GODFORGED

Chapter 3 – The Rooftop and the World Below

The wind howled through the night, tugging at Alex Nairon's cloak as he sat perched on the edge of the rooftop. From this height, the city of Borven sprawled beneath him, its streets a maze of glowing lanterns, distant laughter, and the quiet hum of a kingdom that never truly slept. The scent of burning wood and fresh rain lingered in the air, mingling with the dampness of the stone beneath his boots.

In his hands, he unfolded an old map, the parchment creased from years of use. He traced his fingers over the inked lines, his eyes scanning the borders that defined not just the land, but the balance of power that had held for generations.

Borven sat at the center of it all—unshaken, unrivaled. But how long would that last?

His gaze first settled on Nieth, the kingdom to the north. A land of warriors, born and bred for battle. They did not wield magic as the rest of the world did. No, their power came from The Flow—a battle art known only to them. It was not sorcery, not something woven through incantations or scrolls. Instead, it was a force that ran through their bodies, enhancing their speed, strength, and precision beyond human limits. From childhood, they trained to master it, their swords becoming extensions of their souls. It was said that a Nieth warrior could cut through a spell before it formed, severing magic itself with the right technique.

Borven kept them as allies not through politics, but through necessity. If Nieth ever turned against them, even the strongest mages would struggle to hold the line.

Alex's finger moved westward. Vyra. The kingdom of scholars and deception. They were the architects of influence, their power woven into words, into contracts, into the very air around them. While other kingdoms sought strength on the battlefield, Vyra played a different game—one of manipulation, where battles were won before swords were ever drawn. Their magic was subtle, insidious. Some said a Vyran noble could rewrite your own memories with a whisper if you weren't careful.

Then there was Roove, to the east—a kingdom of raw, untamed power. Where Nieth wielded The Flow with discipline, Roove had unlocked something far more dangerous: Pure Mana. Unlike the structured spells of other kingdoms, their warriors consumed mana in its rawest form, channeling it directly into their bodies. The result was terrifying. A Roove warlord could shatter boulders with his bare fists, summon fire with a mere thought, or move with the speed of a storm.

But it came at a cost.

The men of Roove burned brightly and faded quickly. Few lived past forty, their bodies unable to withstand the strain. The strongest among them died the soonest, their very lifeblood consumed by the power they wielded. It was the price of unimaginable strength—a price they paid willingly.

And at the heart of it all was Borven. The kingdom that surpassed them all. Not because of its warriors, nor because of its magic, but because it had everything. Spells, scrolls, enchanted weapons, artifacts of old—Borven had spent centuries gathering every tool, every power, every advantage the world had to offer. Where other kingdoms specialized, Borven mastered all.

That was why they ruled.

For now.

Alex leaned back, exhaling slowly as he took in the city once more.

To the untrained eye, Borven seemed unshakable. The markets were filled with gold and silver, the streets bustling with life, the palace standing tall like an immovable titan against the night sky. But Alex had spent too many years in the shadows to believe in illusions.

Cracks were forming.

He could see it in the way the merchants spoke in hushed tones, in the way the nobles watched their backs more than their enemies, in the way the king's envoys returned from Nieth and Roove with less certainty in their eyes. Borven's strength was built on dominance, on the idea that it was untouchable.

But nothing stayed untouchable forever.

A shift was coming. He could feel it, like a storm waiting just beyond the horizon.

And then there was… something else.

Alex frowned, his grip on the map tightening.

For weeks now, there had been a heaviness in the air. A weight pressing against his skin, whispering at the edges of his mind. He had always been attuned to things others could not see—little details, subtle shifts in the world. It was what made him a survivor.

And right now, the world was screaming at him.

Something was watching.

Something was waiting.

He folded the map, slipping it into his cloak as he rose to his feet. The wind howled louder now, as if it too sensed the change in the air.

Whatever was coming, he had no intention of facing it unprepared.

Borven had ruled for centuries.

But even empires could fall.

And Alex Nairon would not be caught beneath the rubble.