The flames crackled low in the hearth, throwing shadows across the rough cabin. Cero sat across from the Doctor, clutching the still-warm bowl of bitter tonic. His hands trembled. His mind was burning.
He'd seen things impossible things. Light summoned from ink and words. Steel turning to ash. The sky turned black with a whisper. And one man had carved through soldiers like parchment.
Now they sat in silence, that very man leaning back against the wall, cloth bandaged across his torso, skin pale and strained. He looked decades older than he had days ago.
But Cero had questions. And he could feel the answers pressing against his lips like steam begging to escape.
He stared into the fire, then finally asked, voice quiet but steady:
"What's a shard?"
The Doctor didn't move.
Cero looked up. "You said it before. You told me I couldn't do what you did because I didn't have a shard. What does that even mean?"
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, then chuckled dryly. "You really want to know, don't you?"
Cero nodded.
He studied the boy for a moment measuring, perhaps deciding something, then sighed.
"Alright," he said. "I'll tell you. But once you hear this, you can't go back to the world you knew. You'll never sleep with peace again."
Cero's jaw tightened. "I've already lost everything. Just tell me."
The Doctor's face turned to shadow. "Very well."
He reached into a hidden pocket of his robe and pulled out a small, sealed pouch. Unfastening it, he held it open just enough for Cero to glimpse what lay inside:
A translucent orb, no larger than a marble, glowing with the soft hue of dawn a golden shimmer with threads of faint blue.
It pulsed. Faintly. Like it breathed.
"That," the Doctor said, "is a Divinity Shard."
Cero leaned in, breath caught in his throat.
"It's not a stone. Not a gem. It's a fragment of something far older. Long ago, the God Almighty, the creator the one who made all things shattered Himself. On purpose, or by accident? No one knows. But the pieces scattered across the world. These shards are what's left."
The Doctor tucked it away again.
"They carry His essence. His will. And if a mortal absorbs one and survives… they awaken."
Cero's eyes widened. "They become like you?"
"They become an Ascender," the Doctor said. "The first step on the path to power."
Cero sat back slowly. "So that's what all this is about? Power from shards?"
The Doctor nodded. "Yes. But it's not so simple. You don't just pick one up and become strong. The Divinity inside it will tear you apart melt your soul if you're not prepared."
"Then how do you survive it?"
"There are only two ways," the Doctor said. "One, you take the shard by force. You resist its corruption with your own will. That's the hard way. Most people die. The other way? You follow the Rite of Ascension. A ritual passed down from the Ascension Tablets, written by the Primordial Ones who mastered shard power before they fell."
"Primordial Ones?"
"Beings who rose above even gods," the Doctor muttered. "But that's another story."
He leaned forward.
"What matters now is this: The Rite takes your body through the stages safely. It uses ingredients, blood, incantations and most importantly, your affinity."
Cero blinked. "Affinity?"
"Everyone's soul has a natural alignment to one of the Ten Divine Pathways," the Doctor said. "Light. Sun. Storm. Wisdom. Dominion. And others. If you ascend using a shard from a pathway that matches your affinity, you'll grow stronger, faster, cleaner. If not… well, you'll still make it to Level 5, but after that, the Path rejects you."
Cero asked, "How do you know your affinity?"
"There's a Rite of Revelation," the Doctor replied. "A spell under the Pathway of Wisdom. When it's done, your soul takes the shape of the symbol of the Pathway you belong to. That's how the Churches choose their chosen. That's how they keep control."
Cero sat silently for a long moment. The world he thought he lived in villages, fields, prayer, bread seemed to vanish, like mist burned off by fire.
He finally asked, "So what happens when you become an Ascender? What do you get?"
The Doctor's lips tightened.
"There are nine stages of ascension," he said, "but we're only going to talk about five. Because anything above that is Godhood, and you and I, we're not gods."
He raised one scarred finger.
"Stage 1: You gain strength beyond mortal men. Your body processes divinity. You gain access to Epsilon-class abilities the simplest form of divinity. Nothing flashy. Nothing divine. But effective. You can create light. Strengthen your bones. Slow your fall. Hear whispers no one else can. The Church calls these 'Gifts.' They're not. They're the beginning."
"Stage 2: You refine. You learn control. You move into Delta-class abilities the manipulation of small forces. Fire that dances in your hand. Ice that traces the walls. You can read the energies around you. Feel the hunger of a dying spell."
"Stage 3: Your mind sharpens. You begin contracts with energies tied to your Pathway. Spirits. Echoes. Symbols of power. You start seeing things other people can't. You get attention. Not all of it good."
"Stage 4: You gain domain sensitivity your presence bends the world slightly. You feel other Ascenders."
"Stage 5," he said with finality, "is when the world bends around you. You gain the right to wield an Alpha-class Artifact. You don't cast spells. You command them."
Cero looked down at his own shaking hands.
"Artifacts…" he said. "Like that book Malrek used?"
"Yes," the Doctor said. "Artifacts are crafted from ritual and sacrifice. They're etched with permanent divine spells. They can bend the world, but only with the right user. Some require blood. Others require words. Some both."
He tapped the ring on his finger. "Each Artifact is tied to a class. Epsilon , Delta, Beta, Alpha and Omega. The higher the class, the heavier the cost."
Cero's throat was dry. "And the Churches have all of them?"
The Doctor gave a bitter laugh.
"The Churches. The Noble Houses. The Hidden Orders. They hoard the knowledge of the Tablets. They hoard the Artifacts. They hoard the knowledge. And they use the people like fodder."
He leaned forward.
"The reason you were locked in that cage? It's not because you're dangerous now. But what you could be ."
Cero stared at him, hollow.
"I don't want power," he whispered.
The Doctor's expression softened.
"Good," he said. "Because the ones who chase it for its own sake rarely survive it."
Cero sat quietly for a long while, staring into the fire.
The Doctor's words circled in his mind like vultures: shards, divinity, rituals, pathways… power.
But something still didn't make sense.
Finally, he looked up.
"Then… who is the God Almighty?"
The question hung in the air like incense.
The Doctor opened his eyes. His gaze was heavy, distant.
"Ah," he said softly. "You're asking the real question now."
Cero leaned forward. "You said all this power came from Him. That He shattered Himself and made the shards. But I've never heard anyone in the churches mention that. Not the Light priests, not the Flame monks, not even the Dream Seers. They all talk about their own gods. Never one God."
A faint smile tugged at the Doctor's lips not amused, but sad.
"And that," he said, "is by design."
Cero frowned. "So… is the Almighty real or not?"
The Doctor didn't answer immediately. He reached for the pot and poured himself a thin stream of dark broth into a wooden cup. He sipped slowly before responding.
"There was a God Almighty," he said at last. "The First. The One who created everything stars, creatures, time itself. But He didn't rule like a king. He didn't sit on a throne. He was the throne. He was reality."
He stared into the fire.
"But something happened. Maybe He grew weary. Maybe He saw something we don't. Either way… He broke Himself apart. Intentionally. Shattered His body and mind and soul. The shards scattered, and from them… came the gods."
Cero's eyes widened. "So all the other gods are…"
"Thieves," the Doctor said quietly. "Or maybe children. Or both. No one knows for sure. What we do know is this: every god you hear about today Solanar, Hemeris, Vahl, Oryx, even the Silent King all of them claim descent from the Almighty. All of them use shards to justify their power."
He leaned closer now.
"But none of them are the Almighty."
Cero felt his skin prickle. "Then why don't people know this? Why don't the Churches teach it?"
The Doctor's smile faded.
"Because each Church rewrites the past to glorify their patron god. The Church of Light says Solanar is the 'Radiant Source,' born of the sun and chosen by the heavens. The Church of Flame and Sun claims Velkarion forged the world in fire and fury. The Church of Storms says thunder was the first breath of creation. Every god has their story. Every story becomes doctrine. And doctrine becomes law."
He paused.
"Truth is dangerous."
Cero let the words settle in his bones.
"So no one remembers the Almighty?"
The Doctor shook his head slowly.
"Some do. Quietly. In secret. In whispers under their breath. We call Him The Forgotten Flame. The First Spark. The One Who Broke."
"But there's no Church for Him?"
"No," the Doctor said. "Because He doesn't ask for worship. Only remembrance."
Cero stared at the fire again. Somehow, it felt different now. Smaller. Lonelier.
"…So what am I supposed to believe?" he asked.
The Doctor looked at him long and hard.
"Believe what you see," he said. "Believe what survives the fire."
Cero shifted, the weight of everything settling like stone in his chest. His eyes stayed on the fire, but his voice reached across the room.
"You said there are… ten Divine Pathways?" he asked. "What does that mean, exactly? What's a 'pathway' to ascension?"
The Doctor exhaled slowly. His body was still, but something flickered behind his eyes memories, perhaps. Regret.
"A fair question," he said. "And a dangerous one."
He leaned forward slightly, voice low and deliberate.
"When a mortal survives the absorption of a Divinity Shard, they don't just gain power. They awaken to a Pathway, a thread of godly essence that connects them to one of the ten fragments of the original will of the Almighty."
"Fragments… like personalities?"
The Doctor shook his head.
"No. More like… divine themes. Embodiments of a cosmic law. Dominion. Light. Wisdom. Dream. Storm. These are not just magic types, Cero. They are living philosophies. Roads carved by gods who came before. Each one leads toward a different kind of godhood."
Cero frowned. "So, choosing a Pathway… changes you?"
"It defines you," the Doctor said. "Your affinity is a tether, but once you begin walking that Path once you take its shard into your soul it reshapes your being. Slowly at first. Then entirely."
"So everyone becomes a different kind of god?"
The Doctor nodded.
"Exactly. No two gods are the same. A god of Light is nothing like a god of Wisdom. Their minds, their hearts even their dreams burn along different lines."
"But… if the Pathways are so different, how do people know which one to follow?"
The Doctor gave a grim smile.
"Most don't. That's why the Rite of Revelation exists. Without it, choosing the wrong Pathway is like pouring oil into a fire that doesn't belong to you. The result is… catastrophic."
Cero swallowed.
"But what are the ten paths?"
The Doctor began to recite them, one by one, as if he had done so a thousand times before:
The Pathway of Light
The Pathway of the Tempest Throne
The Pathway of the Wild Heart
The Pathway of the Scorching Sun
The Pathway of Dominion
The Pathway of the Abyss
The Pathway of Dream and Shadow
The Pathway of Wisdom
The Pathway of Time
The Pathway of Creation
The Doctor stood in silence for a moment after listing the last of the ten Divine Pathways, his eyes lingering on the flickering candlelight beside them. Then, with a soft grunt, he turned and walked to the far corner of the cramped cellar, rummaging beneath a covered crate.
He returned holding something wrapped in worn leather brittle, stained, and almost sacred in its age.
"A map," he said, unrolling it across the table. "Tell me, boy… what do you know of the Central Continent?"
Cero's eyes lit up. The corners of his lips tugged upward in a flash of pride, but he quickly masked it behind his usual expressionless gaze.
Of course I know, he thought. I know far more than you might imagine, Doctor. I've read every one of your books twice… and some of them thrice.
Still, he kept his mouth shut for a moment, letting the question hang in the air like dust in a sunbeam.
He leaned forward, scanning the weathered parchment. The map was a beautiful thing hand-drawn with care, annotated in old ink with rivers, borders, and sigils of each nation. It felt like looking into history itself.
"Well," Cero began finally, "the Central Continent is divided into eight sovereign nations each shaped by their histories, beliefs, and bloodshed. At the center of it all lie the twin rivers, Alvinar and Eros. The Aurelian Empire sits between them and spreads out like a lion resting on fertile plains. To the east of the Empire is the Kingdom of Serath… once a part of Aurelian, until they seceded about four centuries ago."
The Doctor raised a brow but said nothing, so Cero continued.
"To the north of Aurelian lies the Vaelmoor Republic, a proud nation that rose from the ashes of tyrant-lords and built its foundation on liberty. Beyond them are the Durnholde Iron Kingdoms clannic and proud, masters of metal and stone. To the west of Aurelian, hugging the wild forests and hills, lies the Vahl Dominion a naturalistic and tribal nation, ruled by a Council of Hunts."
He traced his finger slowly westward along the map.
"Farther northwest lies the Duskrend Enclave, shrouded in mystery and dusk, ruled by the Night Choir. Their cities rarely welcome outsiders. In the southwest, the Veyran Confederacy a cluster of city-states unified under a spiritual banner, known for their ancestral rites and death rituals. And finally, farthest south, closest to the oceans, is the Stormreach Pact a coalition of sky-clans who live on the cliffs and islands, masters of storm and sea."
The Doctor gave a short nod of approval. "Impressive. You read more than you let on."
Cero smirked faintly. "I try."
The Doctor tapped the map lightly on the territory of the Aurelian Empire. "This is where you'll go. I have a few… friends… within the Light Church stationed in Solmara. They owe me favors old debts I intend to collect. I can get you safely across the Serathi border and into their custody."
Cero tilted his head. "Won't that be complicated? The Light Church of Serath and the Light Church of Aurelian haven't exactly been… unified in their faith for the last few centuries."
The Doctor smiled grimly. "So you've read about the Schism."
Cero gave a small nod. "Some say it was a difference in doctrine. Others believe it was political. But both factions claim to worship Solanar, the Radiant Light."
"Yes," the Doctor muttered. "And both would gladly kill each other over which interpretation is truer."
He sat back, folding his arms.
"The Serathi Light Church your homeland's doctrine believes in purity through obedience, that Solanar demands absolute order and righteous action. Their Sunblade Orders, their Inquisitors… are all built around that dogma. To them, sin must be burned out with fire."
Cero flinched, remembering the church sermons, the white-robed priests, the way they looked at him. He shuddered involuntarily.
"The Aurelian Light Church," the Doctor continued, "is… different. They emphasize divine radiance as an inward path. Peace, illumination, and rebirth. But they are no pacifists, mind you. They still burn, but they do so slowly like coals under gold. They believe the Serathi have turned zeal into madness. And the Serathi believe the Aurelians have grown soft with heresy."
Cero frowned. "So… I'll be trading one kind of Light for another."
The Doctor chuckled. "Perhaps. But Aurelia is vast, and their political structure more layered. Half the Empire still honors the old Sun Church—Velkarion the Flame-Bringer. The rest follow the Light Church. It makes for a strange balance of power. But it also means you'll be easier to hide."
Cero leaned over the map, eyes scanning the Empire's vast sprawl. "You said your friends are inside the Church?"
The Doctor nodded. "Yes. Lower ranks mostly Clerics, Administrants. Not the high council. But enough to get you papers and passage. Once you cross the Serathi border, they'll ferry you downriver through trade caravans."
"Why are you doing this?" Cero asked softly.
The Doctor looked at him for a long, quiet moment. His expression shifted something between shame and sorrow clouded his features.
"You know," he said, his voice low, "this is partly my fault."
Cero blinked. "Your fault?"
The Doctor didn't meet his eyes. Instead, he reached for the edge of the map, smoothing it out as if buying time with his hands.
"There was a manuscript," he continued. "An old one… copied by hand long ago, back when I was still naïve enough to think curiosity was harmless. It held more than doctrine myths, secrets, forbidden truths about the old gods,and the old language."
Cero's breath caught slightly, but he said nothing.
"I meant to burn it. After my first student was taken. After he read it and started asking the wrong questions." The Doctor's voice dropped to a whisper. "But I didn't. I told myself I needed to preserve knowledge. I told myself it was worth the risk."
He finally looked up, and his gaze was heavy. "Then you came along. You, with your cursed eyes and your quiet questions. And I saw the way you watched the sermons and didn't flinch like the others. I should have known you'd find it."
"I didn't mean..." Cero began.
The Doctor raised a hand to silence him.
"No. You read it because I left it for you to find. Not on purpose, not consciously. But a part of me wanted someone to understand. To see the world as it is not how the Church paints it in gold and fire."
He leaned forward, voice barely audible.
"That's why I'm helping you. Not because I'm noble and kind-hearted. Not because the Church betrayed me. But because I failed to protect you from a truth I should've buried long ago."
Silence fell again, this time thick with the weight of old choices and consequences that could not be undone.
Cero didn't respond. He couldn't. Not yet.
Because deep down, he knew the manuscript hadn't just opened a door.
It had lit a path.
One that neither of them could walk back from.
The silence between them thickened.
Cero broke it by glancing at the map again. "The Aurelian Empire has colonies, doesn't it? In the Southern Continent?"
"Yes," the Doctor said. "And enemies too. The Vaelmoor Republic has their own interests in the south. Sometimes they clash with Aurelian expansion. Especially around the coasts."
"So… if I end up there, I might still be caught between powers."
The Doctor gave a rueful smile. "Welcome to the Central Continent."
Cero sat back, his mind racing not with fear, but with possibilities. Escape was now a real thing. The world outside his small, suffocating village was vast. Alive.