Godslayer's Legacy

Hidden in the shadow of ancient mountains, clinging to the edge of the Blackwood Forest, the village of Edrin was a serene, almost forgotten corner of the Thalios Kingdom. The village had a quiet charm, untouched by the noise and ambition of the grand cities and fortresses that lay far beyond its borders.

Edrin's life was simple. The river's gentle murmur and the soft rustling of the forest marked the passage of time. It was a place where the worries of empires and wars felt distant.

But beneath its calm surface, there lingered an unspoken truth: no matter how far Edrin was from the kingdom's heart, the village could never escape King Rasmund's reach.

The Thalios Kingdom was ruled with an iron grip, and at its center was the powerful figure of King Rasmund. Revered and feared in equal measure, he claimed a divine right to rule, a legacy Thalios, the God of Dust, bestowed upon him.

There were saying that Thalios had once walked among men, a god who could shape mountains, reduce cities to dust with a mere breath, and control the very essence of the earth itself.

Before he departed from the mortal world, Thalios had chosen Rasmund as his vessel, gifting him his formidable powers. Under Thalios's divine touch, King Rasmund was no longer just a mortal ruler—he was a god reborn, imbued with the power to control dust and matter itself, shaping the world at his will.

The people of Edrin, like every other corner of the kingdom, lived under this knowledge. The king's power, divine and unyielding, was inescapable. His Divine Chosen, a mighty force of elite warriors gifted with shards of Thalios's power, ensured his will was followed. Their presence reminded them that resistance to King Rasmund was not just treason but defiance of the gods themselves.

Today, Edrin felt the weight of that power more keenly than ever. A group of Divine Chosen, their black and silver armor gleaming in the afternoon sun, rode into the village square.

The leader of the group, Captain Roderick, dismounted smoothly, his polished armor and sharp gaze signaling his authority. Behind him, the villagers gathered their faces, a mix of worry and quiet dread.

The Divine Chosen rarely came to Edrin without reason. Their arrival today could mean only one thing—new demands from the crown.

Captain Roderick unfurled a scroll, the parchment crackling in the tense silence. His cold and commanding voice carried over the gathered crowd.

"People of Edrin! Hear the decree of King Rasmund, chosen by Thalios, the vessel of divine power. The harvest of this village is now to be increased. You are required to contribute additional shares of your crops and goods to aid the Divine Chosen in their sacred mission."

A wave of anxiety rippled through the crowd. Edrin's harvest had been poor this year, ravaged by drought and disease. The villagers had already stretched their resources thin just to survive. More taxes meant more suffering, and the villagers knew it.

In the back of the crowd, Kael, a seventeen-year-old, clenched his fists in silent fury. His lean, muscular frame tensed as he listened to the decree. His dark hair fell messily over his brow, and his bright blue eyes, usually full of warmth, now burned with defiance.

"This is madness," Kael muttered, his voice low but seething angrily. "We barely have enough to survive, and they expect us to give more?"

Beside him, the village chief, a man with lines etched deep in his weathered face, placed a calming hand on Kael's shoulder. "Hold your tongue, Kael," he whispered urgently. "You'll do us no favors by speaking out now. We cannot provoke them."

Kael shrugged off the chief's hand, his jaw tight with frustration. "They take everything from us," he hissed quietly. "And in return, we get nothing but empty promises and pain. Someone has to stand up to them."

The village chief's grip tightened on Kael's arm, his voice now firm. "And what good will standing up do if it gets you killed? We need to be smart about this."

Their whispered argument did not go unnoticed. One of the Divine Chosen, a Novice barely older than Kael, caught sight of the exchange. He stepped forward, a sneer playing on his lips. Though less impressive than Captain Roderick's, his armor gleamed with the symbol of Thalios, a polished emblem of the god's power.

"You there!" the Novice barked, pointing at Kael. "Do you have something to say? Or are you just too cowardly to speak your mind?"

The crowd went silent, all eyes turning to Kael. His heart pounded, but his anger was stronger than his fear. He stepped forward, meeting the Novice's gaze.

"My issue is simple," Kael said, his voice steady. "Our harvest has failed, our food stores are empty, and now you demand more? How can we survive the winter if we give you everything?"

The Novice's smirk widened. "You dare question the will of the king? Do you think your little troubles matter to the kingdom? You exist to serve, boy. Your only duty is to obey."

Before Kael could respond, Captain Roderick stepped in, his voice cutting through the tension. "That's enough." He shot the Novice a sharp look, silencing him. Then, turning to Kael, his expression hardened. "The tribute is non-negotiable. The kingdom's needs come first, as decreed by the king. You will contribute what is required."

Kael felt the chief's grip tighten again, a silent plea for restraint. But Kael's anger was too much to contain. His voice rose, defiant. "We're not slaves! We have families—people who rely on us. You can't keep taking from us when we have nothing left to give!"

Roderick's eyes narrowed, but his expression had no anger—only cold calculation. "You're brave for someone so young," he said, his voice calm. "But bravery won't feed you or your village. The king protects this land, and in return, you offer tribute. That is the way of things. The moment you challenge that, you challenge the power of Thalios himself."

Kael opened his mouth to argue, but the village chief pulled him back, whispering fiercely, "Enough, Kael. Don't make this worse for us."

The Novice, clearly enjoying the spectacle, spat on the ground at Kael's feet. "Perhaps the boy needs a lesson in respect," he muttered, his eyes gleaming with malice.

But Roderick raised a hand, silencing him. "There will be no need for that. The king's judgment is final. Edrin will meet its obligations."

He turned to the gathered villagers, his voice growing louder. "You have until the next full moon to fulfill your tribute. If you fail, you will answer to the king. His mercy is vast, but his wrath is swift. Remember that."

Captain Roderick signaled to his squad, and the Divine Chosen mounted their horses. As they rode out of the village square, the tension that had gripped the air slowly faded, leaving a heavy silence.

The villagers, their faces filled with fear and resignation, began to disperse. Kael watched them go, his frustration burning brighter with each step they took. He knew that if something didn't change, Edrin wouldn't survive the winter.

The village chief approached Kael, his expression weary. "Kael, I know you're angry. We all are. But you must be careful. These are dangerous times, and the Divine Chosen are not to be trifled with."

Kael's blue eyes blazed with defiance, but he nodded, knowing the chief was right—for now. "I understand, Chief. But we can't keep living like this. Something has to change."

The chief sighed and patted Kael on the shoulder. "We'll figure something out. But for now, we survive. That's all we can do."

As the Divine Chosen disappeared into the distance, Kael's thoughts raced. He didn't know how or when, but he was determined to find a way to free Edrin from the crushing grip of Thalios and his chosen king.

Heading toward the outskirts of the village, Kael's footsteps felt heavy, weighed down by the confrontation and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Along the path, villagers offered him quiet words of warning or gratitude. Some feared for him, while others admired his defiance.

An old woman with frail hands stopped him, her eyes reflecting years of hardship yet holding a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Kael," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You spoke what we all feel. Maybe, one day, we'll be free."

Kael offered a small, reassuring smile. "I only said what needed to be said, Ma'am. But we'll find a way."

Even as he continued, his mind was already thinking ahead. Though young, Kael knew he carried the weight of the village's hope. He wasn't just another villager. He was a spark to them—a small flicker of resistance that could light the way for something greater.

He wasn't sure what the future held, but he was confident of one thing: the people of Edrin couldn't survive under King Rasmund's crushing rule much longer. And something had to change.

As Kael reached the outskirts of the village, he found himself drawn toward the familiar clang of metal. The blacksmith's forge, where he had spent so many hours laboring under his uncle Gregor's watchful eye, still burned brightly. The heat from the forge offered a stark contrast to the cold weight that had settled in his chest since the Divine Chosen had arrived.

His uncle Gregor, a man of few words but immense strength, was pounding away at an iron blade. He looked up briefly as Kael approached, wiping the sweat from his brow with a leather glove.

"I heard about what happened in the square," Gregor said, his voice low but steady. "You spoke out."

Kael nodded, still feeling the tension in his muscles from the confrontation. "I couldn't stay quiet, Uncle. They keep taking, and we're left with nothing. Someone had to say it."

Gregor's hammer paused mid-strike, and he regarded Kael with pride and caution. "You've got spirit, lad. But spirit alone won't protect this village." He placed the unfinished blade on the anvil and turned to Kael fully. "The king's power isn't just in his soldiers or decrees. It's in the very earth beneath our feet."

Kael frowned. "You mean Thalios's power."

Gregor nodded, his face grim. "Aye. Thalios himself bestowed that power upon Rasmund. The king isn't just a ruler—he's a force of nature. He can control the dust, the dirt, the very bones of the land. His reach extends far beyond his soldiers."

Kael clenched his fists. "So what are we supposed to do? Just keep giving in, waiting until we have nothing left?"

Gregor's gaze hardened. "No. But we can't act recklessly. There are powers at play here that are older and stronger than anything we can imagine. If we're going to stand up to Rasmund, we need to understand what we're facing. We need to find his weakness."

Kael's mind raced. The power of Thalios... a force that could bend the very earth to its will. It was no wonder the Divine Chosen were so feared. But even gods, or those who carried their power, had to have weaknesses.

"How do we find that weakness?" Kael asked, his voice quiet but determined.

Gregor's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "There are old stories passed down by those who remember a time before Thalios walked the earth. They speak of a force that can stand against the gods, something ancient and powerful, buried deep within the earth. If the stories are true, it could be our only hope."

Kael felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest, but it was tempered by the weight of the unknown. "Where do we start?"

Gregor placed a hand on Kael's shoulder, his grip firm. "For now, we wait. But when the time comes, you'll need to be ready. You'll need to lead."

Kael was confused but nodded, the weight of his uncle's words settling over him. He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore. He was fighting for Edrin, for the people who looked to him with hope in their eyes. And no matter the cost, he would find a way to stand against the might of King Rasmund and the power of Thalios.

The forge's heat seemed to burn brighter, matching the fire that had ignited in Kael's heart.