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

Deep beneath the ruins of the fallen empire of Khar'zul, where once golden statues now lay shattered in pools of black water, thirteen cloaked figures sat around a cracked obsidian table.

Not by appearance—at least, not all of them. But by history. Each one had bathed in the blood of innocents. Each had ruled, enslaved, or sacrificed thousands for power. Now, dethroned and vengeful, they had found common ground:

The Saint Who Walked the World... must be stopped.

"Kael," spat the Hollow Priest, his jaw stitched shut by cursed wire, his voice hissing through ancient runes floating around his throat. "He brings light into places that should remain dark."

"And he's making the people believe," said General Vrak, the warlord of fallen Southern Altheria. "That they don't need kings. Or gods. Just... him. One man."

A skeletal woman with serpent eyes leaned forward, tapping her clawed fingers on the table. "He's not a man. Not anymore."

Each had tried to oppose him. Directly. Secretly. Cursed bounty hunters, sent assassins, even tried to poison entire regions with plague—but Kael always survived. Always grew stronger.

"He's being protected," said the Silent Monk of the East. "Not just by skill or power. But by... providence. Divine?"

A murmur of disgust rippled around the room.

"Then we'll kill his God too," Vrak growled.

That silence was deeper than death.

He had no name. His face was a mask of silver and decay. His voice sounded like broken glass grinding over stone.

"We do not face a man. We face a message."

He raised a gnarled staff, and the table shimmered. A projection lit up—a glowing path that showed Kael's route across the world. Temples destroyed. Cities freed. Tyrants slain.

"The boy's divine ability evolves with virtue," the masked man continued. "The more good he does, the stronger he becomes. He is the first in history to receive a Compounding Blessing—a power that stacks with every righteous act."

The leader slammed the staff down.

"We will forge a weapon that goodness cannot touch. A beast that light cannot purify. A curse that even saints will fear."

He turned to a hulking cage behind him. Inside, chained in shadows, was a shape—inhuman, massive, and weeping blood from a hundred eyes.

"It is time to awaken the First Sinner."

Kael stood atop a small hill, his eyes closed, arms outstretched to the wind. Before him lay the smoking remains of a battlefield—a war between two warlords settled without a single drop of innocent blood spilled.

He had made them kneel. Not by sword. But by words.

Children gathered near him, offering berries and cloth. A mother handed him a flower. An elder cried simply by touching his cloak.

But he accepted the gifts, quietly, reverently. For he knew what came next.

The world was watching. And somewhere, in the darkness, the true enemy was waking up.

The Council of Dust