The city tried to reshape itself around him.
Laws etched into stone.
Scripture humming in blessed air.
Mathematics singing in the sky.
Sanctions.
Declarations.
Systems.
Everything humans invented to pretend the world behaved.
Ardent walked through it.
Unimpressed.
Magic peeled back architecture until only bone remained. Streets trembled like they regretted belonging to this city in this era.
Archmage Valeron Thane dragged himself upright, fury clinging to him harder than pain.
"You— you're violating structured arcane limitations—!"
Ardent tilted his head kindly.
"No. You're discovering yours."
The Holy Frontline reacted next.
Bishop Halix Vorn raised a relic and reality bowed three inches out of respect. Scripture burned holy geometry into the air.
"By divine will," the bishop intoned,
"submit."
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't malicious.
It was confident.
It assumed morality was proprietary.
Ardent looked genuinely sympathetic.
"You believe goodness is obedience. That kindness is control. That order guarantees righteousness."
He sighed.
"Good men don't need rules, Halix.
But you are not a good man."
Halix inhaled—
The relic rotted in his hand.
He screamed.
Ardent's voice turned warm. Gentle. Devastating.
"You wrapped cruelty in ritual and called it sacred. Let me unwrap it."
Prayers broke harmlessly in the air. Clerics knelt because their legs remembered fear even when doctrine pretended they didn't.
Captain Rhaas Gilden staggered upright again.
Only because Ardent let him.
He charged.
Because of course he did.
He swung.
Ardent caught the sword without looking.
"You think you're better than us?" the mercenary snarled.
Ardent smiled fondly.
"No. I think you are exactly what you worked very hard to become."
He twisted the blade away, sent him flying again, and didn't spare him another thought.
Above them, the containment lattice flared.
Law-magic.
Authority seals.
Registered jurisdiction authority.
The city declared:
YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED.
Ardent raised a hand politely.
"I didn't ask permission."
The lattice cracked.
A ragged breath answered him.
Liora.
Barely conscious.
Bleeding badly.
Still watching.
She refused to look away.
Ardent didn't turn — but his voice softened in her direction.
"Pay attention, child. This is education."
A binding curse screamed toward him.
Ardent plucked the intention from it midair.
I wish this works.
He smiled.
"Granted."
It locked the caster to the pavement.
Another wished for strength.
Their armor grew impossibly heavy.
Another wished to stand firm.
They became incapable of kneeling.
Another wished not to fear.
They lost instinct for self-preservation.
Liora didn't watch the spells anymore.
She watched why they hurt.
Ardent lectured gently as he broke gods and men alike.
"Magic follows rules. Faith follows belief. Power follows ownership."
He swept his hand casually.
The world bowed.
"But wishes?"
Golden light rippled.
"Wishes answer truth."
Then Ardent stopped walking.
His gaze fixed on a single soldier-mage trying desperately to stay hidden behind the lines.
The one who targeted the children.
The plaza went quieter than fear.
Ardent's tone softened further.
"Ah. There you are."
The mage froze.
He dropped his staff.
He fell to his knees.
He knew.
"Please," the man whispered. "I—I only— I didn't—"
Ardent gestured gently.
"Liora. Watch."
She forced her bleeding eyes to stay open.
"This one," Ardent said calmly, "wished to prove he was loyal. He wished to be essential. He wished to matter enough to be useful."
The man sobbed.
"Please…"
Ardent cupped his hand.
"And that desire, left unchallenged, allowed him to hurt children."
The mage choked.
"I never meant to—"
"I know," Ardent said softly. "Most monsters don't mean to. They simply never asked what their wanting would cost someone who couldn't fight back."
He closed his fingers.
The soldier did not explode.
He did not melt.
He did not burn.
He simply felt.
Every pulse of fear from every child he endangered.
Every prayer whispered by a frantic parent.
Every scream swallowed.
Every heartbeat that could have stopped.
All of it.
At once.
It did not fade.
It did not stop.
It did not kill him.
It made sure he would never again lie to himself about what loyalty really costs.
He collapsed and he kept crying.
Because he could finally see the truth of himself.
And knowing hurt worse than any wound.
Ardent turned back to Liora.
"That," he said gently, "is the mercy of a wishgranter."
Her breath shook.
"M-mercy…?"
Ardent smiled sadly.
"Yes. He lives — and must become better. If he cannot, that is his failure, not my cruelty."
Valeron screamed equations.
Halix screamed prayer.
Rhaas screamed fury.
Ardent did not scream.
He simply walked forward as though the world had finally remembered to fear him.
A good man does not need rules.
Ardent has rules.
They just aren't written in any language humans invented.
He lifted his hand.
The city held its breath.
Very far away, something ancient sighed with resigned pity:
"They should not have made him do this."
And Ardent finally allowed the monster beneath the gentleman to smile.