The flames of Black Hollow still crackled in Kael's mind long after the smoke had vanished into the forest canopy. Mira walked behind him, silent and cautious. She had said little since they left the ruins, but her eyes followed Kael like a shadow that refused to be left behind.
He didn't blame her. She had seen what he was capable of what he was willing to do.
And yet, she stayed.
They camped beneath a twisted pine as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting orange fire across the treetops. Kael sat on a fallen log, sharpening Ashveil with a whetstone soaked in blood oil, a soft rasp marking each stroke. Mira huddled near the edge of the clearing, wrapped in a torn cloak from one of the fallen bandits.
"Why did you let me live?" she asked quietly.
Kael didn't look up. "Because you weren't my enemy."
"That's it?"
"That's enough."
She stared at the dirt, fingers clutching her knees. "You killed them all. Even the ones who ran. Even the ones who surrendered."
Kael stopped sharpening.
"They weren't innocent," he said. "Mercy is a luxury I can't afford. Not if I plan to conquer a world built on cruelty."
Mira didn't respond, but she didn't retreat either. After a while, she moved closer to the fire.
"I want to learn," she said.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "To fight?"
"To survive. To become useful."
He studied her for a long moment. She was still fragile, still afraid—but beneath that fear, there was something else. A spark. A beginning.
"You'll train every morning until you bleed," he said finally. "You'll carry your weight. And if you fail me, I won't save you a second time."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. But you will."
The next day marked the beginning of Mira's transformation—and Kael's first steps as a leader.
He trained her as Aria had trained him: without sympathy. He taught her how to move, how to strike, how to draw magic from the veins of the world. She wasn't a natural, but she was stubborn. And in Kael's eyes, that was more valuable than talent.
By the end of the week, she had formed her first flame rune—clumsy, flickering, but real.
"You're Tier 1 now," Kael told her.
She smiled, bruised and dirty. "Does that mean I'm stronger?"
"It means," Kael said, "you've taken your first step toward being feared."
They crossed into the outskirts of Adenfall, a crumbling frontier town bordering no nation, ruled by mercenaries and thieves. It was the perfect place for Kael's next move.
Inside the gate, the air reeked of sweat and cheap liquor. Men spat curses in dark alleys. Women watched from behind barred windows. The local enforcers thugs in red armor kept the peace with swords instead of laws.
Perfect chaos.
Kael walked straight into the center of the town square, Mira at his side.
He raised his voice.
"I am Kael of the Black Flame. I seek warriors, mages, and any soul too angry to die quietly. Join me, and I will give you purpose. Stand against me… and I will burn your name from memory."
A long silence followed.
Then, someone laughed.
A large man stepped forward, muscles wrapped in chainmail. "You've got fire, boy. But this isn't your throne."
Kael didn't argue.
He unleashed Tier 2 fire magic, incinerating the man in an instant.
The square went silent begun this time in awe.
Ten people dropped to their knees.
Kael's army had begun.