Morning sunlight poured through the cathedral's tall windows, scattering across golden pillars and marble floors. The city outside was alive — bells chiming, merchants shouting, pilgrims flocking.
And inside a quiet chamber, the newly summoned Hero sat across from the devil who summoned him.
Raven.
Dressed in a simple black robe, posture calm, expression unreadable. His crimson eyes studied the boy before him — messy blond hair, soft eyes, confusion barely hidden behind a brave face.
> "So," Raven said lightly, "how do you feel, Hero?"
The boy hesitated. "Strange. Like… everything's brighter. I can feel energy in the air. My hands are warm. It's—"
> "Power." Raven leaned back. "You're feeling power for the first time."
The boy nodded slowly. "I think so."
> "Do you know why you were chosen?" Raven asked.
"To… save this world, right?"
"That's what they told you."
The Hero frowned. "Isn't that true?"
Raven's lips curved faintly.
> "Truth is a luxury, Hero. The Church tells people what they need to believe. Not what is."
The Hero blinked. "Then why would the Light choose me?"
> "Because you're pure," Raven said softly. "Moldable. You haven't seen war, betrayal, or greed. The Light loves innocence… because it's easy to control."
The Hero stiffened. "Control?"
Raven met his eyes — sharp, piercing.
> "This world isn't saved by kindness. It's ruled by power. And those who smile the most… often hold the sharpest knives."
A silence fell. The Hero looked down, fists clenched slightly.
Vee's voice echoed in Raven's head, amused.
> "You're planting seeds already."
"Doubt is the first step to freedom," Raven replied silently.
"Freedom for him… or for you?"
"Both."
Raven stood. "Come. You'll train today."
> "Train?"
"Power without control is suicide. Follow me."
The Hero rose quickly and followed.
---
The cathedral's training ground lay behind high stone walls. Rows of paladins sparred, clashing steel and light. The air buzzed with energy and discipline.
Raven guided the Hero to an empty field.
> "Draw your blade," he said.
The boy obeyed, summoning a sword of pure light — glowing, elegant, unstable.
Raven watched. "Focus. Feel the flow of mana. Don't force it. Command it."
The Hero nodded, swinging clumsily. Sparks scattered. The blade flickered, unstable.
> "Too stiff," Raven said. "You're trying to dominate it. Don't. It's not your servant. It's your reflection."
He stepped closer, guiding the boy's hand — calm, precise. "Breathe. Feel the pulse. Now… strike."
The Hero swung again — cleaner, sharper, steady.
The ground cracked slightly beneath.
His eyes widened. "I did it!"
Raven smiled faintly.
> "Good. Remember that feeling. Power obeys confidence, not kindness."
The boy grinned — proud, naive.
Raven watched quietly, eyes cold.
Every lesson, every word — carefully chosen.
Every success — a thread in his web.
> "Vee."
"You're teaching him fast."
"Not teaching. Shaping. He'll believe this strength is his. But soon, he'll rely on me to unlock it."
"So when he shines…"
"…my shadow grows."
---
As days passed, the Hero's strength increased — faster than any before.
Swordplay. Magic. Tactics. Raven trained him personally, under the Church's blessing.
The priests adored him. The Cardinal praised him. The city celebrated him.
And behind it all, Raven pulled strings.
Whispers spread through the streets.
> "The Hero's tutor is a genius."
"The Church's new mentor, quiet but powerful."
"He never speaks much, but the Hero trusts him completely."
A reputation was forming — subtle, silent, unstoppable.
---
One afternoon, Raven found himself in the cathedral garden, sitting beneath a tree, book in hand.
Vee floated beside him, invisible to all but him — silver-haired, smirking.
> "You're playing the long game," she said.
"Always."
"You could just seize control, you know. Kill the Cardinal, steal the relic, take the Hero's soul. Quick."
"Quick is messy. Obvious. Heroes don't destroy themselves overnight. They crack. Slowly."
He closed the book, gaze distant.
> "And when they fall, they look up — searching for someone to blame. That's when I offer my hand."
> "You're terrifying," Vee teased.
"Efficient."
A voice interrupted. "Mentor Raven!"
The Hero ran up, breathless, eyes wide.
> "Bandits on the east road! The Church wants me to deal with them!"
Raven rose. "Alone?"
> "They said it's a test."
"No test is without cost."
He turned. "I'm coming."
> "But—"
"You're not ready."
The boy looked frustrated, but nodded.
Vee smirked.
> "You're going to stage something, aren't you?"
"He needs trauma," Raven murmured. "Faith born in peace is weak. Faith born in blood never dies."
---
The road east cut through forests and cliffs. When they arrived, smoke curled above a village — huts burning, people screaming.
Bandits roamed, armed and laughing.
The Hero froze — eyes wide, fists trembling.
> "This… this is horrible."
"Then stop it," Raven said quietly. "Show me what your Light can do."
The boy swallowed hard, raised his sword. "In the name of the Light—!"
He charged forward.
Blades clashed. Light flared. Bandits fell.
The Hero fought bravely — but untested. He hesitated before each strike, flinched at every cry.
One bandit swung from behind — a killing blow.
Raven moved like a shadow, intercepting. His dagger met steel — sparks flying.
He kicked the man aside, eyes sharp.
> "Hesitation kills, Hero."
"I—I didn't see him—"
"You looked away. Mercy is a luxury of kings, not soldiers."
Another lunged. Raven stepped aside, motion fluid, blade flashing — silent, lethal. The man dropped.
The Hero stared — awe and fear mixing.
> "You… you killed them without—"
"Without guilt?" Raven finished. "Because guilt doesn't bring back the dead. Remember that."
The boy nodded slowly, face pale.
When the last bandit fell, the village was silent. Smoke rose. Survivors wept.
The Hero knelt beside a wounded child, hands glowing as he healed.
Raven watched quietly.
> "He's breaking," Vee whispered.
"Good. Broken people rebuild stronger — or never at all."
"And if he rebuilds wrong?"
"Then he becomes mine."
Raven turned, eyes lingering on the sunset.
> "The world will hail him a savior. But in the end… he'll carry my shadow in his heart."
---
That night, by the campfire, the Hero sat silent.
Raven cooked quietly, gaze calm.
> "You killed today," he said softly. "How do you feel?"
"Sick."
"That's good. It means you're human. Remember this feeling. It fades."
The boy looked up. "Is that bad?"
> "No. It's survival. Feel too much, and you break. Feel nothing, and you rule."
The flames danced between them.
The boy spoke again. "Do you ever regret anything?"
Raven's hand paused over the fire.
For a moment, the silence was heavy.
> "Regret?" he said finally. "Once. But regret doesn't change the past. It only weakens the present."
The Hero lowered his gaze.
Raven watched him — every tremor, every thought.
Another thread tightened in his web.
---
When they returned to the city, the Church celebrated their victory. The Cardinal praised the Hero publicly, showering blessings and titles.
But whispers began spreading quietly:
> "His mentor… fights beside him."
"The servant with crimson eyes… they say he never bleeds."
"Some call him the Devil's Scholar."
Raven heard them all.
And smiled.
A myth was being born — one he didn't need to force.
Fear and awe — the twin pillars of control.
> "Step one complete," he murmured to Vee.
"The Church trusts you. The Hero worships you. The people whisper your name."
"Step two begins now."
"Which is?"
"Influence."
He turned his gaze toward the palace walls rising in the distance.
> "Every kingdom bows to faith. I'll teach them to kneel to me instead."
Vee grinned.
> "Ambition looks good on you."
"It's not ambition," Raven said softly. "It's destiny."
The bells tolled in the distance.
A city cheered for its savior.
And above them, unseen, a devil smiled.
The strings of light had begun to dance —
and Raven held every one.
----
The city had changed.
Banners of gold and white fluttered across rooftops. Merchants shouted praises of the Hero. Children wore wooden badges carved with a glowing sword — his symbol.
And in the middle of all that celebration, Raven walked silently through the crowd.
No one noticed him.
But every whisper, every smile, every spark of faith… led back to him.
He didn't need fame.
He needed control.
> "The Hero's victory spreads fast," Vee said, hovering beside him unseen.
"Good. Let them believe he's a miracle," Raven murmured.
"Because miracles need prophets?"
"Because miracles need masters."
---
The cathedral bells rang. The Hero waited by the grand stairs, smiling brightly.
> "Raven! The King invited us!"
"The King?" Raven raised a brow.
"He wants to meet me! He's planning a feast!"
Raven studied him. "You're nervous."
> "A bit. I've never met a King before."
"Remember this — Kings don't smile because they're kind. They smile because they want something."
The Hero blinked. "What could he want from me?"
> "A weapon with faith behind it."
Raven adjusted his gloves, gaze calm.
> "Let's not keep royalty waiting."
---
The Royal Palace stood like a fortress — towers of white stone, stained glass, armed guards in golden armor.
Inside the grand hall, nobles gathered — jeweled robes, polished smiles, and eyes that weighed everything like currency.
Trumpets blared. The King entered — a tall man in crimson and gold, beard trimmed, eyes sharp.
> "Welcome, Hero of Light," the King declared. "Our savior, blessed by the heavens!"
Applause thundered.
The Hero bowed nervously.
Raven stayed a step behind — silent, composed.
The King's eyes flicked toward him. "And this must be your mentor."
> "Raven," the Hero said proudly. "He's the reason I've grown so fast."
The King smiled — too warmly. "Then I owe you my gratitude as well."
> "Gratitude is unnecessary," Raven replied softly. "I only serve the Light."
The King chuckled. "A loyal man. I like that."
But behind that smile, Raven saw calculation — the kind every ruler wore when they spotted a new piece on the board.
> "He's testing you," Vee whispered.
"He'll find I don't play games," Raven murmured.
"You are the game."
---
The feast began — music, laughter, wine flowing like rivers.
Nobles crowded the Hero, praising his courage, asking about his powers. He answered politely, awkwardly, sincere as always.
Raven stood in the background, observing. Watching faces. Listening to lies wrapped in compliments.
He noticed one noble — a thin man with silver hair and an ever-present smile. Watching him.
The man approached. "You must be Raven. The Church speaks highly of you."
> "Do they?"
"Indeed. They say your mind is sharper than any blade."
"Flattery is often a prelude to business."
The man laughed softly. "I see you're not new to politics."
> "And you are?"
"Lord Althros. Advisor to the King."
Advisor. In other words — the whisper behind the throne.
Althros leaned closer. "This Hero of Light will change the balance of power. Whoever guides him… will shape history."
Raven met his gaze. Calm. Cold.
> "Then I hope his guide chooses wisely."
Althros smiled. "Oh, I believe he already has."
And walked away.
> "He's dangerous," Vee murmured.
"He's useful," Raven replied.
"Planning to use him?"
"Always."
---
Later that night, as the feast quieted, the King summoned Raven privately to his study.
The room was dim, lit by candles and a single window overlooking the city. Maps and scrolls covered the table — borders, troop routes, trade lines.
The King poured two glasses of wine.
> "You're a hard man to read, Raven."
"I'm not meant to be read."
The King chuckled. "You've trained the Hero well. He's obedient, loyal, brave. But naive."
Raven stayed silent.
> "I need men like you," the King continued. "Ones who understand the world isn't built on faith alone. I could offer you a place here — gold, title, power."
Raven looked out the window — lights shimmering over the city.
> "Tempting," he said softly. "But I serve the Church."
The King's smile faltered slightly.
> "Everyone serves someone, Raven. Even the Church serves coin."
Raven turned, eyes cold.
> "I serve purpose. Not pockets."
For a moment, silence. Then — the King smiled again, forced, polite.
> "Of course. Loyalty is rare these days."
Raven bowed slightly. "If that's all, Your Majesty."
> "One more thing." The King's voice hardened. "The Hero will soon travel north — a mission to secure alliances. I want him… shaped. Less innocence. More control."
Raven's eyes narrowed. "Control?"
> "If he's to be our symbol, he must be predictable."
Raven smiled faintly.
> "I'll make sure he shines perfectly, Your Majesty."
As he left, Vee whispered,
> "He doesn't trust you."
"He shouldn't."
---
Days later, Raven began preparations for the northern mission.
Supplies. Escorts. Maps.
The Hero found him in the courtyard, practicing sword forms alone.
> "Raven?"
"You've been summoned by the King. He wants you to journey north — to ally kingdoms."
"Ally? I've never done diplomacy before."
"That's why I'm going with you."
The boy smiled with relief. "Then I'm ready."
Raven studied him quietly. The Hero had changed.
His movements were sharper. His eyes, colder.
Still kind — but no longer blind.
> "Do you trust the King?" Raven asked suddenly.
"Of course. He's good, right?"
"Good is a word kings use to decorate greed."
The Hero frowned. "You sound like you hate royalty."
> "I don't hate them. I understand them. And I want you to see what they hide behind their crowns."
> "You think they'll betray me?"
"Everyone betrays, eventually. The trick is being ready when they do."
The Hero looked uneasy. "I don't want to become like that."
> "Then become smarter. Not softer."
The Hero nodded slowly.
---
Their journey north began at dawn.
Caravans rolled over misty hills. Guards rode ahead, banners fluttering.
Raven walked beside the Hero, cloak billowing in the wind.
> "Why me?" the Hero asked quietly.
"Because symbols don't stay symbols forever," Raven said. "Sooner or later, they become weapons."
"Weapons?"
"Faith is the strongest steel. Sharpen it, and it can cut nations apart."
> "And what if I don't want to be a weapon?"
"Then control where you aim."
The Hero fell silent, deep in thought.
Vee floated above, watching the two.
> "You're turning him into something dangerous."
"I'm turning him into something free."
"Free men don't follow orders."
"Exactly."
---
By evening, they reached a border town — quiet, foggy, and poor.
Children ran barefoot, begging soldiers for crumbs.
Shops were empty. Eyes hollow.
The Hero stopped. "Why is it like this?"
> "Because peace is expensive," Raven replied. "And kings don't pay. People do."
The Hero's fists clenched. "Then what's the point of being strong, if we let this happen?"
> "Ask your King. Ask your Church. See which one answers."
The Hero looked at him — something sparking behind his eyes.
Not just anger. Awareness.
Raven smirked faintly.
> "Good. Keep that fire. You'll need it."
---
That night, in the town's inn, the Hero sat by the window, watching smoke from distant chimneys.
Raven entered quietly, carrying a wrapped package.
> "Here."
The Hero blinked. "What's this?"
> "A gift."
He unwrapped it — a dagger. Black steel, engraved with faint runes.
> "Not Light-forged?"
"No. Mortal steel. It reminds you death is real. Even yours."
The Hero stared. "It's… cold."
> "Steel doesn't lie. Light can."
Raven sat across from him. "Tell me, Hero — when you save this world, what will you do next?"
> "Next?"
"You can't swing a sword forever."
The boy hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe… build something. A world where no one starves."
> "Then start learning how kingdoms work. Not from books. From blood."
> "Blood?"
"You'll see."
---
The next morning, their convoy was ambushed.
A volley of arrows struck from the cliffs — bandits again, but not ordinary. Trained. Coordinated.
Raven's eyes narrowed. "Not random. Too clean."
The Hero drew his blade, glowing bright.
> "Let's go!"
Raven's daggers flashed — he moved like a storm, cutting down attackers with surgical precision.
The Hero fought beside him — strong, determined.
But mid-battle, Raven noticed one bandit — armored differently, sigil of the royal crest hidden under dirt.
> "Vee," he hissed.
"Inside job?"
"The King's test… or his fear."
He moved fast — disarming, not killing. Dragged the man into the shadows, pressed a dagger to his throat.
> "Who sent you?"
"Th—The court… Lord Althros!"
Raven's eyes went cold. "Perfect."
He slit the rope binding the man's armor — leaving him alive, but ruined.
Then returned to battle, face calm.
Moments later, silence. The last bandit fell.
The Hero panted, looking around. "We did it."
> "No. Someone wanted you dead."
"Dead?! Why?!"
"Ask the court that smiles too much."
The Hero froze — eyes wide, betrayal creeping in.
Raven looked down at him, voice soft.
> "You wanted to understand power? This is it. It smiles, then it stabs."
The Hero trembled slightly. "Then… who can I trust?"
> "Trust no crowns. No altars. Only truth. And truth isn't pretty."
The Hero nodded slowly — shaken, but sharper.
Another piece of innocence burned away.
Vee whispered, "You've got him now."
Raven smirked. "He's finally opening his eyes."
---
When they returned to the capital, the King greeted them with open arms, pretending ignorance.
The Hero bowed politely — but his smile was gone.
Raven watched the throne, unreadable.
He'd planted doubt in the boy.
Fear in the court.
And faith in himself.
Step by step, the web tightened.
The Hero was becoming the world's symbol —
and Raven, the hand that shaped the light into shadow.
To be continued...