The Shattered Sky: Only I Do What the Gods Can't

The morning began with a rush of activity, not the usual calm bustle of farm chores and market preparation, but a nervous, hurried energy that rippled through Riverstone.

News spread quickly—something was wrong at the village's northern boundary.

Riverstone's communication network wasn't formal, but it was efficient. Warnings traveled through the streets in whispers and hurried footsteps.

Children darted between houses, carrying messages from one family to the next. Neighbors called out to each other over fences, their voices tinged with worry.

Kael stood outside his house, watching as people hurried past. His father, Marcus, had already left for the village square, where the elders were gathering. Kael's younger sister, Lira, came out of the house, her face pale.

"What's happening?" she asked, clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

"I don't know yet," Kael said, scanning the horizon. "But something doesn't feel right."

The first sighting of the corrupted came just after dawn. Farmers who had gone to tend their fields returned to the village, their faces ashen. They spoke of figures moving through the mist—people, but not quite.

Kael caught glimpses of them from the edge of the village. The corrupted moved with an unnatural grace, their bodies twisted and enhanced by fragments. Their skin gleamed faintly in places, as if fused with metal, and their eyes glowed with an eerie light.

"They don't look like they're here to talk," one villager murmured, fear thick in his voice.

The corrupted didn't rush toward the village. Instead, they moved steadily, as though testing the air, their heads tilting as if listening for something. The faint hum of fragments pulsed in the distance, a sound that made Kael's skin crawl.

In the village square, Marcus stood at the center of a growing crowd. His voice was calm and steady, cutting through the rising panic.

"We've prepared for this," he said. "We knew the fragments would bring trouble eventually. This is no different than any other storm—we face it together."

Marcus's years as a soldier were evident in the way he organized the villagers. He assigned tasks quickly: barricade the main roads, secure supplies, gather the children and elderly in the meeting hall.

Every move was deliberate, every action purposeful.

Kael watched as his father worked, a mix of admiration and unease stirring in his chest. Marcus seemed almost too calm, as though this was just another drill.

"We'll need a defensive line here," Marcus said, pointing to a map of the village spread out on a table. "They'll come for the center, where the people are. We need to stop them before they get close."

The villagers listened, their fear giving way to determination.

The elders gathered in the meeting hall, their voices overlapping in tense discussion.

"Should we evacuate?" one elder asked, his hands trembling. "We can't defend this place if those things attack."

"And go where?" another snapped. "The forest? We'd be sitting ducks out there."

Marcus stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed. "We hold the village," he said firmly. "We have the tools, and we have the knowledge. Running will only make us weaker."

The debate continued, revealing long-standing tensions among the elders. Some wanted to fight, others to flee.

The political undercurrents of Riverstone were suddenly laid bare—old grudges and alliances shaping the conversation.

Kael stood outside the hall, listening. He didn't need to be inside to know what was happening. The village was divided, just like always. But this time, their survival depended on unity.

When Marcus emerged from the meeting, his expression was grim. He called Kael over.

"You'll be with the others at the meeting hall," Marcus said. "Your job is to protect the children and the elders."

Kael's stomach tightened. "But shouldn't I be with you? Out there, defending the village?"

Marcus placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "This is just as important. We need someone we can trust to keep them safe."

Kael nodded reluctantly, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on his shoulders.

Kael joined a small group of villagers assigned to guard the meeting hall. Marcus handed him a weapon—a spear with a fragment embedded in the shaft. The fragment glowed faintly, a soft blue light that hummed with energy.

The villagers had discovered that embedding a fragment into a tool could enhance its capabilities, imbuing it with unique traits, albeit far weaker than when wielded by someone who had fully merged with the fragment.

Despite the potential benefits, this practice was exceedingly rare. Fragments, while coveted and occasionally owned, were extraordinarily rare and incredibly expensive, traded only by a select few daring enough to sell them.

Roland couldn't help but wonder where his father had managed to acquire one. 

"Will you know how to use it?" Marcus asked.

Kael nodded. He assumed it would be like the Fragment inside him.

"Stay sharp," Marcus said. "And remember—protecting them is your priority. Don't take risks unless you have to."

He didn't question why Kael seemed so confident in his ability to wield it. He had an assumption but now was not the time to for questions.

Kael spent the next hour helping to fortify the hall. Doors were reinforced, windows covered, and escape routes planned.

The children huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. Kael tried to reassure them, though he wasn't sure he believed his own words.

As the day wore on, the corrupted grew closer. The villagers who had taken defensive positions reported strange movements—figures appearing and disappearing in the mist, always just out of reach.

"They're waiting for something," one of the defenders said.

Kael felt a chill run down his spine. The corrupted weren't attacking, but their presence was enough to unsettle the entire village.

Under Marcus's direction, the villagers formed a defensive perimeter around the square.

The few with fragment-enhanced tools and those who had fragments merged with them took the front lines, while others prepared to support them from behind.

Communication was constant. Runners moved between positions, carrying updates and instructions.

Kael watched from the meeting hall, feeling both relief and frustration. He wanted to be out there, helping his father, but he knew his place was here.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the atmosphere in Riverstone grew heavier. The defenders held their positions, their faces etched with worry. In the meeting hall, the children whispered among themselves, their fear spreading like wildfire.

Kael tried to keep them calm, telling stories of Riverstone's strength and resilience. But even as he spoke, he felt the tension growing inside him.

The first attack came just after nightfall.

A loud crash echoed through the village as the corrupted breached the outer defenses. Shouts rang out, followed by the clash of weapons and the hum of fragments.

Kael stood at the door of the meeting hall, his spear at the ready. He could see the battle unfolding in the distance—figures darting through the shadows, flashes of light from fragment-enhanced weapons.

"Stay inside," he told the others, his voice firm.

The corrupted moved with terrifying speed and precision. Their fragment enhancements made them stronger, faster, and nearly impossible to predict. But the villagers fought back with everything they had, holding the line as best they could.

Kael's heart pounded as he watched. The village was holding—for now. But the night was far from over.

As the sounds of battle echoed through the village, Kael gripped his spear tightly, his eyes fixed on the door. He didn't know what the night would bring, but he knew one thing for certain: Riverstone would not fall without a fight.