"Faith is light.
But it's a blind light—
If you don't squint, you'll never see the truth behind it."
The floating city of Virellion hung in the sky like a crown forged by gods who had long abandoned their thrones. Gilded spires stabbed into the firmament, their surfaces aglow with synthetic halos mimicking the sun. To the distant observer, it was paradise. A miracle of mankind's faith and technology, fused into a utopia amongst the clouds.
But to Lux Eversor, it was a cage.
From a cracked apartment window in District 43, Lux watched the horizon through a film of rain. Each droplet on the glass warped the neon lights outside, twisting the illusion of perfection into something more honest. Towering constructs gleamed with industrial divinity, but they were hollow. Just like the promises.
He lived in the shadow of gods, yet none had deigned to bless him.
At seventeen, Lux had yet to awaken to the Lumina System, the divine protocol that granted strength through faith. He had prayed, begged, endured trials both public and private—yet the crystalline pillars of belief had offered him nothing.
He was not a Chosen.
He was forgotten.
And yet, despite this, he had been accepted into Inancia Academy.
Not as a warrior. Not even as a disciple.
"Observational Intern," the paperwork read. A government-sponsored experiment to integrate system-less civilians into strategic roles. Reality, however, whispered a crueler truth: he was a pawn. A living sensor. Bait, perhaps.
But none of that mattered now.
He turned from the window. Behind him, in the cramped room dimly lit by flickering power lines, his younger sister Lira played with an outdated holo-puzzle. Her laughter, pure and bright, contrasted sharply with the decaying world outside.
Thirteen years old and still unbroken by the truth.
Still praying.
Still believing.
Their mother, Aelina, was out again. Night shift. Her absence weighed more than her presence ever could—three jobs, minimal sleep, and a back bent from the burdens of survival. Yet she smiled when she came home. Hummed lullabies. Cooked with what little they had.
Lux had once asked her why she still prayed.
She had smiled.
"Because it reminds me of your father."
A ghost, now. Five years vanished into the wreckage of the Fallen Sector Collapse—a battle between Lumina and Umbra wielders that tore through the city's foundations. No body. Only a name on a wall of mourning: Kael Eversor.
Officially dead.
But Lux had never truly believed it.
He remembered the voice. The scent of ash. The firm grasp that held his hand one final time before the world split open.
That memory was a splinter buried deep.
He never removed it.
The sky darkened early that evening, the artificial sun dimmed for recalibration. Lux pulled on his weather-worn jacket, slung a delivery bag over his shoulder, and stepped into the metallic drizzle of Virellion's underbelly.
District 43 stank of rust, ozone, and recycled dreams.
Synthetic adverts played from broken panels. Sirens wailed in the distance—sharp, then fading. He passed hollow-eyed residents and graffiti-worn walls. Angels and demons etched side by side.
He took a shortcut through Tarnel Alley.
A mistake.
He heard it first: a cry. Not a wail—but a sharp, desperate sound. Small. Fragile. Real.
His legs moved before thought.
Down the alley. Past the puddles reflecting dying neon. Past the dumpsters.
There they were.
Three older teens. Scarred jackets, malice in their eyes. One held a flickering plasma shiv. Before them, a girl—barely ten—cornered against the wall. Her leg was bleeding. Her hands clutched a pendant close to her chest.
A Faith Crystal.
"Hand it over, freak," the leader sneered. "Or we cut it out of you."
Lux stepped into the light.
"Let her go."
The trio turned.
Mockery in their eyes.
"What's this? Another rat from the cracks?"
"He doesn't even have a glow."
"Maybe he wants to die first."
Lux didn't speak again.
He moved.
The first blow caught his chin, splitting his lip. The second—he deflected with his shoulder. He tackled one to the ground, elbowed another in the ribs. But they were stronger. Faster.
One circled behind him.
Pain.
The plasma shiv burned into his side.
He staggered but didn't fall. Instead, he positioned himself between the girl and the blades.
"Run," he whispered.
But she didn't.
She reached out—grabbing his wrist with her small, trembling fingers.
And then—
The world cracked.
Her pendant flared.
So did something inside him.
A pulse—not of pain, but of power. Deep. Resounding.
System Initialization Detected.
Catalyst: Unyielding Self-Sacrifice in Face of Mortal Threat.
Civilian Faith Sync: 1,043 Units.
Designation: Class Solarblade.
Light erupted from his chest.
Golden. Pure. Unfiltered.
The delinquents screamed as Lux rose, limbs ablaze with radiant glyphs. A sword formed in his right hand—pure light, crystalline and humming.
The rain hissed as it touched him, turning to vapor.
He stepped forward.
One swung. He parried. Countered. Blade to knee. Another lunged—he disarmed him with a twist. The third ran. Always one that ran.
Seconds passed.
The alley was silent.
The girl had collapsed, still clutching the crystal. Her eyes wide—not with fear, but awe.
Lux knelt beside her.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, tears streaking her cheeks.
Then the pain returned. The burn in his ribs. The exhaustion.
He collapsed.
Light faded.
And in the dark, a voice spoke.
Not the system.
Not the divine.
Something... else.
So, the boy awakens in light...
Let's see if he shines when the shadows stretch long.
Somewhere beyond Virellion, deep in a citadel forgotten by time, a figure turned from a screen and smiled.
"Begin observation," they said.
And the void stirred.