Ghostlywatcher

Kael was never meant to be a hero. Bullied, broken, and betrayed by the world, the 95 kg high school shut-in had nothing—no friends, no purpose, just scars hidden beneath his hoodie. But when the world begins to collapse into chaos, and God Himself unleashes judgment upon a sinful humanity through monstrous ancient beasts and divine reckoning, Kael is chosen.

Why?
Because even when the world was cruel, Kael remained righteous.

Gifted with Divine Echo, an S-rank ability that removes all limitations from any power he uses, Kael begins a transformation—both physical and spiritual. From obsessive training and relentless self-discipline, he sculpts his body into a weapon. From heartbreak and trauma, he forges a mind sharper than any blade. And from isolation, he builds resolve—unshakable and merciless.

But this is no fairytale redemption.
Kael isn’t here to save the world.
He’s here to survive it.

With humanity collapsing, safe zones crumbling, and ancient predators ruling the Earth, Kael must lead, fight, and manipulate his way through a new reality—one where power is truth and morality is a luxury.

He’s no longer the boy others could ignore.
He’s the ghost in the fog.
The saint with bloodstained hands.
The one whose echo will never fade.

Saint:My Daily Routine Became My Superpower

Its once-imposing steel walls crumbled into molten slag, black smoke rising like the final breath of a dying god. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals, scorched flesh, and melted circuitry. Kael stood at the center of the wreckage, his silhouette framed by firelight, chest rising and falling steadily.

Around him, the remains of the Lab's unholy creations twitched in death. Flesh fused with metal, prehistoric teeth encased in titanium plating, grotesque beings that screamed without mouths. All silenced.

He had seen the worst of humanity here. Genetic manipulation, sacrificial trials, children caged like lab rats. Forgotten souls who never had names—only numbers etched into their skin.

> "You called yourselves gods," he muttered, voice low. "But you built hell with your own hands."

He remembered the girl—part-human, part-chimera—her wide eyes filled with agony and confusion. She had helped him, yes, turning against her creators. But what they'd done to her could never be undone.

She now sat outside the ruins with the other rescued test subjects, all under Mimic's watchful eye. Kael had summoned him again, not for battle, but to protect. Mimic's usually cold demeanor softened ever so slightly when interacting with the damaged survivors. A reflection of Kael's own unspoken guilt.

In the flickering shadow of the flames, Kael's communicator cracked to life.

> "Unit Theta has been eliminated," a trembling voice reported.

Kael narrowed his eyes. One of the observers. A voice from the ones who had watched him like prey on a screen.

> "We underestimated you," the voice continued, forced calmness crumbling. "But you don't understand. This judgment—it's not divine. You were just another experiment, another variable."

Kael crushed the communicator in his palm.

> "Then let the variable erase the equation."

From the treeline, two drones buzzed overhead—survivors from the monitoring fleet. Kael reached into his cloak, pulling out a sphere made of darkened crystal: Ghost Veil's secondary function. With a whisper of energy, he vanished from their sensors. A blur of motion later, both drones fell to the forest floor—one sliced in half, the other impaled by a wooden needle still vibrating with residual force.

He could feel it—judgment wasn't done yet.

In an underground war room bathed in cold blue light, three high-ranking lab officials stared at the feed of Kael walking away from the blaze. They looked less like scientists and more like kings in exile—cloaked in lab coats, drunk on power.

> "Project 'Abyss Bloom' is active," one whispered. "Deploy Phase IV—Eclipse. If divine judgment is real, we'll kill their executioner."

> "Send the Blackroot hybrids too. Let's see if his god can save him from this."

Kael moved among the rescued subjects. Some cried. Some didn't have the strength left to cry. One girl with metal-plated arms touched his wrist gently and whispered, "Thank you…"

He didn't answer. Just placed his hand gently on her head.

These weren't just survivors. They were witnesses. The lab may be gone, but the ideology behind it still lingered. Somewhere, someone believed they could twist life and call it progress. Somewhere, another child was being chained for "research."

He stood, cloak fluttering behind him in the firestorm.

> "Mimic," he said. "Guard them. If anyone comes close, erase them."

Kael turned toward the east, where dark clouds gathered. A storm was coming—and not one of nature. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. The battle for the soul of the new world had begun.

Ashes of the Damned