Chapter 9: The Herald’s Judgment
The System Herald hovered above the battlefield, radiating an unnatural stillness. Where the Wardens flickered between existence and nothingness, the Herald was fully present, as if it belonged to reality in a way nothing else did.
Its featureless helmet turned toward Rheon. A presence beyond comprehension bore down upon him.
Obey. Kneel. Submit.
The voice wasn't spoken aloud, but it thundered inside his skull, demanding obedience.
The city stilled.
Soldiers, mages, even the Wardens themselves—all froze.
Their thoughts were not their own.
Hadric grunted, veins bulging as he fought against an unseen force. "What… the hell… is this?"
Lorien had collapsed completely, hands clutching his head, his body trembling. The weight of the Herald's presence was suffocating.
Garran's sword trembled in his grip. Even he—who had fought against nightmares—was struggling to resist.
The Herald descended, step by step.
It raised one gauntleted hand toward Rheon.
And Rheon's body seized.
His muscles locked. His lungs refused to pull in air. His mind blurred, drowning in the System's will.
Obey. Kneel. Submit.
The spear pulsed.
NO.
A surge of golden energy burst from the weapon, clashing against the Herald's influence. Sparks of reality itself crackled where their wills collided.
The weight pressing on Rheon lessened.
Just enough.
He moved.
His body screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth and lunged forward.
The spear met the Herald's gauntlet.
The moment of contact sent a shockwave through the battlefield.
The Herald's head tilted. It did not step back, did not react in pain, but something in the air shifted.
For the first time, the Herald acknowledged Rheon as a threat.
It spoke, not in a command, but a statement.
"Unwritten."
The Herald struck.
---
A Battle Beyond Mortals
The movement was too fast. Too precise.
One moment the Herald was in front of Rheon—the next, it was behind him.
Rheon barely twisted in time to block. The spear caught the strike, but the force behind it sent him hurtling backward.
He crashed through a stone wall. Dust and rubble exploded around him.
Elara shouted his name, but her voice was distant, drowned out by the ringing in his skull.
He had never fought something like this before.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a correction.
A god-made enforcer, sent to remove a mistake.
The Herald stepped forward, its presence distorting reality itself. The System was fully invested now.
The air trembled. The very foundations of Ironhold groaned under its presence.
And Rheon knew—this city would not survive if he lost.
Gritting his teeth, he staggered to his feet. Blood dripped from his temple, but the spear in his hand pulsed, the whispers of the forgotten surging in his mind.
He was not alone.
He planted his foot and raised his weapon.
The Herald moved.
And the true battle began.
Clash of Fate
The Herald moved like inevitability.
One moment, it was still—the next, it was in front of Rheon, its armored hand already striking.
Rheon barely twisted aside, the attack grazing past him. Even without direct contact, the sheer force of its presence warped the air, distorting everything in its path.
Stone behind him vanished. Entire sections of the city were unwritten, removed from existence as if they had never been.
But Rheon was still here.
The blackened spear burned in his grip. It was the only thing in this battle that the System could not erase.
He struck.
The spearhead screamed against reality, meeting the Herald's gauntlet in a violent collision. Sparks of golden energy erupted from the impact, tearing a gash in the sky itself.
The Herald tilted its head. For the first time, it acknowledged the weapon as something beyond its control.
Rheon pressed forward.
He swung again, faster—each strike aiming for the smooth, featureless helmet.
But the Herald did not block.
It did not need to.
Every attack passed through empty space, as if the Herald had never been there to begin with.
Then, a return strike.
The Herald's palm met Rheon's chest—
Agony.
Not physical pain, but something deeper.
Rheon staggered, his vision flickering. For a moment, he saw another world. A world without him. A world where he had never existed.
The System was trying to erase him.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind to hold.
The spear pulsed. The whispers grew louder.
A voice—not the System's, but something older.
"You are beyond its reach."
Rheon roared, shattering the illusion.
The Herald took a step back. It had not expected him to resist.
The battle shifted.
---
The Turning Point
The defenders of Ironhold had been frozen by the Herald's overwhelming presence. But as Rheon fought, as he endured, something in the air changed.
Garran's grip on his sword tightened. His breaths steadied.
Hadric cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "Damn… That kid's really standing against it."
Elara, still cloaked in shadow, moved.
She flickered behind a Warden, twin daggers flashing.
This time, the Wardens reacted too slowly.
Her blade bit into their forms, striking deep into their flickering bodies.
Lorien gritted his teeth, hands trembling. Magic surged through his veins. The Herald's presence had almost crushed him, but now… now, he could move.
Ironhold's defenders found their strength.
They were not powerless. Not while Rheon stood.
And so, they fought back.
The Wardens, once untouchable, began to fall.
The Herald took notice.
Its head turned toward the battlefield, assessing the change. The System had calculated that this city would fall. That resistance would be erased.
Yet now, the flow of fate was breaking.
The Herald's featureless helmet turned back to Rheon.
It raised a hand.
Reality shattered.
The Herald was done testing him.
Now, it would end him.
Rheon gripped his spear tighter, his breath steady.
The real fight was just beginning.
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