Oma came to me at dawn.
That alone told me everything: today was special for him.
Men who believed they were ready always chose morning. They mistook light for clarity.
They thought if the world looked clean enough, I would give a damn.
He stood at the foot of my throne, posture straight, weapons sheathed, eyes calm in the way only trained killers ever managed. No anger. No hunger. Just certainty.
"I'm done," he said.
Not I think.
Not I hope.
Done.
I studied him for a long moment before answering.
Ten years.
Ten years of broken bones reset by discipline. Ten years of silence where screams used to live. Ten years of watching a boy learn how not to hesitate — and then unlearning how to care.
He had surpassed every instructor I gave him. Outran them. Outthought them. Outlasted them.
And in the dark… he had become something else entirely.
"You want to leave Babel," I said.
"Yes."
No demand. No defiance.
His calm now worried me more than his rage.
I stood from the throne and walked past him toward the open arches overlooking Adreya. The city breathed beneath us — steel, smoke, voices layered over voices. Babel never slept. It only waited.
"You think your training is finished," I said. "Because no one here can stop you."
He didn't deny it.
"That's not why you're ready," I continued. "It's why you're about to die."
He followed me with his eyes now.
"The nine hundred are still watching the borders," I said. "They never stopped."
He already knew that too.
"If you step beyond Babel as you are," I went on, "they won't test you. They won't warn you. They won't duel you."
"They'll erase you."
Silence.
Then, calmly, "Then I'll fight back. I will kill anyone who blocks my path."
There it was.
The mistake.
I turned back to him slowly.
"No," I said. "You won't."
I saw the flicker then — confusion, not fear.
"Because you can't," I explained. "You already know the rule. Kill another True Slayer and there is no forgiveness left for you. Not from them. Not from me."
I let that settle.
"If I defend you again," I said, "they turn on Babel. On my Summoned. On every kingdom that still answers my name."
"Civil war," I finished. "And you become the excuse history uses."
He clenched his jaw.
Good. He was still listening.
"So," I said, "you don't get to leave yet."
His eyes hardened. "Then what was all this for?"
I smiled.
"For this."
I raised my hand.
"The test."
He stiffened slightly.
"You will start from the outskirts of Adreya," I said. "And you will reach this throne room alive."
"That's it?" he asked.
I laughed.
Why did I laugh?
"No," I said. "That's the destination."
I turned and called into the chamber.
"Hunter."
The air shifted.
Even Oma felt it.
"He'll take position beyond the skyline," I said. "One shot. One breath. He won't miss."
"Killerwhere," I continued. "You remember him, right?"
"He taught you how to reap with daggers alone."
"Would it shock you to know he held back a lot during your training?"
"You'll never see him. If you do, it's already too late."
Then I gestured wider.
"One thousand Summoned," I said. "Each a master of a weapon you respect."
"Archers. Spearmen. Blademasters. Trappers. Gunners."
"All of them," I finished, "with orders to kill you."
His eyes narrowed.
"You're serious."
Of course I was.
I leaned closer.
"I'm doing you a favor."
That made him laugh this time.
"You think I'll fail," he said.
"I know you will," I replied. "That's why it's safe."
Then I took away his greatest strength.
"No Shadow Blending."
The air went cold.
"Excuse me?" he said quietly.
"If you use it," I continued, "the test ends. You fail. And you remain in Babel."
"You taught me to survive," he snapped. "And now you're tying my hands."
"No," I said sharply. "I'm stopping you from relying on it to win every fight."
He stared at me, searching.
So I told him the truth.
"You don't just move through shadows anymore," I said. "You drag others into them."
His silence confirmed it.
"No light. No sound. No air," I went on. "You don't kill them — you drown them."
"That power won't work on True Slayers," I said. "You already know why. Their will cannot be forced."
"But the Summoned?" I asked quietly. "The world beyond Babel?"
I shook my head.
"If you leave Babel depending on that," I said, "you won't be feared for your skill or known for your strength."
"You'll be hunted like a demon because of it."
I straightened.
"So no shadows," I finished. "No darkness. No vanishing."
"Daggers only. Your body. Your skill."
"And remember," I added, almost casually, "you're not allowed to kill the Summoned."
His eyes widened slightly now.
"If you kill them," I said, "you sever them from me."
"And no one wants that, right?"
I smirked faintly.
"Besides," I added, "you need a new body if you want to hide from the True Slayers properly. Consider this… your birthday gift."
That earned a dark look.
Good.
"This test," I said, "isn't about whether you can reach me."
"It's about whether you can cross a battlefield designed by your worst enemies when all you have is strength and skill."
I met his gaze.
"If you can do that," I said, "then maybe you deserve to leave Babel."
"And if I can't?" he asked.
"Then Babel remains your cage," I replied. "And your shield."
He bowed his head once.
No argument.
No complaint.
Just acceptance.
As he turned to leave, I spoke one last time.
"Understand this, Oma."
"If you pass this test," I said, "the nine hundred will hear about it. This is where your legend begins."
"And when they come for you," I finished, "remember the rule."
He paused at the doorway.
Then, quietly, "Then why do this at all?"
I looked at my city.
"At least here," I said, "you'll learn how to survive without your flashy powers."
"Oh, and I almost forgot."
"Happy birthday, Wedlock."
He walked away angrily, still hating the nickname I gave him.
I knew the truth I would never say aloud:
This test was not meant to free him.
It was meant to start his story with an epic bang.