Sub:The Heir Who Forged a World Beyond Swords.
Chapter 1: The City That Rejected the Gods
Ironfall Expanse never slept.
Steel rails screamed beneath the moving city, grinding against each other like the teeth of a colossal beast. Towering structures shifted on massive mechanical legs, entire districts relocating with slow, thunderous precision. Steam vents hissed into the ash-colored sky, while glowing energy lines pulsed across metal streets like artificial veins.
To a child raised among floating citadels and divine chants, it looked like heresy.
To Alvanley, it looked like freedom.
He lay on a cold platform near the outer gates of Ironfall City-Prime, his body wrapped in blood-stiffened clothes that still bore the crest of the Valdyrion Clan—now half-burned, half-ripped away.
The crest of sword and magic.
A past life.
Alvanley's golden eyes fluttered open.
The world sharpened.
Every moving gear.
Every pressure valve.
Every structural weakness in the gate towering above him.
The God's Eyes activated instinctively.
Observation complete.
Probability of gate collapse under mana bombardment: 3%.
Probability of collapse under kinetic overload: 87%.
"…So even gods were wrong," Alvanley murmured weakly.
Footsteps approached—heavy, deliberate, metallic.
A woman crouched beside him, her coat reinforced with overlapping steel plates. Short silver hair, goggles resting on her forehead, eyes sharp enough to dissect a machine with a glance.
She did not kneel.
She assessed.
"Kid," she said flatly, "you're bleeding on my rail line."
Alvanley tried to sit up and failed.
"I'm not magic," he said quickly. "And I don't carry a sword."
The woman raised a brow.
"That's supposed to reassure me?"
He swallowed. "…I can build."
Silence.
Then—interest.
She snapped her fingers. Mechanical arms descended from a hovering drone, lifting Alvanley onto a stretcher.
"Name?"
"Alvanley."
"Clan?"
He hesitated. Then shook his head.
"…None."
The woman smiled, sharp and unreadable.
"Good. Clans rot people here."
She turned, already walking away.
"I'm Professor Kaelith Vorn," she said. "If you survive the night, you'll work."
⚙️ The Place Where Weakness Was Currency
Ironfall City-Prime was not kind.
Alvanley learned this within hours.
No reverence.
No prophecy.
No mercy.
People stared at his golden eyes—but not in awe.
In calculation.
Engineers debated whether his ocular structure was artificial. Surgeons wanted to scan him. Security flagged him as an anomaly. Children mocked his soft hands and noble accent.
And yet—
No one called him useless.
He was given a bunk.
A ration.
And a task.
"Sort scrap," Kaelith ordered, tossing him into a cavernous workshop where broken machines lay stacked like corpses.
"Survive the fumes. Don't steal. Don't lie."
"What happens if I do?" Alvanley asked.
Kaelith didn't look back.
"You disappear."
That night, Alvanley touched metal for the first time without fear.
And the world unfolded.
His eyes traced fractures invisible to others. He saw energy inefficiencies, wasted motion, design arrogance. He reassembled three broken power cores into one functioning unit—without instructions.
The workshop went silent.
A veteran engineer stared at him.
"…Kid. Do you know what you just did?"
Alvanley shook his head.
"I made it better."
👁️ When the System Answered
The pain came at midnight.
Alvanley collapsed, clutching his skull as golden light flooded his vision.
Not divine.
Not magical.
Artificial.
[TECHNOLOGICAL ASCENSION SYSTEM DETECTED]
[Host Compatibility: GOD'S EYES — PERFECT]
[Initialization in progress…]
He screamed as data burned itself into his mind.
Blueprints.
Physics laws.
Energy formulas.
Impossible designs.
[Welcome, Alvanley Valdyrion.]
[Your path deviates from divine authority.]
[Designation: TECH ASCENDANT.]
His hands trembled.
"System…" he whispered. "What are you?"
[I am the record of a future gods tried to erase.]
The workshop lights flickered.
Machines hummed in resonance with his heartbeat.
[First Objective:]
BUILD A WEAPON.
Alvanley laughed—soft, broken, dangerous.
"A weapon for who?"
The system paused.
[FOR GODS.]
Far above Ironfall Expanse, beyond clouds and belief—
A god opened its eyes.
Golden pupils reflected a city of steel.
"…Impossible," it whispered.
At that exact moment, Alvanley completed his first prototype.
And the air screamed as mana collapsed around cold, perfect steel.
🔥 END OF CHAPTER 1