"Hm?"
Kazel's eyelids fluttered open. The light was dim—soft and golden, like the last rays of a dying afternoon. His blurred vision sharpened just enough to make out two figures beside his bed: Toghon, standing stiffly, and an old man, hand awkwardly frozen mid-reach toward Kazel's wrist.
Kazel blinked again. "How long was I out?"
The old man flinched, clearly not expecting him to wake up mid-examination. "O-Out? I-I mean, I was just about to check on you, young master..."
Kazel slowly sat up, groaning slightly as he leaned back against the cool wooden wall.
Toghon, who had been gaping like a caught fool, shook his head quickly to regain composure. "This is our sect physician," he gestured toward the man, "and to answer your question—we've only just returned from the expedition."
Kazel tilted his head slightly, squinting. Sure enough, faint traces of snow still clung to Toghon's shoulder and hair. His lips curled into a smirk.
"So it hasn't even been a full day?"
Toghon exhaled. "Afternoon's passed. Dusk is just around the corner."
"But—" the physician stepped closer, his brow furrowed deeply, voice laced with disbelief. "You were unconscious when we arrived. Wounded, drenched in blood, your arms turning blue. Young master, you were nearly frozen stiff... how are you sitting up?!"
Toghon's eyes widened as the realization hit him like a strike to the chest. "W-Wait… don't tell me you—"
"I did," Kazel said simply, his gaze drifting down to his palm. His fingers flexed slightly, as if still reliving the aftermath.
"You what?!" Toghon practically exploded. "That fast?! Already?! That beast was—"
"—strong, yes." Kazel's eyes glinted with calm pride. "But it wasn't a fair fight."
The room went still for a beat.
"Not in my Soul Space," he added, almost offhandedly.
The physician's mouth hung open in disbelief. Toghon, for once, was speechless.
Kazel lowered his hand and rested his head against the wall again, exhaling softly. (Though... the Frostfang will be the last one I can integrate for now. My soul's nearing its current limit. Not until I break through to the next realm. And I'm still one level away from that.)
"Still..." he muttered to himself with a crooked grin, "not a bad harvest for one snowy day."
(Not a bad harvest... you little monster.) Toghon's inner thoughts were caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief. He took a deep breath and composed himself, bowing slightly. "I—I will leave you to your rest, young master."
But Kazel, already brushing his hair back with that devil-may-care smirk, waved him off. "No, I'm rather hungry."
"Yes, yes, the young master should eat something nourishing," the physician quickly chimed in, practically clapping his hands in agreement. "You've lost blood and energy, we must replenish both!"
"A-All right," Toghon nodded, then glanced at the physician, who took off in a hurry, likely to arrange food.
With that, Kazel leaned back again, the faint grin not leaving his face as the warmth of life slowly returned to his limbs. He could still feel the tremor of that last clash echoing in his bones. But now, hunger replaced battle instinct.
---
Elsewhere, the Ironhide Sect's main hall was alive with energy, despite the weariness woven into the air like incense smoke.
Toghon now sat on the central seat of authority, flanked on both sides by the sect's elders, lined in a solemn row. Their robes were slightly rumpled from the field, but each of them carried a spark in their eyes—a mixture of exhaustion, pride, and awe.
Below them, in the lower tier of the grand hall, four long tables stretched horizontally across the floor. That was where the disciples were gathered, packed shoulder to shoulder, their plates already half-full, bowls steaming with soup and warm bread. Batu sat among them, still dressed in expedition gear, a bandage lightly wrapped around one arm. His expression was stoic as usual, but his eyes roamed across the hall like a proud big brother surveying a job well done.
The room buzzed—not with official announcements, but with laughter, wide eyes, and raw retellings of the battle.
"I swear! I saw the Frostfang leap like a mountain crashing down!""And young master Kazel didn't even flinch!""Did you see when he caught it mid-air?!""He severed the beast's heels! Like slicing bamboo!""I thought we were done for… then he just—whoosh—broke the line like it was nothing!"
Even the youngest disciples, not older than ten, were speaking with fists clenched and cheeks flushed, some reenacting the fight with wooden spoons and chopsticks.
One elder chuckled from his seat, watching them. "It's been a long time since I've seen the disciples this spirited. They look like warriors now."
"Aye," another elder nodded. "A few bruises and a touch of fear is a small price for that kind of growth."
Toghon remained quiet, his eyes lingering on Batu—then past him, to the wide, tall doors that led deeper into the sect.
Kazel…
He still couldn't believe it. The boy had walked into their hall not long ago, poisoned, sickly, fragile. Yet now—he had become a symbol. Not just of strength… but of something that stirred the hearts of even the most jaded warriors.
Toghon rose to his feet, lifting his cup with a solemn nod. "Tonight's feast, we owe it to the young master of the Immortal Sect—Kazel." His voice echoed in the great hall, and all attention turned toward him. "No longer will our nights be haunted by the dreadful howls of the Frostfang. That means deeper sleep, better recovery, and most importantly—safety. Make no mistake… if we hadn't hunted them, they would've hunted us."
A beat of silence. And then—"YEAH!" Batu shot up, raising his fist in the air with fire in his chest. Then, with a grin, he slammed his palm against the table once, twice, establishing a rhythm."Kazel! Kazel! Kazel!"
It spread like wildfire.Hands slapped tables in unison.Voices rose with excitement."Kazel! Kazel! Kazel!"
They chanted not as underlings, but as warriors saluting another.And that was his cue.
( Looks like that's my entrance. )
Kazel stepped through the large hall's doors, and the rhythm only grew louder, more electric. All eyes turned to him. The cheers rang out in full swing.And for just a moment… he stopped.
The firelight danced across the polished wood. Smiles met him from all directions. The warmth in the air had nothing to do with the torches. The sound of his name chanted with joy, pride, and reverence—
It hit him harder than any beast ever could.
His eyes softened.Just for a flicker.
( So familiar… )
Shadowed faces danced at the edge of his mind—his old comrades, brothers and sisters-in-arms, long gone yet never forgotten. In the corner of his soul, where silence lived, they stood smiling.
( But now… to the present. )
Kazel took that first step forward, his stride smooth, confident, natural—but not arrogant. He walked past rows of disciples, past elders who nodded in respect, all the way to the end of the hall where Toghon stood waiting across the long table.
He nodded to the patriarch, a quiet gesture of respect between warriors. Then he turned, his back to the elders, facing the rows of disciples who had followed him to that mountain—and came back stronger for it.
"Without you guys," Kazel began, his voice calm but firm, "I may not have been able to kill the Frostfang. You held your ground. You endured. So for that... I personally owe the Ironhide Sect."
He smiled, and it was real.
A smile of gratitude.Not a speech from a hero.But words from one soldier to another.
The hall erupted again. Plates were lifted, drinks were poured, and the feast truly began. But in the middle of it all, Kazel stood like a monument, no longer a stranger, no longer a guest—But someone the Ironhide Sect would remember.
The morning air was crisp and gentle. Snowflakes shimmered beneath the sun, catching the light like scattered pearls as the wind whispered down from the mountainside. At the front gate of the Ironhide Sect, Kazel stood tall, the weight of his short journey packed into a light sack slung over one shoulder. His cape fluttered in the wind, that familiar, distinct one-shoulder drape like a banner of quiet defiance.
He took a breath, taking in the scenery one last time. "The snow is beautiful now."
"All thanks to you," said Toghon, standing beside him. His voice carried the weight of sincerity and a faint tinge of reluctance. "Be sure to visit us sometime… And—are you certain you don't want a horse?"
"I'm fine," Kazel replied simply. His hand adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "The road is safe anyways."
Toghon chuckled faintly, his breath visible in the cold. "All thanks to you, again."
Kazel shook his head, brushing a bit of frost off his shoulder. "It wasn't all me. If you hadn't carried me back to your sect, nature would've claimed me."
"That's nothing," said Toghon, his tone firmer now. "Without you slaying the Frostfang, the Ironhide Sect might have been reduced to a relic—soon and quietly forgotten."
Kazel gave a small smile. "Well… we did the best we could."
Toghon nodded, then hesitated before asking, "Where are you going now, young master? If you don't mind me asking."
"You already asked before asking if I mind or not," Kazel chuckled, his voice light.
Just then, his eyes shifted to Batu, standing a step behind the others with his arms folded and a pout forming on his lips.
"Don't forget that spar," Kazel said, tone calm but playful.
"I…" Batu faltered, his shoulders sagging as the group of disciples around him laughed and gave him a few supportive slaps on the back. Their laughter carried with pride, not mockery.
"Alright," Batu said at last, straightening his spine. "Once I get stronger."
Kazel smirked, crossing his arms. "A man is measured by his actions, then his words."
Batu pointed at his chest. "And you can put your money on mine!"
"Good," Kazel nodded. Then he turned, taking one last look at the gate, the people, and the peak above.
"Alright, see you guys later."
With that, he waved and began his descent down the winding path that led away from the Northern Peak, his lone figure eventually swallowed by the drifting snow and the steady silence of the morning.
After a moment, Batu scratched his head and looked up at Toghon. "So… where's he going?"
Toghon exhaled slowly, folding his arms over his chest, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I don't know. He carried the conversation so skillfully, it was hard to steer it back toward anything he didn't want to say."
He looked down the path, as if expecting Kazel to still be visible—he wasn't.
"That's a skilled young man for sure," Toghon muttered. "And that kind of skill… you wouldn't learn here in Ironhide."