I stepped carefully over the broken cobblestones, my boots whispering against the debris of Arkion's streets. The golden light around me had dimmed slightly, enough to stop blinding the survivors while still leaving an aura that made them instinctively bow their heads.
The city was silent now, save for the occasional whimpers and gasps from those lucky enough to have survived the infernal rampage. Bodies — some ash, some scorched, some just buried under collapsed buildings — littered the streets. The smell of burning and iron hung heavy in the air.
I exhaled softly, letting the wings on my back shimmer faintly in the sunlight as I looked around.
"Pathetic," I murmured under my breath, though not in anger — merely observation. "Even the strongest guardians cannot contain a single hellish anomaly. Yet… there's potential here."
And then I saw him.
A boy, no older than twelve, crouched under the remains of a burned-out carriage, shaking, eyes wide, staring at nothing in particular. Tears streaked his face, his small hands smeared with ash and blood. I could feel it — the resonance of his circuit potential buried deep beneath trauma and fear.
Interesting.
"Boy," I said aloud, my voice echoing with both authority and calm, resonating in the remnants of the street like a low chime. "You survived because I allowed it. You have potential. Do you understand?"
He blinked rapidly, nodding once.
I crouched to his level, golden eyes softening, voice dropping to a whisper. "I am Alzwalt Light. You will come with me. You will train. You will rise. You will not die here like the rest."
He hesitated, confusion written across every line of his face. "B…But my parents…"
"They are gone," I said simply. No comfort, only truth. "And because of that, you have a choice. Follow me, or be consumed by this world. You will learn, and you will survive. That is your only option."
I extended my hand. His small fingers trembled as he reached out, and the moment our hands touched, I could feel the faint spark of his latent circuit activating — a promise of potential waiting to be refined.
"Yes," I murmured under my breath. "Good."
A sudden hum filled the air — the unmistakable signature of the Circuit Guardians deploying. I had expected them, of course. Any disturbance like this, and their sensors would flare within minutes.
They appeared above the ruins in a formation that screamed military precision: three aerial units, five on foot, all emanating varied aura signatures of power.
Their leader — Shion Tatsumi, a woman whose presence alone could command fear, her hair silver like spun mercury, and her aura capable of displacing a small army — landed lightly on the debris, eyes narrowing at me.
"Who… who are you?" she demanded, voice sharp and commanding.
I tilted my head, letting my six golden wings fold back slightly, and regarded her calmly. "I am Alzwalt Light. The world should remember that name. And right now, it appears that you — guardians of this city — have a duty to listen rather than act."
Whispers traveled across their ranks. Some of the younger ones stiffened; the veterans assessed me, confusion and suspicion clear in their expressions.
Shion's gaze hardened. "You have caused destruction… why should we trust you?"
I smiled faintly. Not arrogance, not mockery — merely a statement of fact. "I saved this city. Those alive owe me their lives. I demand a home here. A base of operations. And a maid."
There was a pause. Every guardian's eyes flicked between me and the boy I had taken. The audacity of my request — casual, as if ordering tea rather than commanding a city's allegiance — sent a ripple through them.
"You will not be recruiting here," Shion said.
I laughed softly, low and measured. "Recruit? No. I will claim those who are worthy. And if you wish to be part of it, then you may apply. Consider yourselves… offered a choice."
I extended my hand slightly, the golden light on my sword subtly pulsing. "I expect cooperation. Those who disobey are… expendable."
To ensure they understood, I allowed a small surge of power to radiate outward — not to harm, not to kill, merely a warning. The light flared around me like a golden aura, lifting rubble from the ground, causing minor structures nearby to tremble.
The boy stepped behind me instinctively, hiding in my shadow as if drawn to the authority I radiated.
I whispered to him, "Do not speak. Watch. Learn."
Shion's silver hair flickered as her circuits flared in response — she was not unskilled, but she had not encountered someone of my scale, of my presence, outside the controlled battlefield. The younger guardians paled, feeling the difference in authority and absolute control.
"You expect us to surrender to a child?" one of the men whispered, voice low.
I turned, the sun catching the edge of my sword of light, and smiled faintly. "I am no child. And you, your hesitation, your lack of vision — that is why you have failed in every theoretical test of potential."
The negotiations, if they could be called that, were brief.
By mid-morning, the guardians had arranged a modest villa in Arkion's heart for me — a place secure, spacious, and enough for both me and the boy.
"And the maid?" I asked, a faint smirk on my lips.
The head of the local guardians — Tatsumi, after a long sigh — dispatched a capable assistant to oversee the selection. I did not care about status; only efficiency and loyalty mattered. I had learned from John Merciless: appearances could deceive, but execution never lied.
By evening, the villa was ready. I walked the boy through the rooms, explaining nothing in words, teaching everything through presence. Golden light hummed faintly as I demonstrated minor energy manipulations, healing his minor cuts and bruises in moments.
He gasped.
"You will learn to command this," I said. "And you will learn to endure the world. This is your sanctuary… for now."
Later, I stepped onto the balcony again, looking over Arkion. The city thrummed with life — humans, merchants, nobles, all going about their trivial concerns. To them, the explosion yesterday had been a calamity; to me, it had been a lesson, a demonstration, a signal.
The guardians would be monitoring, of course. Their analysis systems would be running simulations, trying to gauge my abilities, my potential threat. I smirked faintly. Let them. Let them see a fraction of what I allowed.
I could be anyone here. A patron, a minor noble, a passerby — yet all the while, I understood everything. I saw circuits in every human, potential energy, power resonances. And for the first time since leaving Karveth, I felt… excited.
I sipped my tea, looking at the boy who was trying to imitate the minor energy manipulations I had demonstrated. He was clumsy, but diligent. He had potential. And in time… perhaps, he would become the next sentinel, a reflection of Alzwalt Light.
But for now… he was mine to mold.
I turned back to the cityscape. Arkion — a playground of ignorance, ambition, and potential. The perfect stage for what was to come.
And I would watch, silently, elegantly, as the world learned what it meant to have light descend from the heavens.