Chapter Seven: Divine Protocol
860 Words
Damian entered the living room, his eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the chandeliers. Seated on a plush sofa was the silver-haired man from the alley. Recognition hit Damian like a physical wave. This was the Guardian of Faith who had pulled him back from the brink of death.
Next to the Guardian sat a boy roughly a year older than Damian, wearing an enthusiastic grin. On the other side sat Ava, the blonde girl who had summoned him. Her expression was still icy, her gaze fixed on a book in her lap.
"Ah, Keslore, welcome," the Guardian said, gesturing to an empty armchair. "I am Elijah. This is my son, Max, and my daughter, Ava."
Max practically vibrated in his seat. "The Damian Keslore from the Valtanian team? I watched the Nova Terra quiz online! You were a monster in the academic rounds. What is your secret? Are you enrolling in a magic academy after this?"
Ava didn't look up from her book, her voice dripping with disdain. "Max, give the bumphead some space. He looks like he's about to faint again."
Damian offered a small, weary smile to Max. "I just study hard. And maybe, if I get a scholarship."
"Impressive potential," Elijah noted, his eyes scanning Damian with a depth that made the boy feel transparent.
Ava snorted, finally closing her book. "Potential? I doubt he can even awaken an element, Father. He was a disaster during the Physical Endurance trials at the competition. He should put that brain to use in the kitchen. Chef Damian has a much better ring to it than Guardian Damian."
"Ava, that is enough," Elijah said, his voice dropping an octave.
The girl rolled her eyes but went silent. Elijah leaned forward, his hands clasped. "Let's get down to business. You are representing Oakwood High from Valtania. I need to know why I found you stripped and bleeding in a Roman back alley."
Max's eyes widened, his excitement replaced by confusion. "Bloody uniform?"
Damian's gaze dropped to his hands. "The Principal asked me to hold the Luminous Lyre for a photo opportunity with the embassy. I went for a walk to clear my head, but I noticed people trailing me. I tried to lose them, but they boxed me in."
He paused, the phantom pain of the kicks returning to his ribs. "They beat me and snatched the Lyre. I managed to reach the alley, but they caught me again. After that, everything went dark."
Elijah's expression turned grim. "And that is when I found you."
"Too weak," Ava muttered under her breath, though she didn't look at him this time.
"So," Elijah said, his voice softening. "What now? Should I take you back to your Principal?"
"No!" Damian's voice cracked with sudden anxiety. "Please, sir. They will accuse me. The Lyre is a national treasure. If I go back without it, after being found like that, they will think I sold it or was irresponsible. I'll lose everything."
Elijah went silent for a long moment, calculating. "You can stay here until I figure something out. I have calls to make, and this incident might require the attention of the Sanctum. Go back to your room and recover."
Damian felt a mountain of weight lift off his chest. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
As Damian retreated upstairs, he didn't wait to close the door before summoning the interface. The blue light shimmered into existence, casting a glow over his bed.
**[STATUS SCREEN]**
**Name:** Damian Keslore
**Race:** Nephilim (Level 1)
**Element:** Light (Legendary Tier)
"Legendary," Damian whispered, his heart racing. He focused on the magic tab, and a new list scrolled down.
**[ACTIVE SPELLS: TIER 1]**
* **Luminaria:** Emits a burst of light in a 10-meter radius.
* **Lux Orbis:** Creates a floating, controllable orb of light.
* **Spark:** A concentrated flash for igniting materials or blinding.
**[LEGENDARY PASSIVES]**
* **Radiant Aura:** Slow, passive health regeneration.
* **Illuminated Mind:** Increased resistance to mental attacks and enhanced focus.
Damian stared at the locked spells further down the list—*Celestial Judgment, Solar Apocalypse, Spectral Blade*. The titles alone felt like a promise of a different life.
He thought of the nights in Valtania, shivering in a room that smelled of damp earth and hunger. He thought of the laughter of the boys who had beaten him, and the way Rotswinkston had looked at him like a tool rather than a person.
The weak, vulnerable Damian was dead. He had died in that alley.
A sudden, violent sob broke from his throat. It wasn't just sadness; it was the release of years of bottled-up desperation. He wept for the boy who had survived on scraps, and for the man who had died to give him a second chance.
In the doorway, Max stood silently, his hand raised to knock. He saw Damian shaking with raw, unchecked emotion. Uncertain of what to say, Max slowly lowered his hand and retreated.
Damian eventually collapsed onto the plush mattress, his face stained with tears. For the first time in eighteen years, he didn't fall asleep fearing the morning. He fell asleep waiting for it.
- Writer
