Chapter 3: The First Kill

A predator does not lament its injuries. It does not beg, nor does it wait for mercy.

It watches. It adapts. And when the moment comes—it strikes.

Kael's breath was steady as he pressed himself against the damp stone wall, dagger clenched tightly in his grip. The cold metal felt foreign in his weakened fingers, a far cry from the Crimson Fang he once wielded. But a blade was a blade. A tool for death.

The voices outside the door had grown closer. The guards were laughing, oblivious.

"Think he's dead yet?" one sneered.

"Doubt it," the other chuckled. "That little rat's too stubborn to die. But it won't matter soon. Lord Valorin said to stop feeding him."

Kael's eyes darkened. So, they planned to starve him.

These weren't just careless guards. They were executioners by neglect.

Unacceptable.

He tightened his grip on the dagger. His body was weak, his strength pitiful—but in the art of killing, Kael Drax was a master. He had toppled kingdoms, brought warriors to their knees, and struck down legends.

And he would start again—with these two.

The door creaked as one of the guards reached for the latch. Kael counted the seconds, his muscles coiling despite their frailty. Timing was everything.

The door cracked open.

Kael moved.

In an instant, he lunged forward, his weak body propelled by sheer will. The first guard barely had time to react before Kael's dagger plunged into his throat, silencing his surprise with a wet, gurgling choke.

The second guard's eyes widened in shock. "What the—?!"

Kael ripped the dagger free, blood spraying across the stone wall, and turned. The second guard was already drawing his sword, but he was too slow.

Kael closed the distance between them, his free hand grabbing the man's wrist while his dagger sank into his ribs. A scream began to form—but Kael twisted the blade, puncturing the lung. The sound died in his throat.

The man slumped against the wall, his breath ragged and wet. Dying.

Kael stepped back, watching with cold, unblinking eyes as the life drained from him.

He did not revel in the kill. There was no time for satisfaction.

This was necessity.

When the guard's body finally stilled, Kael let out a slow breath. His own heart pounded, adrenaline burning through his frail limbs. His first kill in this new life.

And it would not be the last.

---

A Predator Awakens

Kael wiped the blood from his dagger onto the guard's tunic, then quickly knelt to search the corpses.

Weapons. Armor. Information.

He stripped the first guard's belt, pulling free a sheath and a short sword—cheaply made, but better than his rusted dagger. He also took a small pouch of bread crumbs and a flask of water. His stomach ached at the sight of food, but he resisted. Survival came first.

Then he turned to the second guard. His body was sturdier, his armor slightly better. Kael worked fast, undoing the man's chest plate and slipping it over his own rags. It was ill-fitting, and his malnourished body barely filled it, but it would do.

A small silver badge caught his eye, pinned to the man's belt. It bore the Valorin crest—a wolf pierced by a dagger.

Kael smirked. Poetic.

Then, footsteps.

Kael's head snapped up. The corridor beyond the door was not empty.

Someone was coming.

No time.

He grabbed the fallen guard's cloak and swung it over himself, pulling the hood low. Then, with careful steps, he stepped over the corpses and into the hall.

The corridor stretched ahead, lit only by flickering torches. The stones were cracked, the air damp with age. A forgotten wing of the Valorin estate.

And his prison.

Until now.

---

A World That Forgot Him

Kael walked with slow, measured steps, his stolen cloak masking his frail frame. If he looked too weak, too desperate, suspicion would follow.

His mind was already working through the next steps.

Escape. Strength. Power. Revenge.

He had no intention of living as a discarded prince.

A door opened ahead, and Kael barely spared a glance as a servant passed by. The man gave him only a brief look before continuing, not recognizing him.

Good.

His stolen armor and badge had worked.

Kael pressed forward. His body still ached, his limbs weak—but his will was stronger than it had ever been. He had been given a second chance, and he would not waste it.

He reached the end of the hall, where a large iron door stood slightly ajar. Beyond it, the distant sound of voices and the scent of roasted meat wafted through.

The barracks.

A risk. But also an opportunity.

Kael's lips curled into a faint smirk. He could almost hear his old generals whispering in his mind.

A wolf does not run from the den. It takes it for its own.

He stepped inside.

---

The First Step Toward Power

The barracks were dimly lit, filled with wooden bunks and scattered weapons. A few guards lingered at a far table, laughing over their drinks. They hadn't noticed him yet.

Kael moved with purpose, scanning the room.

His goal was simple—better weapons, better armor, and a map.

His eyes landed on a set of training gear in the corner. Nothing fancy—leather armor, a steel dagger, and a longsword.

Perfect.

Kael reached for the longsword, its weight unfamiliar in his weak hands. A cheap blade, but balanced. He took a slow breath, adjusting his grip.

His muscles ached. His body protested.

But his mind was sharp.

With each passing second, he could feel it returning. The instincts. The training. The killer he once was.

Then—

"Hey!"

Kael didn't flinch. He turned slowly as one of the guards rose from the table, squinting at him.

"You're not one of the usuals. Who the hell are you?"

Kael didn't hesitate. He acted.

His free hand shot out, grabbing a nearby mug of ale, and with a swift motion, he threw it into the man's face.

The guard stumbled back with a curse, and Kael closed the distance.

Before the others could react, he drove his dagger into the man's gut, twisting it deep.

A scream barely left the guard's lips before Kael yanked the blade free, spinning to face the others.

Silence fell.

The remaining two guards stared, stunned. Then, their hands darted for their weapons.

Kael smiled.

Let them come.