The night air was split with ragged breathing. Ragnar's body trembled as he staggered forward, bloodied and bruised, the jagged shard of his katana glinting faintly in the moonlight. Adrian mirrored him—shirt in tatters, blood streaming down his arms and chest, knuckles split open and raw.
They were moments from the end.
Ragnar snarled, voice shredded from the fight. "One more strike."
Adrian grinned, eyes wild. "One more's all I need."
They lunged. Ragnar's katana swung in a desperate, horizontal arc, aimed to cleave across Adrian's throat. Adrian's fist shot forward like a cannon, aiming squarely for Ragnar's skull.
Then—
Both attacks stopped dead.
Ragnar blinked, confused, before his eyes widened. Adrian's punch hadn't landed. Ragnar's blade hadn't cut. Both were caught—frozen midair.
Standing between them, as if he'd always been there, was Kael.
One hand lazily gripped Adrian's fist, the other forearm angled just right to block the jagged edge of Ragnar's blade. His expression wasn't one of effort—his body hadn't even shifted from its casual, relaxed posture. His hair fell loosely across his forehead, his eyes half-lidded, as though this wasn't a battle but a passing inconvenience.
"...Kael?" Adrian's voice cracked between shock and rage.
Ragnar's throat went dry. He hadn't even felt Kael's presence. One second he'd been lunging for Adrian's throat, the next—the strongest man in Valhalla was standing there, looking at them both like children caught brawling in the dirt.
Kael sighed. "I'm disappointed, Adrian."
Adrian tried to pull his fist back, but Kael's grip didn't move. It was like punching into solid iron. "Tch… disappointed?"
"You were given a task." Kael's tone was flat, almost bored. His eyes shifted from Adrian to Ragnar, then back again. "Not to play. Not to bleed all over the mountain like some undisciplined rookie."
Adrian gritted his teeth. "He's not some rookie. He's Ragnar. The demonic sword—"
"Titles," Kael cut him off, still calm, still holding them both as if they weighed nothing. "That's all it is. A man clinging to a broken blade. If you'd stopped playing around, this fight would already be over."
Ragnar bristled, forcing his blade harder against Kael's forearm—but the steel didn't even scratch him. It was as if Kael's skin was harder than tempered steel.
"Don't ignore me like I'm nothing," Ragnar snarled, pressing harder.
Kael's eyes finally flicked toward him. There was no heat in them, no malice—just cold indifference. "You're not nothing," he said evenly. "You're an obstacle. And obstacles don't decide when they're relevant."
Ragnar felt his chest tighten. For the first time in years, he tasted something he hated—fear.
Kael released them both with a simple push, sending Ragnar staggering backward several steps and Adrian stumbling away like a drunk who'd been shoved too hard.
The silence that followed was heavier than any strike. Even the night insects seemed to fall quiet.
Kael straightened his collar, as though he'd just arrived at a formal dinner instead of stopping two killers mid-fight. His voice was light, conversational, as if he hadn't just dismissed their struggle with one hand.
"Daniel."
Both Ragnar and Adrian stilled at the name.
Kael slipped his hands into his pockets, his tone steady and nonchalant. "You're both obsessed with him in your own way. Ragnar—your 'student.' Adrian—your target. And here you are, wasting time tearing each other apart instead of focusing on him."
Adrian spat blood to the side. "The kid's strong, Kael. Stronger than he should be. One month doesn't turn a weakling into someone who can take down Ares."
Kael tilted his head, half-smile creeping across his face. "Which means he wasn't a weakling to begin with. He's hiding more than he shows. And that," he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, "makes him dangerous."
Ragnar's laugh was sharp, bitter. "You think you scare me with your ranker games? Daniel's not your pawn. He's his own man—and he's going to tear Valhalla apart from the inside."
Kael's expression didn't change. "Then he'll be crushed before he can."
"You underestimate him," Ragnar snapped. His knuckles whitened on the broken katana. "That boy… he's got fire none of you can snuff out."
Kael glanced at him, calm as a stone. "I don't underestimate anyone. I measure them. And Daniel?" He shrugged faintly. "He's promising. But promises don't mean survival."
Adrian leaned against the shattered remains of the cabin, wiping blood from his chin. "So what do we do? Keep playing this little hunt?"
Kael stepped forward, the ground seeming to still under his feet. Even Adrian stiffened at his presence.
"We don't play," Kael said flatly. "We wait. We watch. And when Daniel makes his next move, we cut off the hand that strikes before it grows into a fist too large to stop."
He turned his eyes back to Ragnar, pinning him in place with nothing but his gaze. "And as for you… you've shown your hand. Your student isn't a secret anymore. You'll stay alive—for now. Barely. Not because you're worth sparing, but because Daniel needs to see what happens when someone fights against Valhalla."
Ragnar's breath hitched, but he didn't back down. "If you come for him…" He raised the jagged blade, defiant despite his trembling body. "You'll have to cut through me first."
Kael smiled—not wide, not cruel. Just… entertained. "Good."
The smile vanished as quickly as it came. He turned his back on them both, walking into the night without looking over his shoulder. His voice carried like a blade slicing through the silence.
"Daniel will rise. That much is clear. The question is—does he rise as one of us? Or does he rise only to fall?"
And with that, Kael was gone—leaving Ragnar bloodied, Adrian simmering, and the air heavy with the promise of something greater looming over Valhalla.