Theo's breath came in heavy bursts, sweat trailing down his brow as he swung the curved naga-forged blade through the air. Each strike was deliberate, his stance sharp, his footwork growing steadier by the hour. He remembered the flowing motions that the Shiri had once demonstrated—the way the blade was meant to slither like water, coil like a serpent, and then strike with a sudden, deadly snap.
Again and again, he traced the movements into the dirt, his body screaming with exhaustion yet his heart burning hotter with every repetition.
Stronger. I need to be stronger.
Flint's pained groan echoed in his memory. His friend's arm had been cleaned and bandaged tightly with makeshift wrappings, still trembling whenever he tried to move it. Theo had sat by his side, watching him grit his teeth through the pain, and something had snapped inside of him.
Determination flooded his veins like fire, and now, as his blade cut through the still air, something strange stirred within. His eyes gleamed faintly, not with the light of fatigue but with a strange awakening glow—faint, yet undeniable.
The kabolts around him, usually desiplined and confident, had gone silent. Flint, sitting against a stone with his arm in a sling, stared at Theo with unblinking eyes. The others shifted uneasily, their instincts sharp enough to feel the pressure gathering around the young man. But it wasn't fear.
It was awe.
"This kid…" one kabolt whispered under his breath. "He's changing."
Theo exhaled sharply, driving the blade into a final thrust before letting it drop to his side. His chest heaved, but his grip was steady. He didn't know what was happening to him—only that something deep within was responding to his will, shaping itself in answer to his need for power.
And Theo welcomed it.
Far away, in a dimly lit tent nestled in the bandits' hidden camp, Valen sat cross-legged at a rough-hewn table. His sharp features were half-bathed in lantern light, eyes narrowing as one of his men knelt before him, battered but alive.
"You're telling me," Valen said slowly, "that a group of mere kabolts slaughtered your squad?"
The man swallowed hard. "Y-yes, boss. But they weren't normal kabolts. They were… bigger. Taller than a man, with scales on their hides. They fought like soldiers."
Murmurs broke out among the gathered lieutenants. Bandits exchanged incredulous glances, some scoffing, others frowning.
"That's impossible," one sneered. "Kabolts are nothing but oversized mutts. Wolfe-sized, furry, mangy. You expect us to believe they've grown scales?"
The survivor shook his head desperately. "I swear it! And there was a boy with them… small, but dangerous. He fought like someone possessed."
Valen drummed his fingers against the wood, considering. His second-in-command leaned forward, voice low and sharp.
"Even if your story is true, those things aren't strong enough to threaten us. Not unless you're saying a pack of animals is worth worrying about."
Valen's lips twisted into a thin smile. "Then prove it. Take some of the seasoned men, scout the territory, and confirm it for me. If the kabolts are truly changing… then I want to know why."
The lieutenants nodded, smirking with confidence.
"A handful of beasts won't stop us."
Half a day later, the scouting band trudged through thick brush, weapons at the ready. They moved cautiously, wary of ambushes, until the jagged silhouette of Kairo's territory wall loomed in the distance.
"See?" one of them scoffed. "Nothing but a half-built wall and empty land. Where are your scaled kabolts now?"
But before they could laugh further, a chill spread through the air. Shadows thickened unnaturally, curling along the ground like living things. From the darkness ahead, a figure emerged— cloaked in black mist, eyes glowing like dying embers.
The Shadow Reaper, Onyx.
The bandits froze, panic creeping into their faces.
"The hell is that?!" one shouted. "That ain't no kabolt!"
"Undead!" another hissed. "Nobody said anything about an undead!"
Onyx did not speak. He simply leveled his obsidian lance, the weapon humming with malice.
The bandits roared and charged, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
The first fell before his weapon even moved—shadows lashed upward, impaling him through his own outline. Another screamed as Onyx blurred forward, his lance carving cleanly through bone and flesh. One tried to break away, running in blind terror, but his shadow was pinned by a black spike erupting from the ground. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't move.
Onyx loomed over him, silent and merciless.
"Take him," came Kairo's distant voice, echoing through the reaper's mind.
Onyx lifted the struggling man by the throat and dragged him back toward the fortress.
Inside the territory, Kairo stood with Shiri, watching the interrogation unfold. The captured bandit trembled as Onyx's presence loomed over him, but it was Kairo's steady, calculating gaze that truly broke his nerves.
"Your leader," Kairo said calmly, "what's his name?"
"V-Valen," the man stammered. "He's the strongest of us. Stronger than anyone I've seen. You don't stand a chance against him."
Kairo's expression didn't shift. "Stronger than Karhux?"
The bandit blinked. "Kar… who?"
Shiri smirked faintly. "Then not even close."
Bit by bit, they pried more information from him—about the bandits' camp, their numbers, and their leaders. When they were done, Kairo gave a small nod.
"Release him."
The bandit's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y-you're letting me go?"
"Yes," Kairo said evenly.
But the place they left him was far from safe. It was a rotting valley just beyond the cleared borders, where undead horrors still lingered. Before long, his screams were lost in the night.
Back at the bandit camp, Valen frowned as he counted the missing. The scouting party should have returned hours ago. Instead, silence.
He rose to his feet, his aura pressing down on the gathered bandits like a storm.
"Something's wrong," he growled. "They should have been back by now."
His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, eyes burning with anticipation.
"If someone thinks they can defy me…" he muttered, "then I'll grind them into dust."
Far away, on his own wall, Kairo stood with Onyx at his side, gaze turned toward the horizon where the bandit camp lay hidden.
"It's only a matter of time," he said quietly. "They'll come."
And in the distance, Valen was saying the same.
"Prepare for war."