Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 403: I Need to Train.

Kael finished adjusting his clothes with short, precise movements.

The fabric was simple, but reinforced with discreet runes—clearly something prepared for when he woke up, not if he woke up. This did not go unnoticed by him.

He flexed his fingers once.

Twice.

A slight tingling ran through his arms, down his spine, vibrating in his bones. Chaos was quiet… too quiet. Like a crouching predator, waiting for permission.

Kael looked up.

"So…" he said, his voice still hoarse, but firm. "What happened while I was sleeping?"

Elion and Eleanor exchanged a look.

One of those long looks. Loaded. Too heavy.

Eleanor sighed first, leaning on her cane—more out of habit than necessity.

"Too many things," she replied. "Wars, alliances, betrayals, new titles, lost titles, people meddling where they weren't wanted…"

Elion finished, in a softer tone: "And consequences you won't understand all at once. Nor should you try now."

Kael frowned slightly.

"…How long?"

"Longer than you think," Elion said. "And less than the world would like."

She moved closer and placed her hand on his chest, feeling the energy beneath his skin. Her eyes narrowed.

"First you're going to stop," she continued. "You're going to sit down. You're going to eat something. Your body has just gone through something no one should survive."

Eleanor nodded strongly.

"She's right. You seem whole, but that doesn't mean you're stable."

Kael listened.

Truly.

Then he shook his head in denial.

"Later."

They both frowned at the same time.

"Kael," Elion warned. "Not now—"

"I know," he interrupted her calmly. "That's precisely why."

He closed his hand slowly.

The tingling intensified.

It wasn't pain. It wasn't weakness.

It was willpower. "My body is… screaming," he admitted. "Not from hunger. From movement. From impact. From fighting."

Elion felt it.

He truly felt it.

The Chaos within him wasn't unstable—it was forcibly contained. Compressed. Waiting for an escape valve.

"I'm feeling a lot of Chaos energy," she said seriously. "If you go to the training camp now—"

"—I know the risk," Kael replied, opening his eyes and looking directly at her. "But standing still is worse."

He took a deep breath.

The air around them crackled slightly.

"I won't lose control," he continued. "But if I don't move… I will."

Eleanor watched silently, her eyes too attentive for someone who had seen this before.

"He's right," she finally said. "This isn't a body that can stay still after a full adaptation."

Elion clenched his teeth.

For a few seconds, he seemed about to forbid it.

Then he sighed.

"…Alright."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"But," she continued, pointing at him, "it won't be ordinary training. No lethal weapons, no full aura release, no testing limits."

She leaned closer and touched his forehead with two fingers.

"You're going to unload, not explode."

Kael nodded slowly.

"That's exactly what I want."

He turned toward the door.

Each step made the ground respond, almost imperceptibly, as if the world was still learning to accept the weight of that existence back. Before leaving, Eleanor smiled slightly. "…Good luck, my grandson."

Kael paused for a moment.

The tingling sensation intensified again. "I don't need luck," he replied, without turning his face. "Just space."

Elion took a step forward as he reached the door.

"I'll go with you."

Kael stopped.

He turned his face just enough to look at her.

"…Are you sure?"

"I am," he replied without hesitation. "If something gets out of control, I'll be there. And if you're right… I'll see it with my own eyes."

He watched her for another second, as if assessing not her strength, but her intention.

Then he nodded.

"All right."

Before leaving, Kael pulled a simple garment from the nearby rack—a kind of open, lightweight kimono, suitable for training. He put it on slowly, adjusting the sash at his waist with an automatic gesture.

When the fabric fell over his body—

The two stopped.

It wasn't desire.

It was impact.

Kael's body didn't just seem stronger.

It seemed dense.

His muscles were unnaturally defined, not exaggerated, but precise—as if each fiber had been sculpted with purpose. His skin seemed too firm for something human, marked by subtle lines of energy that disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

Eleanor was the first to take a deep breath.

"…This isn't just strength," she murmured, narrowing her eyes. "This body has been rebuilt."

Elion felt a shiver run down her spine.

She extended her perception cautiously.

What she found made her chest tighten.

"He's not just stronger," she said softly. "He's carrying Chaos as if it were part of his anatomy."

Kael noticed the silence.

"Is it that bad?"

Elion closed his eyes for a moment… and then smiled slightly.

"No," he replied. "It's just… scary."

Eleanor crossed her arms, watching her grandson with renewed attention.

"You didn't come back the way you left," she said. "And that's going to draw attention."

Kael shrugged.

"It already did."

He took the first step outside.

The runner responded.

Not with trembling—but with forced acceptance.

Elion followed him.

As they walked side by side toward the training field, she finally said:

"If you feel you're going to go too far…"

"I'll stop," Kael replied.

And, for the first time since he'd woken up,

Elion believed her.

Not because he trusted Chaos.

But because he trusted him.

The training arena was far from the kingdom's core, surrounded by ancient seals and layers of containment erected over generations—a place made for catastrophic mistakes.

Even so, the instant Kael stepped there, something changed.

The air grew thicker.

Colder.

Not an ordinary cold, but the kind that bites from within, that respects neither magical resistance nor physical conditioning.

Elion stopped a few steps behind him.

"…Here," Kael said, looking around. "If something goes wrong, at least it won't hurt anyone."

She nodded, though she knew that arena had never been designed for someone like him.

Kael stepped to the center.

He took a deep breath.

Once.

Twice.

The tingling returned with full force, like electricity coursing under his skin. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and spoke, without turning his face:

"I'll release just a little."

Elion frowned immediately.

"Kael, when you say a little, be specific."

He opened his eyes.

"A trickle," he replied. "Enough for my body to stop fighting against itself."

She felt it before she saw it.

The Chaos moved.

It didn't explode.

It didn't roar.

It trickled.

A short, silent, almost polite pulse—released from the center of Kael's body.

The effect was immediate.

The ground beneath his feet cracked.

A layer of scarlet-blue ice spread in all directions like a solid wave, freezing the arena's stone in less than a second. Ancient runes glowed in alert, several fading soon after, unable to interpret the phenomenon.

CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—

The ice advanced to the edges of the arena and stopped abruptly, as if obeying an invisible limit.

Silence.

Kael blinked.

"…Hm."

Elion was motionless.

The vapor of her breath rose slowly in the air, now too cold to be comfortable.

"Kael," she said with extreme care, "that wasn't a little."

He looked at his own foot, slightly stuck to the ice, and flexed his toes.

The ice receded, crumbling into crystalline dust.

"…It was less than I expected," he answered honestly.

Elion closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

"You froze an entire arena," she said. "Without offensive intent. Without destructive focus."

She stared at him.

"Do you realize what that means?"

Kael was silent for a moment.

Then he replied:

"It means my body is finally aligned."

He clenched his fist.

The air around his fist condensed, forming small particles of chaotic ice that swirled in controlled orbits.

"And if I don't learn to use this properly…" he continued, seriously, "…someone will get hurt."

Elion nodded slowly.

"Then let's train," she said. "Carefully."

She took a stance a few meters ahead, her aura contained but ready.

"Show me," she finished, "how you intend to fight without destroying the world."

Kael looked up.

The ice beneath his feet responded.

And… not far from there…

General Exelia's office was too quiet.

The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on war maps, stacked reports, and chess pieces abandoned in the corner of the desk. Exelia sat behind her desk, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on some point she could no longer truly see.

She sighed.

Slowly.

Tired.

"…It's been so long," she murmured, almost to herself.

Kael still hadn't woken up.

That thought weighed more than any military defeat. The world moved on, alliances rearranged, borders shifted… and yet, that emptiness remained.

She ran a hand over her face.

The general hadn't slept properly in days.

Then—

BANG!

The door burst open.

A young soldier practically flew in, tripping over her own feet. She bumped into the door frame, almost fell, grabbed the side of the door, and staggered in as if fleeing a calamity.

Exelia looked up immediately, her expression hardening.

"…How many times," she began, her voice cold and controlled, "did I ask you to knock before entering?"

The girl tried to straighten up.

She failed.

She tripped again, almost falling to the ground, her eyes wide, her face pale.

"G-general—! I-I'm so sorry, but—!"

Exelia was already standing, clearly irritated.

"Breathe. Stand up straight. Speak properly."

The soldier gasped, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

Then she shouted:

"H-he woke up!"

Exelia froze.

"…What?"

"The prince!" The girl repeated, almost voicelessly. "Prince Kael has woken up!"

For a full second, the world stopped.

The papers on the table slid as Exelia stood up so quickly that the chair fell backward with a thud.

"…Repeat that," she demanded, already circling the table.

"H-he really woke up! The infirmary confirmed it—! He's already on his feet—!"

Exelia didn't wait for the rest.

She passed the soldier like a whirlwind, slamming the door open and rushing down the corridor.