Chapter 105: Steel by Trust
The training had been intense, yet silent tonight. No simulations, no summoned beasts—just the clang of sparring blades and the slow crackle of spent light constructs dissolving into the air. After hours of pushing each other to the edge, Caelum finally dropped to one knee, gasping.
Volundr stood nearby, silent, letting the moment breathe.
"Why do you keep pushing me?" Caelum asked between breaths. "I could explode again. You've seen what happens…"
Volundr lowered his practice blade, eyes calm but firm.
"Because I trust you."
Those words hit harder than any strike.
Later, under the stars at the edge of the training field, Caelum finally spoke the truth he had long buried. The words came hesitantly at first, like prying open rusted doors.
"I was made," he said. "Not born—not properly. The Church had a project. They wanted to fuse artificial Sacred Gears with those 'blessed' by holy light. I was one of the test cases."
He stared at his hands, still trembling faintly with residual energy.
"When my power started tearing itself apart inside me, they called me defective. A failure. They threw me out before I could even learn how to control it."
Volundr said nothing for a long moment. Then he sat beside him.
"You were made to be a weapon," he said softly, "but that doesn't mean you have to live like one."
Caelum looked up, confused.
"Power doesn't define you, Caelum. Neither does blood, or who made you. You're here now. And you get to choose who you want to be."
Caelum's lips trembled. The words dug deep—far past the surface scars.
"And what do you want to be?" he asked Volundr.
A faint smile tugged at the young devil lord's mouth.
"Free. Not from people, but from the chains we're born with. From expectations, curses, names. I'll build a new path, and I want people like you on it."
That night, something shifted.
During their next session, Caelum raised his hands—and this time, the constructs didn't flicker or tremble. They pulsed steadily with radiant aether. Twin gauntlets formed with defined edges, and a blade stretched out, leaving behind faint silver trails in the air.
"You see that?" Volundr grinned. "You're finally anchoring."
"Feels... steady. Like it's listening to me," Caelum murmured, turning the blade.
His Sacred Gear had begun responding not just to willpower—but to trust. His trust in Volundr, and perhaps for the first time, in himself.
From that point on, Caelum's light no longer felt like a storm—it felt like steel, forged in fire, tempered by faith.