Chapter 33
Rain fell softly over the rooftops of Calvenne, washing the cobblestones of the day's excesses. Kael, seated in a secluded corner of a smoky tavern, listened absently to the murmur of conversations around him. His illusion still held, giving his face a plain, forgettable appearance, but his mind was elsewhere.
A merchant, freshly arrived from the southern roads, spoke in an animated voice:
"... and the city of Noxtera prospers! They say the new master has brought it back to life, ruling with an iron order. Trade flourishes, and even the guilds dare not challenge his authority."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. Noxtera.
The city he had entrusted to his ally. So the seeds he had planted were bearing fruit. The shadow he had left behind had grown into a very real force.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He manages it well… exactly as I intended.
But the relief barely settled when another conversation caught his ear. At a nearby table, two adventurers, covered in dust, spoke in hushed voices.
"Did you hear? The old heroes, the ones they called the Flames of Dawn, have resurfaced."
"Impossible. They vanished after their victory, didn't they?"
"Not all of them. Some still wander. Their renown spreads even now… especially since they once defeated…"
The man lowered his voice, but Kael had no trouble catching the words.
"… a Demon King, years ago."
The Weight of Memory
Kael's chest tightened. The voices around him faded, replaced by a distant echo. Memories of his humiliation resurfaced, searing as if they had been carved into his flesh.
Flashback
He saw himself again, standing amid the ruins of a temple, his aura of mana crackling around him. His frail body trembled, but he refused to see it as weakness.
I am the heir of the eternal flames! he had proclaimed, eyes burning with pride.
Before him, they stood:
Sir Dorian, the paladin, clad in gleaming armor, wielding a blessed blade that pulsed with unbearable light.
Maelis, the enchantress, her songs of radiance scattering his illusions like mist.
Thorne, the colossus, his runed axe cleaving the air with inhuman strength.
Isolde, the priestess, her prayers sealing her allies' wounds and restraining Kael's black flames.
Together, they had formed an unbreakable wall.
Kael remembered the exact moment when his mana overflowed, when his body failed to contain the infinite. His veins had burned, his muscles torn apart.
One knee on the ground, gasping, he had looked up at the advancing heroes.
Their strikes had not only shattered his body but crushed his arrogance.
He had screamed in rage, before everything vanished in a blaze of white pain.
Back to the Present
Kael opened his eyes. His glass trembled in his hand.
He drew a slow breath, steadying the dark fury that threatened to erupt.
The adventurers laughed, unaware of the man they spoke of sitting just a few steps away.
Kael rose slowly, a dark gleam in his gaze.
You believe you triumphed over an immature demon. But that was only the beginning.
He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the mana pulse through his veins. His body was still frail, but it had hardened. And his mind was no longer the arrogant thing it had once been.
A cold smile formed on his hidden face.
"When our paths cross again… there will be no second victory for you."
Outside, the rain kept falling, as if to seal a silent promise.