Tyrant's return: Reborn as a Good-For-Nothing Young Master

Foundation Day had arrived.

The streets of the capital thrummed with excitement—children danced, banners flew high, and priests sang the sacred hymns of the Whispering One.

Every bell toll, every fire lit, was an offering to Fenrir. It was the holiest day of the empire, a celebration of its unification, and more importantly, of its divine patron.

From his high place, Fenrir watched it unfold with detached interest. He had seen many wars, civilizations rise and fall—but this was his first world. His own.

And today, it was offering him a gift.

[Karma accumulation approaching threshold. Current total: 994… 997… 999… 1,014.]

The system reported beside him.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow.

"So I finally made it."

[You now possess sufficient karma to enter your realm physically. Entry cost: 1,000 karma. Remaining: 14.]

He didn't move. Not yet.

"I want to wait. Keep the karma for now. I want a bit more in reserve. Something tells me this day won't go as planned."

He muttered.

And he was right.

Just as the main ritual began—priests forming the sacred circle, the emperor himself stepping forward with his offering—a disruption cut through the harmony.

Marching feet.

White and bronze robed figures entered the square, holding staffs with sword-shaped crests. Their leader, a sharp-eyed man with close-cropped hair, raised a hand and shouted.

"This festival is a farce!"

Gasps rose from the crowd. The priests turned, wide-eyed.

"You kneel to shadows and wind. When Elden the Undefeated led your armies to victory! It was not a god who saved you—it was a man!"

The man continued.

Murmurs spread like fire through dry grass. A few citizens turned toward the intruders, frowning, unsure. Others stepped protectively in front of the altar.

The High Priest of Fenrir's temple raised his voice.

"You dare profane this sacred day? This is Foundation Day!"

The other man laughed.

"Foundation of what? A lie? A whisper? Elden stood among us. He shed real blood. Your god hides in the sky!"

Several of Elden's priests moved among the crowd, handing out scrolls and shouting verses from Elden's so-called teachings—glorifying strength, conquest, and honor by blade alone.

For a moment, doubt clouded the square.

Then a voice shouted back:

"We saw the god's signs! He saved the prince! Elden was just a man!"

The leader sneered.

"Then where is your god now?"

A stillness fell.

Fenrir sighed.

"System, how much to interfere directly—without descending?

He said.

[Ten karma. This will allow a localized divine manifestation: a voice, a sign, or a minor miracle.]

"Do it."

[Confirmed. Ten karma deducted.]

The air around the altar shifted.

The incense burned darker. The sky dimmed—not with clouds, but with presence. A wind rose from nowhere, spiraling around the square. Every torch flickered blue, then white.

And then, a voice.

It echoed from everywhere and nowhere—gentle, but immense.

"You desecrate my day."

The priests of Elden froze. Even the most defiant dropped to their knees, clutching their ears.

"You spread falsehoods in the house of the one who shaped your sky. You claim divinity for a corpse."

The crowd trembled. The High Priest wept.

A flash of silver light carved through the air above the altar. It did not strike anyone—but where it landed, the ground cracked into a perfect spiral: Fenrir's symbol.

"This is your warning."

The presence lifted, leaving silence.

Absolute silence.

Even the wind seemed afraid to move.

The followers of Elden staggered backward. Their leader tried to speak, but no sound came from his throat. When his voice finally returned, he rasped.

"This… this isn't over. Elden will rise. He is chosen. You cling to illusion."

He pointed at the people.

"We'll be back. When the real god walks among us."

The people didn't respond. They were still staring at the spiral, burning faintly on the temple floor.

The intruders fled shortly after—dragging their scrolls and shattered pride with them.

Fenrir watched, emotionless.

[Karma Acquired: +53… +29… +44.]

[Divine presence reinforced. Faith has strengthened. Doubters have witnessed direct manifestation. Karma flow increased.]

The system said.

"Good. Let them try again. Next time, I won't be so gentle."

Fenrir muttered.

He didn't need to appear in flesh to be known. Not yet. Let the myth grow. Let their fear bloom into reverence.

Let Elden's priests tremble each time they hear the wind shift.

______

The followers of Elden returned in silence.

Gone was the triumphant march that had carried them into the capital's square hours ago. Their heads were lowered, their steps uncertain.

Some young initiates muttered anxiously to one another as they trudged down the winding forest road, now well-worn from their frequent pilgrimages.

"I thought the Whispering One was just superstition. But… that voice—those flames—it was real."

One of the new recruits whispered.

"Real gods don't let mortals speak for them. But he answered. He warned us."

Another said.

At the front, the senior priests marched with clenched jaws. Their leader, Brother Cael, spat on the dirt.

"You've all seen a trick of wind and shadow. Nothing more."

He growled.

"But the altar cracked. The light—"

"He caught us off guard, yes. But don't forget who led us when the walls fell. Who stood when kingdoms bowed. Elden is not a whisper. He is a storm."

Cael snapped.

The younger ones fell silent, half convinced.

Fenrir watched them from his realm, arms crossed, hovering just above the divine lattice that allowed him to observe his world in full.

His gaze followed their path as they pushed deeper into the forest, toward a mountainous region untouched by most civilizations.

"System, where are they going?"

Fenrir muttered,

[To the central temple of the Eldenite Order. Their stronghold of faith. Coordinates locked.]

"Good. Let's see this 'god' they keep shouting about."

The group reached a massive stone temple built directly into a mountain's base. It was impressive—functional and fortified, more fortress than sanctum.

Banners bearing the sword-sigil flapped in the breeze. Guards nodded as the priests entered the great hall.

Inside, candles flickered along stone corridors, illuminating the central chamber where a lone figure knelt in prayer.

There he was.

Clad in dark steel armor, helmet removed, white hair falling to his shoulders—his back straight despite his age, his presence calm and grounded.

Elden.

He knelt before a modest altar. There were no statues. No self-made idols. Only a simple slab of stone carved with the names of fallen soldiers.

Brother Cael's footsteps echoed across the hall.

"My lord, why are you kneeling?"

He snapped.

Elden didn't look back.

"Because I lost friends who deserved better."

"You are a god. A living legend. We need you to rise! The false god made a mockery of us in the capital!"

Cael insisted, voice rising.

"I never asked to be worshipped. And I am not a god."

Elden said quietly.

"But—"

"I'm human, Cael. I always was. I always will be. Stop spreading myths in my name."

Elden said firmly as he stood and turned.

"But the people believe—!"

"They believe in a version of me that doesn't exist. And I will not replace one lie with another."

Elden said, staring him down.

Fenrir observed in silence, intrigued.

Here was a man with the loyalty of thousands… who actively refused worship. A warrior who had every chance to ascend and refused the very notion.

"Strange one. But useful."

Fenrir murmured.

The system chimed suddenly.

[New Quest Generated: Divine Trial of the Earthbound Flame.]

[Objective: Induct Elden as your Paladin and Messenger.

Reward: +500 Karma, World Faith Acceleration, Heroic Myth Generation.

Warning: Elden's free will is absolute. He cannot be forced.]

Fenrir raised an eyebrow.

"A trial, huh?"

[You must craft a divine path—three trials to test his virtue, loyalty, and spirit. Success will forge a link between god and mortal.]

Fenrir turned his attention fully to Elden now.

The man had unknowingly created a splinter faith. His priests deified him against his will.

Yet still, Elden prayed—not to Fenrir, but in memory of the fallen. He spoke not with arrogance but with humility. He reminded his people not of conquest, but of loss.

And that, strangely, made him even more powerful.

"If he becomes my paladin, the people will listen to him. I won't need to descend. I'll already be there, through him."

Fenrir murmured.

He paced in midair, already forming ideas.

[Do you wish to initiate the Divine Trial?]

"Not yet. Let's see how long his humility holds when the heavens call."

Fenrir said, watching Elden walk away from the altar.

Elden exited the chamber, unaware of the divine eyes fixed upon him.

He walked through the halls of his temple, nodding to those who bowed, though discomfort shadowed his face.

He hadn't asked for any of this—neither the prayers nor the temple nor the fanatical devotion.

Yet, behind him, the priests whispered plans of building a grander statue, of spreading his creed beyond the mountains.

High above, Fenrir's gaze sharpened.

"A man who doesn't want power often proves the most dangerous when given it."

He murmured.

And with that, Fenrir began designing the first trial in silence.

__

I'll take a small break after 167