Chapter 1: The Sanctuary and the System

Chapter 1: The Sanctuary and the System

The rain fell on Detroit like a judgment. It hammered against the slate roof of St. Solomon's Church and traced weeping lines down the faces of the stone gargoyles Jaydon could see from his study window. Each roll of thunder sounded like the city groaning in its sleep, a sound he knew all too well.

Pastor Jaydon Parable ran a hand over his weary face. At thirty-two, he felt ancient. The crisp white of his pastor’s collar felt more like a restraint than a comfort against his worn gray sweater. His small study, tucked away behind the altar, was a fortress of books he no longer read and sermons he no longer felt. The scent of old paper and lemon polish couldn't mask the faint, persistent odor of decay that clung to the church like a shroud.

His flock was dwindling, scattered by the poverty and violence that gnawed at the neighborhood’s edges. His faith, once a roaring fire that had carried him from the college basketball court to the pulpit, was now a bed of stubborn embers he struggled to keep from winking out. He prayed for a sign, for a reason to keep the doors open, for anything other than this hollow silence.

A deafening crash of thunder rattled the very foundations of the church. But this sound was different. It was followed by the splintering crack of old wood and a desperate, human cry that sliced through the storm’s fury.

Jaydon was on his feet in an instant, the gentle pastor replaced by the six-foot-four athlete who could still move with startling speed. He burst from his study into the cavernous nave. The main doors, the ones he and two other men had to strain to open each Sunday, had been thrown wide.

Framed in the doorway against the storm-lashed street was a young woman. She couldn't have been more than nineteen, her dark hair plastered to her face, her clothes torn and soaked through. But it was her eyes that seized him—wide and white with a terror so profound it seemed to suck all the air from the room.

"Please," she gasped, stumbling forward, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. "Sanctuary! They're coming!"

Before Jaydon could ask who, a chilling sound scraped its way into the church—the grating of claws on wet asphalt. Shapes, hunched and wrong, coalesced in the shadows of the doorway. They weren't men. Their limbs were too long, their movements too fluid, like spilled ink given life.

Instinct took over. Jaydon sprinted down the aisle, grabbing the girl by the arm and pulling her behind him. He threw his entire weight against one of the massive oak doors, his shoulder protesting as he slammed it shut. He heard a wet, guttural hiss from the other side. He heaved the other door closed just as a heavy form slammed against it from the outside, making the wood groan.

With trembling hands, he dropped the heavy iron crossbar into its brackets. It settled with a deafening clang that echoed in the sudden, charged silence.

The girl huddled behind a pew, shaking uncontrollably. "Thank you," she whimpered.

BOOM.

A fist—or something much harder than a fist—struck the door. The crossbar shuddered.

BOOM. BOOM.

Splinters flew from the inside of the door. The sound wasn't just rage; it was a hungry, predatory violence. Jaydon stared, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was impossible. This was a nightmare. He was a pastor in Detroit, he dealt with addicts and gangsters, not… monsters.

Another blow, heavier than the last, shook the entire front of the church. A heavy, leather-bound book, perched precariously on a high shelf near the narthex, was jolted loose. It tumbled end over end, landing with a heavy thud near Jaydon’s feet.

He recognized it instantly. The Codex of Solomon. His grandfather’s Bible, or so he’d always called it. It was an heirloom, passed down through generations of Parable men who had served the cloth. The intricate, seven-pointed star embossed on its cover was a familiar sight, one he’d traced with his fingers as a boy.

CRACK!

A fissure snaked down the center of the door. The inhuman snarls from outside grew louder, more frenzied. They knew they were close. The girl let out a small, terrified sob.

Jaydon’s mind raced. Call the police? What would he say? That demons were trying to break into his church? They’d send a psychiatric team, not a SWAT team.

His eyes fell back to the book. He didn't know why, but a desperate, irrational impulse seized him. He bent down and scooped it up. The leather was cool and smooth beneath his trembling fingers. The moment his palm flattened against the embossed star, it happened.

A light, brilliant and golden, bloomed from his hand, warm and impossibly bright. It wasn't a fire; it was pure, divine radiance that pulsed with the beat of his own heart. He gasped, dropping the book, but the light clung to his hand, then shot forward, projecting a translucent blue screen into the air before him.

Lines of pristine, white text began to type themselves into existence with a faint, ethereal chime.

[Divine System Activated]

[Searching for Host... Host Found]

[Bonding with Lineage... Success]

[Welcome, Jaydon Parable, the Last Shepherd of Solomon]

Jaydon stared, his breath caught in his throat. He blinked, shook his head, but the screen remained, floating in the dimly lit nave like a piece of some impossible future. He was hallucinating. The stress, the fear, it had finally broken him.

But the screen wasn't finished.

[New Quest Issued: A Shepherd's Duty]

---

Quest: A Shepherd's Duty Objective: The wolves are at the door. A lamb has sought sanctuary in your fold. Do not fail your sacred charge. Protect the girl. Survive the night.

Rewards:

• Faith +10
• Level Up
• ???

Failure:

• Your Death.
• The Desecration of Holy Ground.
• The Lamb is Devoured.

---

CRACK-BOOM!

The crossbar splintered, one side tearing free from its bracket. The door bulged inward, and a long, skeletal hand tipped with obsidian claws ripped through the wood, grasping blindly for the bolt.

The girl screamed.

Jaydon looked from the impossible blue screen to the monstrous hand, then to the terrified young woman cowering behind the pews. His crisis of faith, the years of doubt and spiritual exhaustion, felt like a distant memory from another man's life.

The quest prompt pulsed with a soft, steady light. A Shepherd's Duty.

The words echoed in the core of his soul. He didn’t know what this System was, whether it was God or madness. But the objective was brutally clear. The threat was real. And for the first time in a long, long time, Jaydon Parable felt a flicker of something more than just hope.

It was purpose. Cold, sharp, and terrifyingly divine.

He met the girl's eyes, his own now holding a new, hard-edged resolve. "Stay behind me," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that barely sounded like his own. The golden light on his hand faded, but the blue screen remained, a silent testament to the impossible choice before him.

Survive the night. The System had given him his sermon. Now, he had to live it.