Snow fell in slow, deliberate silence.

  Kaelen stood where the last Ni-beast had died, breath fogging the air, blood—not all of it his—steaming against the white ground. His heartbeat was steady now. Controlled. Lightning whispered faintly beneath his skin, shadows curling at his feet like living things.

  Then—

  Clap.

  A single sound.

  Soft.

  Mocking.

  Kaelen turned instantly, obsidian katana already in hand, twin daggers sliding free without thought.

  Someone stood at the edge of the clearing.

  Tall.

  Relaxed.

  Cloaked in dark crimson layered with black fur at the collar.

  Snow never touched him—flakes curved subtly away, as if the air itself bent in his presence.

  His eyes glowed a deep, ancient red.

  “You hesitate,” the man said calmly. “Bad habit.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Kaelen attacked.

  Lightning detonated beneath his feet as he surged forward, katana flashing in a clean killing arc meant to sever spine and soul alike.

  The man wasn’t there.

  Kaelen skidded, spun—

  A hand caught his wrist mid-swing.

  Not blocking.

  Catching.

  “Too linear,” the stranger said, twisting gently.

  Pain exploded as Kaelen was hurled across the clearing, crashing through snow and stone. He rolled, came up bleeding, shadows snapping violently outward.

  Kaelen didn’t pause.

  Blood Ni ignited.

  His veins burned as crimson lines crawled across his arms. Shadows surged forward like blades, lightning splitting the air in jagged arcs.

  He attacked again.

  This time faster.

  Smarter.

  Whip snapping out to bind, daggers thrown wide to force movement, lightning striking low to destabilize footing—

  The man laughed.

  He walked through it.

  Shadows parted around him like obedient servants. Lightning bent away at the last instant. The whip wrapped around his arm—

  —and dissolved into mist.

  “You carry all three,” the man observed with interest. “Blood. Shadow. Lightning.”

  Kaelen snarled and pressed harder, pouring everything into a single desperate strike.

  The katana connected—

  —and stopped an inch from the man’s chest, frozen in midair.

  Gravity folded.

  Kaelen slammed face-first into the snow, pinned by pressure so immense he couldn’t breathe. His limbs shook violently as blood seeped from his nose.

  A boot pressed gently against his back.

  “Heart’s strong,” the man said thoughtfully. “Instincts sharp. Control?” He chuckled. “Terrible.”

  The pressure vanished.

  Kaelen tried to rise.

  A fist struck his ribs.

  Then his jaw.

  Then the world went white.

  He crashed onto his back, staring up at the falling snow, chest heaving, body refusing to obey. His weapons lay scattered. His Ni flickered wildly before dying down to embers.

  The man crouched beside him, eyes bright with amusement.

  Then he laughed—deep, rich, ancient.

  “Not bad, grandson,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “Not bad at all.”