Kyle pushed open the castle gates, slinging his new jacket over one shoulder, a small bag dangling lazily from his other hand.
"Man, this place is a damn labyrinth," he muttered, walking through the marble halls that somehow all looked exactly the same.
"Who the hell designs this many hallways? goddammit."
He stopped at another split corridor, stared at the two paths, then groaned.
"Left or right... fuck it, left always leads to pain anyway."
He went right.
The castle was too big, too clean, too... royal. The kind of place where his boots echoed a little too loud, like the walls themselves were judging him.
I just want a bed and a good nap. Not another mission, not another noble brat, just sleep.
He turned another corner and instantly stopped.
A large open courtyard, filled with armored knights sparring under the torchlight. The clang of steel, the barked orders, the sweat and pride — it was like a war camp mixed with a damn parade.
And at the center — the golden idiot himself.
"...Of course." Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose.
Evan was laughing with a few of the knights, his sword gleaming in the evening light. The guy looked like he belonged on a recruitment poster.
If I move slowly enough, maybe he won't—
"Kyle!"
"Fuck me."
Too late. The kid spotted him.
Evan jogged over with that same sunshine grin, waving like they were best friends. "You came! I was just—wait, that new outfit looks awesome!"
Kyle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just clothes, man."
"No, seriously! It looks badass—like, 'I'll kill you with style' kinda vibe!"
"Yeah, that's… the idea."
Before he could sneak out, a deep, commanding voice cut through the chatter."Who's this slacker?"
Kyle turned lazily. The Knight Captain stood near the training field — broad-shouldered, scar across his jaw, looking like he'd been carved from a boulder.
The man smirked. "Ah, the S-ranker. The king's little trophy."
Kyle raised a brow. "You always greet guests by talking shit, or am I just lucky?"
A few knights chuckled, others shifted awkwardly. The captain crossed his arms."Don't get cocky. Around here, strength means nothing without discipline. You might have power, but my men have training."
"Yeah," Kyle said flatly. "Training won't mean much if your head's rolling on the ground."
A few knights stiffened. Evan looked between them nervously. "Uh—maybe we shouldn't—"
The captain chuckled, clearly taking it as a challenge. "Big words. Why don't you teach us then? Show us how a lone mercenary fights."
Kyle blinked. "You serious?"
"Unless you're scared."
Kyle turned to Evan. "You ever learned how to instill fear in your enemies?"
Evan blinked, confused. "Uh, swing harder?"
Kyle exhaled, deadpan. "Close. But no."
He picked up a wooden sword from the rack nearby, twirling it once in his hand. "Alright then… lesson number one."
He pointed the sword lazily toward the field. "Four of you. All at once."
The captain frowned. "With live steel?"
Kyle's tone was flat. "Yeah. Wouldn't be fun otherwise."
Four knights stepped forward, armored and ready. Kyle stood there in his black suit, sleeves rolled up, wooden sword resting on his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"Whenever you're ready," he said, smiling slightly.
The moment the first knight moved, it was over.
A single step.
A blur.
And the wooden sword cracked against the back of the man's neck — not enough to kill, but enough to drop him like a sack of bricks.
The second knight roared, lunging with a downward slash. Kyle sidestepped, caught the man's wrist, twisted, and drove his knee into his gut. The guy wheezed and collapsed.
"Two down." Kyle flicked the sword casually, as if wiping off imaginary dust.
The last two hesitated — then charged together.
That's when it changed.
Kyle's eyes lifted — faintly glowing, that bottomless black that didn't belong to this world. It wasn't magic, it wasn't power — it was something older.
The air went still.
The charging knights froze mid-step, swords trembling in their hands. The one on the left stopped altogether, his instincts screaming, body refusing to move.
The one on the right kept going, trying to shake it off. "DIE!" he yelled—
—the knight was down before he realized his sword had been disarmed.
The fourth one — the last — was standing there, staring straight into Kyle's eyes.
And what he saw wasn't a man.
It was void.
An endless black ocean swallowing everything. No air, no sound, no light. Just falling. Forever.
The guy screamed — loud and broken — dropped his sword, and fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.
Kyle blinked once, the void gone, his eyes back to that usual lazy calm.
He sighed, scratching his neck, and turned to Evan.
"That," he said, pointing his thumb toward the trembling knight, "is fear."
Evan just stood there, wide-eyed. "...I—uh—"
"Yeah," Kyle muttered, dropping the wooden sword back on the rack. "Don't try it unless you hate sleeping at night."
The courtyard was silent. No one dared move. Even the captain looked like he wasn't sure what the hell he just witnessed.
Kyle walked past him, tapping his shoulder lightly as he passed. "Discipline's good, captain. But sometimes…" he glanced back, smirking faintly, "fear works faster."
He yawned, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Alright, I'm done. Someone tell me where my damn room is before I turn another corner and end up in the kitchen this time."
Evan finally exhaled, half impressed, half terrified. "...You're one scary guy, Kyle."
Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, but I make great coffee."
Author's note-
I know the combat sucks, i am trying T^T.