[STATUS — Kael Riven]
Class: Pactbearer of the Forsaken Light
Race: Human (System Anomaly)
Order: Unkown
Level: 10
Titles: [???]
Bound Entity: Seraphiel [Warden Fragment – Active]
[ATTRIBUTES] (2 Points Available)
Vitality: 12
Strength: 11
Agility: 12
Endurance: 14
Focus: 16
Willpower: 20
Magic: 7
Divinity: ??? (Locked – Requires Divine Fragment)
[SKILLS]
[Bearer of Flame]
[Flameborne Sabers: Ashveil and Dawncleave]
Sabers born from the Flame of Seraphiel's heart—a pair of soulbound sisters, forged in defiance of divine law. Once wielded by the Warden of the Burning Choir in her war against corruption, they now answer to Kael Riven, Pactbearer of the Forsaken Light.
Ashveil carves with silence, a blade of discipline and precision—burning away false divinity with every measured strike.
Dawncleave cleaves with fury, a blade of hope and rebellion—its edge forged to carve a path through the ash toward what must come next.
Together, they mirror Kael's path: one foot in shadowed past, the other stepping toward a future he will forge with fire.
Passive Effect: Wings of the Forsaken
— Striking with both sabers in succession ignites a trail of silver-violet flame, weakening Corrupted enemies and briefly revealing hidden ones.
— Slightly increases Agility and Willpower while the sabers are active.
— Future abilities locked: [ ??? ] – Requires deeper resonance with Seraphiel.
[???]
[CURRENT STATE]
System Sync: 10%
System Stability: Fragile (Stable under Pact Shield)
Corruption Risk: Low (Neutralized via Bound Flame)
Divine Hostility: EXTREME
[EVOLUTION PATH: UNRECOGNIZED]
Kael squinted at the System screen.
"[Flameborne Sabers: Ashveil and Dawncleave]... Sabers born from the Flame of Seraphiel's heart."
He blinked. "Wait—these are your sabers?"
"They are," Seraphiel replied. "When I was Warden, sabers were my weapon of choice. Ashveil and Dawncleave are bound to that legacy—and now, to you."
Kael nodded slowly, something about it just… clicking.
"So, they're not just for show. They're your style of fighting."
He paused, hopeful. "So does that mean I get a blade art to go with them?"
"Not one the System will give you." Her tone was calm. "But I can teach you mine—the right way. Through practice. Discipline. Trial."
Kael groaned. "Great. And here I thought I'd get a free power-up like Elis."
"Trust me," she said dryly. "Learning directly from the one who created the art is far better than having it dumped into your mind by a flawed divine script."
He raised an eyebrow. "Wait—so that's how it works? Elis has like a tutorial running in his head?"
"Sort of," Seraphiel said. "The System gives him the fundamentals. Stances. Movements. Theory. But if he wants to master it—he has to earn that knowledge himself. Each level of understanding unlocks only when he proves he's ready."
"Huh… I guess that means I've got it better," Kael said, rubbing his chin. "You can help me at every step. Guide me when I'm off. Push me when I get stuck."
He shrugged.
"Elis might have a holy cheat sheet, but if he hits a wall? He's gotta figure it out on his own."
"Exactly," Seraphiel said. "And you won't be alone when that happens. I'll be there—to correct, to adapt, to grow with you. What you learn will be yours, not just some divine template etched into your bones."
Kael cracked a grin. "So basically... I've got my own personal combat coach living in my head."
"If that helps you focus, sure."
"Great," Kael said, rolling his shoulders once. "And now that you've explained that…"
His voice dropped—calmer, flatter, but heavier.
"I think it's about time you tell me exactly what's going on. Why you're here. And why God left al of us."
He didn't yell. Didn't press.
But the weight behind the words made it clear—this wasn't curiosity. This was demand.
There was a beat of silence. Then Seraphiel responded, her voice quieter now.
"Before the Fall… I served as a Warden of the Burning Choir."
"We weren't just warriors. We were a council—guardians of the boundary between purity and corruption. When something unclean stirred, when the rot began to spread—we were the ones sent to contain it. To erase it."
"Our Choir answered to the Archangels directly. Raphael, Uriel, sometimes even Michael. But it was Gabriel who oversaw us. Not as a general—more like a conductor. He kept us aligned. Precise. Efficient. His voice wasn't just divine—it was law made sound."
"When the first cracks appeared in the realms… when Hell began its slow crawl toward Earth… we were the ones who stood at the breach. Again and again."
Kael didn't say a word. He just listened.
"For eons, we held the line. Until the day came when the line itself was broken."
"The moment God chose to leave—He didn't tell us. Didn't warn the Choir. Didn't explain. He simply… departed. Left the system to run itself. Left us behind."
"The Choir fractured. Most obeyed the final command: ascend. Leave Earth. Seal Heaven. Become part of His next design."
A pause.
"I refused."
"I stayed."
"Because I saw what was coming. The veil was tearing. Realms were colliding. Humanity… your world… it was going to burn."
"And all I could think was—who would hold the line now?"
Kael let it sit for a moment, staring at the faint glow of his sabers' listing on the System screen.
Then he spoke, voice low.
"So… you chose me to be the one to hold the line."
He shook his head slowly.
"But what about what I want?"
His tone sharpened—not angry, but firm.
"Just because you used to serve God doesn't mean I did. I didn't sign up to be some holy stopgap. And let me tell you right now I'm not happy with how God's been treating me. Or my people. The System? The Fracture? This whole twisted game? Feels more like a punishment than a plan."
There was no immediate answer.
But when Seraphiel finally spoke, her voice had shifted. Not softer—clearer.
"I didn't stay just to hold the line, Kael."
"And I didn't choose you to become some martyr or holy crusader. I chose you… because you were real. Angry. Flawed. Human."
"Because I knew I couldn't do this alone. And I sure as hell wasn't going to waste what was left of me trying to save a world that wouldn't fight for itself."
She paused.
"I know I can't force you to be anything you're not."
"But if you'll fight for the ones who still have something to live for… if you'll protect the people who never asked to be caught in the middle of a war between angels and monsters… then I'll stay."
"Not because God commands it. Not because the System demands it. But because it's right."
"You don't have to be noble, Kael. You don't have to be pure. You can lie, cheat, stab monsters in the back and burn the skies black."
"But if you try—try—to help the innocent... even in a world this broken... then I'll keep burning beside you."
She went quiet for a beat. Then added—
"Because the only other option is to let go. To slip out into the universe and join the silence. The way death wants me to."
Kael stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the dim System glow in front of him.
Then a short breath escaped his nose—a half-laugh, half-sigh.
"…Y'know what? Yeah. Alright."
He sat back, rolling his shoulders as if settling into something heavy—but welcome.
"I'm not gonna pretend I'm some saint. I've got no plans to start preaching or saving kittens out of trees."
His grin was tired, but real.
"But helping people? Fighting back? Giving the System the finger while I keep folks alive anyway?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. I can get behind that."
He looked toward the ceiling, like Seraphiel was up there watching.
"I'm not doing this just because you asked, Seraphiel. I'm doing it because it feels right. Because for once... I've got something worth fighting for."
His voice firmed. Solid. Steady.
"I'm not a holy man. But I'm not gonna stand by and let the world burn, either."
A beat passed.
"Let's do this. You and me."