Kael moved like a shadow through the bustling streets of Valewind. The sun hung low, staining the horizon crimson, but the market was still alive with chatter and the clamor of merchants. He’d traded the last of Kael Varin’s coin for basic supplies, a rough travel cloak, dried meat, and a cheap waterskin. No one looked twice at him, which was exactly how he wanted it.But under his calm exterior, Kael’s senses were on high alert. His instincts, honed through centuries of war, screamed that he was being watched.He ducked into a narrow alley, away from the noise of the market, and pressed himself against the crumbling stone wall. His breathing slowed as he extended his spiritual sense, the tiny spark of power he’d reclaimed through meditation. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to catch a faint ripple in the air.“Following me already?” he muttered under his breath. “Tsk, how sloppy.”Kael moved again, taking a twisting path through alleys and side streets, deliberately doubling back un

The forest was so quiet that Kael’s instincts screamed danger as he moved through the dense undergrowth. Even the insects had gone silent, and the wind carried a faint metallic tang, the smell of blood. He slowed his pace, crouching low, every sense sharp.The moonlight struggled to pierce the thick canopy, leaving most of the forest in shadow. Kael moved like a phantom, one hand on his dagger, the other lightly touching the trees as he passed, feeling for disturbances in the flow of spiritual energy.There.A faint ripple in the air, not a beast or a storm. This was different.Kael vanished into the branches of a nearby tree, climbing silently until he had a better view. What he saw made him pause.A clearing lay ahead, lit by the pale glow of spirit crystals embedded in wooden stakes. In the center of the clearing, a group of mercenaries knelt in a circle, heads bowed, their weapons laid before them. They weren’t praying, but were waiting.And at the edge of the clearing stood a

The forest was alive with whispers, every step Kael took was measured, his senses stretched to their limit. The clash with the Seraphim had changed everything; heaven now had his scent. His enemies wouldn’t send one hunter again, they’d send an army.Kael’s ribs throbbed with every breath, but pain was something he’d long ago learned to ignore. He moved swiftly, darting through the underbrush like a shadow, until he emerged at the edge of a narrow mountain pass.Ahead lay his destination: Blackthorn Vale.Once a prosperous hub of cultivation, it was now a den of thieves, assassins, and exiled cultivators. Sect banners no longer flew here; the clans abandoned it decades ago when spiritual energy in the area thinned. But Kael remembered what they didn’t: beneath the mountain ridges lay an ancient network of catacombs, once used by assassins of the Scarlet Sect, a faction that served as executioners for emperors. Those catacombs still held something he needed.If he could claim it befo