Night wrapped the castle in silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy stillness that settled before blood was spilled. The moon hung low, pale light washing over stone walls that had already seen too much death to care for more. Torches burned along the outer grounds, their flames steady, unbothered by wind.
Kaelis felt it before she saw it.
The disturbance came like a ripple through the air, subtle but unmistakable. A presence she had known for most of her life. Familiar. Disgusting.
Her clan.
She stepped out into the open courtyard, hand already resting on the hilt of her blade. Shadows clung to the edges of the walls, thickening unnaturally. Movement followed. One shadow became two. Two became many.
They emerged silently, dressed in the same black garb she once wore. Masks carved with sigils of obedience. Controlled breathing. Perfect formation.
Assassins.
Dozens of them.
Then more.
They poured from the darkness like a tide, spreading across rooftops, walls, and ground alike. Kaelis counted automatically, habit ingrained deeper than thought.
Eighty. Ninety. A hundred.
Among them, she felt heavier presences. The elders. The true masters of the clan. The ones who had shaped her, broken others, and called it refinement.
They had come for answers.
The moment their gazes locked onto her, recognition flashed through the ranks. Surprise. Disbelief. Then certainty.
She was alive.
And she was a traitor.
They did not speak. The clan never wasted words when blades could answer faster.
They attacked.
Steel screamed through the air.
Kaelis moved.
Her body reacted instantly, flowing into motion with lethal familiarity. She parried the first strike, spun low, severed a tendon, redirected a second blade into its owner's throat. Blood sprayed across the stone.
She did not hesitate.
She could not afford to.
They came from all directions at once. Above. Below. Behind. She twisted, rolled, struck, every movement precise. Her blades danced through flesh and bone, cutting down assassins who had once trained beside her.
One fell. Then another. Then three more.
But they did not stop.
They never did.
This was how the clan fought. Overwhelm. Exhaust. Crush.
Kaelis leapt back, barely avoiding a poisoned dart that embedded itself in the stone where her head had been. She slashed through its shooter mid-air, landing hard, already pivoting to block a spear thrust.
She was the strongest assassin the clan had ever produced.
But even the strongest blade dulled when struck a hundred times at once.
Minutes passed like hours.
Her breathing remained controlled, but sweat slicked her skin. Cuts began to accumulate, shallow but numerous. Blood ran down her arm, warm and distracting.
She killed without mercy, without pause, but for every assassin that fell, two more replaced them.
Then the elders stepped in.
Their presence shifted the battlefield instantly.
The pressure increased. Movements became sharper. Attacks more coordinated. They anticipated her steps before she took them. These were the ones who had trained her personally. The ones who knew every weakness she possessed.
A chain weapon wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off balance. She sliced it apart mid-fall, rolled, barely avoiding a killing blow aimed at her neck.
She rose, chest heaving slightly.
She was being pushed back.
Driven toward the center of the courtyard.
Toward exhaustion.
And then she felt it.
That presence.
The air changed.
The assassins did not notice at first. They were too focused on their prey. Too committed to the kill.
Vaelor stood atop the castle wall.
He had not teleported. Had not announced himself. He was simply there, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
Watching.
He did not intervene.
Kaelis felt it immediately.
Anger surged through her, sharp and unwelcome. Not fear. Not desperation.
Fury.
He was watching her struggle.
Watching her bleed.
She cut down another assassin with unnecessary force, blade sinking deeper than required. Her movements grew harsher, more reckless.
She hated that he was there.
Hated that he was not helping.
But she could not complain.
She had chosen this fight.
The elders pressed harder, sensing weakness. One of them struck her side, the blow glancing but deep enough to draw blood. Pain flared. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
A blade pierced her shoulder.
Another grazed her thigh.
She staggered back, vision blurring slightly.
This was the end.
She knew it.
Not because she lacked strength.
But because numbers were merciless.
She dropped to one knee, blades still raised, defiant even as blood pooled beneath her. The assassins closed in, weapons raised for the final strike.
And then the night ended.
Vaelor moved.
There was no dramatic buildup. No warning. No surge of visible energy.
He raised one hand.
The world seemed to pause.
Then it broke.
A wave of pressure exploded outward from his position, invisible yet absolute. The ground cracked instantly, stone shattering as if struck by a divine hammer. Every assassin froze mid-motion, bodies locking in place as if seized by an unseen force.
Then they died.
Not one by one.
All at once.
Their bodies collapsed into dust and blood, erased so completely that even their screams never formed. The elders did not fare better. Their defenses shattered instantly, their existences snuffed out like candles before a storm.
Silence returned.
Kaelis stared.
Her mind struggled to process what her eyes had witnessed. A hundred assassins. Elders who had terrified kingdoms. Gone.
With a single attack.
Vaelor stepped down into the courtyard, walking through the remains without looking at them. His gaze settled on Kaelis.
She expected something. Reproach. Mockery. Praise.
There was nothing.
He reached her, knelt, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Warmth spread instantly, pain fading as wounds sealed themselves, flesh restoring as if time itself obeyed him.
He stood.
Kaelis remained kneeling, fists clenched, anger still burning in her chest.
He had waited.
He could have ended it instantly.
He chose not to.
As he turned to leave, the blood-stained courtyard illuminated by moonlight behind him, Kaelis understood something terrifying.
This was not cruelty born of malice.
This was control.
And she had just learned how small she truly was in his world.