Faith of the Faithless

CG Chapter 106: Faith of the Faithless

Two weeks had passed since the deaths of Sofos de Astrial and Ragnar Skyweaver.

The deaths of two of the most powerful figures in the seven kingdoms almost shattered the already fragile faith of the common people.

They had already been struggling to survive due to the turmoil spreading across the continent. Their deaths were like the final nail, pushing the people to no longer want to live under the rule of the churches.

Little did they know, worse times were to come, and darker shadows were brewing in the darkness, ready to devour the continent whole.

At the border between Aeolantis, Danloor, and Daybreak, the armies of Flameheart, Alamut, and the noble households gathered beneath an ordinary, unnamed hill.

The normally rowdy soldiers were too mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of them to cause any trouble. For once, no one dared to speak.

A man clad in full iron armor stepped forward, the insignia of a flame etched on his chest. But before the soldiers could take a closer look…

His appearance was quickly concealed by paper umbrellas, opening one by one with every step he took toward the summit.

The strange scene continued until the man reached the peak of the hill. Finally, as he stopped, all the umbrellas snapped shut at once with a sharp sound, giving everyone a clear look at him.

A crimson-haired young man stood before them, clad in silver armor. On the right side of his chest, the engraving of a flame extended across his back, blending seamlessly into the fiery cloak flowing from his right side.

This man was none other than Tom--but to the soldiers, he was Edward von Flameheart, the saint child of the Eternal Flames.

Next to him stood Captain Reynard, holding a crown embedded with seven shining gems.

"Today, you and I are honored to witness the birth of the Emperor of Eternal Flames," Reynard said in a solemn voice. "The death of the old, and the overturning of dynasties."

Reynard lifted the crown with both hands before placing it on Tom's head.

The soldiers kept their silence as they watched in respect, but the moment the crown was placed, the ground shook violently.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

One soldier began clapping against his armor, and soon the others joined, the rhythmic clicking spreading throughout the army. The sound grew louder and louder until it filled the battlefield, echoing like the sound of striking thunder.

The soldiers didn't stop until Tom raised his right hand into the sky. His gesture silenced them in an instant, and their attention locked on him.

Anyone else would have crumbled under the combined pressure of their gazes, but Tom simply smiled back.

"Warriors. Knights. Men," Tom said loudly, his voice unshaken.

The battlefield became deathly quiet, and the thousands of soldiers gathered from every corner of the seven kingdoms listened carefully.

They didn't know why or how, but despite his age, the young man before them filled them with an unshakable sense of reassurance, as if they were standing before a seasoned monarch who had fought in countless wars.

God alone knew that no sane man would dare raise his sword against even the lowest-ranking soldier of the seven kingdoms, let alone think of rebelling.

The very thought of it would have sent shivers of fear through their bodies.

Seeing that he had captured the full attention of the soldiers, Tom continued.

"Today, we gather here to fight. To rebel and overthrow the seven kingdoms and their false gods, who have forced their rule upon us for countless years."

"To even stand here today, you have crossed a bridge of courage that few would dare to walk. For that, I thank you. But when the chaos, blood, and savagery of this war begin to seep into your mind, I ask only one thing of you."

"Remember that you are not fighting for glory. Not fighting for fame. And not fighting for yourselves or even for me."

The soldiers, confused by his words, glanced at each other.

From the moment Tom had appeared, everything had been carefully calculated--the umbrellas, the crown, his speech--all of this was to elevate his image in their minds.

Now, he lowered himself to their level, his tone humble.

Humility does not come from the lowly. The weak cannot lower themselves to others, for they are already at the bottom. Only a great man, standing above the masses, has the right to display humility and grace.

"You, warriors who don the cold, heartless armor that is clicking against your skin. You, who carry your swords before your very lives. Fight, but not for me, not for yourselves. Fight for your sons and daughters, so they will not grow up under the same humiliation and tyranny of the royal families."

"Fight so that they may grow under the light of freedom."

"Once the war starts, your faith might waver. They will call us rebels, traitors, even demons. But we know the truth. We are the flames that will bring light to this accursed world."

Tom raised his hand higher, his voice rising as he channeled his energy as a grand knight.

"Now, raise your swords and shields. Walk with your heads held high, and let them see that the Eternal Flames have come to usher in a new era."

As Tom finished, the soldiers felt a surge of emotions: hope, pride, and anger.

After all, who among them had not heard the rumors about the churches? Who here did not have a son, a daughter, or a sibling they feared losing to the so-called gods?

The soldiers, many of them from common backgrounds, had no words to reply to Tom.

Instead, they offered a gesture far more sincere.

One by one, the soldiers began to drop to their knees, holding their swords toward him. For knights, their swords were everything--their pride, their bread, and butter.

To willingly offer their swords was the highest sign of respect they could show.

Tom stood silently, watching the thousands of soldiers kneel before him. He felt happy that everything was going as he planned, but his happiness was suddenly interrupted.

Something began to stir in his chest. He felt an overwhelming energy surging inside him. It felt as if, if he didn't let out the energy, he might explode from within.

"Rise!" he shouted, unable to suppress it any longer.

The soldiers looked up, and what they saw froze them.

Hovering around Tom was a golden dragon, its shining body coiling gracefully around him. Though small at first, the dragon radiated a brilliant glow, making it clearly visible even from afar.

This was the Dragon of Faith. A dragon born from the collective faith of the faithless.

Due to the seven gods draining every bit of Eldervale's energy, the Dragon was never allowed to be born. Yet, they could never have imagined, even in their wildest dreams, that it would form, not from their slaves, but from a rebel.

…

After the forces split, each leader took a turn addressing their troops.

On Folek's side, he raised his sword high, shouting. "I am Folek von Flameheart, and I'll be damned if I let them destroy everything I've built here! Men, knights, hold your swords high! Today, we fight to forge a new world!"

Meanwhile, the still-recovering Hidden, unlike his usual self, kept his speech brief: "Kill."

The soldiers roared in unison, lifting their weapons into the air. The golden dragon spiraled around Tom, glowing brighter with each passing moment.

War was coming.

And for the first time in the last six thousand years, the gods were facing an enemy they couldn't have imagined.