The world outside the castle did not care who Kael was.
That became clear within a single day.
No one bowed.
No one stepped aside.
No one feared him.
At first, Kael found it strange.
Then… he found it honest.
By the afternoon, hunger returned.
Kael stopped by a stream to drink water. As he straightened up, his senses tightened.
Footsteps.
Three figures emerged from the trees.
Bandits.
Their gazes swept over him, lingering on his clothes.
"Looks easy," one of them said.
Kael remained still.
He did not reach for a weapon.
He had none.
"I have nothing worth taking," Kael said.
The bandit laughed. "Then you'll be good practice."
They moved.
Kael exhaled.
So this is my first test.
The first bandit rushed him, dagger raised. Kael dodged instinctively, leaning to the side. The blade barely grazed his shoulder.
Sharp, but predictable.
Kael's fists clenched. He struck forward—not thinking, just moving. His knuckles hit the bandit's stomach with a solid crack. The man doubled over.
The second bandit charged from behind. Kael twisted, using the first bandit as a pivot, and slammed an elbow into the second man's jaw. He stumbled, dazed.
The third bandit froze.
"You… you're just a kid!" he shouted.
Kael didn't respond. He only observed, moving like a shadow, dodging strikes, landing counterattacks.
Each movement came naturally, like his body remembered pain and punishment, and used it as strength.
A warmth surged in his body—soft at first, then growing stronger. His reflexes sharpened. His movements became faster, more precise.
This… power… Kael thought. It responds to me.
He dodged a dagger swipe, spun, and sent a roundhouse kick to the bandit's chest. The man was thrown back into the dirt, coughing.
The first bandit tried to stand. Kael's eyes narrowed. With a simple step, he grabbed the man's arm, twisted it behind his back, and pushed him to the ground. The man gasped in pain but could not resist.
The third bandit, realizing he was alone, hesitated. Kael didn't strike immediately. He only waited. Calm. Observant. Ready.
The man lunged desperately, but Kael sidestepped and tripped him with a sweep of his leg. He fell hard.
All three bandits lay in the dirt, bruised and beaten, but still alive.
Kael breathed heavily. His fists and legs were red and scraped, but the warm aura faded gently.
Kael looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly, bruised and red.
So this is strength, he thought.
Not given. Earned.
He picked up a few coins from the bandits' pouches and a short dagger. Food and a cloak were more important than anything else right now.
As he walked away from the defeated bandits, Kael's mind was already on the next step. Hunger. Survival. Growth.
If he wanted the crown, he needed more than anger.
He needed control.
And far away, in the royal capital, rumors would soon begin to stir: a young fighter, calm, efficient, unafraid, walking the roads alone.
(To be continued)