat this rising threat, nations took swift action. Mechanized steel units, including the legendary Slinger Unit, were deployed alongside knight orders, mage orders, divine parties, and inquisition units¡ªall revived or newly established to stem the tide of destruction.
Among the quiet villages untouched by war, one man stood out. Mr. Thomas¡ªor Tom, as he was commonly known¡ªwas a highly respected figure. And for good reason. He was a retired member of the Root Division, an elite group of warriors who, despite their inability to wield Aura, could take on Tier 5 monsters and demons. Their secret? The Mechanized Steel Exoskeleton, a marvel of engineering known for its ability to root its wearer to a spot, allowing them to withstand even a landslide unharmed.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. That day, on his weekly visit to the village temple, Tom stumbled upon a scene that piqued his interest. A fight. Two boys clashed fiercely in the orphanage yard. Tom, sticking to his old principle of "only interfere when necessary," observed from a distance. One boy was big, his strikes heavy but unrefined. The other¡ªsmaller, stockier¡ªfought back with surprising tenacity. His techniques were rough, clumsy, but his sheer grit made Tom pause. Not bad, he thought. But then¡ª His breath hitched. In the time it took him to blink, something impossible happened. A blue-haired girl, smaller than both boys, blurred into motion. She intercepted the larger boy¡¯s attack with effortless precision, her body twisting at the perfect angle. In a single, fluid movement, she disarmed him and sent him staggering back. Tom¡¯s heartbeat quickened. That speed. That technique. Her strikes weren¡¯t wild or instinctive¡ªthey were sharp, calculated, deadly. Rough, yes. Unpolished. But the foundation was there. And yet, there were no swordsmen in this village. No passing warriors, no mentors who could have taught a child like her. No one but him. That left only one conclusion. "This child is a gem." Tom exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the straps of his pack. He didn¡¯t know what he was about to do. Didn¡¯t know why his feet had already started moving. He only knew one thing. That this moment¡ªthis single, unremarkable moment in a quiet village¡ªmight be the first turn of the gears of fate. And without realizing it, he had just set them in motion.