Kael's arrival was not accompanied by thunder.
There were no flashes in the sky, nor waves of mana tearing through the air.
He simply arrived.
The imperial road stretched wide and immaculate before the enormous gates of the Imperial Capital, colossal walls of white stone and runic steel that had repelled invasions by entire armies. Surveillance runes glowed faintly along the towers, sensing every approaching flow of mana.
Kael walked alone.
Calm steps. Steady pace. Completely controlled aura.
Still, when he approached within fifty ters of the main gate, sothing changed.
The detection crystals began to vibrate.
The front guard soldiers—experienced n and won, veterans of campaigns against monsters and rebellions—looked at each other, tense. One of them raised his hand.
"Halt!" shouted the front guard, wielding his runic spear. "Identify yourself!"
Kael stopped.
He closed his eyes for a second.
And sighed.
"...Damn," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "Not again."
He opened his eyes and stared at the guard, tired but without hostility.
"Man," he said in an almost pleading tone, "this has happened before. Years ago. Right here."
The guard frowned, confused.
"You need to identify yourself," he repeated, now more sternly. "Imperial orders. No civilians pass without registration."
Kael tilted his head slightly.
"I'm not a civilian."
With a simple movent, he reached into his cloak and pulled out an identity seal.
It wasn't flashy.
It didn't shine.
It was just... old.
Made of dark tal, with symbols that were no longer taught in modern academies.
He held out the seal.
"Here."
The guard took the object suspiciously.
And then he looked at it.
The effect was imdiate.
His eyes widened.
His breath faltered.
The color drained from his face as if soone had forcibly drained his blood.
"...I-I..." The spear fell from his hands with a tallic clang. "I-Is that..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the guard fainted, falling hard backward.
"... " Kael closed his eyes. "Of course."
"GUARD?!" another soldier shouted, running up to him. "What happened?!"
Three soldiers quickly approached, weapons raised, tension at its peak.
"What did you do to him?!" one of them demanded.
Kael calmly pointed to the seal that was still in the limp hand of the unconscious guard.
"He looked at this."
One of the soldiers picked up the seal.
He looked at it.
He froze.
"...Ah."
The second soldier leaned in to see it too.
"...Ah."
The third arrived shortly after.
"...Ah."
Two seconds later...
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Three more bodies on the floor.
Kael massaged his temples.
"I should start wearing a mask or a fake identity, I don't know... But then again... I have two demons as my mother and grandmother, so of course sothing like this would happen."
Smaller alarms sounded at the top of the wall.
Hurried footsteps echoed.
In less than half a minute, a larger group of soldiers appeared—perfect formation, more refined armor, red capes.
At their head was a middle-aged man with impeccable posture and a tense expression.
The Captain of the Imperial Guard.
He stopped when he saw the bodies on the ground.
Then he looked at Kael.
Then at the seal.
"...," he swallowed hard.
Kael raised the seal again, already resigned.
"Can I skip this part?" he asked. "I am Kael Scarlet."
Absolute silence.
The captain took a deep breath.
He took a step forward.
Another.
He stopped less than two ters from Kael.
"...Prince Kael Scarlet," he said slowly. "Heir to the Kingdom of Witches. Grandson of Queen Eleonor."
He straightened his posture.
"Presud... comatose."
Kael gave a tired smile.
"Surprise."
The captain stood motionless for a full second.
Then his knees buckled.
He knelt abruptly.
"F-forgive us!" he said, his voice trembling. "We were not inford of your awakening! If we had known—"
"It's okay," Kael interrupted quickly, gesturing for him to get up. "Really. Just..." He pointed to the gate. "Let through quickly."
The captain jumped to his feet.
"Y-yes! Of course! Imdiately!"
He turned, barking orders.
"OPEN THE GATES! NOW!"
The capital's enormous doors began to move, runic gears groaning as tons of tal and stone swung aside.
The remaining soldiers were in silent panic.
So tried to wake their unconscious comrades.
Others stared at Kael as if they were facing a walking historical calamity.
A young guard, visibly nervous, approached the captain and whispered:
"C-captain... is it really him?"
The captain swallowed hard.
"Yes."
"The…the Chaotic Prince?"
Kael heard.
"Hey," he said, raising his hand. "I prefer just 'Kael'."
The guard almost cried.
"Y-yes, sir! I an— Kael! Mr. Kael!"
"Breathe," Kael said. "I don't bite."
The guard took a deep breath.
Too deep.
He fainted too.
"…Four," Kael counted ntally.
The captain wiped the sweat from his brow.
"P-forgive again," he said. "The capital is… unprepared."
Kael shrugged.
"I didn't co to announce anything. Just to visit soone."
The captain blinked.
"Soone… important?"
Kael started walking, passing him towards the now open city.
"To , yes."
The imperial city revealed itself beyond the gates: wide streets, elegant buildings, mana flowing in an orderly, stable fashion.
Kael walked among the common people now.
And the effect was imdiate.
Conversations ceased.
Glances turned.
So felt sothing and didn't know what.
Others recognized it instinctively.
Whispers began to spread.
"He… seems normal."
"Why does my chest feel so tight?"
"Who is he?"
Kael kept his pace calmly.
"Alia…" he thought. "I hope you're ready to yell at … But first, I need to go see the Master."
anwhile, in the Imperial Palace, Hela Valroth stopped suddenly mid-sentence.
Alia, beside her, felt a shiver run down her spine.
"…Aunt?" she asked.
Hela placed her hand on her chest, her eyes narrowed.
"Interesting…" she murmured.
"What?"
Hela smiled.
A slow smile.
"It seems soone important has just entered the capital."
Alia felt her heart race without knowing why.
"Important… how?"
Hela looked towards the gates, even though they were miles away.
"The kind that changes the rhythm of the world just by existing."
…
The main mansion of the Ainsworth family echoed with the clear sound of steel.
The inner courtyard—wide, surrounded by ancient columns and carefully pruned trees—was marked by dozens of scars on the stone floor. Each one was the silent record of countless training sessions, duels, and decisions made there over generations.
In the center, two figures still maintained fighting stances.
Irelia breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, causing a few golden strands to cling to her skin. The sword in her hand was still firm, but the muscles in her arms betrayed the recent exertion.
In front of her, Adalric Ainsworth remained relaxed.
The Sword King didn't seem tired. His sword rested on his shoulder, as if the combat had been just a light warm-up. His silver hair, pulled back, swayed gently in the breeze.
He observed her for a few seconds before speaking.
"You've improved a lot," he said with a satisfied smile. "Your cuts are cleaner. Your reaction ti has been cut almost in half. And your control of intent…" he tilted his head, "...finally stopped leaking."
Irelia exhaled slowly.
With a quick movent, she sheathed her sword and picked up the towel lying on a nearby bench, drying her face and neck without ceremony.
"It's still not enough," she replied, without looking at him.
Adalric raised an eyebrow.
"No?" he asked, amused. "Most swordsn on the continent would die happy reaching that level before thirty."
"Most swordsn don't walk alongside Kael," she retorted firmly.
She lowered her towel and stared directly at him.
"If I want to keep up with him… if I don't want to be left behind again…" her voice didn't waver, "I need to be stronger. Much stronger."
The courtyard fell silent for a mont.
Then Adalric laughed.
An open, loud, sincere laugh that echoed through the mansion's columns.
"Hahaha!" he approached and, without asking permission, ruffled her golden hair forcefully enough to completely undo her hairstyle. "You really inherited the worst and the best of this family."
"Hey!" Irelia complained, trying to push his hand away. "Stop it!"
"Obsessive determination, wounded pride, and an impossible goal" he listed, still smiling. "Classic Ainsworth."
She sighed, crossing her arms.
"I'm serious."
"I know" he replied, now calr. "And that's why I'm laughing."
Before she could ask why, three shadows silently materialized behind Adalric.
Irelia hadn't even noticed when they appeared.
Assassins from the family.
Dark robes, their presence subdued, their masks partially removed just enough to show respect. They bowed slightly before the Sword King.
One of them approached and murmured sothing in Adalric's ear.
Irelia frowned.
"What is it?" she asked. "Why are they here?"
Adalric listened to the report in silence for a few seconds.
Then his eyes glead.
He began to laugh.
This ti, louder.
"Hahahaha!" he brought his hand to his face, clearly amused. "Ah… that's good. Very good."
"Uncle," Irelia narrowed her eyes, "what's going on?"
Adalric turned to her, still with a smile too wide to be casual.
"It seems your training will have to wait a little while," he said. "You're going to have a visitor."
Irelia blinked.
"A visitor? Who?"
Adalric tilted his head, his eyes filled with restrained malice.
"A very important person, to ," he comnted.
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