Chapter 954 — The Hero Who Hunts Monsters
The council chamber of the Hollow was tense, the air thick with the scent of ink, parchment, and ozone. The polished stone table reflected the dull light of the stellar engine's auxiliary crystals, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the room's heartbeat.
Kael sat at the head of the table, his eyes shadowed, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Around him, his council gathered — Lyria, calm but watchful at his side; Selina, parchment and quills scattered in front of her; Zerathis standing like a sentinel near the door; Varik pacing with arms crossed; and Eris, silent as always, her violet eyes faintly glowing as she observed.
The atmosphere carried the weight of expectation.
A scout officer entered briskly, bowing low before setting a sealed report onto the table. "My lord," he said, voice strained. "Confirmation just came in from our agents near the border of Selen and the Karth Dominion. The fighting there has… changed."
Kael gestured. "Show me."
The officer handed him a series of weathered reports, pages creased from field travel. Kael's eyes flicked across them, his expression unreadable — until a faint, dangerous spark lit behind his gaze.
Selina leaned forward. "Well?"
Kael read aloud, his voice quiet, measured.
"A single man led the charge on the front at Harthvale Ridge. Witnesses describe him as wielding a radiant sword, glowing with divine energy. He annihilated an entire platoon — fifty to seventy soldiers — within minutes. Reports confirm no survivors. He's since moved deeper into the Dominion lines, acting as the spearhead for their forces."
The words rippled through the room like a chill wind.
Varik cursed softly. "That's not a warrior — that's a damned executioner."
Selina frowned, tapping her notes. "A radiant sword… divine energy… sounds like the gods' interference."
Zerathis' voice rumbled low. "They've found themselves a champion."
The scout continued, "He's not hiding who he is, either. Every speech, every skirmish — he declares himself as the Lightbringer. Says he fights to 'correct the world's wrongs and bring the gods back to the people.'"
Kael's expression hardened, though a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes.
The scout hesitated before adding, "He's also declared daemon lords to be his prey."
A silence followed.
Selina looked to Kael, uneasy. "So he means you."
Kael leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. The room seemed to shift, the air suddenly heavy — charged. A pulse of invisible pressure rolled outward, enough to make the lanterns flicker.
For the briefest moment, the shadow of his true self showed — the Daemon Lord beneath the man. The same chaotic, ancient power that had turned armies to ash in another lifetime.
Eris felt it before anyone else.
The heat, the hunger, the rush of thrill that Kael buried beneath discipline and command. His aura flared — dark, electric, alive — and though he forced it back under control, Eris caught the unfiltered truth.
Excitement.
Challenge.
Desire to fight.
Her pupils dilated slightly, the psychic link between them sparking to life like an open conduit.
Eris (telepathically): "You're… thrilled by this."
Kael (internally, restrained): "Aren't you?"
Eris: "He's a threat. A divine weapon. You should be angry, cautious—"
Kael: "I've faced gods, Eris. I've torn their voices from the heavens. But a hero—"
A low chuckle echoed through the link.
"—heroes are the only ones who fight for ideals they think are pure. That makes them dangerous. That makes them… fascinating."
Eris felt his pulse, his soul thrumming like a drumbeat beneath steel. Her own energy resonated in response — chaos drawn to chaos, echoing the same thrill but wrapped in confusion and awe.
Selina cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "Kael. Whatever you're thinking, remember — this man isn't a soldier. He's something divine. His faith will make him unpredictable."
Kael nodded slowly, eyes distant. "Faith is just a weapon of conviction, Selina. And like any weapon, it can break."
Lyria watched him closely — not with fear, but with wary understanding. She'd seen that look before: the quiet smolder before the storm, the edge between logic and instinct.
Varik slammed a gauntleted hand on the table. "We can't ignore him. If he's cutting through battalions, it's only a matter of time before one side wins and he starts looking for new prey."
Zerathis crossed his arms. "Meaning us."
Kael exhaled, his smirk fading into focus. "Then we prepare. If this Lightbringer seeks daemon lords, he'll find one — but not the kind he expects."
He rose from his seat, cloak shifting with the faint hum of his power.
"We'll gather everything we know — his magic, his movements, his rhetoric. I want to know what god, if any, has marked him. And…" — his eyes flicked toward Eris — "we'll begin tests on counter-divine shielding using chaos resonance. If a hero's light is born from purity, let's see how it reacts to entropy."
Eris nodded, her voice calm but eyes still lingering on him. "As you wish."
As the council broke to fulfill his commands, Eris remained still, her gaze tracing the faint shimmer of chaotic energy that still hung around Kael like heat after lightning.
Through their link, she whispered softly — not as an aide, but as something more personal.
Eris: "You want to fight him not because you must… but because you need to."
Kael: "Every blade dulls without resistance, Eris. Perhaps this hero will remind me what I am."
Eris: "And what are you?"
Kael: "A monster who built a kingdom to keep the world safe from worse ones."
For a moment, Eris said nothing. Her fingers brushed the edge of the table, feeling its texture — something grounding, human.
Eris (quietly): "Then I suppose I'll remind you what you built it for."
Kael looked up at her, eyes shadowed, but a small, genuine smile formed — the kind he gave only when he meant it.
"Then it seems we understand each other."
The tension of the room finally broke. The council had its orders. The Hollow had a new name whispered among its halls — The Lightbringer.
And for the first time in many months, Kael felt the pulse of something he hadn't in years — the thrum of anticipation, of facing a true equal.
The world outside burned in war and faith.
Inside the Hollow, chaos smiled.