Morning arrived without ceremony.

No thunder. No omen. Just pale light slipping over the ridge and bleeding into the marsh like a reluctant confession.

Kael was awake before the birds dared to test the air. He sat at the edge of the camp, boots planted in wet earth, the Chrono Blade resting across his knees. The fracture inside him was quiet—but not gone. It felt like a held breath, waiting for permission to exhale.

Behind him, the fire crackled softly. Jorah stirred, groaning. "If today ends with me stabbed, cursed, or emotionally scarred, I'm blaming you."

Eira emerged from the shadows a moment later, already armored, hair pulled back with deliberate care. She met Kael's eyes and nodded once.

No speeches. No reassurances.

They all knew what this day was.

The old trade road cut through the lowlands like a scar that never healed. Broken stone markers leaned inward, as if tired of standing. The road itself shimmered faintly—a residue of power, commerce, secrets traded for blood and silence.

"This place feels expensive," Jorah muttered. "And not in a good way."

Kael felt it too. Influence layered over the air like perfume. Lies polished until they gleamed.

"Alren's territory," Kael said. "He built his power on routes like this. Moving information faster than truth."

"And people faster than mercy," Eira added.

They didn't hide their approach.

Kael didn't want to.

The outpost came into view by midday—an unassuming compound of stone and wood, guards posted more out of habit than fear. Merchants passed through freely, carts rolling in and out, none of them looking too closely at what—or who—they carried.

Alren liked invisibility. Normalcy. Plausible deniability.

Kael stepped onto the road.

The fracture flared.

Time stuttered—just a fraction. Enough.

A guard blinked, suddenly unsure how long Kael had been standing there. Another reached for his spear, then hesitated, eyes unfocused.

Eira leaned close. "Don't burn everything."

Kael nodded. "I won't."

They walked straight in.

No alarms. No shouts.

People moved aside without understanding why, a pressure urging them to make space. Kael could feel the Chrono Blade hum—not cutting, not tearing—remembering.

Alren's office sat at the heart of the compound, high windows filtering light through tinted glass. Inside, the man himself stood at a polished desk, arguing quietly with an aide.

"—I said reroute it. Now."

The aide stiffened as Kael entered.

Alren turned.

For a heartbeat, recognition flickered—then denial slammed down hard.

"Who are you?" Alren demanded.

Kael closed the door behind him. The sound echoed louder than it should have.

"You don't remember me," Kael said calmly.

Alren scoffed. "I don't forget faces."

"Not faces," Kael agreed. "Just consequences."

Eira and Jorah flanked him, silent.

Alren's gaze slid to them, then back to Kael. "You're trespassing. I don't know what game this is, but I suggest you leave before—"

Kael raised the Chrono Blade—not threateningly, just enough.

The room shifted.

Alren staggered, gripping the desk as memories slammed into him like a delayed avalanche.

Blood. Rain. A kneeling man. A contract sealed with a trembling signature.

Alren gasped. "No—"

Kael stepped forward. "You paid for my death."

Alren's face drained of color. "You were a problem," he whispered. "You wouldn't stop digging. You didn't understand how things worked."

"I understood," Kael said. "I just didn't agree."

The aide bolted for the door.

Jorah caught him easily, slamming him against the wall. "Uh-uh. Field trip's not over."

Alren laughed then—a thin, brittle sound. "So you survived. Congratulations. What do you want? Money? Names? I can give you—"

"I don't want your wealth," Kael said.

The fracture pulsed, spreading outward. The walls shimmered, revealing layers—hidden compartments, secret ledgers, bribes etched into the very stone.

"I want the truth."

Kael brought the Blade down—not to cut flesh, but reality.

The room remembered.

Alren screamed.

Not in pain—but in exposure.

Illusions peeled away. Every lie Alren had told manifested in the air—floating contracts, whispered promises, the faces of people ruined quietly, efficiently.

Merchants passing outside froze, staring as the walls turned transparent, revealing the rot within.

Eira watched, eyes hard but steady.

Jorah swallowed. "That's… efficient."

Alren collapsed to his knees, hands clawing at his hair. "You don't understand—if the system falls, chaos will follow!"

Kael knelt before him. "The system already fell. You just didn't notice because you were standing on the right side of it."

Alren looked up, tears streaking his face. "Kill me, then."

Kael considered him.

Then he stood.

"No," Kael said quietly. "You'll live. You'll answer. And every lie you built your power on will be visible."

Outside, shouts rose—guards, merchants, people seeing truth bleed into daylight.

Alren sobbed. "You'll destroy everything!"

Kael turned away. "Only what deserves it."

They left him there—small, exposed, powerless.

As they stepped back onto the road, the compound erupted into chaos behind them.

Jorah exhaled slowly. "Well. That was… cleaner than expected."

Eira glanced at Kael. "How do you feel?"

He searched himself.

No triumph. No rage.

Just… release.

"One thread cut," he said. "Five to go."

Eira touched his arm. "And you didn't lose yourself."

Kael met her gaze. "I won't."

They walked on.

Behind them, Alren's empire collapsed—not with fire, but with truth.

And far beyond the road, the Source shifted, attention sharpening.

The first betrayal had fallen.

The rest would not be so easy.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.