Chapter 1 – The Prayer
The priest raised his hand and stopped Elyon.
"Choose,"he said calmly. "Your child's life or revenge."
Elyon's fist trembled,then slowly unclenched. He bowed his head.
"Is there no answer for my child's condition?" He asked,grief weighing every word.
"God answers the prayer of families," The priest replied. "Many believe he does not, but that is the weakness of their belief. Be honest in your prayer."
"And if it doesn't work?" Elyon asked, his voice breaking.
"Even the rose grows with thorns," The priest said gently. "Everything has its purpose."
Elyon and Mira climbed into the hills where no one dared to go. Beneath an open sky, they knelt and prayed together.
Mira finished softly,
"I love the Father Yahweh, the son Yeshua and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
The child stirred.
Draviel's small arm lifted and brushed Mira's cheek.
She froze.
Before she could speak, time itself stopped.
The world darkened, sound vanished and a single fire ignited before Elyon, Mira and the child. It did not burn. It did not spread. It simply was.
A voice spoke from within it.
"When he reaches the age of three," the voice said, "teach him the world and magic."
Before they could ask anything, the fire vanished and time resumed.
But something remained.
A faint flame lingered where the fire had stood, and a streak of silver now marked Draviel's left temple. Above them thunder cracked the sky, though no storm followed.
Mira held the child closer. "Isn't this too much for him to bear?"
Elyon watched the unmoving flame. "Who are we to question God's chosen?"
"How do you know he is God's chosen?" Mira asked. "We have seen others bend time by their will."
"Yes," Elyon replied, "but time bending ends when the domain collapses. The fire remains." He knelt and touched the grass beside it. "It does not burn,it does not spread. That is no illusion."
Mira nodded slowly.
"Then we return to the beginning… together."
In the days followed, Elyon and Mira gathered all they knew– hidden words, fragmented scriptures and incomplete form of divine combat. They organized them into a sealed scroll, not only for Draviel but for the children of their order. What they recorded was dangerous. But leaving it unrecorded would be worse.
Note — order of the 13
The order of the 13 is an organization bound by a single truth.
"I am a sinner. God, have mercy on me and lend me your strength to fight evil."
They do not rule. They guide. Those who find what they seek often leave.
The Hellfire organization existed before Yeshua. After his resurrection, the church was formed but over time corruption spread within it. When faith began to rot, a hidden decree was issued by those who remained true.
Thus the order of 13 was born.
Popes,bishops,priests and warriors some fell to evil and order hunted them without hesitation. Their primary discipline was divine combat, a sacred martial art drawn from fragments of divine will.
It was incomplete.
Human emotion made it imperfect. Many great warriors lost to it.
The order buried their dead, cried only at funerals, and spoke one truth above all others.
"Only God knows the pain they carried in life."
Even their enemies like hellfire and other sects were taught divine combat by the order. The 13 knew they were gone as soon as they learned all of divine combat and still passed them on.
They knew they would always be few.
They also knew they would never be defeated.
Chapter 2 – The Adventurer's Boy
Three months after Draviel turned three, his training began alongside the other children of the 13.
Elyon and the senior warriors taught them the foundation–body mobility,balance,breath and the first form of divine combat. At dawn, light exercises sharpened their bodies;by noon, endurance and discipline were tested.
Mira and the women of 13 taught the other half of survival– language,grammar and the symbols of ancient runes. The child learned how to read and carve runes, the principle behind magic and the dangers of misuse.
Draviel endured it all.
He learned quickly and often helped the other children when they faltered. By the age of twelve, his wisdom surpassed even his parents, yet his body lagged behind his mind. Strength failed where understanding thrived.
One evening, bruised and exhausted, he asked his father.
"Why do I keep failing in my body?"
Elyon studied him for a long moment.
"You lack rhythm and flow,the mastery that opens one's own path."
"How do I find the rhythm and flow,the mastery?" Draviel asked.
"No one truly knows," Elyon replied. "If that answer disappoints you, then you were asking the wrong question. Rhythm and flow are born when mind and heart move as one. Your wisdom is loud, you are deafening yourself to the rest."
He paused,then asked.
"What is the first law we taught you?"
Draviel answered without hesitation.
"Fear of the Lord."
"And why do we fear the Lord?"
"To remain humble," Draviel said. "Not weak, but grounded."
Elyon nodded.
"You already know the answer. Living it will be harder."
Draviel smiled faintly.
"Thank you, father."
Four months later, Draviel and his companions were sent towards the final stage of their training.
Along the road, they witnessed soldiers attacking their own people, beating justified as discipline, cruelty masked as law. Without hesitation, Draviel and the others intervened, shielding the victims.
Two soldiers slipped away, attempting to capture both the villagers and the young trainees.
Draviel raised his hand and spoke calmly. "The True God does not turn his face from the oppressed."
A captain stepped forward, eyes sharp.
"You wield knowledge forbidden to your age."
Draviel answered coldly.
"Ever heard of the order of 13?"
The captain laughed.
"That weak group? Have you ever seen them free a village or save anyone? All talk."
"Then why do others fear us," Draviel replied, " yet none have the strength to defeat us?"
The captain's smile vanished.
A voice from behind him. "Go on. Try"
The captain turned.
Every soldier under his command lay dead, bodies broken, weapons shattered.
Terror seized him
"You call yourselves God's people," he stammered, " yet you slaughtered them!"
Draviel stepped forward.
"Who said God's people cannot strike the wicked?"
He ended it with one clean motion.
The captain's head was sent to the king's palace accompanied by a simple message.
"From this day onward this region stands under the protection of the order of 13."
A.B.G, one of Elyon's closest companions exhaled slowly.
"Looks like your son was born a leader, just like you."
Elyon watched Draviel walk away with his companions.
"Every leader carries his own burden," he said quietly. "And my son's path will be heavier than mine."
The young warriors continued onward, towards the place where their training would end and their true journey would begin.
Chapter 3 – The Hidden Tongue
Elandros was the name of the world of mortals. A planet where humanity shared its soil with beings who did not age, did not rot, and did not forget. Cultures rose and fell here like tides, rituals layered upon rituals, but in the beginning there had been one way, one truth, one rite.
When the true god and his angels withdrew from the world, the silence did not last long.
Wicked beings arrived endlessly, scattering across Elandros like carrion birds. Each gathered with their kind all except God's 0,3,6 and 9 who remained at the center of Elandros, enthroned by followers who mistook power for divinity.
Of the planet 25% belonged to humans. The remaining 75% claimed by beast, myth and immortal blood.
1875 November 14
I completed my training.
The order of the 13 maintained teleportation seals across human lands, but the deeper regions where reality itself resisted were reserved for grandmasters alone. Today, the seals waited for my choice.
North. South. East. West.
It did not matter.
I am Draviel, servant of the oppressed, bound to my Lord.
My vow was simple.
One man. One faith. One God.
A.B.G's voice cut through the air.
"Your family prayer, Draviel."
I closed my eyes.
" I love the Father Yahweh, the son Yeshua and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
Khared-Tem
I arrived in a land that stank of iron and suffering. Here the oppressed were treated as refuse. Beatings were called redemption. Blood was called discipline.
Thousands knelt in mud while nobles watched from raised stone platforms, smiling as men broke bones in the name of "order".
Then I saw them.
At the center of the order of 13's sigil four of my brothers hung upside down.
Their bodies were carved with words.
*I am a sinner
*Lord, have mercy on me
*Lord, give me strength
*Through you, I can destroy them
Rage rose like wildfire but I buried it.
Someone else was here.
A presence shifted behind me.
I turned and the man thought he had seized me screamed as the illusion snapped shut around him instead.
Hellfire.
I tore his thought open and saw others hiding within the ruined chapel ahead.
Two minutes later, his brain ruptured inside his skull.
I moved.
The chapel was broken, desecrated, familiar too familiar. Its structure mirrored the order of 13 sanctuaries but twisted.
A teleportation seal pulsed weakly beneath the altar.
As I advanced, unarmed and alert I heard it. A heartbeat.
My heartbeat
It came from the Bible stand before the portraits of fallen leaders.
When I touched it, the weight vanished. It was one of the four books. Eldara. I took it.
The air darkened.
A shadow rose.
"You made yourself uglier than most can imagine," I thought.
The thing laughed.
"I am you, Draviel. Let go, I am not ugly. I am honest."
The shadow shifted and wore my face.
Older. Hardened.
A crown rested upon his head.
"The only difference," he said, "is that I wear the god crown. You do not."
I met his gaze.
"I don't need a crown. As long as I stand true to myself and my God that is enough."
"Are you sure?" He whispered.
"In my Lord's name, I rebuke you."
Darkness swallowed me.
I woke up upside down.
Chained.
Just like my brothers.
A voice laughed.
"The one you killed was ours. Everyone of us fell for the same trick."
I looked at them.
"You heard the heartbeat too."
Confusion flickered.
"What heartbeat?," one spat. "Illuminati tools hellfire bait."
One stepped forward, grinning.
"What shall I carve into you, ugly boy?"
"Your name." I replied.
I snapped the chains.
Before he could speak, his arms and legs were destroyed.
One of my brothers whispered.
"We wish we could help"
"You guys are hurt, let me handle this quickly" I said.
Forty Nine Illuminati members. Nobles. Armed. Smiling.
I whistle.
The air thundered.
"I rebuke you by my Lord's power."
Chains erupted from the earth.
Forty Nine bodies hung upside down– limbs severed.
"Feel it," I said.
"Are you enjoying the pain?"
I turned to my brothers, and broke their chains "Rest."
Then to the nobles.
"Ready?"
I faced the oppressed.
"I could kill them myself. But as for you people, will people be safe after that?. Every nobles here chose wickedness when the power is given. I destroyed their protectors. Strength without choice means nothing. What shall I do?"
I raised the book of Eldara.
White light split the sky.
"Now choose."
A masked woman spoke.
"Kill them, let God judge."
The crowd roared.
I obeyed.
Days passed.
I gave scrolls to my brothers.
"Bring your families. Stay here. We are brothers."
"What about the others?" One asked.
"Their seals are destroyed."
By days, I rebuilt their life.
By night, I sang the first song of the pathway of 555. Only a few understood. After one and half months I left Khared-Tem.
Chapter 4 – The Woman By The River
Draviel noticed her before she noticed him.
A woman stood by the river bank, half masked, wrestling with her loose parchments as the wind tried to steal them away. Ink bled across the edges of the paper, symbols flickering faintly as if alive. The river reflected silver light, carrying whispers downstream.
Draviel stepped forward and caught the papers mid air.
"Didn't they teach you spells to keep your parchments still?"
The woman froze, then turned sharply.
"Who are they?" She asked,guarded.
"Hellfire," Draviel replied calmly. "Ma'am… Serenya."
Her eyes narrowed.
"They offered I refused."
Draviel studied her for a moment, then spoke evenly.
"Then allow me to erase their mark, only if you consent."
She scoffed.
"You're bluffing and a pervert."
Draviel raised his hand. A sigil glowed faintly as he pressed a single finger to the center of her forehead. Something burned, then flowed out of her– an ugly symbol twisting like smoke before dissolving.
Serenya staggered back.
"I..I didn't know."
"That," Draviel said, " is the danger. Treating organizations like newspaper boys."
Her voice trembled.
"If you broke their mark… won't they come for me?"
"Of course," he replied.
"Unless you show them something worth fearing."
She hesitated then picked up her pen.
As it touched the parchment, her word ignited. Ink turned luminous, reality bending to each stroke.
"Anything I write becomes real," she said quietly. "For 30 min. But it drains me. I can't write for long."
Draviel nodded.
"Then walk with me. I'll protect you. You will write what must be remembered."
She smirked.
"Try anything dirty and I'll kill you."
"You'll see," he replied lightly.
"Night's coming anyway."
They camped beside the river.
Fire cracked. Fish sizzled over an open flame. The wind softened.
Serenya broke the silence.
"Why didn't your members help you against the forty Nine Illuminati?"
Draviel stared into the fire.
"They twisted our motto against us. Divine protection turned into unholy torture. Without their training, my brothers would have died in seconds."
"How can the divine become unholy?" She asked.
"By using near light spells," he replied. "Borrowed truth stolen form."
She frowned.
"Because of your teachings?"
"You will understand by the end of the story." He said quietly.
She looked at him.
"Then tell me your intentions with me. Nothing is free."
Draviel didn't hesitate.
"To write our path, so sinners know God still calls them. Everything else is free, we are the ones who demand payments even for our own funerals."
"Even your God demands goodness." Serenya said.
"No," Draviel answered. "He wants us to remember our true selves that we forgot everyday."
Her voice sharpened.
"He tells people to forget everything and come to him."
"Material things," Draviel said. "Not conscience."
She stood abruptly.
"Easy for you to say, born into power. Keep your ideals. I've lived reality."
Draviel gestured calmly towards the dark forest.
"The door is open. Enter… or walk away your choice."
"Don't pretend my question doesn't matter," she snapped.
Draviel rose.
"I can write and defend myself. But refugees can't. And when they die, people curse God instead of their own choices."
He stepped back.
"Looks like it's time I teleport."
"You scumbag." She muttered.
She turned away and lay down, staring into the fire, thoughts burning louder than the flames.
Draviel glanced upward.
"The First version was kinder. You made me sound like a scumbag, baka author."
"Who are you talking to?" Serenya asked
"The one writing us."
She stared.
"You're mad."
Draviel smiled faintly.
"Probably."
Chapter 5 – Trials Of Ashes
"Hey, Serenya," Draviel said casually, "do you want me to boost your ability or are you planning to sleep?"
She glanced at him, half amused, half suspicious.
"You can't boost someone's skill."
Draviel stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"I can't enhance words that create living beings or Gods. But non living constructs…" he smiled faintly.
"Those can be aligned."
Before she could protest, he placed a sigil against her flow… magic threading into her rhythm. Power surged too fast.
She collapsed.
She stood in darkness.
A single light formed before her– calm,distant, inevitable.
"I know my ending," the figure said. "All you need to do is follow my scroll."
Serenya tried to speak, but her voice would not come. Instead she saw herself from above– older,steadier.
"Even if you fall," the other Serenya said. "I will protect your words."
The image fractured.
A crown.
A shadow man.
The vision pulsed again and again, a chant echoing through the void.
"I will be your word."
Serenya awoke to sunlight.
Draviel lay nearby, asleep on a conjured bed of magic. Fogs gnawed at leftover food. Serenya herself had slept on bare earth.
Annoyed, she tested her strength
A hammer nearly ton formed from her thought alone launched at near sonic speed.
Before it could land, Draviel's body reacted on instinct. A counter spell flared.
"You think I can't reduce your output?" He said, eyes half open.
She slapped him.
"I know that," she snapped – thing inside, shock rippled through her.
"You're not as strong as I thought." She added.
"Get ready. We're moving"
Another slap followed.
"And next time, don't ruin everything I own."
Draviel jolted upright.
"What–?"
He looked around. His food lay scattered over her dress, though her parchments were unharmed.
"I can change your clothes with magic," he said reflexively then paused.
"Oi clothes are non living.."
Serenya had already changed and was brushing her teeth.
"Don't you bathe?" Draviel asked
She ignored him.
They reached a valley meant for supplies.
It was ruined.
Trees stood drained. The River lay lifeless. Wells were poisoned away by spells.
A raider scout grabbed Serenya's wrist.
"Leave your boyfriend. Come with me."
"Sure," she said calmly.
A hammer manifested mid thought and crushed him before he could blink.
Draviel whistled softly.
"Looks like you don't hold back."
Serenya stared at her hands, stunned.
"That's why enhancement is restricted." Draviel said quietly.
He knocked her unconscious before she could spiral further and moved to evacuate survivors and gather intelligence.
When Serenya woke up again, her voice trembled.
" I didn't write anything. I didn't even think–"
"You did," Draviel replied. " The first script is always written in the mind. You're a beginner."
"You took care of the raiders, right?" She asked.
"They don't belong to any organization," he said.
"Perfect training ground. Rest. The raider won't kill people until the day after tomorrow."
The raiders return at dawn.
They launched explosives designed to disguise the massacre as an accident.
They never reached the valley.
A wall rose – immense, absolute– stretching across the mountains.
The raider leader frowned.
"Who built this? Are we lost–?
His head vanished.
Serenya stood calmly.
150 raiders become 148.
The valley once held 300 people after the raider, only 100 remained.
Serenya fought until her vision blurred, until 30 raiders stood. They charged.
Draviel entered the divine sword dance.
The rest fell
He caught Serenya as she collapsed.
"Your durability needs work." He said. "But you did well."
The hostages were safe.
That evening, Serenya wakes beside the fire.
"Why didn't you enhance my endurance?" She asked.
"Something must be earned," Draviel replied.
"Then build." He added nodding to the valley.
"Strength follows purpose."
An old man approached, eyes wide.
"I saw that sword art as a child."
Draviel inclined his head "old texts,God's grace."
Serenya knelt touching the soil. Magic stirred- homes began to rise.
Then space twisted.
A teleportation seal ignited before Draviel, Serenya and the old man.
Something new had arrived.