Kazel rose from the mountain of dimmed Spirit Stones, his body tingling with a newfound strength—seven times, seven times did he felt the tingling in his meridians, each more exhilarating than the last. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as if shedding the remnants of his past frailty.
With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed his sword and gave it a light swing. The motion felt effortless—almost too effortless. The weapon in his hand might as well have been a pair of chopsticks, weightless, an extension of his will rather than a burden. A slow smirk crept onto his lips.
Sliding the blade back into its sheath, Kazel surveyed his surroundings. There were no guards. Pathetic. The so-called stronghold was nothing more than a den of complacent fools. Moving like a shadow, he approached a lone bandit leaning against the wall with a sigh of boredom.
Before the man could even react, Kazel clamped a hand over his mouth and drove his sword through his throat—clean, silent, efficient. The bandit slumped to the ground, his life snuffed out without so much as a sound. Kazel barely spared him a glance, letting the blood remain on his blade like a quiet declaration of what was to come.
Another bandit turned the corner, brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh? Who are—"
His words never found their end. In a blink, Kazel had already moved, his blade flashing like moonlight. A severed head rolled to the ground before the body even realized it was dead.
Kazel stepped forward, unbothered, into the heart of enemy territory. His gaze flickered across the cavernous expanse, searching. Then he stopped. A low chuckle escaped him as he spotted a crude sign etched into the stone wall, an arrow pointing toward the depths of the stronghold.
Kazel chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at the sheer incompetence of these bandits. A sign? Really? The crude carving on the stone wall clearly marked the path to the prisoners. It was almost insulting. Did these fools think no one would ever dare infiltrate their so-called stronghold?
(Well, that makes things easier,) he mused, his smirk widening.
With no need for hesitation, he followed the path, his steps as light as the breeze yet carrying the weight of an approaching storm. The scent of damp stone and unwashed bodies thickened as he ventured deeper. Shadows flickered against the walls, cast by torches that did little to drive away the oppressive darkness of the cave.
Another bandit rounded a corner, barely registering Kazel's presence before—shhk!—a clean slice separated his body from its head. The corpse crumpled, and Kazel stepped over it without a second glance. He was methodical, precise, his every movement honed by lifetimes of battle. There was no need for theatrics—his blade was his decree, and death was the only sentence he passed.
Rui perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Something was different. These steps were deliberate, unhurried, carrying an air of quiet confidence. He squinted through the dim torchlight, and when he finally saw the figure stepping into view, his breath hitched. His fingers gripped the bars, his voice breaking through the silence.
"K-Kid?!" Rui's disbelief was palpable.
Beside him, the women turned toward the source of the voice. Yiren blinked, her lips parting in shock. "K-Kazel?"
The young man in question stood there, one hand casually resting on his sheathed sword, the other still smeared with drying blood. He arched a brow at their state, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
"You look disheveled," he mused.
"Did you send for help?" Lina asked quickly, a glimmer of hope in her tired eyes.
"Help?" Kazel tilted his head, frowning slightly.
"You're joking, right?" Rui pressed.
Yiren leaned closer, studying his expression. "You're the son of a famous sect, aren't you?"
Kazel shrugged. "Well... it was famous once." He stepped past Rui's cell, making his way toward the women's. He let out a low whistle as he glanced at them. "Well, aren't you three looking great?"
Saya rolled her eyes. "Shut up." But her gaze dropped to the bloodied blade in his hand. Her expression hardened. "Kazel, did you... kill the bandits?"
"Not all of them," he admitted, his smirk widening. "Not yet."
Yiren's brows furrowed. "What do you mean, yet?"
"I'm about to," Kazel said simply.
Lina exhaled sharply. "So you brought an army, then?"
Kazel hummed as if considering it. He smirked and pointed at himself, "I am the army."
"W-Wha..." Lina went agape with her head tilting.
Rui's grip on the bars tightened. His gut twisted as a shiver crawled up his spine. He knew that tone, the way Kazel spoke—unbothered, amused even. There was no way he had an army outside. No war horns, no battle cries, no heavy marching. Just the eerie silence of the cave and Kazel's casual words hanging in the air like a promise of something far worse.
"You're messing with us, right?" Rui swallowed hard.
Kazel turned to him with a smirk. "Why? Do I look like I'm joking?"
The dim torchlight flickered against his face, highlighting the fresh splatters of blood staining his sleeves. His sword, though already slick with crimson, dripped steadily onto the cold stone floor. Rui wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified.
Yiren blinked rapidly, trying to process it all. "Wait, you really took down the guards? Alone?"
"Mm-hm," Kazel hummed, inspecting his blade like it was an everyday tool. "Well, if you count rats as guards, then yeah."
Saya's eyes narrowed. She was no fool. That much blood wasn't from just a few unlucky bandits. Kazel had carved through them like a beast in the night, unseen, unheard. She glanced at the cell door and back at him.
"By the way, did you notice something odd?" Kazel asked, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned against the cell bars, twirling his bloodstained sword between his fingers. "All the bandits seem to have… vanished. Do you know anything about that?"
Yiren glanced at the others before sighing. "Actually…" she recounted everything that had happened—the bandit leader's paranoia, Jang's brutal execution, and the remaining bandits now stationed at the entrance, sealing them inside.
Kazel clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Tch. So Jang died before I got my hands on him? What a waste. And the guards are all outside, barring the exit?"
Saya crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Is that all you care about? Just break us out already! Get our weapons, and we'll fight our way out together."
But Kazel grinned, his golden eyes glinting with something far more sinister. "No, no, no. This is my golden chance."
Rui frowned. "Golden chance for what?"
Kazel's grin widened. "They're bandits. Not soldiers. Not a brotherhood. Their loyalty to their leader is as flimsy as paper." He tilted his head, his tone playful yet laced with something unsettling. "And if my guess is right… I just need to sever the right head."
Lina, still shaken, clutched her arms. "W-What are you going to do?"
Kazel turned his gaze towards the main chamber, where the bandit leader was still likely enjoying himself, oblivious to the storm brewing within his own stronghold.
He flicked the blood off his blade and smiled.
Kazel paused at the cell before leaving, his gaze deliberately wandering over the three women. His eyes lingered on the torn fabrics, the exposed skin—just enough to make his intentions obvious. Then, with a playful smirk, he winked at them.
Saya rolled her eyes. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath.
Yiren scoffed but couldn't help the slight tug at the corner of her lips.
Lina, still shaken, didn't even notice.
Then, without another word, Kazel turned on his heel and walked away.
---
He strode into the largest section of the stronghold, where the throne stood. The flickering torches cast uneven shadows along the rough stone walls, and the air was thick with the scent of booze and sweat.
At the center of it all sat the bandit leader, still nursing his drink, his body tense with paranoia of the missing kid. His sharp eyes flickered toward the entrance the moment Kazel stepped inside.
The leader stood, his towering frame radiating power. "Who the hell are you?"
Kazel didn't stop walking. He met the leader's gaze with a lazy smirk.
"They call me Kazel the Conqueror… or Kazel the Tyrant. Take your pick."
For a second, there was silence.
Then the bandit leader let out a loud, bellowing laugh. "Hah! Hahaha!" His voice echoed through the cavern, and his remaining lackeys, though confused, forced themselves to join in the laughter.
Kazel didn't laugh. He simply lifted his hand—and in one swift motion, a dagger flew straight toward the bandit leader's throat.
The laughter died instantly.
The leader's reflexes kicked in, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he knocked the dagger aside. The blade clattered to the ground, embedding itself in the dirt.
His amusement faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "Not bad," Kazel mused, tilting his head.
The bandit leader's grip tightened. His voice was calm, but his eyes were anything but. He stepped down from his throne, his movements deliberate and dangerous. Then, with a flick of his wrist, a spear materialized in his grip.
Kazel's brow lifted slightly. The weapon had appeared out of nowhere.
"Interesting trick," Kazel remarked.
The bandit leader twirled the spear with practiced ease before pointing it directly at Kazel. "I had a lackey—one of my wisest men—who died under very specific circumstances."
Kazel remained silent, watching.
"His throat was pierced, a gaping hole left in his wake of terror." The leader's voice was low, his words heavy. "And beside his corpse…" He gestured with his free hand toward the cavern's walls, his spear never lowering. "There was a mountain of spirit beast corpses."
The words echoed.
Far behind, in the prisoners' cells, Rui, Yiren, Saya, and Lina all tensed as the realization struck them.
The monument.
The pile of lifeless spirit beasts, bodies stacked. They had all seen it. They had all wondered what kind of monstrous force had created such a sight.
And now, here was the answer.
"You," the bandit leader said, his voice like a blade scraping against stone. "I couldn't believe it, it was you, wasn't it, you did it."
Kazel's smirk widened ever so slightly. "The one and only."
A sharp breath. A stunned silence.
The prisoners felt their hearts skip a beat.
The one who had randomly joined them, the one who had been dismissed as just another unfortunate captive of bad fate—was the same one who had created that monument of carnage.
A boy, barely an adult.
A single person.
The weight of that realization settled over them like a cold hand gripping their throats.