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From a young age, Harman Kilabrew always knew he had talent.
Or at least, that is what he was praised for all his life.
He took naturally to the sword, a prodigy in all aspects of it. It was only sensible that he would go on to become a Holy Knight, having grown up in the Holy Kingdom.
Unlike most knight orders, the Holy Kingdom had two requirements to become a knight: awakening to force, and a divine blessing from one of the Nine.
Many squires remained in their station even after gaining the ability to use force because they were not favored by the gods, but not Harman. The moment he stepped onto the altar, he was shrouded in brilliant light, showcasing his potential, as lofty as the vast skies of his patron’s domain.
Of course, that was all a lie. He knew that now.
All he had left was his sword. He couldn’t trust his aura or force, not when so much of it had to be used to suppress that damn artifact, but he knew his sword would never fail him.
And now, he had a place to return to as well. A place where there were those who did not fear him, nor treat him as some godly being to be revered. Even if he wasn’t allowed to stay for long, he could stomach his mission with that in mind.
He was doing the right thing, he knew, stopping the gods from taking over more of his former comrades—and to think that all of it was to kill one man who was only fighting to protect his family!—but even a strong sense of justice was flimsy in the eyes of exhaustion. No, keeping his mind focused on his reward was much more motivating.
He no longer felt guilt for giving into the temptation, for allowing himself to dream and hope for a place where he could be among peers, not just colleagues or comrades. Such remorse had been instilled into him by false deities who only wanted to use him, and he had no reason to follow their doctrines now that he knew that.
The further he strayed from the order’s teachings, the more he could feel the artifact’s hold on him weakening. But there was only so much he could do to defy them. Things like murdering an innocent were still morally reprehensible, even if such morality was campaigned by a corrupt system. It was his experience that guided him to that end, not the words of a disciple of the gods.
In the end, all he could do was hope his small “sins” would eventually add up so that he could escape the relic’s influence.
If that doesn’t work… then I can always ask Logan for help.
But even so, he didn’t want to.
Logan was a kind man at heart. He wouldn’t turn him away for growing weaker. But Harman still had his pride. There was a time when he was considered the strongest on the continent, no matter how brief a time that was. To yield and defer to the only other man who could possibly understand what it was like at the top would be an indignity he refused to suffer.
How could he stand shoulder to shoulder with someone he was indebted to? If he wasn’t strong enough to fight a god’s “blessing”, then how could he claim to be the equal of the man closest to godhood?
And maybe it would prove impossible to destroy the “divine” relics without the help of Logan’s innate power that dulled the influence of the Nine, but he would sure as hell try. If it meant getting to continue growing stronger, getting to maintain his autonomy and retain the power he had left, then he would take it.
He had long grown tired of his comrades thinking of him as someone above them. Someone separate from pain and injury and the suffering of human existence. He was tired of never testing his limits, of being stuck, unable to continue improving and refining his skills.
And most of all, he was tired of having no one to strive to emulate. He had plenty of role models as a young lad, but his strength had long outgrown them.
But now… he had a reason to get stronger. He had to be even stronger than the gods. He had to help Logan keep from experiencing that stagnation, so that they could both continue their growth. Together.
If he surpassed Logan, then the man would be motivated to surpass him in return. Then he, too, would feel that motivation, and work to keep pace.
At some point in every superhuman’s journey, there would come a time when individual improvement would mean nothing. Anyone who thinks alone for too long becomes set in their ways, unable to change. It takes another person’s ideas to show them another way. A new perspective that could be molded to fit their own.
That is how one continues to grow once they’ve reached a level of untouchability most could never hope to achieve in their lifetimes.
And that is why he needed to be Logan’s equal. Not his subject, not his soldier. His equal. His friend, his rival, his companion, his teacher and his student, all at once.
Only then would he finally have a new star to guide him through the night, taking the place of the one that had been nothing but a mirage in the sky.