The capital city of Altheria glittered in the distance, unaware of the storm quietly approaching.
Kael stood atop a cliff overlooking the path his betrayers had taken. Their tracks, blurred to the untrained eye, were as clear as ink to him now.
"Skill: Path Trace. Passive."
He didn't walk — he moved. Silent. Absolute. With each step, a skill awakened by pure will alone.
"Skill: Stealth Mastery. Passive."
"Skill: Sensory Map. Passive."
"Skill: Reality Filter. Passive."
The world bent to him, unfolding its secrets without resistance.
One of them — Ronan, the spear wielder — had taken the lion's share of Kael's spoils and bragged loudly at a tavern on the outskirts. He'd always been a loudmouth… and a coward.
Kael entered the tavern without hesitation.
The music stopped. The laughter died.
He didn't speak. He didn't threaten.
He simply raised his hand and whispered:
"Skill: Domain — Absolute Judgment."
A glowing sphere spread around him, freezing everything inside it. Sound. Movement. Even thought.
Ronan turned slowly, forced by the domain's will to face Kael. His eyes widened. His soul screamed.
"You were dead—!"
"Skill: Memory Infliction."
Kael made him feel every second of betrayal — from Kael's eyes. The blade. The pain. The silence. The emptiness.
Ronan fell to his knees, weeping blood.
"Mercy, Kael! Please—"
Kael didn't blink.
"Skill: Erasure Blade."
A flash of black. A scream swallowed by nothingness.
Ronan was gone.
Not dead.
Unmade.
The tavern returned to motion. But Ronan had never been there. No one remembered him. No one spoke his name.
Kael turned and left.
One down. Six to go.