After some time, The air of the city was thick with smoke and noise. Vendors shouted, carts rolled by, and the smell of roasted meat mixed with the stink of wet stone.
Kael walked down the narrow street alone, his hood pulled low. His men had gone to gather supplies, but he wanted time to think — and to understand this new world better.
Every corner reminded him how different life felt now. His footsteps were steady, quiet, just like an assassin's should be. Yet somewhere inside, he still felt… off. Too new. Too strange in his own skin.
He passed a group of drunk men laughing near a broken wall. They watched him, their eyes sharp and mean. Kael ignored them and kept walking.
But then one of them whispered, "That's him… Kael Draven."
Kael's steps slowed. They know me?
Before he could react, the group spread out, blocking the narrow path. About six of them. Rusty swords, clubs, one with a dagger. Their faces were rough and scarred — hired thugs.
The biggest one stepped forward. "Didn't think we'd find you alone, Draven."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You know me?"
"Everyone knows you," the man sneered. "The city's famous assassin, come back from the dead. Our boss wants your head. Said it's worth gold… and fame."
Kael didn't move. "Who sent you?"
The thug grinned. "Ask her yourself in hell."
Then they rushed him.
---
Kael's instincts kicked in. He ducked under the first swing, spun, and slammed his elbow into another man's jaw. Two more came at him with blades. He dodged one, but the other cut his arm — not deep, but enough to draw blood.
The moment he saw the blood dripping down, something in him changed. His heartbeat thundered. The air around his arm shimmered red.
A strange whisper echoed in his head:
Bloodfire Slash – Activated.
The wound on his arm glowed, and flames burst from his blood — not ordinary fire, but deep crimson, burning without smoke. It wrapped around his hand like a living blade.
The thugs froze, eyes wide.
"What… what the hell is that?!"
Kael didn't answer. He stepped forward and swung. The red flame cut through the man's chest like paper, leaving a trail of glowing embers in the air.
Another charged. Kael turned, slicing upward — the man's sword melted before he even reached him. The others tried to run, but Kael moved too fast, his flaming blade leaving streaks of blood and fire across the alley.
When it was over, only one thug was left, lying against the wall, bleeding out. His breath came in short gasps.
Kael walked over slowly, his eyes cold. The red flame on his arm faded, leaving only smoke and blood behind.
He crouched beside the dying man.
"Tell me who sent you."
The thug's lips trembled. He struggled to breathe. "She… she told us to finish you…"
Kael leaned closer. "Who?"
The man coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. He whispered one word —
"Jane…"
Then his head fell to the side, lifeless.
---
Kael stood, staring at the body. The name echoed in his head.
Jane…
He didn't remember anyone by that name in the old Kael's memories. But from the way the thug said it, she wasn't just anyone — she was someone with power, someone who wanted fame by killing the legend.
The alley was silent again. Smoke curled from the ground where his bloodfire had burned.
Kael looked down at his healed arm, then at the corpses.
"So this is my power…" he murmured. "And this is how I'll use it."
He pulled his hood up again and walked away, leaving the flames behind.
Somewhere in the shadows, a new name had been spoken — and a new enemy had begun to hunt him.
---
The mansion stood on the edge of the city, hidden behind tall stone walls and a black iron gate.
Rain fell softly, tapping on the windows. Inside, candles burned even during the day, giving the place a dim golden glow.
At the center of the hall sat Jane, her legs crossed on a red velvet chair.
She was dressed in dark leather, her hair tied neatly behind her head. A silver dagger rested on the table beside her cup of wine.
She looked calm, but her eyes—sharp and pale as ice—watched the door.
It opened with a creak. A thin man, one of her messengers, hurried inside and bowed low.
He was wet from the rain, his breath quick.
"Speak," Jane said quietly, not looking up from her cup.
The man swallowed hard. "My lady… we found the bodies. All six of them. None survived."
Jane's hand froze on the cup. She slowly raised her eyes to him. "All six?"
"Yes… and witnesses said it was Kael Draven. He was alone."
The room went silent except for the soft crackling of the candles.
Then Jane smiled faintly. It wasn't a warm smile—it was thin, dangerous.
"So," she whispered, "the ghost walks again."
She stood up, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. The messenger kept his eyes down.
"I sent them because I wanted proof," she said, pacing slowly. "I wanted to know if the rumors were true—that the assassin who vanished two years ago had returned. And now I have my answer."
The man hesitated. "Should we send more people?"
Jane turned to him, her expression sharp enough to cut. "No. I don't waste my blades twice on the same mistake."
She walked to the window and looked outside. The city stretched beyond the walls—crowded, restless, full of secrets.
"Kael Draven," she said softly, almost to herself. "I thought you were gone. The city moved on. I took your contracts, your clients, your fame."
She paused, the candlelight catching her face. There was a flicker of annoyance behind her calm.
"But if you're back…" she said, "…you'll take all of that away from me again."
The messenger dared to speak. "They said he used something strange, my lady. Fire that came from his hands."
Jane's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Magic?"
"I… I don't know. But none of them could stop him."
Jane turned away from the window and sat again, folding her hands neatly. She looked thoughtful now, not angry.
"Interesting," she said quietly. "If he's changed, I'll need to know how much."
Her eyes shifted to the corner of the room where a man stood half-hidden in the shadows—tall, silent, and wearing a black cloak.
"Rex," she said, her tone steady. "You'll go yourself. Watch him. Don't fight him, not yet. I want to know everything—where he goes, who he talks to, how he moves."
The man nodded once. "Understood." His voice was low, steady.
Jane leaned back, her expression calm again. "If he's truly alive, the city will talk. Fear spreads faster than news." She smiled slightly. "And fear, dear Rex, can be shaped."
Rex turned to leave, but paused at the door. "If he's as strong as they say, do you really think he can be controlled?"
Jane's smile deepened. "Everything can be controlled," she said. "Even Kael Draven. You just have to find what he values most."
The door closed behind him, leaving Jane alone once more.
For a moment, she sat silently, staring at the flickering flame on the candle beside her.
Then she reached for her dagger, twirling it slowly between her fingers.
"I built my name on the ashes you left behind," she murmured. "Don't make me bury you for real this time."
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky, and the rain began to fall harder.
In the city below, word was already spreading: Kael Draven was alive.