The explosion of the chamber door still echoed in Kael's ears as dust and debris rained down around them. Commander Goran stood in the wreckage, his face twisted into a snarl, his sword gleaming in the torchlight.
"Kill them both!" Goran roared, his voice shaking the cavern walls.
Dravik didn't hesitate. He grabbed Kael's arm, shoving him toward the eggs. "Take them and run! I'll hold them off!"
Kael's fingers closed around the golden egg, its surface pulsing like a heartbeat under his touch. He didn't argue,there was no time. He snatched a nearby sack, shoving the eggs inside with quick, practiced motions.
Goran's soldiers surged forward, blades drawn. Kael moved.
The first soldier barely had time to raise his sword before Kael's dagger flashed across his throat. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as the man crumpled, his scream dying in a wet gurgle.
The second soldier lunged, his spear aimed at Kael's chest. Kael twisted mid-step, the spear tip grazing his side as he drove his dagger up through the man's jaw. Bone cracked. The soldier's eyes bulged as the blade pierced his brain.
A third came from behind. Kael didn't even turn—his elbow snapped back, crushing the man's windpipe. Before the soldier hit the ground, Kael's dagger was already buried in the eye socket of a fourth.
It was over in seconds. Bodies littered the floor, their throats slit so fast they hadn't even realized they were dead.
Across the chamber, Dravik fought like a demon unleashed. His sword, now wreathed in writhing shadows, carved through Syndicate soldiers like wheat before a scythe. The black armor covering his body was jagged, its edges sharp as blades, horns curling from his helm like a nightmare given form.
But the mages had begun their spell.
Velyn, the eldest, raised his staff, his lips moving in a silent chant. The air around him shimmered with gathering power.
Kael saw it. He had to stop them.
He sprinted toward the mages, but more soldiers poured in, blocking his path.
"Kael! Be careful of them!" Dravik's warning cut through the chaos.
Velyn's head snapped up at the name. His milky eyes locked onto Kael, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his withered face.
"Kael… Vexis." Velyn's voice was a rasp, yet it carried over the din of battle like a knife through flesh. "I remember you. That little boy who hid while we burned your village to ash."
Kael froze. His blood turned to ice.
Velyn's grin widened, yellowed teeth glinting in the torchlight. "Your mother begged so sweetly when I slit her throat. 'Please, spare my son,' she cried. But we had orders. No survivors."
The world narrowed to Velyn's voice.
"And your daughter… oh, that was my favorite part. Such a tiny thing. The hounds tore her apart before she even had time to scream."
Something inside Kael shattered. His vision darkened. The air around him grew heavy, thick with something primal.
Then—
A scream. A soldier's head toppled from his shoulders before his body even realized it was dead. Another collapsed, his chest split open like overripe fruit. A third died mid-step, his spine severed before he could blink.
It wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter. Goran, seeing his men fall like leaves in a storm, bellowed in rage and charged. Kael met him. Goran's sword never even came close.
One moment, the commander was lunging. The next, his arm was spiraling through the air, severed at the elbow. His leg followed, then his head, the blade so sharp Goran's face still wore its snarl as it hit the ground.
Velyn stumbled back, his staff trembling in his grasp. The other mages were already dead, their throats opened before they could utter a spell.
"W-What have you become?" Velyn whispered, his voice cracking.
Kael appeared behind him, his dagger pressing against the mage's throat.
"Your worst nightmare."
The blade slid across flesh with a whisper. Velyn's body hit the ground, his head rolling to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. The chamber was still.
Dravik stood amidst the carnage, his shadow armor flickering as it faded. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at Kael.
Kael's eyes were black voids. His hands dripped blood. The sack of dragon eggs hung heavy at his side. Neither man spoke. There were no words left. Only the echoes of the dead.
The cavern was silent, save for the slow drip of blood pooling between the cracks in the stone. Dravik stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he stared at the carnage around them. Bodies lay strewn across the chamber, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their throats slit with surgical precision.
Kael's hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the sack of dragon eggs slung over his shoulder. His eyes, still dark with lingering fury, flickered with exhaustion. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind only the weight of what he had done.
Dravik swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had seen men kill before—had killed plenty himself—but this... this was something else. This was a storm given flesh.
"Kael..." Dravik began, then stopped. What could he say? That was terrifying? You butchered them like cattle?
Kael didn't look at him. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Let's go."
Dravik nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Right. The Sanctum."
The remaining Syndicate soldiers and mages had fled, their terrified screams echoing through the tunnels as they scrambled over each other to escape. Kael paid them no mind. His focus was on the eggs, their faint warmth pressing against his back.
The forest outside the Hollowfang Peaks was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across their path. Kael walked in silence, his boots crunching over fallen leaves. Dravik kept pace beside him, his grip tight on his sword hilt, his eyes scanning the trees.
"How long?" Kael finally asked, breaking the quiet.
Dravik glanced at him. "To the Sanctum? A week, if we move fast."
Kael's jaw tightened. "And the eggs?"
"They won't hatch," Dravik assured him. "Not without the orbs feeding them energy. But we need to keep them warm. Cold will make the shells brittle."
Kael adjusted the sack, his fingers brushing against the golden egg. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Dravik hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Back there... you knew that mage."
Kael's steps faltered for just a second. "Yes."
"He said—"
"I know what he said." Kael's voice was a blade, sharp and final.
Dravik wisely shut his mouth. They walked on, the weight of unspoken horrors hanging between them.
The Shrouded Grove, Two Days Earlier.
Julius stood beneath the gnarled branches of the ancient oaks, his breath fogging in the cold night air. The blood moon hung heavy in the sky, its crimson light painting the grove in shades of rust and shadow.
He had waited for hours, his patience wearing thin. Then, A figure emerged from the mist. Tall, clad in armor that shimmered like liquid obsidian, its surface etched with glowing silver runes. A crow mask obscured the figure's face, its beak sharp, its eyes hollow voids.
Julius's heart pounded in his chest. "Aestro…?" The figure didn't respond. It simply stood there, watching.
Julius took a step forward, his hand outstretched. "I can't believe—" A fist collided with his jaw.
Pain exploded across his face, his vision swimming. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the masked figure turning away, Then, nothing. The man who had punched Julius hauled his unconscious form over his shoulder, grunting under the weight.
"Was that necessary?" another voice asked from the shadows.
The masked figure "the Benefactor" tilted his head. "Julius Damas is many things, but subtle is not one of them. If he had touched me, he would have known the truth."
The Benefactor's Chambers, Two Days Later
The war room was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of enchanted braziers. The air smelled of aged parchment and the metallic tang of blood magic. The Benefactor sat at the head of an obsidian table, his crow mask reflecting the dim light.
A messenger knelt before him, trembling. "My lord... the Hollowfang operation has failed. The eggs are gone."
Silence. Then, the Benefactor spoke, his voice smooth as poisoned honey. "Gone?"
The messenger swallowed hard. "The hunter... Kael Vexis... he slaughtered our men. Commander Goran is dead. Master Velyn is dead. The survivors say he moved like a demon—"
"Enough." The Benefactor raised a gloved hand. "And the Iron Sanctum spy?"
"Escaped with him, my lord."
A figure stepped forward from the shadows—a mage with burn scars across half his face. "This is unacceptable! Those eggs were our key to the Transcendence!"
The Benefactor tilted his head. "Calm yourself, Malrik. All is not lost." He turned to another hooded figure. "And Julius Damas?"
The figure bowed. "Secure in the black cells, as you commanded."
The Benefactor steepled his fingers. "Good. Now, as for the eggs, we will retrieve them when the time is right."