Edenfall: Genesis of Eternal War

Chapter Two — Sparks in the Ash

Human District Theta-9 — The Following Morning

The first light of dawn broke through a shattered cathedral window, painting lines of gold across the rusted floor.

Kael sat cross-legged in silence.

His breath came slow. Steady. Focused.

Before him, five jagged shards of scrap metal floated in a slow orbit. Not held by will. Not suspended by magic. They rotated of their own accord, each edge perfectly aligned, vibrating with quiet intent.

> Command: Reconfigure — defensive brace, three-point clamp.

The pieces snapped together mid-air. Screws formed from particles. Hinges fused from rust. A low whir hummed through the air as the pieces locked into shape: a curved, flexible forearm brace, reinforced with a rudimentary kinetic-dampener spring system.

He blinked.

It was... stable.

His [Creation] skill glowed faintly in the interface—but below it, something new pulsed.

> [Forgeheart] Sync — 0.002%

Just using the ability advanced it. And unlike last night, he hadn’t felt drained. No mana loss. No strain. If anything, the process had felt... natural. As if his body already knew how to shape what his mind imagined.

He stood, sliding the brace onto his arm. It clicked into place with a satisfying hiss. It wasn’t elegant. Not yet. But it was real.

He had created it.

Not from spellwork or system presets.

But from will.

And in that realization, a slow, grim smile broke across Kael’s face.

They had laughed.

They wouldn’t laugh for long.

---

Mid-Tower Barracks, District Theta-9

Rin Valin ran a whetstone along the blade of her twin daggers, the rhythmic scrape echoing softly against the rusted walls of the training barracks.

She hadn’t slept.

Not since the ceremony.

“Creation,” she whispered, then clenched her jaw.

Most had written him off already. Some had started calling him Scrapborn. Others mocked openly.

But Rin knew Kael Arin. Knew what he was. What he wasn’t.

And she’d seen his eyes when the blade had formed in his palm.

Not confusion.

Instinct.

He hadn’t been surprised he could make something.

He’d been surprised at how natural it felt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had that kind of potential?” she muttered under her breath, then stood and sheathed her daggers. A soft chime echoed through her vision.

> Private Ping Received — Source: KAEL ARIN

Her heart jumped.

She tapped it.

A message unfolded in glowing script:

> Need your eyes on something. Tower ruins, Sector 3B. Don’t bring anyone else. Trust me.

—Kael

---

Sector 3B — The Edge of the Old Forge

The abandoned sector had once been a military production yard during the angelic wars. Now, it was nothing but burned-out steel frames and collapsed foundries. But deep beneath the rubble, where few dared go, the ambient mana warped and pooled—perfect for experimentation.

Kael waited there, crouched beside an ancient forge altar still marked with faded Light inscriptions. Rin arrived silently behind him.

“Nice armor,” she said, glancing at his cobbled-together brace.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”

He looked at her—really looked at her. Raven hair pulled into a loose braid. Combat leathers already marked from training. Twin blades at her side. Eyes like tempered glass.

“You came,” he said quietly.

“Of course I came,” she replied. “You think I’d let you play god alone?”

A beat passed between them. Familiar. Close.

He held up a hand. Scrap lifted from the ground and floated into a loose spiral. Then—

> Command: Construct — recon drone prototype (basic hover, single-lens scan, non-lethal)

The air shimmered.

A fist-sized orb formed midair—patchwork shell, mono-lens eye, three miniature thrusters. It whirred softly and hovered in place, scanning Rin with a blue pulse.

Rin’s mouth parted.

“That’s not… That’s not supposed to be possible at F-rank.”

Kael’s expression darkened. “It’s not.”

> [System Notification Suppressed — Trait Effect Active]

[Forgeheart: Manual Override Enabled]

Warning: Construct exceeds authorized rank classification.

Rin stepped closer, voice low. “Kael, if the Lightbringers find out—”

“They won’t,” Kael said. “And if they do... I need to be ready.”

She looked at him—really looked.

There was a fire in his eyes now. A quiet fury, tempered and contained. Not revenge. Not recklessness.

Resolve.

“We need to talk to someone who knows how deep this goes,” she said.

“Already working on it.”

Kael tapped the drone. It blinked. A projected screen unfolded midair, flickering with lines of half-formed code.

“I’m designing something smarter,” he said. “Something permanent. A companion interface. A tactical advisor.”

Rin raised a brow. “A combat AI?”

“More than that.” His voice dropped. “I’m going to build the first one ever created without system authorization.”

She stepped back slightly, lips parting in awe.

“Kael... if you do that… you won’t just be a fluke anymore. You’ll be a heretic.”

He nodded.

Then he smiled.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

---

Meanwhile — Classified Observation Spire, Sector L-0

Deep within the Observation Core, buried beneath the Light’s orbital cathedral, glowing data-scripts filtered through a sacred lens.

A priest-engineer sat alone at the command dais, his eyes wide.

“Unauthorized construct… non-System blueprint detected... Trait interference confirmed…”

He leaned forward. Tapped into the divine stream. A new report flashed onto the sanctified relay:

> ALERT: TRAIT [FORGEHEART] IDENTIFIED.

SYSTEM OVERRIDE IN EFFECT — SUBJECT 001: KAEL ARIN

THREAT LEVEL: ESCALATING

REPORT TO HIGH ARCHON SERAPHIEL — IMMEDIATELY

---

Kael didn’t know it yet.

But he’d just triggered the Light’s first internal surveillance breach in over two hundred years.

And from this moment forward…

He would never walk unseen again.