Heroes were never meant to last.
Aren understood that now.
They were tools—polished, sanctified, and discarded the moment they dulled.
The bells rang at dawn.
Not the kind that called people to prayer, but the kind that announced change. Deep. Resonant. Unavoidable.
Their echoes rolled across the capital and into the frontier lands like a judgment that no one had asked for.
Leonhardt felt it first.
He woke with his heart racing, sweat soaking through his clothes, his chest tight as if something invisible were squeezing it. The warmth he usually felt—soft, reassuring, ever-present—was gone.
His connection to the gods felt…
distant.
Unstable.
He pressed a trembling hand to his chest.
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't abandon me now."
Silence answered.
Aren stood on the ramparts when the Church's convoy arrived.
White banners lined with gold script fluttered in perfect order. Armored escorts marched in disciplined silence.
At the center rode a crystal carriage—transparent, radiant, blindingly holy.
Inside knelt a child.
No older than fourteen.
Golden hair. Closed eyes. Hands folded in prayer.
Aren's jaw tightened.
So that's how they do it.
The Shadow System reacted immediately.
[Major Narrative Shift Detected]
Hero Replacement Protocol: Initiated
Target Status: Leonhardt Vale —
Deprecated
Seraphine rode beside the carriage, her expression serene, unreadable.
She didn't look at Aren.
She didn't have to.
He already understood.
Leonhardt arrived moments later, breathless.
When he saw the carriage—
The color drained from his face.
"No," he said hoarsely. "It's too soon."
Seraphine dismounted.
"Hero Leonhardt Vale," she said formally, "your service has been exemplary."
Exemplary.
Past tense.
Leonhardt laughed weakly. "You can't be serious. I'm still alive."
Seraphine met his gaze.
"That is no longer the requirement."
The child inside the carriage stirred.
Light spilled out—pure, overwhelming, suffocating.
The crowd gasped.
Faith surged like a tidal wave.
Aren felt it push against his shadow like pressure against glass.
[Environmental Faith Surge Detected]
Warning: Shadow Suppression Risk
Leonhardt staggered back.
"I haven't failed," he said desperately. "I questioned—yes—but I still believe."
Seraphine's eyes softened.
"Belief is no longer enough," she said.
"You hesitated."
Aren stepped forward.
"So you replace him," Aren said calmly.
"Just like that."
Seraphine finally looked at him.
"Heroes are not irreplaceable," she replied. "Stability is."
The child's eyes opened.
They glowed.
Not with wisdom.
With installation.
The ceremony was swift.
Cruel.
Beautiful.
The child was lifted from the carriage and placed before the altar. Priests chanted. Runes ignited. Light
descended like a blade.
Leonhardt fell to his knees.
His sword clattered from numb fingers.
Aren watched the light peel away from Leonhardt's body—strand by strand—flowing toward the child like stolen breath.
Leonhardt screamed.
Not in pain.
In loss.
The scream of someone realizing his worth had always been conditional.
[Hero Status Update]
Leonhardt Vale
Title: Former Chosen
Blessings: Revoked
Faith Link: Severed
The child gasped.
And smiled.
"Praise be," a priest cried. "A new dawn!"
The crowd cheered.
Aren felt sick.
Not because of the cruelty.
But because of how easily they accepted it.
Leonhardt collapsed after.
They left him where he fell.
No comfort.
No explanation.
Just silence.
Aren approached slowly.
The former hero looked… small.
Human.
"I warned you," Aren said quietly.
Leonhardt laughed bitterly.
"You knew," he whispered. "You always knew."
"Yes," Aren said.
"Why didn't you stop it?"
Aren crouched in front of him.
"Because you needed to see it," he replied. "Heroes don't break until they realize they were never chosen. Just… useful."
Leonhardt's hands trembled.
"What am I now?"
Aren's shadow stretched, sheltering them both from prying eyes.
"Now," Aren said softly, "you're free."
That night, the new hero spoke to the people.
His voice was clear. Perfect. Empty.
"I will cleanse the land," the child declared. "All who oppose the gods will burn."
Cheers erupted.
Aren watched from afar.
The Shadow System chimed, slow and heavy.
[Major Reward Unlocked]
Shadow Domain: Dormant
Condition: Fallen Hero Acknowledgment
Aren exhaled slowly.
"They're making him worse than you ever were," Leonhardt said quietly beside him.
Aren nodded.
"They always do," he replied.
"Innocence makes cruelty easier to justify."
Leonhardt looked at Aren.
"What happens now?"
Aren's eyes reflected the new hero's holy fire.
"Now," he said, "the world learns why replacing heroes doesn't fix corruption."
The bells rang again.
This time—
They rang for war.
Chapter 8: The Fallen Hero's Choice
Night did not fall.
It descended.
The sky above the frontier darkened not with clouds, but with silence—thick, suffocating, pressing down on the land as if the world itself was holding its breath. The bells had stopped ringing, yet their echo remained, vibrating inside Leonhardt Vale's skull like a curse that refused to fade.
Former hero.
The words tasted like ash.
Leonhardt sat alone at the edge of the ruined camp, knees drawn to his chest, staring at his hands. They no longer glowed. No warmth lingered beneath his skin. No divine pulse answered when he reached inward, instinctively searching for the power that had defined his existence.
Nothing.
Just flesh.
Just bone.
Just weakness.
"So this is what it feels like," he whispered.
Human.
Behind him, footsteps crunched softly against the dirt.
Leonhardt didn't turn.
He already knew who it was.
"You're still breathing," Aren Veyl said calmly. "That's better than most fallen heroes get."
Leonhardt laughed weakly. "They didn't even kill me."
"No," Aren replied. "That would make you a martyr. This is worse."
Leonhardt's shoulders shook.
"They cheered," he said. "Did you hear them? They cheered while they took everything from me."
Aren stood beside him, gaze fixed on the distant lights of the new hero's encampment—radiant, pristine, untouched by doubt.
"They weren't cheering for him," Aren said. "They were cheering because their fear found a new owner."
Leonhardt clenched his fists.
"I gave them everything," he said hoarsely. "My life. My will. My doubts.
And the moment I hesitated—just once—they replaced me like broken equipment."
Aren said nothing.
This was not the moment for philosophy.
This was the moment for truth.
Leonhardt finally looked up.
His eyes were red.
"What do I do now?" he asked. "Tell me. Because if I stay like this—if I keep breathing—every second feels like humiliation."
Aren turned toward him fully.
For the first time since they'd met, there was no mockery in his eyes.
Only clarity.
"You have three choices," Aren said.
Leonhardt swallowed.
"First," Aren continued, "you crawl back to the Church. Beg. Confess.
They'll forgive you publicly… and erase you quietly."
Leonhardt shuddered.
"Second," Aren said, "you disappear.
Live as a nobody. A farmer. A drunk. A footnote."
Leonhardt laughed bitterly. "And the third?"
Aren's shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground.
"The third," Aren said softly, "is treason."
Leonhardt's breath hitched.
"Treason against the gods," Aren clarified. "Against the Church. Against the story they wrote for you."
Silence roared between them.
Leonhardt stared at the dirt.
"I don't have power anymore," he said.
"I'm useless."
Aren smiled faintly.
"No," he replied. "You're dangerous."
Leonhardt looked up sharply.
"You know how heroes think," Aren continued. "How priests lie. How faith feels when it's real—and when it's manufactured."
Aren crouched to Leonhardt's level.
"You are proof," he said quietly, "that the system is fake."
The Shadow System stirred violently.
[Critical Condition Met]
Fallen Hero: Identity Collapse
Hidden Path: Shadow Apostate — Available
Leonhardt's hands trembled.
"You planned this," he whispered.
"Didn't you?"
Aren didn't deny it.
"I didn't cause it," Aren said. "I allowed it."
Leonhardt stared at him.
Hatred flickered.
Then faded.
Replaced by something far worse.
Understanding.
"…You're going to tear it all down," Leonhardt said.
Aren's eyes reflected the distant holy fire.
"Yes."
The new hero arrived at midnight.
No announcement.
No warning.
Just light—descending like judgment.
Soldiers fell to their knees. Priests sobbed in ecstasy. The ground cracked beneath the pressure of divine presence.
The child walked forward, bare feet never touching the dirt.
His eyes locked onto Leonhardt.
"You," the child said, voice echoing unnaturally. "You reek of abandonment."
Leonhardt froze.
Aren stepped forward instantly.
"Careful," Aren said. "He's not yours anymore."
The child tilted his head.
"Oh?" he asked curiously. "He is broken. Broken things belong to the gods."
Leonhardt felt it then.
The pull.
The instinct to kneel.
To beg.
To submit.
He screamed.
Not aloud—but inside.
"No," Aren said sharply. "This is where you decide."
Leonhardt's vision blurred.
The child raised a hand.
Light gathered.
"I will cleanse the stain you left," the new hero said sweetly.
Leonhardt shook.
Then—
He stood.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Defiantly.
"I won't kneel," Leonhardt said.
The world paused.
The child frowned.
"What did you say?"
Leonhardt's voice steadied.
"I won't kneel," he repeated. "Not again."
The Shadow System exploded with resonance.
[UNAUTHORIZED EVENT]
Fallen Hero Rejection Detected
Divine Authority: Challenged
The child screamed.
Light lashed out.
Aren moved instantly, shadows colliding with holy fire in a deafening shockwave that shattered the ground.
When the dust cleared—
Leonhardt was still standing.
Breathing.
Alive.
The child stared in disbelief.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Aren smiled.
"No," he said. "That's choice."
Later—much later—Leonhardt sat alone again.
But this time, he wasn't shaking.
Aren approached and held out his hand.
Leonhardt stared at it.
"What happens if I take it?" he asked.
Aren answered honestly.
"You'll be hunted. Hated. Branded worse than me."
Leonhardt exhaled.
"…Good."
He took Aren's hand.
The shadow wrapped around them both.
[Hidden Class Unlocked]
Leonhardt Vale
New Path: Shadow Apostate
Status: Faithless — Unbound
Far above, something ancient stirred.
Not a god.
Not yet.
But something that noticed.
Aren looked up at the dark sky.
"They've been watching," he murmured.
Leonhardt stood beside him.
"Let them," he said.
The world had lost a hero.
And gained something far more dangerous—
Two men who had stopped believing.