This world has a few rules. First, although on the surface, it resembles a litrpg, it is in fact, not one. Blessed are as powerful depending on how much experience they have within their bodies. This is quantifiable. Hence, levels.

The “System” is no more than the arrangement of the flames within them. The new gods figured out a way to modify the flames, making them more efficient, and maximizing their output and carrying capacity. This is class.

There are no stats. Magical equipment does not exist. Bosses are simply mutated creatures that have ingested too much Experience.

Holy Men are a sect that believe the System to be heresy. The flames must be used in their pure forms, unmodified. The new gods see it otherwise. They believe the System their greatest invention, that the old gods intended for the flames to be changed.

The New Gods and the Holy Men are two sides of the same coin. They believe in spreading the influence of the flames. They just have different ideas on how to do it.

Qun walked defiant through the blizzard. The snow melted around him in a wave of heat. Steam surged as he walked forward towards the Noble quarters. His clothing, mere rags, used to hang from his lanky form. Now they threatened to tear, his bulging muscles brimming under them.

Qun smashed down the door, stepping into the quarters to the surprise of the Masters. He acted quickly, snatching one of their metals canes and using it to smash into a drunken Master’s head. It caved in with a nasty crunch, the Master falling to the ground. He attacked again and again, smashing into two others before facing opposition.

[Evasion] A Master casted, allowing him to see the attack before it was coming. Like a tiny window into the future, he knew where the strike would occur, allowing him to duck under it. But Qun was faster. The moment he missed, he flared his flame, enhancing his muscles. His second attack occurred almost immediately after the first; with lighting speed he smashed into the Master’s face, causing it to explode in a shower of blood.

Two new opponents burst into the Common area the Masters were sitting at, wondering what the commotion was. They froze for a moment, shocked at the sudden appearance of the absolute beast of a man, before drawing their blades.

[Tracking] Qun sensed a surge of power directed at him. The flame within his opponent was that of a Ranger.. The Ranger would be able to know where he was, no matter how well he hid.

[Wind Crest Strike] The other swordsman casted, his blade simmering green. He charged forward, swinging his blade. Qun parried, but the weapon slashed the rod in two.

The Swordsman swung at Qun, forcing the World Forger to dodge. His reactions were quick, but another skill like that would be too fast for even he to track.

The Ranger joined the onslaught, forcing Qun to flip backwards over the table, creating some space. The Ranger followed, sliding across the table and casting [Whirlwind]. He pirouetted, gashing Qun in the arms as he blocked.

Qun grimaced, but the flames were already healing him. Qun flared, swinging with a lightning punch, but the Ranger evaded, docking low. In turn the World Forger drove a knee into his face, drawing blood and stunning him.

[Howling Wind] the Swordsman casted, swinging upwards. His slash sent a vertical shockwave of air, which carved into the floor and ceiling, severing the table in half. It grazed the side of Qun’s arm as he dodged.

The Ranger and the Swordsman stood side by side, blades forward. This was going to be tough.

They left the Capital quickly. In the commotion, Merrill had rejoined the others, loading into the carriage, and rushing out of the northern gate. They looped around eastward, towards the Eastern Hearth.

“The horses are so cute!” Milli exclaimed, sticking her head out the window, reaching for their fur.

Wooly horses were massive work beasts, specially bred over thousands of years to withstand snowy conditions. One their adaptions, which gives them their names, is their thick white spiral fur that covered their whole bodies, keeping them warm even during a bad blizzard.

Milli somehow managed to hang off the side of the carriage, reaching out and grabbing a handful of the fluff. She stroked it eagerly, till Merrill dragged her back inside.

“Ah! I wasn’t done petting the horses Merrill.” She pouted.

“You can pet them later.”

“But I want to pet them now.”

“Well… you can’t. We can’t have the former Chastings heir hanging from a random supply carriage along the imperial highway.” Merrill scolded, tapping Milli on the head. It didn’t stop the younger girl from pouting.

“This… highway. I can barely see it underneath all the snow.” Illyra said, peering out the window. “How is it that you navigate with the everything like this?”

“There.” Severus pointed. He was upfront driving the horses, a small window allowing him to communicate.

On cue, two massive iron pillars appeared over the horizon. They stood dozens of feet tall, with eternal burning blue lamps propped on them to help people navigate at night.

“Waypoints.” Severus said as they zoomed in between them. “They have them every mile. The lamps are different colors depending on the direction you’re going. Yellow for capital. Blue for east.”

“Hey Severus.” Merrill called, peeking her head into the driver window. “We’re going to pass the Experience Mines on the way, east right?”

“I wouldn’t recommend what you’re thinking.” He said. “That place is heavily guarded. They also always have a Hand stationed there. We’ll see the mountain when we go past, but nothing more than that.”

“Just a peek? Just a little check?” she goaded, pouting like Milli was pouting earlier.

“If you want to fight another one of those things…”

“Actually, I’m good thank you.” She said, shutting the little panel window. Severus seemed to say something, but no one inside could hear it.

“Okay goddess lady. Let’s continue our interrogation.”

“Very well.” She said, turning expectantly towards Merrill.

“Where does Blessed power come from?”

“From my sect. We made designed the System.”

“And you gave it to the Supreme One?”

“We had no way of knowing he would rise as he did. We designed checks and balances in place to prevent any Blessed from accumulating so much power. In theory he should have been destroyed long ago by another prospecting Demon King.”

“What do you mean prospecting Demon King?”

“It’s only natural that the most powerful stands at the top. And it’s only natural that most powerful ruled. Compared to common people, our Blessed ones are a pinnacle. They were made to guide the people, who should not be allowed to guide themselves.”

“I feel like you just said something really offensive.” Merrill said. “Are you telling me that Commons were meant to be enslaved?”

“And why should they not? Human beings are fickle creatures that indulge in war and debauchery. Without guidance by an elite class, they were doomed of destroying themselves. So, that is why we brought the Blessed. They were all specially selected, those who possess knowledge beyond this world, in order to guide humanity away from the brink of destruction.”

“Are you telling me you intended for the Supreme One to happen?” Thrace said, leaning forward, angering fuming.

“Did you not hear me? He should’ve been toppled long ago. Clearly, something went wrong.”

“So much for your perfect guidance system.” Merrill said.

“I never claimed perfection. There are a few… hiccups. I doubt these claims that it is the same Demon King, as even Blessed had normal lifespans.”

“Listen here…” Thrace growled.

Merrill stopped him with a open hand.

“Go on.”

“As I said. I will fully support you in toppling the Demon King. And establishing a new monarch.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Only for the System my sect founded to perpetuate. That is all.” She smiled, her golden eyes gleaming.

“You said before you can make us all as strong as the Supreme One.” Merrill said.

“Correct. Merely give me the Experience, and it will be done.”

“Is there any way to… you know. Take away the power?”

Illyra shook her head.

“Unfortunately, if what you’re thinking is to simply sever the Demon King’s power, I cannot. Not without dismantling the System, which I also cannot do, for various reasons beyond my control. Toppling him is no matter, even if he somehow reigned control over other Blessed, all they need to see is that he is not much stronger than them. I believe that is the key to victory.”

“And yet I question such a thing. Being strong is one thing. I was strong when I worked for the garrison. And yet… no one opposed me. Not until the day I left.” Thrace said.

Merrill nodded.

“No one challenges the Great Lords. They’re so much more powerful than regular Nobles. And yet, the Great Lords… I’ve never heard of them challenging the Supreme One.” Merrill said.

“There are records I read.” Merrill said. “Memoirs from ancient Great Lords. They feared him. The Supreme One.”

“It’s a trick.” Illyra confirmed. “This Supreme One is not the same Demon King. Perhaps he has set up a lineage somehow. It’s impossible that he maintained this power for so long beyond his natural lifespan.”

“But the records…”

“It’s a title. I assure you. I can sense the System within this Supreme One now. He’s only level 100. I promise you that. Classless, like his ancestor.”

“Classless?” Merrill asked.

“Ah. It means…”

“I hate to interrupt.” Severus said, opening up the window panel. “Big storm ahead it looks like. We going to stop boss?”

“No. Keep going. Wouldn’t want anyone to catch up with us.” Merrill said. Severus nodded.

The carriage plowed forward, diving head first into the swirling storm ahead.

The Ranger finally fell after some effort. Qun huffed, waiting for his wounds to heal. The Ranger had cut his body up using Whirlwind, so he had to expend a good amount of flame. Already he was at half. His body sagged a bit, and small streaks of gray had appeared in his dark hair.

But, most of the Masters and Nobles now laid dead. The Garrison troops were trivial, after all, they were only Common. Though they possessed a tiny bit of flame, which most lifeforms do, it was not enough to manifest.

Qun stumbled out into the snow. Already the uprising had begun. The workers, following Qun’s lead, attacked the garrison troops with hammers and sticks. Though many were cut down, the freedom fighters were relentless, there screams audible even over the howling storm.

“Chrom!” Markus appeared, bloodied spear in hand. “Where were you?” He noticed that Qun did not possess the same glow as earlier. He was starting to look like his old self.

“The Nobles are dead.” He said as he strode, oblivious to the storm. “I need more crystals. I need to replenish my flame.”

The storage shed appeared ahead, lit by a small lantern. Markus kept in step with Qun, his spear ready.

Qun sighed. He knew where the Hand was.

“I wouldn’t follow me boy. The Hand is waiting for me in there.”

“A Fallen Hand?”

Qun nodded.

“Hands are incredibly tough, even with a fully fueled flame. And I’m at half. May I?” He reached his hand out. Markus placed his spear in it. “I’d run Markus. I don’t know if I can defeat him.”

“Let me help.” Markus said.

“No. Go to your sister. Follow the yellow lanterns. They’ll lead you out to the main road. When you reach it, follow the blue ones. They will take you to the Eastern Hearth.”

“But I…”

“Markus. If you stay, you’ll die. This old man has lived too long already. Let him meet death himself.”

“Thank you Chrom.” Markus said. “I’ll… get the book where it’s needed.” Markus said, turning to run off. He disappeared into the snow.

Qun sighed, slinging the spear over his shoulder. He flared his flame, forcing his muscles to bulge up once again. He tore his shirt off with his free hand, exposing his muscular chest. Qun pushed the shed door open, striding in defiantly.

The Hand sat on a steel framed chair across the room. It grinned at him as he entered, closing the door behind him, the howling wind suddenly silenced.

“The Supreme One will want to hear about this.” Tellium hissed. “A World Forger. A traitor to your sect.”

“You mean the sect that he enslaved? The sect that perverts my people’s teachings, the sect that blanketed this world white. The Sect that caused the Issium to appear? The sect that made you abominations?”

“The Supreme One saved this world. Something you old Holy Men will never understand. The frosts stopped the march of the Issium. They would’ve consumed the world.”

“That’s because that boy foolishly abused the World Forge. He used the flames for his own selfish ambitions, rather than follow the edicts of the ancient gods.”

“The Supreme One is god.”

“No.” Qun shook his head. “He’s just a foolish boy. A boy who couldn’t cope with loss. A boy who let his own ego and power fantasies bring destruction to us all.”

The Hand rose, drawing forth a longsword. Qun surged forward in bounds, driving the weapon into its chest. The Hand responded, stabbing the blade into Qun’s heart. Both stood there for a moment, before drawing their weapons from each other’s bodies. Both flared their flames, healing the mortal blows. The Hand grinned as his wound closed.

“Disgusting.” Qun stabbed the creature in its chest, neck, and face. Each time the wound closed due to the Hand surging.

“We are you’re natural evolution, World Forger.” The Hand said, carving into Qun with its blade as they circled each other. “The true World Forgers, remade in the Supreme One’s image.”

Qun drove the spear into its head, tearing off the mask, forcing a surge of heat to erupt from its wound. The gaping wound healed, revealing a grizzled burnt face, devoid of eyes or a nose. Steam surged from the orifices, spurred by the Hand’s laughter.

“You are an abomination. This was not what the old gods wanted. You’re something that should be dead yet isn’t.”

“And you are no different?” The Hand said, cutting into Qun’s stomach, leaving the blade there. “You’re flame burns low, old one.” The skull said.

Qun swung his fist, bashing into the creature’s skull. It stumbled backwards, allowing Qun to pry the blade from himself. He hunched over, placing a hand to his wound to keep his insides from falling out. Already he looked haggard, most of his hair now gray, though he kept some musculature. The wound closed slowly, the flame within him straining as it faded.

“You’re at your limit.” Tellium laughed, craning his skeletal face back. “This is why we Fallen Hands are superior.” [Boisterious Blow] it lurched forward, driving a fist into Qun’s chest, forcing him to his knees. “When our flame runs low, we can still rely on the System. Something you World Forgers cannot.” It said, wrapping its bony hands around Qun’s face.

Qun’s flame was an ember now, withering away as it struggled to heal the old man and keep him alive past his natural life span. His body looked even older then it has ever been. He was gaunt, and he shivered frightfully. Even his vision began to fail him, causing the world to become a blur.

“Ah. Such an old flame I sense within you. A shame. You should’ve followed Agathe when you had a chance.” The creature took delight in watching the old man wither away into ash.

Except, not yet.

Qun called upon the last ember of his flame, surging strength through his body once last time. With everything he had, he drove his hand into the creature’s chest, driving it straight through its body. The Hand howled, smashing a fist into Qun’s head. He exploded into fiery ash, the rest of his body crumbling with him. All that was left was the rapidly fading arm still in Tellium’s body.

The Hand hunched over, coughing as it pulled the crumbling appendage from its body. It vomited steam and black blood as it stumbled, making way towards the stash of Experience at the other side of the room. It fell, its legs no longer working. It could feel itself turning into ash just like Qun. Its flame was almost dead. It dragged itself across the floor, reaching for the glowing wave of light it perceived in its vision. A vision that only saw energy and flames.

Markus stood over the creature, having retrieve his spear from Qun’s ashes. The creature turned over, noticing him. It cursed him as Markus drove the weapon down on its head. He stabbed again and again, making sure to twist the weapon as he drove it through the Hand’s skull. Markus tore the head away from the body, raising it up in his spear. Already it was crumbling away. The body smoldered, bursting into flames as the creature died.

“Markus.” A voice whispered. “You must leave.” It said. “The Supreme One will have noticed the Hand’s death. He will send the rest. You must go, now.”

Markus rushed out into the open air. The blizzard had calmed down and was now a light snow fall. All around him the camp was chaos, drenched in blood and shattered steel. Garrison guards clashed with Commons rebels. Screams saturated the air as the rebels surrounded the guards, beating them to death with their weapons. There were no more Nobles left in the camp, so it was Common killing Common. They were fighting their equals.

“The Hands are coming! We have to go now!” Markus cried, trying to compel his fellow Commons, and yet no one listened. They were too busy relishing in their victory. They plundered and killed, taking vengeance over those who were their overlords.

“Run… Markus… Don’t die here…” The voice was just a whisper now, softly speaking into his ear. He turned, squeezing through the metal gates that guarded the camp.

He found the waypoint, spotting it far ahead. It glowed yellow, the lanterns blazing, hung upon the iron pillars. He made way between them, following them as they lead out into the road.

The Hands appeared as soon as Markus left the camp, rising from the shadows of the ground. Six of them now, for one of their number was dead. They lined up at the center of the encampment, which had spiraled into chaos. Agathe was distinct, where the others wore only simple masks, he wore an elaborate helmet with jutting horns in the impression of a dragon.

“Find Tellium’s killer. Wipe out everyone else.” He hissed, drawing forth a great spear from the shadows. The others drew their weapons, and set out to Commons, each armed with their weapons.

Half an hour later, all of them were dead, their bodies butchered as was trademark of a Hand purge. The camp was rendered a graveyard, with bodies strewn here and there. Some Hands relished in their slaughter, cutting up the bodies already dead in the snow. Agathe smiled. Carnage did always bring him joy.

“Agathe.” Vizian said, approaching him.

“Did you find him?” Agathe asked.

Vizian handed him a wooden artifact. “Ah. Old Holy Man sigil.” He said. It brought back certain memories from a long time ago.

The snow stopped. It didn’t just stop falling. It seemed to freeze, the flakes hanging in mid air. Agathe turned, coming face to face with the Supreme One. He shot down quickly into a bow, the other Hands, taking notice themselves, bowed as well.

He wore a long silver robe, hood over his head. Vestments hang on his shoulders, adorned with inscriptions of a long forgotten language. A silver cloak, matching his robes, trailed behind him. Upon each of his fingers he wore several large rings, and around his neck he wore a large pendant of steel in the shape of a thorny rose, a symbol of the Eternal Empire.

He reached forward with his right hand, gesturing for the sigil Agathe still held in his hand. Agathe placed it into the Supreme One’s, still bowing in reverence.

The Supreme One ran his thumb over the thing. A simple wood carving.

“Qun.” He said. “Was the body found?”

“Vizian found the symbol, Supreme One.” Agathe said, his voice soft and low.

“Speak Vizian.”

“I found it in ashes.” He said.

“Interesting. So, the old man finally croaked.” He said. “One less annoyance in the grand scheme of things.”

The Supreme One dropped the sigil into the snow and turned away. He seemed to mutter something to himself before speaking.

“Clean this place up. Get rid of all the bodies. Have Harlan summon forth another battalion, as well as some New Masters. Agathe, I want two Hands posted here from now on. And if anything suspicious occurs, summon me immediately.”

“Yes, Lord Supreme One.”

“I will summon the Great Lords. Return to the Hearth when you are done here.”

The Supreme One simmered away in a flash of blue light. Only then did the snows start to fall again.

Things were set into motion that day. With the old man dead, there’s no one left to stop me. Illyra won’t help the rebels. In fact, she’d only be helping me by awakening some Commons. Now I just need to wait. Wait until the time is right once again. Then, I can make my move, and finish what I started.

Markus walked alongside the highway road, tracing a path through several waypoints. He walked with his spear still in hand. He heard something coming up behind him. The sound of hooves crunching against the snow. Damn! He thought scrambling off the road trying to find a hiding spot. But the snow here was flat, no cover for miles.

He ran anyways, trying to get as far off the road as possible.

“Look at this idiot.” Merrill laughed, watching as he stumbled through the snow ahead of them.

“Should we stop him? Could be a spy…” Thrace said.

“He knows there’s nothing in that direction, right?” Milli said.

Something pulled at Illyra. Like a will, so weak, yet so determined to catch her attention. Just a small tug in the back of her mind. The tug of someone she had long forgotten about.

‘Stop him.” Illyra said.

“What? Why?” Merrill asked.

“Just do it. Hurry, before he gets away.”

“Fine.” Merrill slid open the glass window and flipped herself over on the roof of the carriage, holding herself there with one hand. [Flash Step] she leapt forward, gliding along the snow. She did it a couple more times before finally catching up to him. He tried to attack with his weapon, but Merrill just tackled him, pinning him to the ground.

Noble. Damn it. So Close. So close to escaping. Sorry Fel.

Severus stopped the carriage, turning it back towards them. Markus screamed and struggled, fighting to free himself from the woman’s grip, but she was too strong.

“Feisty one huh?” Merrill said. She sat on his back, waving to the carriage with a free hand.

“Shut up Noble. I don’t want to hear from you.” He answered.

“What’s that? Can’t hear you with your face in the snow.”

She pressed his head down into it. He tried to protest to no avail. Merrill searched him. She was a Rogue after all, taking the small leather bound book from him.

“What’s this?” She asked, flipping through it. “It’s just gibberish…”

She sighed. She was hoping for something a little more interesting. She just tucked it into her pocket.

“Give that back. That doesn’t belong to you.” He said.

“Finders keepers.” She answered.

“Who’s this?” Severus asked, hopping off the carriage.

Illyra shot out, approaching the boy. She looked down where Merrill was holding him.

“He’s just a Common.” Merrill said. “Don’t understand what’s he’s doing out here though.”

“Did you find anything on him?” Illyra asked.

“Just this book.” She said, tossing it to the woman.

She flipped it open, perusing its contents. “This is… boy. Where did you get this?”

“Like I…” He looked at her, mesmerized by her golden eyes. “From a friend.”

“Does the name Qun mean anything to you?”

“Are you Thaim?”

Merrill turned to the boy in surprise.

“This is important. Perhaps the most important thing to us right now.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a record of the Supreme One’s ascension, written in the old tongue.” She said. “But it’s encoded. I can read the language, but it’s not coherent.”

“I’m suppose to bring it to Thaim.” Markus said. “Chrom told me too.”

Illyra frowned.

Illyra you heretic. In the off chance you get this damn notebook, I had it encrypted. Only a true World Forger can decipher it. Yours, Qun.

“Damned man.” She said, lip curling in frustration.

“Chrom was a rebel who worked with the Hero of Frosts.” Thrace said. “I fought him once. Powerful man.”

“He’s dead.” Markus said. “A Hand killed him. But not before he hurt it, badly. It’s dead.”

“I hate to alarm anyone.” Severus said. “But the storm is picking up again. We best move on.”

“Thrace. Load the kid into the carriage. We’ll figure out what to do with him later, but best not to leave him out here.”

Thrace nodded, picking up a protesting Markus and flinging him over his shoulder. They each loaded into the carriage as the storm howled once more, riding away eastward.

END of Part I