The Banquet and The Execution

The sound of water splashing against flesh echoed through the silent forest.

Two disciples of the Rising Stone Sect jolted awake, their heads throbbing with pain. Dazed and disoriented, they found themselves bound together, back-to-back, against the rough bark of a towering tree.

"W-What in the..." one of them stammered, his voice still slurred from exhaustion and pain.

"Is this one of your pranks?" the other grumbled, still trying to shake off the grogginess.

"What are you talking about?!" his companion snapped. "What the fuck are you talking about?! I have nothing to do with this—I ha—"

CLANK!

A metal bucket slammed into his face, cutting off his protest.

"Ugh!" he groaned, shaking his head. His blurry vision settled on the masked figure standing before them. The dim moonlight filtering through the trees illuminated a tall, imposing silhouette.

"Huh... w-who are you?" the first disciple stuttered, his voice unsteady.

"I have a few questions," the masked figure said coolly.

His voice was calm, steady—but it carried an undeniable weight.

"Wh-What? Who are you?!"

"We're disciples of the Rising Stone Se—"

Before he could finish, a sword pierced straight into the emblem of the Rising Stone Sect embroidered on his chest.

"AKH!!"

The disciple gasped in pain, his body seizing up as the cold steel barely missed his flesh. His companion flinched, eyes wide in terror.

"I'm the one asking questions here," Kazel said flatly.

The wounded disciple whimpered, his breath ragged.

Kazel picked up a rough stone from the ground and, without hesitation, shoved it into his mouth, silencing his cries. The muffled protests faded into weak, desperate whimpers.

Then, Kazel turned to the other disciple.

The second disciple was already shaking. His eyes darted frantically between Kazel and his gagged companion.

"I will tell you everything! P-Please don't kill me!" he blurted out, his voice cracking.

Kazel didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned away and sat down on a large stone nearby, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed yet commanding posture. His masked face remained unreadable, but the pressure in the air was suffocating.

"Do you recall a banquet?" he finally asked.

"A-A banquet?"

Kazel's sharp gaze locked onto him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Y-Yes!!" the disciple yelped. "It was the banquet held at our sect! The genius disciples of other sects attended too! I-I was there because our sect was the host!"

Kazel's fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword. "Hmm... Tell me about the events that transpired that night."

The disciple gulped. His body trembled as he struggled to recall the details, knowing that his life depended on his next words.

The tied disciple struggled against his bindings, his throat dry as he recalled the events of the banquet.

"It was a lively banquet," he began hastily. "There were plenty of fancy foods—hard names to remember, but easy tastes to savor."

Kazel's fingers tapped against the hilt of his sword impatiently.

"Get on with it."

"Y-Yes!" The disciple flinched. "I saw what happened! A boy named Kazel collapsed in the middle of the banquet. He was having a seizure, and I saw his chalice roll across the floor, spilling wine everywhere."

Kazel's eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam flashing within them.

"Who gave him the wine?"

The disciple hesitated for a moment, but the pressure in the air became suffocating. He swallowed hard before answering.

"It was given by his ex-fiancée, Salma… She's our sect's head disciple," he said, his voice trembling.

Kazel's face darkened instantly.

"I see," he muttered, his tone laced with ice. "Is that all?"

The disciple hesitated again. His lips quivered, his forehead dripping with sweat.

"I-It turns out that, after that…"

"Spill it."

"Not long after the banquet, Salma annulled the engagement. She… she immediately accepted a new arranged marriage—with Yuanggai from the Jade Lotus Sect."

Kazel's expression remained unreadable beneath the mask, but his silence spoke volumes.

"And what did she say about this?" he finally asked.

"She went on with it like nothing happened," the disciple admitted. "But… some disciples overheard the elders talking in secret. They were involved—at least, that's what the rumors say. But there is no solid proof!"

Kazel exhaled sharply. His fingers twitched, aching to grab his sword and carve out the truth himself.

"Last question," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Did an old physician visit your sect recently?"

"Y-Yes!" The disciple nodded frantically. "It was Old Fu. He came to see our sect master—Patriarch Weh."

Kazel leaned forward slightly. "And what about his face? Did you catch a glimpse of it?"

The disciple furrowed his brows in thought. "He… now that you mention it, he looked agitated. I don't know why, but he seemed nervous the whole time he was there."

Kazel went silent. His grip on his sword tightened.

[The bastards…]

Then, he grinned under his mask. His grin turned into a chuckle, and soon, a full, unhinged laugh echoed through the forest.

The two disciples shivered. Their bound bodies tensed, unsure whether the laughter was good or bad.

The one who had been speaking mustered the courage to ask, "W-Will you let us go?"

Kazel's laughter subsided. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the request.

Then, in a slow and deliberate motion, he removed his mask.

The two disciples' eyes widened in horror. Their pupils shrank to mere trembling dots.

Their faces drained of color, their breathing became erratic.

Kazel's smirk deepened. "You tell me..."

"K-Kazel?" one of them stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The air was thick with tension. The two bound disciples felt it like a noose tightening around their throats. They weren't just staring at a boy—they were staring at something far worse. A storm given form.

They all remembered Kazel's last visit to the sect. How he had confronted Salma, the way the other disciples had whispered behind his back, mocking him, belittling him. They had laughed at his suffering, his weakness.

But now, they were the ones shaking.

One of them, desperate to grasp at anything, blurted out, "K-Kazel! Think about what happens after this! You will offend the Rising Stone Sect—do you really want anything to happen to your little family?"

It was a desperate attempt, a final gambit.

The other disciple, however, realized something horrifying. Kazel did not care.

No—Kazel had already proven that he did not give a single flying fuck about the Rising Stone Sect's power. He had made that clear when he had driven his sword straight through the sect's symbol on their robes, defiling it without a second thought.

Kazel took a step forward, his sword catching the moonlight like a silver fang.

"What happens after?" he echoed, his voice a chilling whisper.

The disciple's breath hitched.

"There will be no Rising Stone Sect."

Before the words could even sink in, Kazel's blade thrust forward, piercing straight through the disciple's throat. The cold steel embedded itself deep into the tree behind him.

A choked gasp. A garbled attempt at words. Blood gushed, pouring down the disciple's robes in thick, dark streams. His body twitched violently, his wide, horrified eyes looking up at Kazel as if begging for mercy that would never come.

Kazel wrenched his sword free. Viciously.

Flesh tore, the throat split open, and the disciple's head slumped forward lifelessly.

The last disciple—his mouth still filled with the rock Kazel had shoved in earlier—could only watch in absolute horror. His muffled screams were useless.

Kazel turned to him. His expression blank.

Then, with a single, fluid motion, Kazel kicked upward, his foot striking the disciple's jaw with brutal force.

CRACK.

The rock shattered into shards, teeth splintered. His head tilted back unnaturally before his body went limp, slumping lifelessly against the tree.

Silence.

Kazel exhaled. Not a drop of blood touched his face.

Then, from the darkness of the bushes—a pair of eyes watched.

He noticed. He always noticed. But he did not care.

He slid his mask back onto his face and walked away. The eerie stillness of the forest was disturbed only by the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

And then—a growl.

The scent of fresh blood had caught the attention of the spirit beasts lurking in the shadows. The moment Kazel disappeared into the night, they emerged, their glowing eyes locked onto the corpses bound to the tree.

What Kazel had begun, the spirit beasts would finish.

By dawn, there would be nothing left but bloodstained roots and tattered robes.

---

As Kazel returned to the narrow path, his gaze locked onto the Rising Stone Sect in the distance. The towering structures stood proud under the night sky, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. His blue eyes burned—not with rage, but with something far deeper. Redemption. Retribution. Reckoning.

His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. The cool night air did little to soothe the fire raging within him.

They thought they had buried him.They thought he was nothing more than a forgotten corpse.

But Kazel was very much alive. And soon—they would wish he wasn't.

Above him, the moon disappeared behind a shroud of black clouds, as if nature itself refused to bear witness to what was coming.

The Rising Stone Sect had cast him aside.

Now, the time to return the favor came ever so close, like a bomb waiting to explode.