"You have potential."

Grellik’s voice cut through the darkness—calm, measured, almost conversational. He stood with arms crossed, watching Kael with the detached interest of a merchant appraising livestock.

"Real potential. That mana capacity shouldn’t exist at your cultivation level. Whoever trained you did exceptional work." He tilted his masked head. "Join the House of Crimson. A talent like yours would rise through our ranks faster than you can imagine. Resources, techniques, protection—everything you could ever want."

Kael wiped blood from his lip.

"Why would I lower myself to join a group of monkeys?"

Silence.

The remaining operatives shifted uncomfortably. Grellik’s signature flickered—not with fear, but with irritation.

"Monkeys," Grellik repeated flatly.

"While you can stand uprightly, you are still monkeys in masks. Kidnapping civilians because you’re too incompetent to build anything of real value." Kael spread his bloodstained hands. "Impressive operation you have here. Truly inspiring."

Vornin’s laugh echoed from across the realm—interrupted by the crack of Sage’s scythe meeting his flames. The two of them were circling each other now, golden light and orange fire dancing in the dim darkness.

Grellik’s gaze returned to Kael. Cold.

"You’ll regret that."

"Probably not."

"Kill him."

Three Rank 5s and one Rank 6 stepped forward.

They hesitated.

The Rank 6 glanced at the carnage behind Kael—fourteen bodies, most of them Rank 4 and 5, destroyed in seconds. The Rank 5s looked at each other. One of them took a half-step backward.

Grellik’s signature flared.

The hesitation lasted exactly one second but that one second hesitation cost them dearly. As in the next second, all four operatives collapsed.

One moment they were standing. The next they were on the ground—eyes open, bodies twitching, signatures guttering like candles in a windstorm. Their minds had shattered. Reduced to fragments so small that not even the best healers in the universe could piece them back together.

"Useless fools," Grellik muttered.

The remaining operatives—three Rank 5s and four Rank 6s—went pale behind their masks. One of them actually stepped back before catching himself.

"Get out of my front," Grellik said. "Clearly, I can’t trust anyone else to do anything right."

Kael watched the four bodies twitch on the ground.

"Men," he said softly with a mocking gaze. "How can you do that to your own people? They were scared. That’s all. Scared for their lives."

Grellik turned to face him fully.

"They were weak. Weak people are liabilities." His signature began building—soul energy pooling in his palms, dense and corrosive. "But since you’re so concerned about my methods—"

The soul attack hit Kael like a spike through his skull.

"AHHH—"

His hands flew to his head. The pain was immediate and absolute—not physical pain, but something deeper. Like something was scraping against the inside of his consciousness with rusty nails. His vision blurred. His knees buckled.

Grellik’s foot connected with his chest.

Kael flew.

The dark barrier wall caught him—solid, unyielding—and the impact drove the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, Grellik was already moving. Fist cocked back. Iron knuckles gleaming in the dim light.

Kael’s gravity sense screamed.

He slammed both palms down.

Gravity crashed onto Grellik—not enough to crush, just enough to slow him down. The Rank 7’s descent stuttered, his punch losing a fraction of its speed, his forward momentum bleeding away like water through sand.

But that was all Kael needed.

He dove to the side.

Grellik’s fist hit the barrier wall.

BOOM.

The darkness shuddered. Cracks of white light spider-webbed outward from the impact point before fading. The realm held—but barely.

Kael rolled to his feet ten meters away.

Blood dripped from his nose. His left hand was swollen where he’d hit the barrier. A gash above his eyebrow streamed red into his eye.

Grellik pulled his fist from the wall and turned.

"Not bad," he said. "That gravity trick bought you exactly one second. Want to try for two?"

"Your soul attacks travel in a straight line." Kael spat blood. "Not exactly subtle."

"So you noticed."

"Hard not to. You fire them like projectiles. Point and shoot." He raised his swollen left hand and flexed the fingers—wincing. "Powerful, sure. But predictable. If I see it coming, I can move."

Grellik’s masked face tilted.

"You figured that out in thirty seconds of fighting me?"

Grellik moved.

No warning this time. No build-up. Just sudden, explosive motion—a blur of dark fabric and angular mask closing the distance in a heartbeat. His fist came around in a horizontal arc aimed at Kael’s temple.

Kael raised his forearms to block.

The impact jarred his bones.

They broke apart. Grellik pressed forward. Another punch. Another. Each one carrying enough force to shatter stone. Kael dodged what he could, blocked what he couldn’t, each block sending shockwaves up his arms that made his teeth rattle.

Another soul attack—faster this time, embedded in a left hook.

Kael’s vision went white.

The inside of his skull felt like it was being torn apart. Not metaphorically—he could feel his consciousness fracturing, cracks spreading through his sense of self like ice on a frozen lake. His thoughts scattered. His limbs stopped responding.

His hand found his pocket on instinct.

Soul healing pill. Down the hatch.

The effect was immediate—warmth flooding through his mind, the cracks sealing, clarity rushing back like water filling a dry riverbed.

But the half-second of lost focus cost him.

Grellik’s iron knuckles slammed into his chest.

Crack.

Something broke. A rib—maybe two. The force lifted Kael off his feet and sent him skidding backward across the ground, blood spraying from his mouth.

He hit the ground rolling and came up on one knee. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Grellik was already there. Another punch—downward hammer blow aimed at Kael’s skull.

Kael caught it with both hands. Bandaged fingers wrapped around Grellik’s fist. The impact drove his knee into the dirt, but he held.

Blood ran down Kael’s forehead. Dripped from his chin. His broken fingers screamed. His shattered ribs screamed louder.

"Done?" Grellik asked.

Lightning erupted from Kael’s palms.

The bolt hit Grellik point-blank. Raw electrical fury channeled directly into the Rank 7’s body. The light was blinding. The sound was deafening. The smell of burned flesh filled the darkness.

Grellik flew backward until he hit the ground hard, bounced once, and lay still. Smoke rose from his torso where the lightning had burned through his clothing and into the skin beneath.

Kael spat blood and stood.

Behind you.

His gravity sense screamed.

He turned too slow.

The wind blade caught him across the back.

Schlick!

Pain exploded—a long, deep slash from right shoulder to left hip, cutting through fabric and skin and muscle. Blood poured from the wound instantly, soaking his back, running down his legs.

One of the Rank 6s. A wind manipulator was seen standing fifteen meters away with a blade of compressed air forming around his hand.

Kael staggered.

Three more Rank 6s moved to flank. Three Rank 5s closed from the other side.

Seven against one.

Kael’s mana reserves pulsed. Low—maybe forty percent after the realm, the lightning, the gravity manipulation. Not enough for prolonged combat.

But enough for one more technique.

He raised both hands.

Lightning crackled along his fingers. Gravity compressed around his palms. The two energies merged—blue-white and purple-black spiraling together into something that wasn’t quite either.

SILENCE.

"Die," Kael whispered.

He fired.

Not one lightning fang. Twelve.

The projectiles screamed across the darkness—not in a line, but in a spread pattern that covered the entire formation of remaining operatives. They moved faster than sound, faster than thought, guided by micro-gravity adjustments that made them impossible to dodge.

Three Rank 5s took the first hits.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each lightning fang struck center mass and detonated—lightning and gravity combining to create localized implosions that crushed and burned simultaneously. The Rank 5s didn’t scream. They simply ceased to exist in any recognizable form.

The four Rank 6s fared slightly better.

Two managed to raise defenses—earth walls and wind barriers—that absorbed part of the impact. The lightning still got through. The gravity still crushed. They fell screaming, bodies mangled, signatures flickering.

The other two took direct hits.

Boom. Boom.

Seven bodies joined the fourteen already on the ground.

Kael swayed.

The SILENCE technique had consumed nearly twenty percent of his remaining mana. He was running on fumes now—broken ribs, broken fingers, slashed back, bleeding from half a dozen wounds.

But the Rank 6s were down.

Grellik was down.

Just the finishing blows—

Another soul attack hit him.

"Fuck—"

Kael clutched his head. The pain was bad this time—worse because he was already wounded, already drained. His vision swam. His knees threatened to buckle.

But the soul healing pill was still working. The damage registered, but it didn’t stick. The cracks formed and sealed almost instantly.

He recovered in two seconds instead of ten.

Grellik was already moving.

The Rank 7 had risen from the smoking crater the lightning had put him in. His torso was a ruin of burned flesh and scorched fabric. One arm hung at an angle that suggested broken bones. Blood dripped from beneath his mask.

But his other hand held a sword.

One of the dead Rank 6s’ weapons.

He charged with a straightforward thrust aimed at Kael’s heart.

Kael moved.

Both blades appeared in his hands—shadow-steel short swords drawn from the sheaths across his back in a single fluid motion. He crossed them in front of his chest.

Steel met steel.

The impact drove Kael back three steps. His boots carved furrows in the ground. His broken ribs screamed. His slashed back split wider.

But he held.

Grellik’s masked face was inches from his own. Through the eye holes, Kael could see the man’s eyes—bloodshot, furious, burning with killing intent.

Kael smirked.

Blood ran between his teeth.

"Back from the dead?"