Kaelen stepped out of the carriage alone.
The door closed behind him with a dull thud, sealing Kyle and the driver inside. The night air of the outer wilds pressed against his skin, thick with the coppery scent of blood and damp soil. Trees loomed like crooked sentinels, their branches tangled so densely that moonlight barely touched the forest floor.
They were surrounded.
Not immediately charging—these beasts were not mindless. Rank Eight and Rank Seven Kyz Beasts circled at a distance, their malformed bodies half-hidden among roots and shadows. Low growls rippled through the undergrowth, layered and patient. Predators that had learned caution through survival.
Kaelen's gaze moved calmly, measuring angles, distances, escape vectors. His breathing remained steady.
Then his blades stirred.
The dual edges at his waist vibrated softly, not with sound but with pressure—an inward pull, like gravity bending toward hunger. The cursed steel recognized prey. It recognized density.
Kaelen exhaled.
"Control," he murmured, more to himself than the relics.
He drew both blades.
The moment steel met air, his Kyz flowed—not outward in display, but inward, wrapping the blades in an invisible sheath of compressed pressure. Dust at his feet flattened. The air around the edges warped, bending light by a fraction.
The beasts reacted too late.
Kaelen moved.
He did not charge. He stepped.
The first slash passed through a lunging beast so cleanly that its body continued forward for two steps before separating. No blood sprayed—only a sudden vacuum where flesh had been. A second beast tried to leap from above, only to be bisected midair, its roar cut short into silence.
Kaelen flowed through the clearing like a quiet execution.
Each strike was measured. No wasted motion. No excess release of weight. The cursed blades sang softly now, their hunger sharpened by restraint.
Within seconds, the forest floor was littered with collapsing bodies.
But not all.
A ripple moved behind him.
Kaelen felt it a fraction too late—a concealment-type beast that had buried itself beneath decaying earth, masking its Kyz until the last possible moment. It erupted upward, jaws distended, Kyz flaring violently.
Kaelen pivoted and split it in half.
Still, the ambush had served its purpose.
The beasts were dead.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Kaelen stood among the remains, blades lowering slowly. His heart rate did not change—but his focus sharpened. This was the dangerous part.
Absorption.
He hesitated.
Every instinct honed over a thousand years urged caution. Beast Will was not simply energy—it was emotion crystallized into power. Rage, hunger, terror. Taken in excess, it eroded identity.
But he could not linger.
More beasts would come. And the capital was still hours away.
Kaelen sheathed his blades and knelt, placing a hand against the ground.
"Carefully," he thought.
He opened himself.
Kyz surged toward him in a violent flood, drawn by the gravitational density of his soul. Fragments of Beast Will slammed against his consciousness—snapping jaws, endless hunger, the instinct to dominate or die.
Kaelen clenched his teeth.
He redirected the flow immediately.
Ninety percent of the absorbed Kyz was forced away from his soul, woven instead into his flesh. Muscles compressed and tightened, fibers restructuring under pressure. Bones rang faintly as microscopic fractures sealed themselves into denser frameworks. His skin prickled as the vessel hardened, layer by layer, reinforced to withstand greater weight.
But there was too much.
He had miscalculated.
The final wave crashed inward—residual Beast Will slipping through the narrowing channels, clawing toward his core. Kaelen's vision darkened for a heartbeat. His breathing stuttered.
And then—
Movement.
The last beast.
The concealed predator had not died.
It lunged from the shadows, its body already half-destroyed, driven by nothing but instinct. Its Kyz burned wildly, desperate and unrestrained.
Kaelen reacted on reflex.
But if he defended fully—if he released more control—he would have to let the Beast Will touch his soul.
For a fraction of a second, he stood at a crossroads.
Then a sharp, focused pressure cut through the chaos.
The beast disintegrated.
Not torn. Not crushed.
Reduced to drifting particles of ash and fading Kyz.
Kaelen's head snapped up.
Kyle stood several meters away, her pendant glowing faintly against her chest. The star-shaped relic pulsed once, then dimmed. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale—but her eyes were steady.
She had acted without hesitation.
The remaining Beast Will dissipated, losing its anchor.
Kaelen forced the last strands of Kyz into his vessel and sealed the channels shut. The absorption ended.
Silence returned.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
"Don't interfere again," Kaelen said flatly.
Kyle flinched—but did not respond immediately. When she did, her voice was quiet. "If I hadn't—"
"You would have endangered yourself."
She met his gaze. "And if I hadn't, you would have crossed a line."
Kaelen said nothing.
He turned away.
But the truth settled heavily in his mind.
If Kyle had not acted, he would have been forced to let the Beast Will reach his soul.
He resumed walking.
Kyle followed.
They spoke little after that.
The forest thinned as the road widened, stone replacing soil beneath their feet. Gradually, the ambient Kyz density changed—not wild and chaotic like the outskirts, but layered, controlled, structured.
Civilization.
The capital rose before them like a carved mountain.
Massive walls etched with containment arrays loomed overhead, radiating a pressure that made even the air feel disciplined. Streams of people passed through the gates—masters, guards, merchants—each carrying their own Kyz signature, all carefully regulated.
Kaelen stepped through the threshold.
And froze.
A presence brushed against his awareness.
Not oppressive.
Not hostile.
Simply… vast.
Far beyond John Snow. Far beyond any general he had sensed.
Something observed him.
A voice echoed directly within his mind—clear, calm, and dangerously precise.
"Interesting."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed.
"A master wielding two high-ranking relics… with no visible corruption."
His grip tightened unconsciously.
Telepathy? Illusion? Or something else entirely?
The presence withdrew—but not completely.
Like a shadow watching from behind a curtain.
Kaelen exhaled slowly.
The capital swallowed them whole.
And somewhere within its depths, something had noticed his weight.