The heavy wooden gate of the monastery groaned open, revealing the misty peaks of the Aethelgard Mountains. Elias stood at the threshold, his hands trembling. He was not a warrior; he was a scribe who had spent his life illuminating manuscripts. Yet, the village below was under shadow, and the elders had tasked him with a journey to the Peak of Radiance to reclaim the ancient Armour of God.
He didn't strike to kill; he struck to illuminate. The light of the sword pierced the Shadow, turning the darkness into dawn. Armour Of God
“It is not forged of iron, Elias,” the High Abbot whispered, pressing a small, leather-bound book into his hands. “Steel will fail you against the Shadow. You must clothe yourself in what cannot be broken.” The heavy wooden gate of the monastery groaned
He pressed on. The air grew cold, and a rain of jagged glass began to fall from the blackened clouds—the fiery darts of the wicked. Elias had no shield of wood or skin. He looked to the sky and remembered the Abbot's teaching on the Breastplate of Righteousness . He chose to move forward, not for glory, but because it was the right thing to do for his people. A shimmering translucent plate formed over his chest, and the glass shards shattered harmlessly against it. Yet, the village below was under shadow, and