Rage churned beneath Kael’s skin as soon as he heard the news—Thalion had arrived at his base, bold enough to invade without warning. The sh

Rage churned beneath Kael’s skin as soon as he heard the news—Thalion had arrived at his base, bold enough to invade without warning. The sheer audacity of it made his blood boil. He was furious not just at Thalion, but at himself—for underestimating him so completely. He had genuinely believed Thalion wasn’t capable of something this calculated, this direct.

“This might not be so bad,” Kai said calmly, easily reading the storm behind Kael’s eyes. “If he refuses a duel, he loses face. If he accepts, you kill him and take control of his base. Either way, we win.”

They had been fighting undead abominations for what felt like days, their bodies worn down by wave after wave of empowered monstrosities. The deeper they pushed into the catacombs, the harder it became to maintain focus. Kael was drained, his reserves nearing empty, which was why he hadn’t immediately stormed the surface to confront Thalion. Still, Kai was right. This might be the perfect opportunity—not just to humiliate Thalion, but to seize the Sanguine Thorn and transmute it using his artifact. If the item worked as intended, the resulting transformation could skyrocket Kael’s power. Perhaps the Thorn would even prove effective against the red mist and the more resilient undead beasts. Maybe it was best to hold off on transmutation and test it first.

Kael’s thoughts shifted. He had hunted relentlessly, trained without pause. He had watched Thalion fight—his swordsmanship sloppy, unrefined, clearly bolstered more by gear than by talent. The sword itself looked powerful, likely enchanted. The armor? It was sleek, almost futuristic, its plates moving like a second skin. Kael assumed Thalion had stumbled across a genius smith to forge such equipment for him. The armor seemed heavy, though. Not Kael’s style, but if that craftsman was still alive, Kael would make good use of him. He was already imagining the potential.

He and his party sprinted through the corridor, Kael’s fury propelling him forward. The human guards posted along the walls barely reacted, calm and well-disciplined, while the elves stared in quiet astonishment. Kael didn’t care. Without him on the frontlines, their progress would grind to a halt. Still, his temporary absence was worth it. His fellow warriors could hold the line. After all, they weren’t facing vampires, just endless waves of undead enhanced by necrotic energies. Difficult, yes, but manageable.

As they neared the surface, Kael released a portion of his aura. The moment he stepped out into the open and saw Thalion standing atop one of the stone towers—casual, arrogant—Kael clenched his fists. It took effort not to let his full power explode outward. Still, he let a flare of his strength radiate through the air, enough to establish dominance in front of his people. One thing he had learned in the tutorial: appearances mattered. People followed symbols, not just strength.

He would be the hero who brought down the monster. And when the time came, he would carve the Sanguine Thorn from Thalion’s chest while he still breathed. That last part, of course, would be handled away from prying eyes. No one needed to care what happened to a monster’s.

Kael’s fury reignited when he spotted Jakob beside Thalion. Betrayal. The boy had turned against him, too? Disappointing, but not surprising. Jakob had stagnated ever since the third stage—no longer a warrior worth watching. Kael had monitored his progress for a time, but eventually deemed it a waste of resources. Was this how Jakob repaid him? Kael had once withheld rare materials from others just to give Jakob a chance, but the boy clearly hadn’t seen the value of loyalty.

Still, Kael wasn’t worried. Few people had ever glimpsed the truth behind his mask of leadership, and those who had were eliminated in due time. Disappearances during hunting missions on the fifth stage were tragically common. And since families and friends were scattered across different tutorial zones, no one ever asked too many questions. In this world, death was normal. Today, two more would join the pile.

“Kael, wait. The skyships,” Sylas said, grabbing his shoulder before he could charge forward. Kael’s eyes snapped toward the looming silhouette of a massive vessel hovering near Thalion’s position. The fighters aboard had already taken aim.

Good call. Charging in now would be suicide. He’d need to bait Thalion into a duel—something the arrogant fool would likely accept. Thalion was still the same naive boy he’d once met in the third stage—too empathetic, too trusting, and far too confident in his own strength. Kael would twist that optimism into a noose.

He stepped forward, voice amplified with mana, his words laced with disdain.

“Thalion! Hiding behind your men, I see. So this is what you’ve become—a coward. You were never fit to rule, and you never will be. A snake who backstabs his friends doesn’t deserve power, let alone respect.”

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Let’s see how long it takes you to fall for this.

Kael had pushed more mana into his voice than usual, a subtle but unmistakable display of dominance. It resonated through the air like a war drum, making it instantly clear who held more power. Speaking to someone who infused their words with such force was always uncomfortable—like standing beneath a storm cloud that hadn’t yet struck. It was akin to clashing auras, only more refined, more insidious.

As if on cue, Thalion’s own aura flared up in response—a dense, simmering force that tried to push Kael’s back. But it was futile. Thalion simply didn’t have the strength. Kael’s aura surged forth like an encroaching tide, and he wasn’t even using his full power. Thalion’s energy had improved slightly since their last encounter, but it still fell short. Kael even sensed the sly, creeping pressure of Thalion’s aura trying to ascend—trying to sneak its way above his own—only to falter and retreat once it recognized the futility of resistance.

Kael nearly smiled at the defiance he saw in the red glow of Thalion’s eyes from atop the tower. It was already over. He just didn’t show it. Thalion, the fool, was likely suppressing his aura in an effort to save face. After all, a weaker aura didn’t always mean defeat in battle. But Kael knew better. He was confident—certain—that he held the upper hand in combat. All he needed was for Thalion to take the bait.

Thalion must have thought himself clever, storming the base and blocking off the catacombs in some grand gesture of strength. But all he had truly shown was his inexperience. Theatrics, nothing more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not hiding behind anyone,” Thalion replied from above, his voice almost casual. Almost. Kael would wager the man was scrambling internally, scrambling to find an escape.

Kael knew exactly what Thalion had planned. The fool had hoped to raid the base and steal away his people while Kael was occupied fighting the undead below. Then he would vanish behind his walls where he felt safe. But now, Kael had him cornered. And just a few hundred meters behind him, Kael’s own forces stood poised and ready, weapons in hand, loyal eyes locked on the tower.

“Well then, why don’t you come down here,” Kael shouted, his voice laced with false courtesy, “and we can settle this like men. I’ve no wish to harm those not involved in this little conflict.”

Internally, Kael was already celebrating. He had him—finally. Soon, he would carve the Sanguine Thorn from Thalion’s flesh, and his victory would be complete.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Thalion called back, hesitating now. “Sylas and Kai seem awfully close to you, and I’m not keen on being stabbed mid-duel.”

Kael grinned. That uncertainty in Thalion’s voice—he could taste the fear behind the words. The man knew he had been caught. There weren’t many good options left to him. He could retreat behind his walls, but that would mean publicly admitting defeat. Worse, it would make him lose face with the very people he came to steal. If even a single one joined Kael’s side, it would shatter Thalion’s fragile image.

Kael had worked hard to paint Thalion as a traitor, a devil in disguise. He had spun the lies so well that even those closest to Thalion had begun to waver. He could see it now in Thalion’s shifting gaze, the way his eyes darted from one face to another. Desperation. Shame. The man didn’t want this duel, but his pride wouldn’t let him walk away either. Especially not after being baited, insulted, and challenged before an audience.

It was time to set the stage. Kael nodded toward Kai and Sylas, who silently stepped back, leaving Kael alone before the tower.

“Unlike you,” Kael shouted, “I don’t rely on backup. Funny, though—you're the one with skyships hovering overhead. Let them pull back so we can finally settle this.” He pointed upward. “Every second I waste here could be spent fighting the undead in the catacombs—saving lives on the final stage.”

He didn’t like what he saw atop the skyship. Smirking faces stared down at him, some even waving casually as if saying goodbye. One man, in particular, grinned with an infuriating smugness Kael wouldn’t soon forget. How foolish were they, thinking Thalion could win this? Chuckles drifted down from the vessel, followed by more mocking waves as the ship slowly pulled away.

Were they laughing at him?

No. That wasn’t possible. Still, the sound scraped at Kael’s pride. He shook it off. It was time to take control again.

“Come down, Thalion!” he roared, his aura spiking like a sudden thunderclap. “Let’s end this and don’t get your hopes up. I’m the one who will walk away from this.”

To his surprise, Thalion didn’t respond with words. He simply leapt. With fluid grace, he landed in a crouch, rising smoothly and beginning to walk forward. A ripple of power flared around him—this time stronger, more refined. Kael felt the pressure as his own aura was nudged backward, just slightly.

Perfect.

The man was taking the bait.

Kael didn’t react. He didn’t flare his power or respond in kind. Let Thalion think he was matching him. Let him believe he was gaining ground. The more confidence Kael gave him, the easier it would be to dismantle it.

He also kept his energy low to avoid drawing the skyship back. If he moved quickly enough, he could kill Thalion before they re-entered firing range—even if Thalion tried to retreat.

Kael had come a long way. His body had been tempered through fights and pain. His skills had been honed, enhanced by the gifts of his patron. He had reshaped his entire fighting style. Now, he was a predator—capable at close range, deadly from afar. And most dangerous of all, he could shift between the two without pause.

And still, Thalion didn’t know about the final advantage.

Kael smiled to himself.

Let him step a little closer.

A poisonous surprise waited just for him.