The northern road was paved with prayer.
At least, that was what the Holy Church claimed.
White stone markers lined the path every few hundred meters, each engraved with hymns and blessings meant to ward off evil. Faded banners fluttered from wooden posts—symbols of the Church and the Empire intertwined so tightly that no one remembered which had come first.
Aren Veyl rode at the head of the procession.
Not because he wanted to.
But because the people demanded it.
Or rather—they demanded distance.
The villagers who had been ordered to accompany the expedition walked far behind him, clustered close to Leonhardt Vale like chicks around a mother hen. Their eyes avoided Aren as though looking at him too long might invite misfortune.
Some whispered prayers.
Others whispered curses.
Aren heard them all.
"Why is he here…?"
"The demon prince…"
"They say monsters follow him…"
Perfect.
The Shadow System pulsed softly within his mind, absorbing every shred of fear and resentment like a starving beast finally fed.
[EmotionIntakeOngoing]
Fear: Moderate
Hatred: Low → Rising
Faith Conflict: Detected
Leonhardt rode several paces ahead of the group, his posture rigid, back straight, golden cloak catching the sunlight like a banner of hope. He didn't look back—not once.
Deliberate.
Childish.
Aren smirked faintly.
Still pretending I don't exist.
The northern frontier was nothing like the capital.
Gone were marble roads and towering spires. The land here was rugged, scarred by claw marks gouged into stone and earth. Burned villages dotted the horizon—blackened skeletons of homes left to rot as warnings.
Not warnings from monsters.
Warnings from neglect.
Aren studied the ruins as they passed.
In the novel, these villages were described as "tragic casualties of chaos," swiftly avenged by the hero.
The narrative praised Leonhardt's righteous fury and glossed over the uncomfortable truth:
No reinforcements had ever been sent.
No evacuations ordered.
The Church had deemed the losses "acceptable."
Aren exhaled slowly.
Same lies. Same script.
They reached the temporary encampment by dusk.
Soldiers scrambled to set up tents while priests erected a white altar at the center of the camp, immediately lighting incense and chanting hymns. The smell of burning herbs mixed with iron and sweat.
Leonhardt dismounted and approached the altar without hesitation, kneeling in prayer.
The soldiers watched him with reverence.
Aren dismounted more slowly.
The moment his boots touched the ground, conversation died.
Eyes followed him.
Fear thickened the air.
[EmotionIntake: Fear + Hostility]
Synchronization: 34% → 36%
Aren ignored them and surveyed the camp.
Too exposed.
Poorly positioned.
No perimeter wards.
No scouts beyond visual range.
Idiots.
A middle-aged priest approached him, hands clasped tightly together.
"Your Highness," the man said, voice trembling despite forced politeness. "It would be… best if you stayed away from the altar."
Aren tilted his head. "And why is that?"
"The sacred light may… react poorly to your presence."
Translation: You might corrupt it.
Aren smiled faintly.
"Then I'll stay," he said. "I wouldn't want to miss anything."
The priest paled and retreated.
Good.
Leonhardt rose from prayer and finally turned to face Aren.
"For once," Leonhardt said, "do not interfere."
Aren met his gaze calmly.
"That depends," he replied. "Do you plan to get everyone here killed?"
Leonhardt's jaw tightened.
"I've faced monsters far stronger than what lurks here."
"And how many villages were destroyed before you arrived?" Aren asked quietly.
Leonhardt stiffened.
The soldiers shifted uncomfortably.
"That wasn't—"
"—your fault?" Aren finished. "Of course not. It never is."
Leonhardt stepped forward, anger flashing.
"You twist words like poison," he snapped. "The gods chose me to protect this land."
Aren leaned closer, his voice low enough that only Leonhardt could hear.
"Then why do they always arrive late?"
Leonhardt froze.
Just for a second.
But the system noticed.
[DoubtDetected]
Source: Leonhardt Vale
Level: Minor
Effect: Hero Synchronization Fluctuating
Aren stepped back.
Hook set
Night fell quickly.
Too quickly.
Clouds smothered the moon, plunging the land into unnatural darkness. Even the torches burned weakly, their flames flickering as if frightened.
Aren stood at the edge of the camp, watching the treeline.
Something was wrong.
The air was too quiet.
No insects.
No wind.
No distant animal cries.
Only the soft chanting of priests and the shallow breaths of nervous soldiers.
Aren closed his eyes briefly.
The Shadow System hummed.
[EnvironmentalAnomalyDetected]
Threat Level: Rising
Type: Unknown
Recommendation: Heightened Awareness
Aren opened his eyes.
"Leonhardt," he called out calmly.
The hero looked up from speaking with a captain.
"What is it now?"
"Call your priests back," Aren said.
"They're drawing attention."
Leonhardt scoffed. "Prayer strengthens morale."
"It also announces your location to anything hunting faith," Aren replied.
Silence followed.
A low growl echoed from the forest.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The ground trembled.
Screams erupted.
"MONSTERS!"
Dark shapes burst from the treeline—twisted beasts with elongated limbs, eyeless faces, and jagged maws dripping black ichor. They moved unnaturally fast, skittering across the ground like insects.
Chaos exploded.
Soldiers scrambled into formation too late.
Priests screamed as the altar shattered under a massive claw.
Leonhardt drew his sword in a flash of holy light.
"Hold the line!" he shouted. "By the gods, do not falter!"
He charged forward, blade blazing, cleaving through the first beast in a burst of radiant fire.
The soldiers cheered.
Hope surged.
Aren watched.
And sighed.
There it is. The lie.
Leonhardt was strong.
No doubt about it.
Every swing of his blade obliterated monsters with divine efficiency. Holy light burned through flesh and bone, leaving nothing but ash.
But for every monster he killed—
Two more took its place.
"They're not attacking randomly," Aren muttered. "They're circling."
The system pulsed urgently.
[CriticalInsightUnlocked]
Monster Type: Faith Devourers
Behavior: Drawn to Divine Energy
Primary Target: Hero-Class Entities
"Leonhardt!" Aren shouted.
The hero didn't hear him.
Or chose not to.
Leonhardt stood at the center of the battlefield, radiance pouring from him like a beacon.
The monsters shrieked in ecstasy.
They were feeding.
A massive creature burst from the ground behind Leonhardt, claws raised.
Time slowed.
Aren clicked his tongue.
"Idiot."
He moved.
The Shadow beneath his feet stretched, snapping forward like a living thing. It wrapped around the monster's limbs, yanking it backward mid-air.
The creature screeched in confusion.
Leonhardt turned just in time to see Aren standing between him and the beast.
"What are you—"
"Shut up and dim the light," Aren said coldly.
The monster lunged.
Aren raised his hand.
Not in prayer.
In command.
The shadows surged, crushing the creature's skull with a sickening crack.
The battlefield froze.
The soldiers stared.
The priests screamed.
Leonhardt's eyes widened.
"You used dark power," he said, voice shaking. "In front of everyone."
Aren looked at him.
"And your light nearly killed us all."
Hatred erupted.
Fear followed.
[Emotion Intake: Shock + Fear + Hatred]
Synchronization: 36% → 41%
The monsters hesitated.
Without the hero's overwhelming radiance, their frenzy dulled.
"Order a retreat to the ridge," Aren commanded the stunned captain.
"Now."
The captain hesitated—then nodded and relayed the order.
Leonhardt stared at Aren.
"You endangered my faith," he said quietly.
Aren stepped closer, shadows writhing faintly at his feet.
"No," Aren replied. "I exposed your ignorance."
Leonhardt's hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From doubt.
The battle ended an hour later.
The monsters retreated back into the forest, leaving behind corpses and silence.
The camp was in ruins.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Priests wept.
Soldiers stared at Aren with a mixture of terror and awe.
Leonhardt stood alone near the shattered altar, staring at his reflection in a broken piece of marble.
Aren approached.
"You could have warned me,"
Leonhardt said without turning.
"I did," Aren replied. "You chose faith over reason."
Leonhardt clenched his fists.
"The gods have never failed me."
Aren's voice softened—just slightly.
"They failed these villages."
Leonhardt said nothing.
The system chimed.
[Major Doubt Registered]
Hero Synchronization: Unstable
Reward Progress: 68%
Aren turned away.
Behind him, Leonhardt sank slowly to his knees.
For the first time since becoming a hero—
He prayed.
And wondered if anyone was listening.