"How amusing." A smile curved on his face, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. His fist rested lazily against his cheek as he watched Kiaan's image flicker on the surface of a small glass ball. Kiaan was wiping blood from the ground, his magic flowing smoothly to erase every trace of the carnage.
"That was the last one," Kiaan murmured, his sharp eyes sweeping over the ruined surroundings. "I should hurry to Kaia now—"
But as he stepped forward, he froze.
A cough wracked his body, and blood spattered from his lips. His breath hitched—he didn't even have time to react before the cold, unforgiving sensation of metal pierced through his back. His eyes widened.
This feeling… He knew it.
Slowly, his gaze slid over his shoulder. And there she stood.
His mother.
Her face was unreadable, her eyes as cold and unbothered as if she'd merely stepped on an insect. No guilt. No hesitation. Just fury.
"You… dared to try and kill me?" she sneered, her voice trembling with rage and betrayal. "After everything I did for you? After I raised you, protected you—this is how you repay me?!"
The polearm twisted savagely inside him, and Kiaan's body convulsed as fresh agony tore through his insides.
"Ah…" A low, guttural sound escaped him as the pain radiated through his entire being. He stared ahead, his vision blurring as he watched his own blood drip from the weapon lodged in his stomach. The world tilted, his breathing shallow and ragged. But there was no time—no time for regret, no time for her. He needed to focus.
I can stop the bleeding after I pull the weapon out. But right now—I need to escape. She's not alone. She never is.
He began tracing the symbols for a teleportation spell, his fingers trembling—
"Don't even think about it."
Her voice cut through him like ice, and he froze.
"You know exactly what I'm capable of."
The words sent a shockwave through him. Memories flashed—Onis City burning, the deafening roar of explosions, the sight of Thalia's lifeless body cradled in Kyros's arms. The devastation. The ruin.
Kiaan's hand dropped. The symbols unraveled and vanished.
"Good boy." The words were venomous, and his jaw tightened as his fury boiled beneath the surface.
"What do you want?" he growled. His voice was low, dangerous. "If you're going to kill me, then do it."
"Oh, believe me—I would have done it long ago," she spat. "But Master wants you alive. And unlike you, I know how to follow orders."
Master.
That word. Again.
"Why?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Why would you worship this… thing? What did he promise you? What did he do to you?"
Her response was immediate—and brutal.
The polearm drove deeper, and Kiaan bit back a whimper. Stars burst in his vision.
"Don't speak his name with your filthy mouth," she hissed.
He turned his face away, his teeth grinding together.
"I'm not interested in your whining." Her voice dripped with disdain. "But you should know—the people who are? They're already here."
Kiaan's breath hitched as the sound of footsteps echoed from ahead. He didn't raise his head—he didn't dare. The air thickened with the pungent scent of cigars, a familiar brand, one Kiaan could never forget.
A low, rumbling laugh rolled through the space, sending a cold shiver down his spine. And then he saw him.
A towering figure emerged from the shadows—a man in his forties, his face marred by a jagged scar. He wore an expensive, formal suit, the kind tailored for power and wealth, and two guards flanked him like silent specters.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" The man's voice was smooth, but there was poison in it.
Kiaan's heart lurched painfully in his chest. He knew that voice. He knew that face.
"You… you're alive—"
A hand shot out, iron-strong fingers seizing Kiaan's jaw in a brutal grip. The words died on his tongue as the sharp crack of a slap rang out. Kiaan staggered, his already battered body giving out as he dropped to one knee.
"We have a long history," the man said, adjusting his gloves with deliberate care. "Did you really think you'd just walk away after destroying the empire I spent years building?"
A kick slammed into Kiaan's face, snapping his head back. The pain was instant and blinding—and then his mother wrenched the polearm from his body without warning.
Kiaan choked on a strangled sound, blood gushing anew from the wound as he desperately reached for his magic to stop the flow. But his hands were shaking. His vision blurred. And through the haze of agony, one thought seared through him.
He's here. The man who destroyed my life.
Rage coiled in his stomach, dark and suffocating. The only thing holding him back was the looming threat of the 'Master.' He couldn't risk it—not when more lives hung in the balance.
"Look at this weakling…" The man's voice dripped with disdain. "You were much more useful when you were just a child. Kids your age—always a disappointment. But I suppose I'll make do. After all… I have a long-overdue score to settle."
Kiaan's stomach churned with fury. He wanted nothing more than to rip this man apart—piece by bloody piece. But he couldn't. Not yet.
"Let's get back to business, shall we?" The man's hand fisted in Kiaan's hair, yanking his head up until their eyes met.
Kiaan spat in his face.
The silence was instant and electric.
The man's expression darkened—but then, to Kiaan's disgust, he laughed. "Ah… you've still got some fire in you. Good. You'll need it when we rebuild Grey Quartz."
That was the breaking point.
Kiaan surged to his feet and drove his fist into the man's face.
The guards were on him in seconds. Heavy hands seized his arms, pinning him down with brutal efficiency. But the man didn't retaliate. He simply smiled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Try that again," he said, his voice like ice, "and you'll learn what real wrath is."
He turned to Kiaan's mother. "I must say, I didn't expect a mother to sell her own son so easily."
"Please," she scoffed, rubbing her temples as if this entire ordeal bored her. "He was yours the moment he stepped into Grey Quartz. Filthy. Useless. My kindness made me want to see him one last time—and look how he repaid me. Trying to kill his own mother."
Kiaan's blood boiled. He never expected kindness from her—but the way she twisted the truth, painting herself as the victim, made him hate her more than the man who'd destroyed his life.
He stayed silent as the guards dragged him away, the man following close behind.
And through the pain, through the rage, only one thought remained.
Kaia.
Please—let her be okay.
But deep down, he already knew.
Something terrible was coming.