The world pulsed with light, and a hum filled the air as Leonard stood amid the gathering storm of belief. It was a powerful mix of emotion, will, and fervent devotion, a torrent that raged beneath the surface of reality and had now been brought to life by Gareth’s unwavering faith. The column of Light still stretched skyward, though it was starting to waver the longer he went without answering its call.

  Leonard felt the relentless pull of his people’s faith. Their prayers were not abstract; they were tangible, insistent, and in search of a vessel. He knew with chilling clarity that vessel could be him. They wanted it to be him. The path to godhood was clear and painfully simple. He needed only to reach out and accept their belief, drawing it fully into himself. If he did, the final barrier between him and divinity would shatter.

  It would be so easy. I have been aware of it for a while, but this is the clearest it has ever been. If I took it now, I might not ascend perfectly, but I’d still be able to do it.

  The thought chilled him. Easy, yes—but irrevocable. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he let himself imagine it: the power to shape the world with a thought, to rise above the petty squabbles and limitations of mortality, to become something greater than he had ever dreamed. But he also recognized the cost. Divinity didn’t just mean more power—it was transformation. To surpass the barrier meant shedding the trappings of humanity—more than he had already done—becoming a creature of the empyrean, unbound by mortal concerns. He would no longer walk among his people; his very presence would strain the fabric of reality, distorting it around him.

  He would be something else. Something apart.

  I knew when I decided to move beyond Champion that I wouldn’t be mortal anymore. However, I thought I could still live among my loved ones, and that it was the only choice at the time to stop the Void. There’s no need for this now.

  Leonard opened his eyes and worked his jaw. No. The price was too high. He would not trade his humanity for godhood, no matter how passionately the prayers called to him. His strength was not his alone—it was the result of countless lives and sacrifices. To abandon those lives for some celestial throne would be the ultimate betrayal. He had to see the Revolution through.

  He refused.

  The decision was made in an instant, yet it left an indelible mark. The column of Light began to fade, dissolving into the gathering dusk, and Leonard felt a strange stillness settle over him. Outwardly, nothing seemed to change. The world continued as it had, with glimmers of light dissipating like mist in the wind, leaving only faint traces of gold in the air. Yet inwardly, he sensed that something had shifted.

  A faint but undeniable presence lingered in his mind. It was still him, yet it felt different. It was the part of him that had gazed into the abyss of godhood and had not recoiled. A fragment of himself whispered of power, ascension, abandoning the frailties of flesh and embracing something eternal. It did not speak, not yet, but it remained patient and knowing.

  It would wait. The day would come when his work was finished, and mortal affections couldn’t hold him back any longer. It felt no need to push him.

  Leonard shook off his lingering unease. He had no time to dwell on metaphysical riddles; the battle was not yet won. The blood wards were weakening, starting to suffer under the concerted effort, but with the number of lives Pollus sacrificed for them, they’d be able to hold. The orc shamans were deep in their work, their chants rising and falling like waves, weaving their magic through the remnants of the Light.

  He reached out to help. The shamans were strong, and their magic was potent, but the surge of power from the prayers had been immense. Without guidance, it could overwhelm them, shattering their efforts instead of aiding them. Leonard subtly directed the current, channeling the energy into their ritual, smoothing its rough edges and balancing its flow.

  Elder Wei’s voice rose above the others, serving as a pillar of strength within the circle. As Leonard worked, he noticed her eyes flicker briefly in his direction. She knew. The process was unfolding too smoothly, with the spirits of the blood wards responding too readily. He caught a glimpse of suspicion in her gaze, but she said nothing, keeping her focus on the ritual. He would need to speak with her once the citadel was secured.

  The spirits trapped within the wards began to stir, releasing anguished cries as the framework started to fail. Leonard sensed their pain and desperation, guiding the belief through the shamans to cleanse them. The Light wove around the spirits, dissolving the chains that bound them and offering peace instead of vengeance. Gradually, the oppressive energy of the blood wards unraveled, and their crimson glow faded into nothingness.

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  When the last spirit was freed, the wards collapsed. The ground shook as the magical structure fell apart, but there was no shockwave since the power source—the spirits—was gone, leaving only the citadel’s stone walls behind. The rebel troops cheered, their voices a triumphant roar that echoed across the battlefield.

  Leonard took a brief moment to breathe, focusing his gaze on the citadel. The wards had been the Loyalists’ strongest defense. Without them, the walls were vulnerable, just stone and mortar that could be breached. Victory was now within reach.

  I’m sure old Pollus has something else prepared. He’s the type to go down swinging, so I don’t expect a neat surrender even now. It’s a pity; he would have been a wonderful addition to the War Council, but there’s a limit to how ruthless one can be, and he would never relinquish his ideals anyway. I might have been more merciful if he hadn’t gotten his hands on Void weapons, but I cannot allow anyone to think that’s a viable strategy. It must be stamped out at all costs.

  Leonard stepped forward, drawing Dyeus from its sheath. Behind him, the elite of the Revolutionary Army stood ready, weapons drawn and eyes fixed on the towering citadel walls ahead.

  The first of the magical bombardments struck above them. A dazzling plume of fiery light blossomed against the wall, sending a shockwave rippling outward as Amelia’s siege team began their work. It was deliberate, calculated chaos designed to draw the defenders’ attention to the ramparts and away from the traps meticulously prepared for the assault. Pollus hadn’t put all his eggs in one basket, but his arrogance would be his undoing.

  I’m sure he never imagined that an old dwarf, who spent decades being overlooked for a promotion he deserved, would be his downfall. Well, he would have lost anyway, but this will make the outcome even worse for him.

  Leonard raised his gauntleted hand. “Brothers! Sisters!” he shouted, turning to face the men and women behind him. “Today, we finish what we started. Today, we reclaim Hassel—not for lust of power, not for vengeance, but for freedom. For a better world!”

  A cheer rose from the ranks, but Leonard wasn’t finished. He raised Dyeus into the air, and a golden aura erupted from the blade, cascading over the soldiers like a wave of sunlight.

  [Halo of the Righteous]. It is time to end this.

  Leonard could feel the spell’s power surging through him, amplified beyond anything he had previously wielded on his people. However, these soldiers were no longer the raw recruits they had been at the start of the campaign. They had become tempered steel forged in battle, their bodies and minds sharpened by months of hardship and victory. The buff spread rapidly, and Leonard felt their strength swell.

  These were no longer ordinary men and women. The average fighter in this assault force was an expert—seasoned and deadly. They were the elite of the Revolutionary Army, the kind of soldiers who could hold their own against knights and champions. Leonard couldn’t help but envision what they might become in the years to come—Masters, perhaps even something greater. The thought stirred something primal within him, a fierce pride tempered by anticipation.

  But there was no time for musing. The battle awaited.

  With the soldiers faintly glowing from the effects of his blessing, Leonard turned back to the citadel. The enchanted iron doors blocking their path were made of panels inscribed with runes meant to repel both physical and magical attacks. He approached them as Dyeus hummed eagerly in his hand, ready for battle.

  “For freedom!" he shouted like thunder.

  He swung Dyeus in a wide arc, channeling the Light into a concentrated blast. The resulting wave struck the doors with an earsplitting crack. The runes shattered in a cascade of sparks, and the iron melted, sloughing off the hinges like wax. A cloud of steam hissed into the air as the entrance to the citadel yawned open.

  Dyeus hummed in his hands, pleased to have the opportunity to destroy the enemy’s stronghold.

  “Charge!” Leonard roared.

  The soldiers advanced like a wave of flesh and steel. The air vibrated with war magic as the Mage Corps unleashed chaos upon the enemies of the Revolution.

  Leonard led the charge, forging a path through the defenders who scrambled to confront him. The blade sliced cleanly, cutting through shields and armor as if they were made of parchment. With every swing, bursts of light erupted, annihilating swathes of the enemy and illuminating the battlefield with flashes of gold.

  As the assault force flooded into the citadel, Rusty’s contributions proved invaluable. The old dwarf had spent years as an adventurer, and his expertise in traps was unmatched. Leonard’s troops moved with precision, evading the hidden pitfalls and ambush points that had been set for them. When they encountered a trap too complex to bypass, engineers and mages worked together to disable it.

  A volley of arrows rained down from the upper galleries. Leonard raised his free hand, and a shimmering shield of Light flared to life, incinerating the projectiles to harmless ash. “Archers, to the walls!” he called, and a group of bowmen broke away to confront the threat.

  The defenders were strong—well-trained knights and mages who fought with the desperation of men aware that their time had come. However, the revolutionary soldiers proved stronger. Leonard’s blessing made them faster, sharper, and more resilient. They moved as a single, cohesive unit, cutting down their opponents with brutal efficiency.

  “Secure the eastern wing!” Leonard barked, pointing Dyeus toward an alley branching to their right. A captain saluted as his squad split off to clear the area.

  As they pressed deeper into the citadel, the fighting intensified. The narrow corridors forced them into brutal close-quarters combat. Leonard fought at the front, serving as a beacon that rallied his troops and struck fear into the enemy. He was relentless, and every swing of Dyeus brought death.

  He also served as a catalyst for the enemy’s attention, enabling his troops to utilize Rusty’s map to outmaneuver the defenders at every turn. Where the enemy anticipated an ambush, they discovered themselves flanked. Where they had established a kill zone, the revolutionaries dismantled their defenses before they could respond.

  By the time they reached the central area where the main stronghold stood, the defenders were in disarray. The Revolutionary Army spread out, securing choke points and erecting barricades. The citadel was vast, and the battle was far from over, but the momentum was on their side.

  Leonard stood in the center of the courtyard, Dyeus glowing faintly at his side. Around him, his soldiers moved to complete the encirclement. He could sense the tide of battle shifting, the enemy’s morale crumbling under their assault.

  Now, where is Pollus? I expected him to be here by now, which means he still has something up his sleeve.