The sudden golden light quickly dissipated. But the shock it brought was like a boulder thrown into the still lake.
The guards, startled by this incomprehensible phenomenon, retreated hastily. Although they didn't understand what power it was, an instinctive, profound fear of the "sacred" prevented them from making any further moves. They glared fiercely at Irelia, then dragged the half-dead Father Jacob away hastily.
The riot subsided, but all the workers' eyes were fixed on Irelia. Their gazes held shock, confusion, and fear, but above all, a glimmer of hope in the darkness of despair…
Irelia herself was completely stunned. She slumped to the ground, clutching tightly the wooden pendant that had returned to its ordinary appearance to her chest. The warm and powerful force from just moments before seemed to still linger in her palm.
That night, Irelia was quietly led by several older workers to an abandoned underground plumbing repair shop.
Here, she met Father Jacob again.
He had been tortured beyond recognition, but his spirit remained unusually high.
“Child…child…” He grabbed Irelia’s hand and said excitedly, “Tell me, what did you feel just now?”
“I…I don’t know…” Irelia shook her head, “I just…didn’t want Thomas to die…and then…”
“It is the will to ‘protect’!” Father Jacob’s eyes gleamed. “That’s right! That’s it! The power of a hero does not come from nowhere! It originates from the purest determination to protect others!”
He coughed violently a few times, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
“Child, listen to me,” he said, gripping Irelia tightly. “Five years ago, Lord Leo was defeated. But the legacy of the ‘Hero’ was not severed. That power, that ‘favor of the world’s will,’ did not disappear. It was merely shattered, broken into countless fragments, slumbering beneath this ravaged land. Waiting for a new person with a pure heart to awaken it anew!”
"And you, Irelia! You are the chosen one!"
Irelia was so shocked by his words that she couldn't speak.
Me? A hero?
How could that be? I'm just a lowly miner who can't even protect myself.
"No... Father, you've made a mistake..."
“I’m not mistaken!” Jacob emphasized. “That pendant is a protective mark your brother left for you with his life and love. It’s like a key that opened the door to ‘holy power’ within you the moment you unleashed your determination to protect!”
He was panting as he pulled an ancient map from his robes, drawn on the hide of an unknown animal.
“My child… I have waited for this day for five years.” His voice grew weaker and weaker. “This is the last secret of our Holy Light Church. Deep underground in this seventh resource zone, there is an ancient temple from the First Era that even the Empire has not discovered. There, a fragment of the holy sword 'Dawn,' used by the first generation of heroes, is enshrined.”
“Go there… Irelia…go there…” The light in Jacob’s eyes was rapidly dimming. “Only you can reignite that power…for us…for this land…bring a new…dawn…”
After saying this, his hand fell limply to his side. This old man, who had dedicated his life to upholding his faith, breathed his last, carrying his final hope.
Irelia knelt blankly beside Father Jacob's cold body, clutching the heavy map tightly in her hand.
In the following days, Irelia's world underwent a dramatic transformation.
The power within her, though faint, was undeniably real. She discovered that when she concentrated, a warm sphere of light could coalesce in her palm. This sphere of light could heal minor wounds on her and her companions.
The secret quickly spread among the workers.
More and more people began to look at her with respect and hope. They spontaneously began to protect her, using their own bodies to shield her from the overseers' view. They shared their meager portions of food with her.
They regarded her as their only hope.
This heavy hope suffocated Irelia, and it also made her once dead heart beat violently again.
She looked around at her fellow countrymen, numb and in pain, yet whose eyes would light up when they looked at her. She thought of her dead parents, her dead brother, and Father Jacob, who had just passed away.
Perhaps... the priest is right.
I can't continue living like this, like an insect.
Even if the road ahead is a bottomless abyss, I will still give it a try.
On a stormy night, with the help of several coworkers, Irelia, carrying the map and the wooden carving left by her brother, successfully escaped the hellish factory.
Following the map, she trudged through the muddy wilderness filled with industrial wastewater for three days and three nights.
Finally, at the bottom of a huge, abandoned mine, she found the entrance to an ancient temple, hidden by rubble.
Inside the temple, a deathly silence reigned. Ancient dust filled the air. On the walls, faded and indistinct murals depicted ancient heroes battling against darkness.
Deep within the temple, on an ancient stone platform, she saw it.
It was a broken sword.
Only a small portion of the sword remained, covered in cracks and rust, as if it would shatter at the slightest touch.
Is this... a fragment of the holy sword "Dawn"?
Irelia reached out and gently touched the cold hilt of the sword.
The instant her fingertips touched the hilt of the sword.
"Buzz—!"
A vast and boundless golden light suddenly erupted from the broken sword, instantly engulfing her entire body.
Irelia's consciousness plunged into an ocean of pure light.
She saw countless phantoms of heroes. Generation after generation, they raised their holy swords, waging an endless battle against the endless darkness to protect this land.
Finally, she saw a tall, imposing figure.
Leo.
The last hero.
He turned around and looked at her with his eyes, filled with sadness and resentment.
“I…failed.” His voice echoed in Irelia’s soul, filled with endless weariness. “His power transcends the laws, transcends the limits of the world. My light cannot reach him.”
“But…” Leo’s phantom slowly reached out and pointed at Irelia, “My power, though shattered, has not perished. It has become one with the lamentations of this land.”
"Those who come after..."
"This is no longer a battle that belongs to the 'hero' alone."
"Take this fragment, and with your blood, reforge it. With your soul, ignite it. With the pain and cries of all the enslaved on this land, temper it!"
"It will no longer be the lofty 'holy sword'."
"It will be the 'sword of resistance' belonging to every one who refuses to be enslaved!"
Leo's phantom vanished.
Irelia's consciousness returned to her body. She saw the fragment of the broken sword floating before her, emitting a soft light, as if awaiting her response.
Irelia did not hesitate at all.
She raised her hand and used a sharp stone to cut her palm. Blood dripped onto the sword.
Then, she tightly affixed the wooden sun carving left by her brother, symbolizing "protection," to the hilt of the broken sword.
"I am Irelia."
She knelt on the ground and, in a voice that was strangely unfamiliar to even herself, incredibly resolute, swore:
"In the name of my dead relatives and all my enslaved compatriots, I swear this oath."
"I am willing to bear this power. I am willing to shoulder this hope."
"I will transform into the first ray of dawn that pierces through this endless night!"
As she finished speaking, the wooden sun carving suddenly merged into the sword hilt. The drop of blood, as if imbued with life, swiftly flowed along the cracks in the broken sword, spreading throughout its entire body.
"Clang—!"
A crisp, clear sword cry, as if piercing through the eternal night, resounded throughout the entire temple.
The broken sword began to be reforged in golden light. The light, centered on the fragment, continuously extended and condensed, eventually forming a brand new, complete longsword.
The sword's blade was a simple, unadorned silver-white. It lacked ornate decorations and a menacing sharpness. But when Irelia grasped it, she could feel the pulse of the entire land beating in unison with her. She could hear the silent cries of her countless enslaved brethren echoing in their hearts.
At the end of the sword hilt is a small, warm sun emblem.
It is no longer "dawn".
It is "dawn".
Irelia slowly rose to her feet. Holding the longsword forged from her blood and soul, she stepped out of the ancient temple.
The outside world remained dark, with wind and rain raging.
But in Irelia's eyes burned a raging flame, powerful enough to ignite the darkness completely.
She raised her head, her gaze seemingly piercing through endless distances, looking at the "Heavenly Throne," the source of evil, suspended in the sky like a black sun.
Revenge, perhaps, is still a long way off.
But the prelude to resistance had already begun from this moment on.
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