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Betrayed by Heaven, Reborn as the Blade the Gods Tried to Erase
The God-Slayer's Requiem
Chapter 1: The Day the Gods Answered
The world did not always hate Klai Valerius.
In the beginning, it barely noticed him at all.
Ashroot Village lay far from the great roads of the Aetherion Realm, tucked between low hills and wheat fields that bent with the wind like tired men bowing to fate. It was a poor place—forgotten by nobles, ignored by kings, remembered by the gods only when taxes or prayers were required.
Klai was born there on a rain-soaked night, beneath a roof that leaked and walls that groaned with age.
No prophecy was spoken.
No light descended from the heavens.
No god called his name.
He was simply a child.
Yet from the moment he learned to walk, something about him was… wrong.
A CHILD WHO LISTENED TO STEEL
At five years old, Klai preferred broken swords to toys.
While other children chased one another through the dirt, he sat alone behind his family's small house, dragging a chipped blade through the soil, watching the way resistance traveled through metal. He listened to the sound of it—how iron complained, how it bent, how it endured.
His father, Darian Valerius, noticed first.
A former foot soldier, Darian had survived three campaigns and one massacre. He knew the difference between talent and obsession.
One evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, Darian placed an old practice sword into Klai's hands.
"Show me," he said.
Klai did not ask how.
He raised the sword—too heavy, too large for his frame—and swung.
The air shuddered.
Not violently. Not explosively.
It answered.
Dust lifted from the ground in a perfect arc. Grass flattened. The blade hummed softly, as if pleased.
Darian's breath caught.
That was the first time magic moved for Klai without words, symbols, or training.
That night, Darian did not sleep.
THE QUIET YEARS BEFORE FATE
Klai grew quickly—not in body, but in understanding.
By seven, he could mimic sword forms after seeing them once.
By nine, his mana flowed like a second bloodstream, responding to intent alone.
By twelve, wandering mercenaries refused to spar with him after a single exchange.
And yet, he remained gentle.
He helped his mother, Selene, carry water.
He taught his younger siblings how to read.
He defended other children from bullies without ever drawing blood.
The villagers began to whisper.
Some called him blessed.
Others called him dangerous.
The gods remained silent.
Until the day they did not.
THE ARRIVAL OF HEAVEN
It happened in the middle of harvest.
White-armored knights rode into Ashroot Village beneath banners of gold and sunfire. Their armor was unblemished, their expressions calm, their presence suffocating.
The Celestial Church had come.
At their center walked a high priest whose eyes glowed faintly with divine authority. He spoke kindly. He smiled often.
And when his gaze fell upon Klai—
The smile froze.
That night, the priest demanded a private audience.
He tested Klai with relics meant to reject mortals.
They shattered.
He measured Klai's mana core with divine sight.
His hands shook.
Before dawn, a prayer was sent to the heavens.
And for the first time in Klai's life—
A god answered.
THE MARK OF DIVINE INTEREST
Light descended in the academy city of Valenreach, where Klai was taken under the pretense of education and protection.
In a sealed chamber, far from mortal eyes, the air itself bent.
A presence filled the room.
Not overwhelming.
Not cruel.
Calm. Absolute. Certain.
"So this is the human,"
the voice said.
Klai fell to one knee without knowing why.
Before him stood Iglesias,
God-King of the Heavens.
"You possess something rare," Iglesias continued, circling him slowly. "A will that does not bend easily. A soul that resonates with steel. A path that should not exist."
Klai raised his head, heart pounding.
"Is that… bad?"
For a moment—just a moment—the god hesitated.
Then he smiled.
"No," Iglesias said gently. "It is useful."
Light touched Klai's chest.
It burned.
A symbol etched itself not into flesh—but into destiny itself.
Klai screamed.
And the heavens recorded it as a blessing.
Far away, in a realm where dead gods whispered,
something laughed.