The wind howled through the canyon like a beast mourning its dead.
Kael's boots sank slightly into the gravelly soil as he stepped forward, mist swirling around his knees. The terrain felt unstable, patches of stone giving way to soft dirt without warning. His senses flared, reading every vibration, every shift in pressure. The environment itself felt alive—hostile.
He tightened his grip on the Abyssal Fang Dagger, its edge gleaming faintly. The blade pulsed with silent hunger. No primal energy. No flashy techniques. This was raw combat. Blade versus flesh. Instinct against instinct.
The first ripple of movement came from the left.
A silhouette emerged from the fog—tall, armored, wielding twin sabers. Its steps were soundless, yet the weight of its presence pressed against Kael's chest like a boulder.
