A Knight’s Prayer

The house where Wrex grew up was quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet.

The disciplined kind.

Every object had its place. Every day followed a rhythm. Every movement carried purpose, even when no one spoke about it.

The people who knew the family often described them the same way.

Too good to be true.

On the outside they were warm, generous, respected citizens of Facilís. Their smiles were sincere. Their manners flawless.

But inside the house, something else lived beneath that kindness.

An unspoken pursuit.

A constant sharpening of the self.

As if they were preparing for a world that had not yet arrived.

Wrex was still a child the day curiosity won.

His father had a room at the end of the hallway—a room rarely opened, rarely mentioned. Whenever Wrex passed the door, he would feel the same quiet pull, like standing before a sealed story waiting to be read.

That afternoon the door stood slightly open.

Just enough.

The boy hesitated only a moment before slipping inside.

The room was dim, illuminated by thin beams of light slipping between closed curtains. Dust moved lazily in the air, dancing in silence.

But what caught his attention immediately were the objects.

Shelves lined the walls.

Strange tools. Pieces of equipment. Old devices whose shapes felt unfamiliar.

None of them had ever appeared on the public projectors of Facilís. None had been displayed during the grand technological broadcasts the citizens watched every evening.

They were relics.

Artifacts from a world the city never talked about.

Wrex walked slowly between the shelves, his young fingers hovering just above the surfaces without touching them.

Then he saw it.

Resting alone on a pedestal near the back wall.

A helmet.

It was dark, forged from a metal that reflected light like still water. Its design was severe—almost frightening. Where the eyes should have been, twisted markings spiraled inward like coiled shadows.

And along the jawline…

A symbol.

Not a letter.

Not a number.

Something older.

Something unknown.

The boy stepped closer, his curiosity pulling him forward. He reached out, hoping to lift it just enough to see the strange engravings more clearly.

The door behind him creaked.

Wrex froze.

His father stood in the doorway.

For a moment the boy expected anger.

Instead, the man simply walked inside and placed a gentle hand on his son’s head.

His voice was calm.

“A king without knights can still fight,” he said quietly.

Wrex blinked, confused.

His father continued.

“But a knight who is prepared… can lead an army.”

The words made little sense to a child.

Wrex looked back at the helmet.

“Is this a knight’s helmet?” he asked.

His father did not answer directly.

Instead, he knelt slightly, bringing his gaze level with the boy’s.

“Remember something, Wrex,” he said. “Words alone rarely change the world.”

The man’s eyes were steady.

“Sometimes it takes determination. Sometimes… it takes hunger.”

He tapped the boy’s chest gently.

“But power used blindly will destroy the one who holds it.”

Then he raised his hand and lightly tapped the shelf beside the helmet.

“A gentle touch,” he said, “can break a wall faster than a punch that wounds yourself.”

Wrex didn’t fully understand the lesson.

Not then.

But the image of that helmet never left his mind.

The present returned violently.

Loria lay on the cold stone of the narrow path, her breath ragged as the world spun around her.

The strike had been faster than she could follow.

One moment she had her opponent pinned.

The next—

The sky had flipped.

Now her body refused to respond.

She tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled uselessly beneath her.

Through the blur in her vision she could barely see what was happening around her.

Fozic lay pinned against the ground nearby.

Unmoving.

Her gaze searched desperately for another familiar face.

Rizor.

For a moment she feared the worst.

Then she saw him.

He stood only a few meters away beside one of the silent soldiers. In his hand rested a thin tablet glowing faintly in the darkness. His head lowered slightly as though acknowledging something written upon it.

A nod.

A gesture of approval.

Loria’s heart tightened.

What… are you doing?

The question remained trapped behind her fading consciousness.

Her vision darkened.

But one thought forced its way through the haze.

Wrex.

If he were here—

If he could see this—

Her strength faded before the thought could finish.

Across Facilís, panic was spreading.

The unnatural heat had already driven citizens from their beds. Windows opened. Lights flickered on across quiet neighborhoods.

Then a voice echoed through the city.

Artificial.

Calm.

Broadcast from every public channel.

“Please remain calm. This is a temporary environmental anomaly. There is no cause for concern.”

The message repeated.

Again.

And again.

But reassurance meant little when the sky itself seemed to hold its breath.

In Seris, the elderly woman stood beside the window once more. Her hands trembled as she stared into the darkness.

Beside her, a young girl from the neighboring apartment pressed her forehead against the glass of her own window, wide-eyed and silent.

Both of them watched the sky.

Both of them whispered their own quiet prayers.

And then—

The heavens answered.

The clouds tore open.

Thunder rolled across the horizon like distant drums, and the first drops of rain struck the city streets.

Within seconds the sky unleashed a violent downpour.

Water cascaded across rooftops and stone paths, washing away the suffocating heat.

From the ground it almost looked as though the world itself had begun to cry.

For a brief moment the rain mirrored the tears that still clung to Loria’s closed eyes.

At the Gate of Lions, Wrex stood unmoving.

The rain soaked through his clothes almost instantly.

He did not notice.

Something else had captured his attention.

The device wrapped around his wrist vibrated softly.

Point Touch Zero.

Every citizen of Facilís wore one.

It existed for a single purpose.

To restrain violence.

To prevent crime.

To keep the perfect world intact.

But tonight—

The sensation crawling through Wrex’s arm felt nothing like restraint.

It felt like permission.

Energy surged through his body, flooding his muscles with sharp clarity. His heartbeat slowed instead of racing, his senses sharpening with terrifying focus.

The urge was simple.

Direct.

Move.

Before the soldiers could react, Wrex stepped forward.

The rain swallowed the sound of his movement.

Two shadows shifted—

And two armored figures struck the ground.

The moment was so sudden that even the others had no time to respond.

Wrex stood over them, breathing steadily.

The soldiers began to rise again.

The real test was only beginning.

Somewhere in the chaos spreading through the city, a hidden faction had already taken action.

The Normalists had begun their move.

Across Facilís, Point Touch Zero units flickered one final time.

Then—

They went silent.

Not deactivated.

But awakened.

The world that had forbidden violence for generations had just opened its gates.

And Wrex, standing beneath the storm, felt something inside him finally awaken as well.

The price of advancement had arrived.

And tonight…

A knight would answer his prayer.