Zen's mind went blank.
He hadn't expected this. Not here. Not now.
He thought he'd been careful — silent, precise, invisible. No one should've suspected him. He hadn't revealed himself. He'd walked in shadow.
Red: Zen, now's not the time to daze out.
"I know," Zen muttered, eyes narrowing.
Across the clearing stood Kael — smug, composed, flanked by four guards. Zen narrowed his gaze, reading their posture, their confidence. He couldn't afford assumptions.
"Red," he murmured, low and steady. "What's their rank?"
Red: Kael's weak — a schemer, not a fighter. The other four? D-rank. They don't know your strength. And they definitely don't know about your shadow ability. Treat it as your trump card — you've already burned too much mana.
Zen's grip tightened.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked.
Kael sneered.
"You slipped. That kill in Veyra's camp? Too clean. Too public. My spy saw everything. Honestly, I expected better."
Zen didn't flinch.
Kael stepped forward, voice smooth and mocking. "Chaos erupted on the far side of the camp. But this side? Silent. Too silent. I knew you'd come this way."
He gestured lazily toward the treeline. "So I contacted the spy I planted in Jorik's camp. He confirmed the death. But something didn't add up. Why attack bandits if you weren't trying to wipe them out?"
Kael's grin widened. "Then it hit me — you weren't there to kill. You were there to steal. So I waited."
He tilted his head, mock curiosity in his voice.
"Tell me… whoever you are," Kael said, smirking. "Did you even think this through? Or are you just another masked fool, playing hero?"
Zen didn't answer. He drew his sword. Blue aura surged around him, flickering like moonlight. The guards tensed. Kael's smile faltered — just slightly.
"So are we going to get serious now," Kael mocked, "do you seriously think you have chance against us?"
Zen knew the odds. He didn't have a chance against them — not in numbers. But that didn't mean he would give up. He had to make them drop their guard.
He launched.
The nearest bandit barely reacted in time. Zen's blade crashed down, steel shrieking. Sparks burst. The man staggered. Another guard lunged from behind — Zen twisted and drove a brutal kick into his abdomen. The impact howled through the air; the man flew into the camp wall, coughing blood.
Kael's composure cracked. "Finish him!"
One guard rushed in. Zen parried. Another began conjuring fire.
Red: The other one is preparing a spell. Be careful.
"Yes, I know," Zen muttered.
Blades rang. Sparks scattered. Three guards pressed him at once. Zen parried desperately, but a blade slipped through — slicing his side. He gritted his teeth.
A roar — fireballs hissed through the air, swiss, swiss. Zen dodged, but several struck. His skin blistered. The pain was sharp, immediate.
He had no choice.
If he didn't act now, he'd be roasted alive.
Zen slammed his foot down and summoned shadow walls — slick, rippling barriers that rose from the ground and swallowed the fire. The barrage fizzled against the dark.
But before he could breathe, another guard charged.
Zen coated his sword in shadow. Blue aura surged around him like moonlight. He blocked the incoming strike, then ducked as another guard attacked from behind. He kicked the man's leg out, sending him stumbling. Zen didn't wait — he launched himself at the next attacker, throwing blow after blow, relentless.
He spotted the mage again — still alive, still dangerous.
Zen shadow-stepped.
In an instant, he was behind the caster. His blade pierced the mage's heart. The man gasped, eyes wide, unable to comprehend how Zen had appeared. Had he teleported? Had he blinked through space?
It didn't matter.
Zen drew his sword clean. The mage collapsed, lifeless.
The remaining guards froze. Panic flickered in their eyes. Kael screamed at them to move, but fear had cracked their rhythm.
Zen knew he couldn't use the same trick again. He charged the nearest bandit. Their swords clashed, but Zen's knee drove into the man's chest, sending him flying. Another guard lunged — Zen ducked and summoned a barrage of shadow spikes.
The spikes tore through the air. The guards tried to dodge, but one spike drove through a hand, piercing shoulder to palm. The man screamed.
Zen saw the opening.
He surged forward and sliced the wounded guard's neck. One moment pierced — the next, his head was rolling.
The others were already bleeding. One had a spike in his leg, another in his stomach.
Zen shadow-stepped again.
Two clean strikes.
Two bodies dropped.
Zen stood among broken bodies, his blade glowing faintly, aura flickering like moonlight. Around him lay silence — and in Kael's eyes, something sharper than arrogance now: fear.
Then — movement.
A blur from the shadows.
Red: look out,
Zen turned too late.
Steel tore across his back. He staggered, breath catching. Blood soaked through his cloak.
The hidden guard — the one who hadn't moved, hadn't spoken — now lunged again, blade aimed for Zen's throat.
Zen dropped low, pain screaming through his spine. His eyes burned.
He gripped his sword with both hands.
Drew it downward.
Moonblade — Fall.
Blue aura surged from the blade and crashed down like a tidal wave. The hidden guard was thrown back, screaming. Kael staggered, shielding his face.
Zen stepped forward, breathing ragged.
Kael stumbled, coughing, eyes wide.
"You… you're not supposed to be this strong," he rasped. He tried to run, but Zen was too fast.
Zen didn't answer. He raised his blade.
Voice low. Cold.
"You were too full of yourself," Zen said. "That's why you lost."
One clean strike.
Kael's body hit the ground.
Zen dropped to his knees, coughing blood.
The final strike had cost him more than he could afford — he had forced mana straight from his core, and now his body screamed in protest. His vision blurred, his breath came ragged, and every muscle trembled under the weight of exhaustion.
Red: You need to move. Now. You've made too much noise. If the bandits cleared the beat, they'll be coming.
Zen nodded weakly, forcing himself upright. He glanced down at his body — bruised, burned, slashed from the fight. His cloak was torn beyond use. With shaking hands, he reached into his storage ring and pulled out another, draping it over his shoulders to hide the damage.
He couldn't stay. Not here.
The silence around him felt heavy, dangerous. He had already drawn too much attention. Who knew if the bandits had regrouped, or if Kael's allies were already on their way?
Zen staggered forward, each step a reminder of his limits. His thoughts churned.
He had been reckless. If Kael had brought his full army, he would have been doomed.
But Kael had been arrogant — too sure of himself, too blind to the possibility of failure. That arrogance had cost him everything.
Zen clenched his jaw, blood still staining his lips.
He couldn't rely on arrogance from his enemies. He couldn't rely on luck.
He needed to get stronger.
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