Darkness pressed against Lexus's mind like wet earth.
Then—
Sound.
A low crackle of fire.
Wind brushing against animal-hide walls.
And something else.
Ssssssllllurrrrppppp.
Consciousness returned in fragments.
His fingers twitched first. Then his jaw tightened.
He opened his eyes.
Dim orange firelight flickered across the inside of a tribal hut. Shadows crawled along wooden beams blackened by smoke. The air smelled of herbs, iron… and cooked meat.
Ssssssllllurrrrppppp.
Lexus turned his head slowly.
Zeckie Varkhal sat near the fire, massive frame hunched forward, devouring a wooden bowl of meat stew like a starving beast. Broth dripped down his chin. His wounded arm was tightly wrapped in dark bandages, already stained through.
Lexus stared.
"Even swine would eat more gracefully than you."
Zeckie didn't pause.
"Then go see one."
Silence returned, broken only by chewing and the crackling fire.
Lexus tried to sit up.
Pain lanced through his skull. His body felt like it had been hammered into the ground.
He scanned his surroundings.
Tribal markings painted the hut's inner walls. Weapons hung from wooden pegs. Skins of hunted beasts lay stacked in the corners.
Beside him knelt a tribal girl.
She had been tending to him quietly.
Her hands were rough from work, but gentle.
When Lexus's eyes met hers—
She froze.
There was something in her gaze.
Care.Relief.
And something softer she didn't dare name.
Color rushed to her cheeks.
She stood abruptly, almost knocking over a bowl of herbs, and ran outside without a word.
Zeckie slowly lowered his bowl.
"Oooooooh."
Lexus shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone.
"Shut up."
He swung his legs over the side of the fur-covered bedding.
That was when the doorway darkened.
The frame creaked slightly. The figure standing there was too tall for the hut.
Michael.
He had to bend slightly just to enter.
Firelight danced across his face, carving shadows into sharp lines. His presence alone altered the air inside the hut.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
His voice was calm.Measured.
Beneath it lay something heavier.
Lexus met his eyes.
"Good."
It was a lie. But weakness wasn't something he offered lightly.
Michael studied him for a long moment.
Then he turned and stepped back outside.
No further words.Just movement.
Something inside Lexus tightened.
He pushed himself to his feet.
His legs trembled. The world tilted slightly.
But he walked.
Step.
Step.
Each movement forced through pain.
He reached the doorway and stepped out into the cold tribal night.
"Michael."
The name carried weight.
Michael stopped.Slowly turned back.
Moonlight fell across his face now, silver replacing fire.
Lexus swallowed.
The next words cost him more than blood.
"I don't remember everything."
His jaw clenched.
"But from the state I woke up in… I know I failed."
Silence stretched between them.
Wind rustled through the trees.
Insects hummed in the distance.
"It won't happen again," Lexus said quietly.
Pride had always been his armor.
Now he forced himself to lower it.
For a moment, Michael simply looked at him.
Unreadable.
Then—
Without a single word—
He turned.
And walked away.
Leaving Lexus standing there.
Alone with the weight of his promise.
The largest hut in Kryndal stood at the center of the settlement.
Its entrance was carved from the skull of a colossal beast long extinct. Poison charms hung from its edges, swaying slightly in the night wind.
Michael stepped inside without hesitation.
The air was heavy.
Thick with incense.
Thicker with killing intent.
Inside sat the elders of the Kryndal tribe — masters of stealth, venom, and silent extinction.
At the center sat Ry'vaereth, calm-eyed and composed. A man known for diplomacy… and for calculating how many breaths his enemies had left.
Beside him stood his son, Ry'zeyrakh, younger, sharper, his pride barely leashed.
And in the shadows leaned Seth Varkhal.
The one raised among them.
The one shaped into a perfect assassin.
"We were waiting for you, Michael,"
Ry'vaereth said evenly.
Michael walked forward and stopped at the center of the hut. He did not bow.
His eyes swept across them once.
"What is there to discuss?"
The chief's gaze hardened slightly.
"The blood you spilled at the kingdom."
A pause.
"Even an insane man would hesitate before annihilating four entire counties."
And he added,"if it's not for the remnant soldiers that ambushed today's morning, you would continue to slaughter everything on your way"
His voice lowered.
"And you did it for a woman."
The temperature in the hut dropped.
Michael's eyes shifted.
"Stop right there."
The words were not loud. But they were absolute.
Several elders stiffened.
No one interrupted Ry'vaereth.
No one.
Ry'zeyrakh stepped forward immediately, fury flashing in his eyes.
"How dare you?" he spat. "A tribe exiled and erased from the Primordial Seven dares to raise its voice here?"
Michael's lips curved slightly.
A smile with no warmth.
"Who cares about the Primordial Seven?"
His gaze darkened.
"If it is for my Yelena…"
The fire behind him flickered violently.
"I would ravage this entire world."
There was nothing romantic in his tone.
It was obsession.
Possession.
War.
Even the seasoned elders shifted slightly.
Then—
An old voice cut through the tension.
"Such audacity…"
All eyes turned to the frail but sharp-eyed elder seated near the back.
Ry'zhorak, the former chief. The one who had led Kryndal during its darkest era.
"That same audacity," he continued slowly, "was what caused Varkhal's annihilation."
Silence suffocated the room.
"And now," he said, eyes locking onto Michael, "I see it again."
Michael did not look away.
"Then strike first," he replied. "If you sit idle, we all die. Be the hunter. Not the prey."
Ry'zhorak's gaze sharpened.
"The reason Varkhal was destroyed…"
Every warrior present instinctively straightened.
"…was Varkhal itself."
A direct accusation.
The current chief inhaled slowly.
"Father. Enough."
Ry'vaereth looked back at Michael.
"Do as you wish. But do not involve Kryndal further. We don't want to involve with your tribe.This is the last aid we extend to you."
Then his voice turned colder.
"The real reason for this meeting… is Seth."
Seth did not move.
His voice started to remember the past,
"Twenty years before you handed over Seth to us, that time you was reckless"
"Still you are reckless after whole two decades,"
Ry'vaereth continued.
"We cannot afford to lose Seth who has reached peak manifestation stage in aura cultivation because of your madness. Seth will return to us."
For a heartbeat—
There was silence.
Then—
Michael laughed.
Not loudly.But deeply.Darkly.
"Pfffft…"
Then louder.
"Hahahahahaha."
The hut trembled faintly from the weight behind it.
Ry'zeyrakh snapped.
"You insolent—!"
"Wait," Ry'vaereth ordered calmly. "Let him finish."
The laughter faded.
Michael's eyes turned cold.
"After Varkhals was annihilated, after my family annihilated… they are the only ones I cherish."
His gaze swept across the entire hut.
"If anyone here dares to take them from me…"
His voice dropped into something inhuman.
"Don't wait for the kingdom."
"I will finish you myself."
Weapons shifted.
Poison needles flicked between fingers.
The elders' killing intent surged at once.
"How dare you—!"
And then—
It happened.
Sssssswoooosh ---- kaaa bboooom
An aura exploded outward from Michael.
It pressed down on every warrior present like a mountain. Every knees bent.
Breathing grew heavy.
The torches dimmed.
Even Ry'vaereth's aura faltered.
"What… is this…" he murmured under his breath.
Ry'zeyrakh's eyes widened.
"He's younger than me… younger than all of us"
And he looked at his father struggling,
"my father, he is at domain stage of aura cultivation, how is he suppressing his aura and mine, I am at core formation stage?"
And an question raised in his mind,
"Normally to achieve the domain stage it takes nearly two decades,So he is in domain stage? That too at this age,28?"
Ry'zhorak stared with something almost like awe.
"I am near death," the old chief whispered, "and this is the first time I have seen something like this…"
"So this… is why he stands so high."
Warriors struggled to remain upright.
Then—
A voice broke through the pressure.
"Michael."
Seth stepped forward.
"Leave them."
The aura vanished instantly. Air rushed back into lungs.
Several elders nearly collapsed.
Seth bowed respectfully to the chief.
"Chief… what I am today is because of Kryndal."
His voice was steady.
"You taught me techniques never given to outsiders. You gave me shelter."
He paused.
"But I cannot leave my liege."
His eyes moved toward Michael.
"Even if it leads to my doom… I will follow him gladly."
Silence swept between them
"Reconsider," Ry'vaereth said one last time.
"There is nothing to reconsider."
The chief closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
"Very well."
His voice was distant now.
"Leave by tomorrow morning."
Michael turned toward the exit.
"With pleasure."
The beast-skull entrance creaked as he stepped out into the night.
Ry'vaereth stood in silence, his gaze distant.
Within his mind, thoughts stirred—
"I helped you back then… because your family was annihilated."
"It was the least I could offer… to take in your kind."
A pause.
Regret crept in.
"But I never thought you were serious… when you said you would burn the entire kingdom."
His eyes darkened.
"But now…"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
Around him—
The Kryndal elders stood still.
No words and no arguments.
Only an understanding of a terrifying one.
This was no longer madness.
This was inevitability.
The world was about to burn.
And they—
Had just chosen not to stand on either side.