CHAPTER 171: CELESTIAL AND CECELIA’S GUARDS!

Kael’s pulse hammered in his ears as the echo of the slammed door still reverberated through the darkened chamber.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat, as armored boots clattered just outside.

His fingers curled into fists beneath the cover of his cloak, and he leaned deeper into the shadow of the wall, hidden behind the heavy folds of his hood.

The door creaked open, and light from a lantern spilled into the room, slanting across the stone floor.

A group of men stepped inside, their armor polished but marked with the insignia of a familiar crest.

Kael’s chest tightened as he recognized it—the emblem of Cecelia’s family. Her household guards.

Their eyes swept the room with the ruthless sharpness of men on a hunt. The lead guard stepped forward, his voice stern and commanding.

"Are there any here who know of a boy named Kael?"

The question hung in the air. Kael felt the weight of it press against him.

His lips parted, but he quickly clenched his jaw shut. No one around the chamber moved, no one answered. A suffocating silence followed, broken only by the crackle of a torch.

The guard narrowed his eyes. He lingered a moment longer, scanning the hooded faces that refused to meet his gaze.

Then, with a sharp wave of his hand, he turned.

"Keep searching" he ordered, and with that, the guards withdrew, their footsteps echoing into the distance.

Only then did Kael dare to breathe again. He waited until the sounds faded completely before slowly pushing himself from the wall.

The professor and his demonic companion had vanished during the distraction, leaving the space empty except for the faint scent of sulfur in the air.

Kael slipped quietly out into the streets, keeping his hood low over his face. What greeted him outside churned his stomach with unease.

The once-bustling town looked like a battlefield. Stalls had been overturned, wooden planks shattered across the cobblestones.

Merchants shouted in protest, their voices drowned by the barks of guards swinging their fists freely.

"Where is the boy Kael?" one soldier roared, grabbing a shopkeeper by the collar and shoving him against the wall.

The man’s plea of innocence was answered with a harsh slap.

Another stall lay in ruins, its goods scattered across the ground, trampled by armored boots.

Women clutched their children, pulling them into alleys to escape the violence. Kael’s heart sank

as he witnessed the chaos, guilt pressing heavy on his chest.

All of this—because of his name.

He pressed deeper into the crowd, weaving between frightened townsfolk. Every guard’s shout, every strike, every overturned table burned into his mind.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to remain still.

Right now, he was powerless. But at least he could fight all those guards.

But amidst the turmoil, one detail lodged itself firmly in his mind—the demons’ hideout.

Twenty kilometers away from Arcadia Academy. He now knew where their roots dug deep, where their whispers brewed chaos.

If he could reach it, if he could uncover their plans, he could prevent what was coming.

Kael tugged his hood tighter and slipped into a narrow alley, vanishing into the shadows.

His path was set. He would bear the burden of their hunt, endure their scorn, until the day he was strong enough to turn it back on them.

The town square had erupted into chaos. Guards rushed from every corner, their armor clanging against one another as they formed a defensive circle.

Merchants screamed, dragging their children away from the violence, while shopkeepers tried desperately to shield what little remained of their stalls.

The moment was tense, suffocating—until the world seemed to split apart.

A deafening boom tore through the air.

From above, a colossal dark aura surged downward, condensing into the shape of an enormous blade.

Its sheer size was overwhelming—at least ten meters long, the blade itself was shrouded in black flames that writhed like living serpents.

The sword crashed into the cobbled street with such force that the ground splintered like glass.

Stone shards shot in every direction, impaling the unlucky guards who hadn’t managed to flee.

Dozens were cut down instantly, their screams swallowed by the sheer pressure of the attack.

The townsfolk froze in terror. Dust billowed upward, coating everything in a gray haze.

And from within that haze, a shadowy figure stepped forward. His hood fell back slightly, revealing sharp eyes that burned with cold determination.

His voice cut across the stunned silence:

"I am Kael."

Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

The very name that had been whispered in fear, the fugitive that Cecelia’s family sought with relentless cruelty, was now standing in the open—defiant, unbroken, terrifying.

But Kael did not stay in the center of the town.

He knew that fighting here would only lead to more innocent deaths. The guards would return in greater numbers, and in their desperation, they would burn this town to the ground.

That was something Kael could not allow.

He turned sharply, his cloak snapping behind him as he leapt from the cracked stones.

His boots hit the rooftops with practiced ease, and in moments, he was gone—heading toward the south, away from the frightened citizens and the merciless guards.

Kael ran until the chaotic noise of the town faded into the distance.

Ahead of him stretched the vast southern plains, and beyond them, the sound of rushing water.

His lungs burned, but he pressed forward until he reached the banks of a mighty river. The waters surged with strength, reflecting the moonlight in silver streaks.

This river was no stranger to him. During the midterm break, when the academy was quieter and the others were away, Kael had trained here in secret.

Day and night, he had pushed himself, his body bearing the scars of countless failed attempts to master his techniques.

The river had been his sanctuary, its relentless current mirroring his own will to keep moving forward, no matter how many times he was dragged under.

Now, standing there once again, Kael felt the weight of his choices.

His Astral Severance had revealed his location. The Cecelia family’s wrath would intensify; their pursuit would only grow more savage.

And yet, he had no regrets. Better that he bore the brunt of their anger than the helpless villagers.

Kael dropped to one knee, placing his hand on the surface of the river. Ripples danced outward, the cool water soothing his bloodstained fingers.

His reflection wavered, distorted by the current, but the darkness in his eyes was undeniable.

"Here," he muttered, his voice low.

"Here, I’ll push further. Stronger than before. If they want me... then let them come."

The moon hung high above, casting a pale glow across the riverbank. Kael rose slowly, his hood falling back into place.

The world had just been reminded of his existence—and there would be no turning back.

And somewhere in the distance, horns blared.