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

Smoke drifted lazily into the sky, blackening the heavens as if trying to hide the blood-soaked truth from above. Crimson rivers flowed through the cracked marble streets, a testament to the storm that had swept through the ranks of the corrupted. Noble blood. Soldier blood. Sinful blood. All the same.

Kael stood at the center of it all, his coat in tatters, his body coated in red, though none of it was his own. His blade hung loosely in one hand, dripping gore onto the stone beneath. His chest rose and fell in rhythmic calm. Behind him, the mimic—his mirror—stood silently. Only now, it was not just a reflection.

The mimic shimmered strangely, its form glitching for a moment before suddenly splitting into three. Kael didn't move. He watched with emotionless curiosity as the mimic became a trinity of himself—one carried his calm deadpan expression, another wore a savage grin with beast-like posture, and the third leaned against a broken pillar, smirking sarcastically with arms crossed.

"…What the hell," Kael muttered, raising a brow. "You multiplying now?"

The sarcastic version shrugged. "Well, you've been doing all the hard work. Thought it was time we formed a union."

The savage one snarled, bloodlust gleaming in its eyes. "More prey. Let me rip."

The original mimic—the calm one—simply mirrored Kael, eyes forward, scanning the now-ruined noble palace.

Before Kael could even begin to understand this evolution, a chime echoed in his ears.

From the heavens, a voice echoed—silent to the ears of the unworthy, but clear as judgment to Kael. It was not loud. It didn't need to be. It simply was.

> "Kael. The City has been cleansed. But the world is still drowning in rot."

"You will travel now. You will judge."

"You will bring divine wrath to where it festers."

Kael closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. Not out of fear or exhaustion, but out of acceptance. The bloodshed was not over. It was merely beginning. The City of Sin was just the first wound that needed cauterizing.

Behind him, survivors of the city watched from alleyways and ruins, wide-eyed. No one cheered. No one dared move. Children clutched their mothers. Guards dropped their weapons. Even the cruelest sinners wept quietly, sensing something ancient and holy—or unholy—passing judgment through Kael.

His coat flared slightly as he walked.

The three mimics followed: one laughing, one snarling, one silent.

Before Kael reached the gates, he paused. He looked back, just once.

And then he whispered, not to the people, not to the city—but to himself.

The Will of a Monster, The Will of God