CH.2 The Path of the Templar
Heaven’s Rejected: The Shattered Reach
Dane nodded at the councilman without another word, opened a portal, and stepped back through into the plains where his tower stood. Before he closed it, he heard the council gasp in shock. That made him smirk a little.
The sky was beginning to dim, and the horizon bled gold into the coming night. Amelia and Jason were still lying on the ground, unconscious. Their bodies were like puppets with their strings cut, from the level suppression of the A-ranks.
Dane knelt beside them, and one by one, he lifted them and stepped through another portal, this one leading to the first floor of the tower. The air was gentler, tinged with the scent of wildflowers and fresh soil, and the weather generators were still in operation, despite the signs of earthquakes that had accompanied their banishment.
The dirt paths were bustling with activity, and the camp guards rushed to investigate the person who had triggered the alarms. Tomas made his way through the crowd to see Dane. Everyone relaxed at the sight of their leader, but more confusion was present from the sight of Jason and Amelia.
“What’s going on?” the young half-elf asked.
Dane didn’t hesitate. “The emperor exiled us.”
Tomas blinked. “How is that even possible?”
“It doesn’t matter how.” Dane adjusted Amelia on his shoulder. “We’ve got little time and even less room for questions. Meet me at first light in the training yard.”
Dane pushed through the town guards as he headed towards the center of the village.
He laid them in beds in the medical ward, which was once Mara's old tavern that she had converted into a hospital after receiving her class. Dane watched them from a chair beside the hearth; minutes turned into hours. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the occasional mutter from Jason, lost in some half-dream. Amelia didn't speak at all.
As night deepened and became unbearable, Dane crawled into bed beside Amelia. He reached for her hesitantly, hoping his touch might bring her some comfort. But her body tensed, her shoulders rising like a drawbridge, and she pushed him away, not roughly, but it still cut Dane deeply and made him rub an old injury that had long since healed.
He didn't try again.
He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Not with his thoughts clawing at him. Now that the noise had quieted and peace once again returned, he had space to think. And that was worse than the rejection.
Everyone had chosen to come. He knew that. No one had been dragged. But still... did he need to take them to Floor 50?
He’d passed his trial. He probably could have cleared the simulation floors Khronos laid out on his own. That truth gnawed at him. It made his choices harder to justify. He told himself it was supposed to be just another boss floor. But even if it were, he’d never needed help clearing those before.
No... he wasn’t doing this again. He forced the thought down, shoved it deep. He’d made the calls he thought were right, and that had to be enough.
If he kept walking alone, he knew where it would lead; he'd become another overpowered monster with no one left to understand him.
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If he wanted to lead, truly lead, then he had to be part of the team. Not apart from it.
And now, the mission had changed. Earth was still out there. Waiting. If he wanted to go back, he’d need power, and he needed to uplift everyone around him. The thought drove him out of bed. The feeling of inadequacy coiled around his spine like wire. So, he got up and laced his shoes. He would train until sleep was no longer a request.
The training yard was like a graveyard so late at night. A single torch sputtered in the wind. Dane warmed up by doing a few push-ups, sit-ups, and neck bridges. He didn't want to waste 1000 MP to cast spectral axe. So, he decided to hone his unarmed combat.
He had plenty of wooden training dummies, but he missed the heavy bag that was in his garage. It felt more like training in an old Kungfu movie that his dad liked to watch than boxing. But he still floated around it on his toes. And just before he jabbed, he dug in with his back foot, making sure the force transferred to his lead leg. The wooden dummy exploded like dry kindling. He frowned and grabbed another from the rack.
The second cracked with a halfassed hook. The third was shattered under a roundhouse. The fourth flew into the stone wall and splintered like a rotted log with a light slap. The fifth, he barely touched, and still, it snapped like a twig.
Dane stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, hands still clenched.
"I have to get someone to make stronger training equipment," he muttered bitterly.
The wooden fragments were scattered like bones at his feet. And he cleared a place to sit among the uncomfortable wood chips.
He sat on the ground, cross-legged, and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he focused on the rise and fall of his stomach, controlling his diaphragm. The wind picked up, and the cool breeze swept over him. Once his mind was clear of all thought, he envisioned his battle with the shade devil.
The fight was hard, but he tried to kill the Shade within the first seven resets this time and not have to rely on blowing the first floor to kingdom come.
After he had finished, he opened his eyes to see that the sun was finally showing the first few rays of yellow and orange. Dane hadn't noticed when Tomas sat next to him, so he stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants.
“Did you break five dummies?” Tomas asked with a half-smile.
“You’ll have to talk to the craftsmen,” Dane said, not looking at him. “The militia won’t be far behind me soon.”
Tomas hesitated. “What happened down there, Dane?”
Dane exhaled slowly. “Let me tell you about a battle with a god.”
They sat a long while after, no words needed between the two.
Finally, Tomas spoke again. “What about the council?”
“They’re not with the Empire,” Dane said. “That much was clear.”
“So… are they allies?” Tomas asked.
Dane shook his head. “Not yet. We have to scout them first and figure out what kind of mess we’ve been dropped into. The emperor didn’t exile us here without reason.”
Silence fell again, and both men were lost in thought about the next steps.
“I hated you,” Tomas said after a long pause, his voice almost lost to the wind. “For leaving without me. But after hearing all of it... maybe you made the right call. You’re the only one who came back whole.”
Dane didn’t look at him. “I had already been through my trials before his test.”
Tomas stood. He walked to the training rack, grabbed a spear and shield, and turned back.
“Think you can show me that flow state now?”
Dane chuckled. “Before we start... do you want to become strong?”
Tomas blinked, then scowled. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”
Dane’s expression hardened. “Then it’s time you took the Oath.”
A system prompt flashed before Tomas’s eyes:
Baron Dane McAllister, leader of Dusk’s Fury, would like to issue an Oath.
Do you swear to protect Chronowell with your life, and become the sword and shield of your Baron?
Y / N
He accepted without hesitation. The words left his mouth before his mind could process them, the system had put the words in his mouth before he knew he was saying them:
“I, Tomas, declare my allegiance to Chronowell and all her citizens. I will be your sword and shield. By this, I swear.”
Dane nodded solemnly. “Then from this day forward, you are Sir Tomas Spearfall of Chronowell.”
Another prompt appeared:
Class Upgrade: [Templar of Aeon]
You have taken an Oath of Fealty. Your class has evolved. +150 Free Stats per level gained. New Class Perks Available.
Tomas blinked as the interface faded. He never had a last name, not with the circumstances of his birth. He choked back the emotion he felt and in a broken voice he said. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Dane said, summoning his spectral axe. He stepped into a stance, his weight light on the balls of his feet, and sporting a hawkish glare. “I still have to beat the Temporal Flow style into you.”
