After a long, brutal struggle, the fight finally ended.
One of the youth collapsed unconscious, while the other—the brother— remained standing — barely. His body was riddled with wounds, and blood seeped from countless cuts.
Despite his victory, he was close to falling himself.
Kael clapped slowly, a wicked smile tugging at his lips.
"Splendid," he said coldly. "Now… tell me. What do you want?"
The battered young man stepped forward, his body trembling with pain, his eyes burning with restrained rage.
"I want you to leave my brother alone," he said, voice rough. "I swear we won't ever cause you trouble again."
Kael crouched, grabbing the fallen brother's chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm… Of course. That was our agreement."
He paused for a moment, then added with a chilling casualness:
"But I need one more thing… Could you kindly break your own arm?"
The young man froze, staring at Kael with hollow eyes.
After everything he had seen from this demon child, he was no longer surprised.
But breaking his own arm… that was something else entirely.
He glanced at his unconscious brother — or rather, half-unconscious.
The boy's eyes were wide open, staring blankly, the madness of pain frozen within them.
The elder brother gritted his teeth, placed his forearm against his knee, and…
Crack.
A muffled scream tore from his throat, but he bit his lips until blood spilled.
Kael watched him with cold detachment, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly.
"He's far more determined than the others. He could be a problem if I don't deal with him now."
The voice within Kael laughed gleefully:
"Just kill them, fool! Steal the bloodline, and their deaths will follow!"
Kael shook his head slightly.
"No… killing him might cause bigger troubles later."
A thin, cold smile crept onto his face.
"Then… I'll shatter his will."
Kael's voice dropped to a cruel whisper:
"What's wrong? Break your other arm too."
The young man hesitated. Breaking the second arm would leave him completely helpless before Kael.
But he noticed something — Kael wasn't approaching. He was keeping his distance.
A weak smile tugged at the battered brother's lips.
"Why don't you come break it yourself?" he spat.
Kael blinked, as if considering.
"Ah, ah… that's a good idea! You're brilliant. I'll do just that."
Kael approached — slow, deliberate.
Then he crouched… but instead of grabbing the standing young man's arm, he seized the arm of the boy lying on the ground.
Crack.
The sound was sickening.
No scream followed — only a faint, broken whimper.
The elder brother roared:
"What the hell are you doing?! That's not what I meant!"
Kael tilted his head innocently:
"Oh? Didn't you say to break 'an arm'? You didn't specify whose… oh wait… maybe you meant his other arm?"
He glanced at the boy's body and clicked his tongue.
"Ah… too bad. His other arm's already broken."
He paused, then grinned madly:
"But don't worry! I'll break it again!"
The older brother clenched his fists, fury and helplessness tearing at his heart.
This wasn't ignorance — Kael was deliberately twisting the situation, forcing an impossible choice between self-destruction and sacrificing his brother.
Biting down hard on his resolve, he placed his second arm against his knee…
Crack.
Another scream ripped from him. His broken body finally gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.
Through hazy eyes, he saw Kael looming above him, those demonic crimson eyes gleaming like blood-red gems.
"Damn it…" he thought in bitter regret.
Kael knelt beside him, voice dripping with venom:
"Don't you think… you should feel a little of the pain your brother suffered?"
And then Kael began — methodically, slowly — breaking each of his fingers, one by one.
The room was filled with the sickening sounds of cracking bones and ragged screams.
The boy begged, pleaded, cried for mercy… but Kael showed none.
He broke him piece by piece, savoring every second of it.
From the shadows, Mousan watched, paralyzed by terror.
He should have felt satisfaction seeing the ones who had bullied him suffer.
But this… this was too much.
And if Kael discovered that this whole setup had been a ploy to lure him here…
He might not survive either.
******
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
Inside a dim hall deep within the Kaldras family's fortress,
Liseria stood holding a strange pistol — one inscribed with ancient blood-red symbols. Even the bullets were etched with smaller sigils.
The hall was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the eerie glow of the bloody runes.
A deep voice emerged from the shadows:
"Excellent, Liseria. You're beginning to master the ancient Blood Language and its markings."
A tall figure stepped into the faint light.
He was impeccably dressed, with short black hair and glasses tethered by a fine chain — Kandro, her master.
He smiled approvingly:
"Soon, you'll become a family's Sorcerer."
In this world, Sorcerers were a rare and powerful breed.
Unlike bloodline carriers, who were born with power in their veins, Sorcerers were born empty.
To awaken, they had to drink the Original Blood — a rare, sacred substance capable of opening hidden channels within their bodies.
Because the Original Blood was so scarce, Sorcerers were extremely rare… but extraordinarily strong.
Their strength didn't come from within, but from the world around them — from the earth, the skies, the ancient remnants of life itself.
Their path of progression was clear but grueling:
From Soul Sorcerer — drawing power from themselves;
to Group Sorcerer — drawing from their allies;
to Family Sorcerer, then Continent Sorcerer, Bloodline Sorcerer, and finally… Cosmic Sorcerer.
Each stage expanded their reach and their might, allowing them, eventually, to summon entities greater than mortal comprehension.
Liseria bowed slightly.
"All thanks to you, Master," she said softly.
Kandro chuckled, ruffling her hair gently.
"No, child. It's the result of your relentless perseverance over all these years."
But a shadow of concern darkened his features.
Sensing it, Liseria raised her head.
"Master… what's wrong?"
Kandro exhaled deeply.
"Do you remember what I told you last time?
A strange pulse emerged from the Lower Layer… one so powerful that it echoed all the way to the Blood Tower — and yet, the Tower didn't sense it normally. It only caught its rhythm much later."
He grew somber.
"It wasn't a weak pulse. It was devastating.
And stranger still — it must have come from a forbidden bloodline. One… incredibly strong."
Liseria's brows furrowed.
"Didn't you send me to investigate? And said you would go yourself too?"
Kandro nodded, weary.
"I did. But by the time I arrived… he was already gone."
Liseria lowered her voice.
"Do you think… he's part of that dark organization?"
Kandro sighed, a deep, pained sound.
"I don't know yet. But that organization is stirring as well… growing in the shadows… building power in every city."
He looked up toward the ceiling, as if glimpsing a storm on the horizon.
"Soon… this continent will plunge into chaos."