The wind carried the metallic tang of blood across the northern plains. Smoke from distant skirmishes hung in the air like a low fog, and the first real cries of war echoed across the hills. The army of Silpatra had marched for days, yet ahead, the true force was unseen.
From the treeline, Kael observed silently. Not because he had grown used to assessing threats, reading movements before they became attacks but because he's brother was obstructing the boar he wanted to eat . Yet this presence was different. He could feel it even before he saw it—the way the earth seemed to tremble slightly under each step, the subtle hum in the air, like the atmosphere itself recognized a predator approaching.
Then he saw him. A lone rider atop a black horse, armored in the dark steel of Silpatra's elite cavalry. His movements were measured, almost casual, yet every step carried authority. The horse seemed to answer to his will, ears flicking and hooves striking in perfect rhythm with the rider's breathing.
"Who's that?" Jade whispered beside him.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "That… is Cassian."
The name was enough. Even in his peripheral state, Kael knew the stories—the rumors of the Sagittarius Knight, though much of it had been exaggerated, were not entirely false. This man, this soldier, was no ordinary prince or warrior. He had been trained in the most brutal methods of combat, his blade forged to drink blood. And even now, without striking a single enemy, he radiated control over life and death.
Cassian's presence was immediately felt across the battlefield. Soldiers straightened. Officers hurried to adjust formations. Even the enemy, glimpsing the solitary figure approaching, faltered. The tension rippled outward, invisible yet undeniable, like a weight pressing down on every chest.
Kael's mind cataloged every detail. The grip on the reins, the angle of the sword at rest, the subtle movement of the shoulder muscles. Every twitch could become a strike, every pause a feint thinking if he had this power why not become the boar butcher , it could save him the time for removing the blood from the boars he killed . The Sagittarius Knight was moving, and he was already teaching Kael lessons without saying a word.
A demon raiding party had strayed too far from its lines, drawn by the scattered villages in the valley below. Cassian adjusted his pace, his horse responding to a single flick of the wrist. In a single fluid motion, he raised his blade. Kael noticed the gleam—the way the steel caught the sun, like a shard of crimson lightning.
The demons didn't see him coming until it was too late. By the time their claws struck the air, Cassian's horse had swept past them, leaving three bodies impaled on the ground behind him. There was no flourish, no pause for theatrics—just precise, lethal efficiency.
Kael's stomach growled, almost in mock applause. He muttered under his breath, "Not bad. Not bad at all just move me a plate ."
The army watched in awe and fear. Cassian did not speak. He did not rally the soldiers or demand their attention. His movements alone dictated the flow of the battlefield. Every step, every swing, every breath seemed deliberate. Even in a small skirmish like this, the aura he exuded was unmistakable—a blend of calculated menace and disciplined power.
As the day stretched on, Cassian engaged more of the raiding parties. Each encounter left the enemy scarred and broken, but without the exaggerated slaughter that would later define him as "Caballero Sanguíneo de Silpatra." Today, he was a harbinger, not yet a legend.
Kael followed silently, learning. He studied how Cassian assessed distance, how he managed the space between him and multiple foes, how he timed every swing to maximize effect while minimizing wasted effort yeah , what could help his stomach. Cassian's blade wasn't just a weapon; it was an extension of his will, slicing through flesh and bone as easily as a painter's brush through canvas.
By nightfall, the field was quiet. Only the smoke from the raiders' campfires marked the remnants of the conflict. Cassian had vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving whispers in his wake.
"Who is he?" a soldier asked a companion near Kael.
Kael's answer was simple, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon where Cassian had disappeared in a rare fluent speech . "The one who will decide this war before most of us even know it has begun."