Several months had passed since the Hidden Quest shattered Danjuro.
He hadn't left his room since.
The once-proud martial prodigy of Arm Hearts now lay motionless on a narrow cot, staring at the ceiling as if it could rewrite the past. His body had healed from the wounds, but his spirit... that was another matter.
Outside his room, the Tower moved on. Floors cleared. Battles fought. Zaine's name whispered in awe and fear alike.
Inside, silence.
Tonight, like every other night, his father entered wordlessly. He placed a small tray of herbs on the bedside table—his own blend of medicine—and left without a word.
Danjuro didn't move until the door closed behind him.
Then, slowly, he reached beneath the bed.
The knife had always been there. Waiting. Like a final option he hadn't quite wanted to face—until now.
His fingers curled around the hilt. Cold. Certain.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "I couldn't be enough."
He raised the blade to his chest.
Then—
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION – CONSTELLATION INTERVENTION DETECTED]
Zen, God of Tricks, is watching you.
Danjuro froze.
A second window bloomed, edged in shifting silver:
"Oh child of sorrow… I see you. I see your pain.""Why die forgotten, when you can rise reborn?""Let me show you the truth behind this Tower—Zaine, the demon's pawn… and you, the only hope it has left.""Will you bring peace to this shattered realm?"
His grip loosened. Eyes wide. Breath shallow.
Then came the final prompt:
[CHOICE: Accept Zen's Blessing?]
☐ Yes☐ No
Danjuro didn't hesitate.
Yes
The moment he selected it, everything changed.
Light—warm, deceptive, divine—rushed into him like a tide. The pain in his limbs vanished. His wounds sealed. His thoughts, once fractured, reassembled around a singular clarity.
Visions filled his mind.
Zaine, standing before a circle of flame. Shadows whispering in tongues no human should know. His blade dipped in black fire. Laughing—laughing as the Tower burned behind him.
Then, Zen's voice returned, smooth as silk:
"You were meant to lead. Create a path of light, faith, and unity. The Tower must kneel to peace—not blood."
[SYSTEM TITLE ACQUIRED – God's avatar Candidate]
You have been chosen by Zen to reveal a sacred path and cleanse corruption. Create your sanctuary. Teach the truth. Let the Tower witness hope.
Weeks Later
They called it heresy at first.
Just rumors.
That Danjuro—once disgraced—now spoke of a higher truth. Of light beyond the Tower. Of unity over trials.
But then, more began to listen.
His words carried weight. Not fire and fury like Zaine's, but calm conviction. The kind that didn't shout—it echoed.
He spoke of a new god: Zen, the overlooked one. The misunderstood one. A trickster, yes—but also a beacon.
Zaine, he said, had lost his way.
Corrupted. Entangled in demonic pacts. A pawn in a deeper, darker game.
"He preaches strength," Danjuro said, "but it's borrowed. It belongs to the flames, not to man."
The first converts were few. Quiet. Hesitant.
But they believed.
They knelt in candlelit circles, draped in simple white cloth, golden bands stitched across their arms.
They called themselves The Church of Dawn.
The Split
Arm Hearts fractured before anyone realized.
Debates turned to arguments. Arguments turned to threats. Blades were drawn in training halls meant for peace.
And then Danjuro left.
Not in shame this time—but in purpose.
He walked from the guildhouse with fifty white-cloaked believers behind him.
They spoke no oaths. Made no demands. But they left behind a symbol—a mark burned into the stone of the old courtyard:
a rising sun crossed with a silver blade.
The Doctrine
"All violence corrupts.""The trials are lies meant to divide us.""Demons walk among us. They wear familiar faces.""Only light can cleanse the Tower."
On the surface, they preached peace.
In secret, however, Zen whispered darker ideas.
He stoked Danjuro's fears. Pointed out "tainted ones" among other guilds. Claimed some had already been turned—infected by demon-kind.
And Danjuro believed.
He began sending scouts to follow Zaine's movements. Anyone who worked with him was quietly marked.
Some of Danjuro's followers began to act without orders—raiding camps of rival players. Leaving behind nothing but the sigil and a single message: "Light knows no mercy for the damned."
Danjuro condemned them publicly.
But Zen praised them privately.
And the line between faith and fanaticism grew thinner with each passing day.
For weeks, tensions had simmered—like a blade heated over slow flame. Whispers of Zaine's new power. Murmurs about Danjuro's strange change. Something had broken after the Second Floor. And today, it would spill.
Fred, the last standing elder of the guild in the second floor, stepped onto the central platform. His face was weathered, his beard streaked with gray, but his voice rang with steel.
"There are lies in this guild," he began, scanning the crowd. "Lies dressed in robes of light. I've seen the signs. The strange prayers. The defiance. And I say this now: we are not pawns for gods. Not for Zen. Not for demons. We are Arm Hearts."
A few disciples nodded, but more remained still—unblinking, unreadable.
Fred slammed his staff against the platform. "Danjuro... was once our pride. But now he speaks of light like a poison. He claims peace, but carries a sword. A trickster's peace. I say this as your elder—this heresy ends today."
From the edge of the gathering, cloaked figures began to shift.
White robes. Gold trim.
And at the front of them—Danjuro.
He stepped into the light slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. His once-hardened face now bore a calm, saint-like serenity.
"You still don't see it, Fred," he said gently. "You think you're fighting madness. But I was shown the truth. Zen didn't trick me. He freed me."
Fred's hands clenched. "You would let a god of mischief lead you?"
"I was on the edge, ready to die." Danjuro's voice grew. "And in that moment, he showed me the lies. Zaine… serves demons. The Tower rewards killers. But I—I will be the first to bring light."
He drew his sword. Golden glow shimmered down the edge.
Fred stepped forward. "Then I will cut down the illusion before it poisons the whole clan."
The Riot Begins
It started not with a scream—but with a prayer.
"Light in shadow. Order in chaos."
Dozens echoed it.
Then chaos erupted.
Followers in white robes rushed from the balconies and training pits. Disciples of the Church of Dawn. They attacked not with rage—but with precision. Controlled violence. Like they had practiced this moment.
Arm Hearts fighters tried to resist—but they weren't ready. Some fell back. Some raised blades, confused.
Fred fought through the press, yelling commands. "Don't kill them—they're brothers!"
But Danjuro's faction had no such hesitation.
One of Fred's lieutenants was dragged down and beaten. Another tried to shield a group of new recruits—he was stabbed in the thigh and thrown from the platform.
Danjuro advanced, unhurried, toward the elder.
The Duel of Creed
The two warriors faced each other in the center of the storm.
Fred's sword was simple. Sharp. Worn with use.
Danjuro's blade gleamed unnaturally. Light danced along its edge—too alive to be steel.
"You could have led them," Fred said. "You could've stood with me."
"I am leading them," Danjuro replied. "Just not into darkness."
He struck first—quick and radiant. Fred parried, sliding sideways with an old fighter's rhythm.
Blow after blow rang out. Danjuro moved like he wasn't bound by gravity. Fred grunted with each deflection, but held his ground.
"[SKILL ACTIVATED – Blinding Verdict]"
A pulse of light exploded from Danjuro's strike. Fred staggered. Blood on his brow.
Still, he came back.
One, two, three strikes—cutting Danjuro along the ribs. The young prophet gasped, nearly fell.
But he smiled.
He pivoted low. A twist. A slash.
Fred dropped to one knee.
Then—Danjuro drove his sword through Fred's back.
The Fall
Fred slumped forward, blood soaking the ground.
The battlefield fell silent.
Danjuros stood tall, his blade dripping golden-red. His followers slowly gathered around him, heads bowed.
Then, a banner was raised. White silk with a golden sun, pierced by a silver sword.
A new name burned itself into every player's interface:
[SYSTEM NOTICE – GUILD FRACTURE DETECTED]
New Faction Formed: The Church of Dawn
Founder: Danjuro – Lightbringer Candidate
Alignment: Radiant Trickster (Zen)
Status: Religious Revolutionary – Actively Recruiting
Danjuro turned to his followers. "This is not the end. This is the beginning. The Arm Hearts were built on pain. We will be built on purpose."
He looked up, past the tower's ceiling, to the place only gods watched from.
"And Zaine… I will bring you peace. Even if I have to burn your throne to do it."