"Lightning… a rare one you got there," Kaisel said as his crimson gaze locked onto Jacob.
In the world of elemental attributes, Lightning was uncommon. Not as obscure as Shadow or Space, but rare enough that only a few mages in a generation could wield it. Its destructive potential, unmatched in short bursts, was coveted by many battle mages across the Empire.
"You can go back," Kaisel said calmly, with a slow blink. At his words, the once-locked door and windows clicked and slid open on their own—shadows peeling back like mist.
"Yes, my lord," Jacob said, bowing quickly. The tension in his chest began to loosen. Just as he turned around, Kaisel's voice echoed behind him.
"You'll start practicing magic from tomorrow. With a mage instructor."
"Huh…" Jacob turned halfway, caught off-guard. His lips parted to ask a question—but stopped. Something in Kaisel's tone made him bite it back. He simply bowed again and left, footsteps light with relief.
Outside the study, Jacob exhaled long and slow. I thought I was going to die… Thank the Gods I'm still alive. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the thudding rhythm of his heart.
Kaisel sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the door Jacob had exited through. A flicker of doubt lingered in his eyes.
What he said… it seems true. But truth on its own means little. Trust? No… not yet.
He exhaled softly and closed his eyes.
After some moments
Then—his fingers twitched.
His hands began to tremble, ever so slightly.
His breath grew uneven—shallow, ragged gasps slipping past clenched teeth.
He opened his eyes sharply. They were bloodshot, wild, strained as though something primal were stirring behind them. Sweat beaded along his temple.
Then—
"Kill…... kill…... kill…. Hungry....."
The voices echoed, low and layered, like whispers made of glass and steel, grating against the walls of his mind. They came not from outside—but from deep within.
His killing intent surged violently, spilling out into the room like a wave of dark heat. His body quivered—not from fear or pain—but from a trace of something else.
A desire.
To kill.
Kaisel clenched his fists as the aura around him distorted. Shadows deepened. The very air seemed to recoil.
Damn it… not now… he thought, jaw tightening.
Anton was coming to the room to meet Kaisel. The door was open. He stepped in—but no one was there.
He looked around the quiet study. He frowned.
"…Where did he go?" he muttered.
---
In the deep forest far from the Manor of Ravengard, a long, moss-covered wall divided two sprawling woodland regions. The old iron gate creaked under the weight of vines and time, its hinges rusted, the stone structure smothered in algae. Beyond it lay a forbidden stretch of Ebonvale—an ancient, uncharted expanse to the east, brimming with towering trees, thick fog, and choking undergrowth. Little sunlight reached the forest floor. The canopy above was a ceiling of shadow. Beasts roamed. Magic beasts prowled. Even the trees hungered. It was said that man-eating plants whispered to each other through the roots.
Near the gate, the air shimmered.
A ripple of twisted space—flecks of faint blue light—then silence.
Kaisel appeared, bloodshot eyes gleaming with a ravenous glint. He exhaled like a predator on the verge of snapping. His hand reached into thin air, pulling forth a long, steel blade from the void. It was a spell of spatial magic called Subspace. Cold steel for a colder hunger.
Subspace was a spell that allowed its caster to store nonliving objects in an isolated dimensional space, separate from the material world. It required precise control over spatial manipulation and was a rare and high-level utility spell.
He dashed into the jungle without hesitation. Branches cracked. Leaves tore. His boots hit the ground hard and fast.
A pack of dire wolves emerged through the thickening fog—towering, monstrous beasts the size of grown stallions, their hulking silhouettes shifting through the dim, dying light. Thirty of them. Their fur bristled like black iron, eyes glowing faintly with primal rage. Fangs jutted from their drooling jaws like carved ivory, and their low growls rumbled across the clearing like a gathering storm.
Twilight seeped through the treetops, painting the canopy in dull greys and deepening shadows. The moon had not yet risen—but night was coming.
Kaisel didn't stop.
He grinned—an unhinged smile stitched with madness, crimson veins swallowing the whites of his eyes.
Then he moved.
From the half-darkness, he dropped like a bird of prey—steel slicing through the fog.
The first dire wolf barely raised its head. The blade came down, stabbing deep between its shoulders. Bone cracked, and muscle tore as Kaisel *ripped* the sword sideways—cleaving the beast open with raw force.
Blood sprayed in a wide arc.
Its body crumpled with a wet thud, intestines unraveling in loops, steam rising from the freshly spilled gore. White bone jutted through torn muscle, glistening like shattered stone in the last light.
A second wolf, massive and scarred, let out a thunderous bark and lunged.
Kaisel stepped once—just once—and slashed.
Steel flashed. Skull split.
The blade cleaved clean through the wolf's head, from snout to nape. Brain matter and fragments of bone sprayed the dirt as the creature dropped mid-leap, twitching violently in its death-spasm.
The rest of the pack charged.
Kaisel didn't hesitate.
One lunged at his flank—he crouched, severing its leg with a flash of silver, then spun and stabbed into its throat. A second snapped at his shoulder—he jammed his blade upward through its mouth, steel bursting from the top of its skull.
A third came from behind. He pivoted cleanly, dragging the sword across its belly. The beast howled, and its guts hit the forest floor with a slap, the air filling with the stench of blood and bile.
The ground shook with their weight. The trees trembled with their howls.
A particularly massive black dire wolf—its snout scarred and one eye clouded—lunged with enough force to shatter ribs. It clamped down on Kaisel's arm, fangs piercing through fabric and skin.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he grabbed its snout with his other hand and plunged the sword into its eye socket, forcing it all the way in. The beast jerked, then collapsed, twitching as blood and brain fluid spilled over his arm.
Within seconds, the clearing turned into a massacre.
Fur flew. Claws scraped. Bones cracked like dry wood.
Kaisel stood drenched in blood—his face spattered red, his uniform soaked, bits of flesh and brain matter clinging to his skin. The stench of metal, meat, and death hung thick in the air.
He didn't even blink.
He exhaled sharply.
By the time it was over, thirty wolves lay torn apart. Blood oozed from split torsos, cracked jaws, ruptured skulls. The trees were painted crimson.
Kaisel stood at the center of it all. His uniform drenched in blood, flesh and brain matter stuck to his sleeves. His smile was gone. His eyes—vacant.
Not enough… he thought coldly. Still not enough.
---
Meanwhile, in Ravengard Manor
Anton was walking across the stone-tiled corridor, gaze casually scanning the rooms.
He passed the living room, the private training chamber, and finally Kaisel's personal chambers. Empty.
His footsteps echoed quietly.
Coming from the other side was a young woman. Her vibrant red hair was tied back neatly, and her deep blue eyes sparkled with clarity.
"Good evening, young lord," she said with a soft bow. Her name was Melvia, one of the senior staff.
Anton stopped in front of her. "Melvia, have you seen brother?"
There was a faint trace of concern in his tone, so subtle it might be missed by anyone else.
"I haven't seen the lord," she replied calmly.
Anton's brows furrowed slightly. "Hmm... Where has he gone?"
"Have you checked the archive chamber?" she asked.
"Yes. He's not there either."
Anton lingered in the hall, his thoughts clouded.
---
Back in the Forest – Hours Later
Night had fallen completely.
The moon hung above, its silver glow piercing the forest through cracks in the canopy. A few beams broke through—illuminating a figure standing still amidst piles of corpses.
Kaisel.
His face was expressionless. His eyes—blank, dead, void of reason.
Around him, the broken bodies of beasts—wolves, boars, and even a massive clawed bear—lay sprawled, blood flowing like a stream around them.
Thud
A drop of blood fell from his chin.
Then—movement.
From the ground, a thick dark fog began to rise, oozing like tar from the earth. It curled around the corpses, wrapping them in a black shroud.
Their flesh began to dissolve. The fog devoured them slowly, and then dispersed as if it had never been there.
Kaisel looked up at the moon.
Blood on his cheeks. Blood on his sword. Blood in his breath.
He stood amidst the remains—not sated, just emptied.
No hunger. No satisfaction. Only silence.
Blood on his cheeks. Blood on his sword. Blood in his breath.
He stood there alone, fully drenched in dark blood—his breath slowing, his eyes no longer wild.
The madness faded, and a chilling calm returned to him.
To be continued.