Kael's boots crushed dried leaves beneath him as he marched down the mountain path. The forest had grown darker the further he descbegan its trees ancient, its silence unnatural. Every sound was muffled, as though the land itself feared to speak.
He welcomed the quiet. It matched his mind.
He had walked alone for three days since leaving Aria's domain. No food. No fire. Only Ashveil, slung across his back, and the whisper of power coiled beneath his skin like a patient serpent.
But fate was eager to test him.
Smoke curled into the sky ahead thin, gray, and cruel.
Kael moved silently toward it, his body reacting with the practiced rhythm Aria had drilled into him. As he crested a low ridge, he saw them: a caravan, overturned. Horses butchered. Blood painted the earth.
A scream cut through the trees.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
He found them near a ravine five men, armor rusted, swords bloodied. Bandits. One of them was laughing as he dragged a girl by her hair, no older than sixteen. Her face was bruised. Her hands bound.
Another girl, a few years younger, lay motionless nearby. Dead.
Something cracked inside Kael.
The old Kael the boy from the village might have hesitated. Might have shouted a warning. Might have tried to negotiate.
But that Kael had died in fire.
Now, he moved like a blade unleashed.
Ashveil slid into his hand with a hiss. The runes along its edge lit with his wrath. He struck from the shadows, a black ghost in a burning world.
The first bandit didn't have time to scream. One stroke his head rolled from his shoulders.
The second turned, swinging his axe wildly. Kael weaved under the blow, drove his blade through the man's gut, then twisted. Blood gushed like a fountain. The man collapsed, choking.
The third tried to run.
Kael whispered a word of magic "Ignis."
A streak of fire lanced from his palm and set the man ablaze. He ran two more steps before falling, screaming, skin melting from his bones.
The fourth dropped his sword and fell to his knees. "Mercy! Please"
Kael's eyes burned with cold flame. "You don't deserve the word."
Ashveil fell. So did the man.
Only one was left the leader. He pushed the girl aside and drew a curved sword, eyes wide with panic. "Y-You're Tiered! You're a mage!"
Kael advanced slowly.
The bandit slashed wildly. Kael parried. Sparks flew.
"I I have money!" the man cried. "Gold! I can show you where we hide it!"
Kael stabbed him in the shoulder, then the knee. The man collapsed.
"Show me, then," Kael said flatly.
The bandit trembled. "I-It's west of here! In Black Hollow! Our camp there are two dozen more! But they,they have women! Children!"
Kael's voice was ice. "Then I'll burn the forest down with them."
And he did.
That night, Kael sat by the ruins of the bandit camp, the fire consuming what was left. Bodies charred. Tents reduced to ash. None were spared not the men, not the armsmasters, not even those who tried to flee.
He had delivered a message. Not just to the bandits.
But to the world.
He was no hero.
He was wrath incarnate.
The rescued girl, Mira, approached him with trembling steps. "You… you saved me."
Kael didn't look at her. "I avenged you. That's different."
She fell to her knees beside him. "Where will I go now? I have nothing."
Kael glanced at her finally. "Then follow me. I'll give you purpose."
Mira hesitated then nodded.
He did not smile.
He had no kingdom yet.
But he had a follower.
And that… was how empires began.