A ripple ran through the ground.
Then—
He moved.
Black tendrils erupted—liquid shadows solidifying into whips, lashing outward.
Too fast to react.
Too precise to miss.
Too merciless to stop.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Veyran, Aerik, General Morvien—all seized.
No fight.
No chance.
Just the brutal crack of bones and the end of legacy.
"What?!" Aerik gasped, his voice ragged as he writhed.
But it was over.
Already.
The battlefield fell into a silence so deep it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
Kael stood still, the shadows curling lazily around him like predators at rest.
He turned his head—slowly—to Aerik.
Eyes unreadable.
Loyalty is a beautiful lie, he thought.And I never asked for it.
Then he turned forward again.
The Duke didn't move.
Couldn't.
Kael had just slaughtered his sons—his bloodline—as if they were insects beneath a boot.
Not even an ounce of hesitation.
Just execution.
And that… that was the deeper wound.
The Duke had resented them, yes.
