The Reawakening Of the Clockwork Soverign

Just before dawn alerts rang in the system interface of the village, a new challenger obstructing the lord's path.

A pulse of data ran through Leonhart's neural interface like a distant chime: not painful, but cold, calculated-an automated battlefield ping from one of his patrolling Iron Infantry who had caught sight of the approaching enemies.

[ALERT: Hostile movement detected - 2.3 km west of Harthvale Ridge.]

[Composition: 12+ entities | Mixed weaponry | Intent: High aggression.]

[Estimated Time to Contact: 14 minutes.]

Leonhart's eyes opened in the dark.

A soft mechanical hum filled the barn. In the corner, the Iron Saint stood ready, blade half-drawn. Rett Corven the newly reborn, already in his Half-Steel Vanguard armour, tightened the clamps on his gauntlet and reached for his helmet.

"Bandits?" Rett asked.

"Yes," Leonhart replied. "And they're trying to test our perimeter."

The Iron Saint stepped forward, its steps creating deep thumps on the cold stone floor of the barn.

"Your command, Sovereign?"

Leonhart's voice was calm but absolute. "Deploy the troops. We will confront them outside the village. No destruction within the perimeter."

[Command Accepted.]

[Tactical Deployment Mode: Enabled.]

[Units Dispatched: 1 Iron Saint | 3 Mechanical Infantry | 1 Half-Steel Vanguard]

[Command Uplink: Online.]

As the system's voice chimed in they began marching through the mist of early morning-silent, cold, and calculated.

The hills west of Harthvale were thick with brambles and frost-soaked earth. A few shrivelled trees stretched overhead, black against the purple dawn.

The village bell had not been rung- Leonhart had given no order for alarm. Since the villagers couldn't provide any support in the upcoming battle, it was better for them not to be alerted. This battle would end before panic reached the people.

At the head of the march, Leonhart walked with the pride and dignity of a king, his head held high and his chest full of pride.

"No matter what had happened in the past, I will still carry myself like my former self," he thought in his head.

Behind him, his forces moved in perfect rhythm.

Noise of rambling and chaos erupted from the trees as bandits began emerging from the tree line full of lawlessness and chaos-shouting, stomping, waving rusted swords and axes carved from bones.

After a brief scan the system revealed that there were twelve men in total donning simple leather armour, faces full of scars from their frequent raiding, pillaging and encounters with wild beasts. Crude symbols of forgotten warbands and groups tattooed on their bodies. 

A burly man stepped forward; from the looks of it he seemed like their leader. Seeing that there were more of the bandits than the people opposite to them the bandit leader now even more confident spoke in an arrogant tone.

"Are you lost, noble?" the man sneered. "Or did the gods throw you out too?" The other bandit's laughter came from behind him.

Leonhart looking at the bandits, didn't answer. He simply raised his hand.

[Command: Engage – Pattern Delta]

[Mechanical Infantry executing suppression fire.]

[Half-Steel Vanguard: Flank Manoeuvre Enabled.]

What followed was not a battle.

It was a demonstration.

Suddenly, a volley came from the Iron Infantry—thin, piercing bolts of focused energy fired from wrist-mounted conduits, the blueish glowing energy travelling in an instant not giving the bandits even a second to process what they were witnessing. Two of the bandits dropped immediately, screaming as their weapons melted from the heat. The remaining quickly regaining their composure charged towards Leonhart's group.

That was when Rett, who was standing like a statue behind Leonhart struck.

A blur of reinforced steel and body-weight torque, he slammed into the front line like a battering ram. His augmented arm grabbed and lifted a man by the throat slowly and hurled him into a tree.

Crack...

Bones snapping could be heard as the bandit's limp body slid down the trees. The others' eyes wide and horrified by the sight, their expression slowly changing from horror to rage, witnessing their companions' state.

"How dare you!" One of the bandits charged screaming and managed to swing an axe toward Leonhart.

Suddenly, one of the mechanical units standing by intercepted-its hand locking around the bandit's wrist and twisting sharply until unpleasant sounds of broken bones rang out. The scream was cut short as the unit's second arm drove into the man's chest, releasing a concussive burst of steam.

"What the hell have we stumbled onto?" one of the bandits screamed, terrified. He had barely managed to run ten paces before a towering shadow brought a blade down with a clean slice.

Wet squelching sounds and crisp cracking sounds were heard as the rest of the fleeing bandits got bisected into two. 

And then silence, no sound could be heard except the cold dawn breeze.

Only one bandit remained-now on his knees, blood on his lips, hands trembling.

Leonhart stepped toward him, his slow footsteps like death knells in the bandit's ears. His white coat fluttered in the breeze flowing like a river. His voice was soft.

"Who sent you?"

"N-no one," the man stammered. "We-we just heard a rumour. That the gods abandoned this place… that something new was rising in Harthvale. We thought…"

"You thought wrong," Leonhart said coldly. 

Seeing his cold and indifferent gaze the captured bandit felt chills all over as a deep sense of dread grew inside him.

"Please spare me... please show mer..."

Crack...

The man didn't even see when the Iron Infantry crushed his throat.

By the time the villagers stirred, the bodies had already been taken care of.

Rett stood at the edge of the square, his armour now marked with soot and blood. The people watched him with wide eyes, marvelling at the sight of his augmented body, his cold demeanour and his now intimidating aura. 

They whispered among themselves, how the innocent boy who lost his arm has now transformed into someone similar in aura and demeanour to Leonhart in a single day.

Leonhart stood in front of the Loyalty Altar his latest creation made from analysing and integration of faith and technology, silent as the first rays of sunlight hit its polished metal.

[First Combat Test: Success.]

[Casualties: 0]

[Faith Influence in Region: -6.1%]

[Servitude Matrix: +3.5%]

[Adaptation Energy Accrued: 12%]

The Faith Analysis Engine pulsed with new data.

[New Ability Node Available: Sermon Module v1.0]

[Effect: Convert passive listeners into Servitude-Linked followers over time.]

[Progress to Tier 2 Faith Deconstruction: 91%]

Leonhart turned to the villagers who had begun to gather, some hesitant while others excited to discover what came next.

He raised his hand and pointed toward the weapons of the fallen bandits displayed in a neat line beside the square.

"These were meant for you," he said. "But you were protected. Not by miracle. Not by prayer. But by will."

He stepped forward.

"The gods have watched you suffer and offered only silence."

He gestured to his forces. "I offer you strength."

One by one, the villagers lowered their heads.

Not out of fear.

But because of respect.

That night, another transmission whispered through the Sovereign Protocol's command web.

[Faith Deconstruction Tier II: UNLOCKED]

[Servitude Matrix Efficiency: Improved]

[New Blueprint Available: Servo-Arcanist Unit]

[Combat Adaptation: Mana Integration Ready]

Leonhart stared at the glowing projection before him.

The world was watching now.

He would give them a new god-not one made of stars and myths, but of iron, law, and reason.