The outer grounds were silent.
Too silent.
Kael walked alone through narrow paths lit by dim spirit lamps, their pale glow barely pushing back the darkness. The clan's inner territory buzzed with activity behind him, but out here—where broken cultivators, servants, and discarded bloodlines lived—there was only neglect.
And intent.
Kael felt it the moment he crossed the boundary stone.
Killing intent.
Thin. Hidden. Professional.
He did not react.
Instead, he slowed his steps, posture relaxed, breathing uneven—playing the role they expected. A cripple who had overstepped. A threat that needed to be erased quietly before it became uncontrollable.
"So predictable," Kael murmured.
Inside him, the devil sigil pulsed faintly, responding to the hostility around him like a predator sensing blood.
Three shadows detached themselves from the darkness.
They moved without sound, blades coated in dull black poison designed to paralyze before killing. Their auras were suppressed to near nothing—experienced assassins, not impulsive guards.
Clan enforcers.
Unofficial ones.
The kind sent when the clan wanted plausible deniability.
Kael stopped walking.
The assassins froze.
That alone made their hearts tighten.
He turned slowly.
"I was wondering when you'd come," Kael said calmly.
One of the shadows scoffed. "Arrogant little thing."
They moved together.
Fast.
Efficient.
One blade went for Kael's throat. Another aimed for his spine. The third circled wide, preparing to strike once he was immobilized.
Kael stepped forward instead of back.
The first assassin's eyes widened.
Too late.
Kael's hand snapped out, fingers digging into the man's wrist with bone-crushing force. There was a sickening crack as the joint shattered. The blade fell.
Kael caught it.
He didn't slash.
He stabbed.
Straight through the assassin's eye.
The body dropped without a sound.
The remaining two recoiled in shock.
"What the—?!"
Kael twisted, moving with unnatural precision for someone with such a weak body. The devil sigil flared, flooding his limbs with borrowed strength—not power, but authority.
The second assassin lunged, desperation replacing confidence.
Kael met him head-on.
He allowed the blade to pierce his shoulder.
The assassin smiled—
Until Kael leaned in close and whispered, "You should have gone for the heart."
Kael headbutted him.
Hard.
The man staggered back, skull cracking, blood pouring down his face. Kael grabbed his throat and slammed him against the wall.
Fear surged.
Devil Authority reinforced.
The man choked, eyes bulging, his strength draining away as if something invisible was crushing his spirit.
Kael snapped his neck.
The third assassin turned and ran.
He didn't get far.
Kael flicked his wrist.
The stolen blade flew, embedding itself deep into the man's back. He collapsed face-first into the dirt, twitching weakly.
Kael approached him slowly.
"Please…" the assassin gasped. "We were ordered—"
"I know," Kael said softly.
He crouched.
"Tell whoever sent you," Kael continued, "that next time… I won't wait for night."
The assassin's pupils dilated.
Kael pressed two fingers against the man's forehead.
A sharp spike of killing intent surged forward.
The assassin's consciousness shattered.
His body went still.
Silence returned to the outer grounds.
Kael straightened, blood soaking his sleeve, his breath slightly uneven. This body was still fragile—every fight cost him more than it should.
But it was worth it.
Inside him, the devil sigil burned brightly.
Fear absorbed.
Devil Authority increased.
Minor Suppression strengthened.
Kael exhaled slowly.
"So this is how it grows," he murmured.
He turned to leave—
And stopped.
Someone was clapping.
Slow. Deliberate.
Kael's gaze lifted.
A man leaned casually against a tree a short distance away, dressed in dark robes unfamiliar to the clan. His presence was calm, controlled, and unmistakably dangerous.
"You killed them beautifully," the man said with a smile. "Clean. Efficient. No wasted movements."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
He felt it immediately.
This man was not afraid.
Not yet.
"And you watched," Kael replied. "That means you weren't sent to kill me."
The man chuckled. "Correct. I was sent to observe."
"By whom?"
The man's smile widened. "That's not something you're allowed to know."
Kael studied him carefully.
This wasn't a clan enforcer.
This was something else.
A scout.
"Then leave," Kael said. "Observation complete."
The man laughed outright. "You really are interesting."
He straightened, meeting Kael's gaze directly.
"Tell me," he said, "do you know how many eyes are starting to look in your direction?"
Kael remained silent.
The man stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Hidden sects. Forbidden organizations. Even things that don't belong to this era."
Kael felt a chill.
"Your fear-based power?" the man continued. "It's rare. Unstable. And extremely valuable."
Kael's devil sigil pulsed violently.
The man took one step back, surprise flashing across his face.
"…Ah," he said softly. "So it reacts to awareness too."
He smiled again, this time with genuine interest.
"Grow quickly, little devil," he said. "Because next time… I won't just be watching."
He vanished into the darkness as if he had never been there.
Kael stood alone, blood dripping from his arm.
Above him, the moon slipped behind the clouds.
And deep within his soul, something ancient stirred—
excited, hungry, and no longer patient.