The night after the sect gathering was cold. A faint mist rolled down from the peaks, covering the Azure Sect in silence. Lanterns burned faintly on the stone paths, but most disciples were asleep. The air was still, but inside Kael's chest burned a fire that refused to die.
The humiliation he had suffered during the gathering replayed in his mind again and again. The laughter, the mocking voices, and most of all, the Saintess's cold words. They cut him deeper than blades.
He lay in his tiny room, eyes open, staring at the wooden ceiling. The whisper of Soul Dominion stirred in his veins, restless and hungry. It told him something simple, something primal.
You are not weak. You are not prey. Take what you desire. Tear down those who mock you. Feed on them.
For a long time, Kael resisted. He had hidden his power since rebirth, too cautious to reveal it. But tonight, his heart was too heavy. His rage demanded release.
A memory came to him — the sneering face of one disciple. Joren.
Joren was a tall outer disciple with sharp features and a cruel smile. During the gathering, he had laughed the loudest. "Trash!" he had shouted in front of everyone. "Better to feed pigs than waste food on you!" Even the elders had smirked at his words.
Kael sat up slowly, his breath cold in the night air. His decision was made.
"Joren," he whispered. "You will be my first."
---
The Hunt
Kael left his room in silence. His thin body moved carefully, avoiding the patrols of night guards. He had walked these paths often, memorizing every shadow, every turn.
The outer disciples' quarters were not far. Wooden houses lined a narrow courtyard, most with doors closed and lanterns out. Only a few windows glowed faintly, showing disciples cultivating through the night.
Kael moved toward one of the houses on the far side. He knew it well. Joren's.
The door was shut, but faint light seeped through the cracks. Joren was awake. Perfect.
Kael's lips curled in a faint smile. He placed his hand against the door. His fingers trembled, not from weakness, but from the rising power within him. He whispered into the wood, calling forth the whispers of his former self.
Soul Dominion — Whisper Bind.
A faint pulse of energy spread through the door, muffled and invisible. Inside, the sounds of movement suddenly slowed. Joren had not sensed it.
Kael slid the door open without a sound.
---
Inside the Room
Joren sat cross-legged on his mat, eyes closed, aura faintly glowing. He was cultivating, drawing in the night's spiritual energy. A half-finished sword lay beside him.
The room smelled of sweat and incense. Scrolls were scattered across the floor.
Joren opened his eyes the moment Kael entered. His expression twisted in annoyance.
"You?" he spat. "What are you doing here, cripple? Get out before I break your useless legs."
Kael did not answer. He stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the floor. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, cold and calm.
Joren laughed, standing to his feet. "What? Come to beg me not to mock you next time? Pathetic." He raised his hand, summoning a small spark of aura, ready to strike.
Kael's voice was low, almost a whisper. "Kneel."
The word carried power. Not loud, not sharp, but heavy. Soul Dominion twisted in the air, sinking into Joren's ears, coiling around his mind.
For a moment, Joren froze. His body trembled. His eyes widened in confusion.
"I… what?"
"Kneel," Kael repeated. His tone was calm, his eyes sharp like blades.
Joren's legs bent before he could stop them. He crashed onto his knees, his face twisted in panic. He struggled, veins standing out on his neck. "What… what is this?!"
Kael stepped closer, the aura around him dark and suffocating. For the first time since his rebirth, he allowed the true shadow of the Devil God to slip free.
"This," Kael said softly, "is the difference between us."
---
The First Kill
Kael placed his hand on Joren's head. The whispers of Soul Dominion grew louder, swirling like a storm. His palm glowed faintly, not with light, but with darkness — a pull, a hunger.
Joren screamed. His aura flared wildly, but it was useless. The power inside him was being ripped away, thread by thread, pulled into Kael's hand.
His body shook violently. His eyes bulged with terror. "Stop! Please! I… I was wrong! Don't—!"
Kael's expression did not change. He looked down with cold eyes, watching as Joren's strength was torn from him.
The energy flowed into Kael's body, hot and sharp. His crippled flesh burned, but instead of tearing apart, it absorbed, it drank deeply. For the first time since rebirth, he felt his veins fill with strength. His heart pounded, his body shuddered, his soul roared.
It was intoxicating.
Joren's screams weakened. His face grew pale, his body thin. His aura dimmed until nothing remained. Finally, his head dropped forward, lifeless.
Kael released him, letting the empty shell of a disciple fall to the floor.
For a moment, silence filled the room. Only Kael's ragged breathing echoed in the dark. His hands shook, his body trembled, but his eyes blazed with satisfaction.
"Power…" he whispered. "At last."
---
The Taste of Blood
Kael stood over the corpse. Blood dripped from Joren's nose and mouth, staining the floor. His eyes were wide open, frozen in terror.
Kael crouched beside him, staring into those dead eyes. He felt no pity, no regret. Only calm.
"You mocked me," he said softly. "Now you feed me."
His fingers brushed the blood on the floor. He lifted them to his lips, tasting it. The metallic tang spread across his tongue. His eyes closed. A deep shiver ran through him.
"This is the first," he whispered. "But not the last."
The whispers of Soul Dominion laughed inside his mind, pleased, hungry for more. The taste of blood, the rush of stolen energy — it awakened something in him. His instincts, his lust for power, his true nature.
---
Leaving No Trace
Kael rose and looked around the room. He could not leave the corpse as it was. Suspicion would fall quickly.
He whispered again, his fingers tracing symbols in the air. Dark energy swirled, wrapping around the body. Slowly, Joren's corpse withered further, collapsing inward. Flesh shrank, bones cracked, until nothing remained but a pile of dust.
Kael scattered the dust across the floor and wiped his hand on Joren's mat. To anyone who entered, it would seem Joren had gone missing, vanished into the night.
Kael stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The courtyard was still silent. No one had seen, no one had heard.
---
The Awakening
Back in his small room, Kael sat cross-legged. He closed his eyes and focused.
The energy he had stolen coursed through him, filling every part of his body. The pain of weakness faded slightly. His once-limp muscles grew firmer. His aura, once invisible, now flickered faintly around him.
It was small, but it was power. Real, undeniable power.
Kael opened his eyes and smiled in the dark. His teeth gleamed faintly.
"I am no longer prey," he said softly. "This is only the beginning."
He thought of Lira, of her cold gaze, of her cruel words before the sect. His heart burned with hunger.
"You will laugh no more, Saintess," he whispered. "When I take you, I will already be stronger than any of you can imagine."
Outside, the wind howled softly. The night carried the scent of blood.
Kael leaned back, letting the shadows embrace him. He had taken his first step. The path ahead was dark, but it was his.
And he would walk it with blood.