The Smile That Smells Like Smoke

Three days after the ambush, a letter arrived.

It is delivered by a priestess, with shaking hands. Not addressed to Lyra.

To Kanji.

Gold-trimmed. Wax sealed. His name was signed with a crest he didn't recognize—but the System did.

[Communique from Church — Diplomatic Class]

[From: Envoy Caelin Duskvale]

[Title: A-Hour of Quietude | Location: Ael'Thorne's Sanctuary]

[Intent: Negotiation / Alignment Offer]

Kanji looked at Lyra.

She didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

….

So Two days later, they reached the Sanctuary.

It wasn't a temple. It was a palace of words and secrets. No weapons. No guards in armor. Just velvet, marble, holy air — fake, filtered, polished for smell.

And stood atop the staircase:

Caelin Duskvale.

Young. Impossibly elegant. White hair, eyes like fresh ink, robes woven with actual scripture. He smiled as easily as someone who had never, not once, lost.

"Kanji," he said, striding toward us with clasped hands. "The deviation. The survivor. The Unmaker. It is an honor."

Kanji didn't smile back.

"I'm not interested."

"Of course you're not," said Caelin, unfazed. "You're powerful. Untamed. And with a chorus of whispers telling you that all you are is what everyone else wants to use.

Kanji's jaw clenched.

Caelin smiled wider. "But here's the truth. We don't want to use you. We want to offer you a place. Power, resources, command. All while being true to yourself."

"You tried to kill me."

"The Church is vast. And not all are behind such… crude tactics. We're evolving, Kanji. As you are."

He leaned close, lowering his voice.

"Do you know why we are really here?"

Kanji didn't answer.

Caelin's eyes gleamed.

"Because the gods are dying. The system is cracking. The world is tearing at the seams. You're not a threat. You're a chance. A new order, forged from the ashes of the old.'

A pause.

"You can go after the system," he said. "Or be the one who changes it."

[System Prompt: Algorithmic Alignment Offer — Church of the Fractured Flame]

[Perks: Pull, Political Protection, Access to God's Vault]

[Negatives: No Escape from Watchful Eye, Loyalty Oaths Mandatory]

[Warning: If you turn it down, you could be fucked.]

Lyra, quietly hovering nearby, was the first to speak.

Her voice was soft. Dry.

"They're not giving you a place," she said. "They're offering you a throne in a cage."

Caelin didn't deny it.

He gazed at Kanji instead, eyes lit with ambition.

"And maybe that's really all any of us have. Cages. The only question is: Do you want to own your self, or have someone else own you?"

The atmosphere inside the chamber was too sterile.

Too rehearsed.

The arched stone walls were lined with golden banners. Incense wafted from hanging braziers carved to look like praying angels. At the far end sat a high table, where six high-ranking Church officials awaited. Quiet. Tense.

And at the center — Caelin Duskvale, the silver-tongued diplomat.

But Kanji stayed, alone, in the center of the room. Unarmed. Unbound. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

Lyra leaned against the column behind him, arms crossed, unreadable.

She hadn't made a sound since they got there.

"Kanji," Caelin said, his voice silky. "You've come far. More powerful than the greatest demon you ever called to the field. And the system itself adjusts to fit your presence. Surely you see your opportunity —"

"I see a birdcage with gold paint," Kanji said.

He didn't raise his voice.

He didn't need to.

"I see six folks trying to put a weapon in a good mood while they handcuff it to a throne.

Caelin kept his calm. "You misunderstand. We give loyalty, not shackles.

Kanji's eyes glinted. "I said BOLO for assassins, why send them first?

Silence.

"Why were you trying to erase me before you actually asked me what I want?"

A few of the seated bishops stirred. "You're unstable. You bear splinters of a lost god. That makes you a threat."

"No," Kanji said. "It makes me the future."

He stepped forward.

"The gods are dying. The system is cracking. Your Church is merely scaffolding supporting a corpse."

He paused.

"And you know it."

Caelin's eyes finally moved — just a flick.

[System Alert: Social Errors in a Home with Transition. Threat Status Elevated.]

[Passive: "Warden of the Unwritten" Engaging…]

[All System Monitoring Suppressed For 60 seconds.]

Kanji turned slightly. Glanced at Lyra.

She gave a small nod.

So he drew his final line.

"You don't get to shape me. You don't get to manage me. I'm not your sword."

He walked to the center of the sanctuary. Gazed at the stained glass mural of Aurelia — goddess of flame and order.

And he raised a hand.

[Skill Activated: UNMAKE]

[Horizon: Symbolic Anchor – "Mural of Divine Harmony"]

[Effect: Conceptual Collapse. Target Erased.]

The whole wall exploded silently.

Not a crack. Not rubble.

It was gone — like it had never been.

A rush of cold air poured into the vacuum.

The room erupted into chaos — priests shouting, guards springing to arms.

But no one moved on Kanji.

Because now Lyra was stepping forward, her cloak flaring.

She said nothing.

But the pressure in the room broke like a neck under a boot.

Pale, Caelin raised a hand to halt the guards.

Kanji turned to them all.

"I'm done playing your game."

Then walked out.

Lyra followed.

[Title Earned: God Killer -- Path Chosen]

[Status: Enemy of the Church]

[System Alert: Divergence Found.] You are now Unbound: official.]

[Aurelia has sensed your defiance.]