Kazel stood face to face with the bandit leader, his posture unnervingly relaxed, as if the battle ahead was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. Yet, it was precisely that nonchalance that sent an uneasy chill down the bandit leader's spine.
The boy's stance was different—too natural, too refined. It wasn't the arrogance of youth, nor the recklessness of an amateur. No, it was the composure of someone who had waded through blood and carnage countless times. A man whose entire body had been sculpted by war itself.
( I've killed more people than I can count… so why? Why do I feel this hesitation? )
The bandit leader grit his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the hammering in his chest. His grip tightened around his spear, knuckles white with tension.
With a sharp exhale, his aura erupted—a violent surge of energy that distorted the air around him. A towering spectral form materialized behind him, its wings unfurling wide enough to swallow the cavern in darkness. A giant bat, its fangs gleaming with malice, opened its jaws as if to devour Kazel whole.
Yet Kazel… only scoffed.
"Heh, a giant bat? Is that it?" Kazel rolled his eyes as if he had seen something far more terrifying in his lifetime. He exhaled, shaking his head with feigned disappointment. "Never mind, I guess that will do."
"Cocky brat!" the bandit leader roared, veins bulging in frustration. With a burst of force, he lunged forward, his spear a blur as it shot toward Kazel's chest.
But Kazel merely stepped back—no wasted movements, no panic. The spear's tip sliced through the air, missing its mark by barely a finger's width.
Kazel smirked, eyes gleaming with amusement. "C'mon, don't disappoint me," he taunted, motioning with his fingers. "Let's go!"
The bandit leader's patience snapped. Gritting his teeth, he surged forward, thrusting his spear in rapid succession. The strikes came fast and ruthless, each one aiming to pierce through Kazel's body.
Yet, Kazel met them with effortless precision. His blade danced through the air, deflecting the oncoming strikes with ease. Sparks flared as metal clashed against metal, their sharp echoes reverberating through the cavern's walls.
Deep in the prison cells, the distant sound of battle reached the captives. Saya, who had remained tense and watchful, furrowed her brows. "It's begun."
Yiren's eyes widened at the ferocity of the exchange. "That boy… he's forcing the bandit leader to go all out?" She gulped, struggling to process the reality before her. "Woah…"
Kazel smiled mid-parry, his movements sharp, efficient, and calculated. Every strike of the spear met the perfect angle of his blade, deflected with minimal effort. He barely seemed to exert himself, his footwork smooth as if he were dancing through the battlefield.
"You've got to have something more than this, right?" Kazel taunted, weaving past the spear's tip. With one sleek motion, he closed the distance, his palm pulling back before slamming forward—directly into the bandit leader's chest.
The sheer force sent the bandit leader hurtling backward, his body crashing into the throne with a loud thud. Dust scattered from the impact, the stone chair trembling under his weight.
"You use that spear so rigidly, I almost thought you were a training dummy," Kazel remarked, shaking his head. He twirled his blade lazily before resting it on his shoulder. "What cultivation level are you at, anyway?"
The bandit leader groaned as he pushed himself up, wiping the blood at the corner of his lips. "S-Seven..." he spat, eyes burning with rage. "That's the last straw, kid."
"Seven?" Kazel tilted his head before grinning. "I guess that makes us even, then. After all, I felt seven tingles after absorbing all the Spirit Stones back there."
The color drained from the bandit leader's face. "You what?!"
Kazel chuckled, crossing his arms. "I have to thank you for that massive pile of Spirit Stones. Must've taken you years to gather all of them."
His voice carried through the cavern, reaching the ears of the imprisoned captives.
Rui's jaw nearly hit the floor. "D-Did you girls hear that?"
Yiren swallowed hard. "He…"
Saya's breath hitched. Her mind raced as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. "So he was here all along," she muttered, a shiver running down her spine. "Don't tell me… he didn't even hesitate for a second before storming in and plundering the entire treasure hoard?"
She clenched her fists. ( What a terrifying kid. )
Back in the throne room, the bandit leader's face turned so red with fury that his body trembled violently. His breathing grew ragged before—
*Guha!
He coughed up blood, his entire being shaking from sheer stress and rage.
"Haha," Kazel chuckled, but his amusement faded the moment he heard hurried footsteps rushing toward them. "Looks like our playtime is over."
The bandit leader staggered to his feet, his chest heaving at an alarming rate. His veins bulged, muscles tensed, and a sickly crimson hue pulsed through his body. Something was off.
Kazel's instincts screamed at him. He leaped forward with his sword extended. It was already inches from the bandit leader's throat, but—
"HAAAA!!!"
A deafening, monstrous roar erupted from the bandit leader's mouth, shaking the cavern walls. The force wasn't just sound—it was a pure, concentrated sonic blast.
Kazel's eyes widened. (Shit—!)
Before he could react, the shockwave slammed into him. His entire body was blasted backward like a ragdoll, sent flying through the cavern at breakneck speed.
But it wasn't just him.
The incoming horde of bandits behind him? They too were caught in the devastating wave, their bodies flung mercilessly through the air. The entire cave amplified the blast, turning it into an unstoppable force. The sound wave traveled outward, shaking the entire forest, making trees tremble, their branches swaying violently.
BOOM!
Outside, the mountain trembled. A flock of birds scattered into the sky, their cries drowned by the lingering echoes of the attack.
Back in the prison chamber—
"Akh!" Rui gritted his teeth, falling to one knee. His vision blurred, his ears ringing so hard that he could barely think.
Beside him, Saya, Lina, and Yiren all groaned in pain, clutching their heads as the metal bars vibrated from the aftershock of the sonic blast.
The air was heavy with dust and debris. The battlefield had just changed.
Bottles of booze lay shattered across the cavern floor, their contents wasted, their fragrance mixing with the iron scent of blood. The bandit leader panted heavily, one knee pressed against the cold stone, his fist digging into the ground to support himself. His breath was ragged, but his lips curled into a grin.
"Eat that, you little shit."
He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, basking in the silence that followed. Most of the torches had been extinguished by his devastating attack, leaving the cavern in near darkness. Only a few weak flames flickered against the damp walls, casting long, distorted shadows.
Still grinning, he reached for his spear, his fingers tightening around its worn grip. Step by step, he moved toward the cavern entrance, toward the pale glow of the moonlight that spilled in from the outside.
But as soon as he stood beneath the silver light—his grin vanished.
His breath hitched.
The color drained from his face.
Before him, his men lay scattered across the ground, twitching, gasping, struggling to breathe.
All of them—twenty or more—clutching their throats, blood pouring between their fingers, eyes bulging with terror. Each of them bore a singular, horrifying wound—a gaping hole through their necks.
They weren't dead yet.
But they would be.
It was only a matter of time.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. His grip on the spear tightened. His mind raced, but then—
A voice.
"This Spirit Beast thingy is really interesting. I have to give props to cultivation in this world."
His breath caught in his throat.
Kazel.
The bandit leader instinctively jumped back and spun around—
There he was.
Standing right behind him.
Kazel's ears were bleeding, strands of his disheveled hair falling over his face. And yet—he stood.
Unshaken. Unbroken.
A predator sizing up his prey.
The bandit leader staggered back.
Kazel tilted his head. "Now then, to my understanding, you shouldn't be able to use that spirit beast again, right? At least not at the moment."
"You bastard!" the bandit leader roared, gripping his spear in fury.
"Huh? Speak louder, you idiot!" Kazel smirked, moving forward.
And then—he struck.
His sword cut through the air with flawless precision.
The bandit leader barely had time to react. Every time their weapons met, Kazel slipped through his defenses, his blade nicking his skin—his arms, his shoulders, his legs.
Each movement was precise. Calculated.
And worst of all—
Kazel yawned.
Like he was growing bored.
The bandit leader's spear was knocked upward, the sheer force of the parry sending it flying beyond his control. His arms trembled, muscles locked in strain, but the momentum was too much—he couldn't swing again. He was wide open.
Panic set in. Fear, raw and overwhelming, gripped his chest.
His voice cracked as he screamed, a final, desperate cry—
"WHO ARE YOUUUUUU?!"
Kazel's foot pressed into the ground, his body moving with effortless speed.
One step.
One thrust.
His sword pierced straight through the bandit leader's chest, its tip burying deep into the forest ground beneath.
The bandit leader's breath hitched. His fingers twitched as he looked up—eyes wide, full of terror.
Kazel smirked.
"I already told you my name," he said, twisting the blade just enough to make the agony unbearable.
"Kazel..." as the final moment of his previous life flashed before him, he formed a smirk, "The Tyrant."
With a firm pull, he ripped the sword free.
Blood erupted from the wound, a violent splash of crimson painting half of Kazel's face. The bandit leader choked, convulsed—then fell still.
Dead.
Kazel didn't linger. He turned, stepping over corpses as if they were nothing more than fallen leaves.
As he reached the entrance of the cave, the night welcomed him with eerie silence. The forest stood still—no beasts dared to approach.
Even the wind held its breath.
Kazel surveyed the carnage before him, the aftermath of his first conquest. The corpses of his enemies, the blood-soaked ground, the overwhelming stench of death.
Victory.
With a smirk, he lifted his sword high, letting the moonlight kiss its bloodstained edge.
It didn't matter if there was one man watching, or a million.
A victory was a victory.
And he would savor every single one.
Lowering his sword, he turned back into the cave.
There were still things to be done.