Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The air inside the tavern grew heavier when the name Alice was spoken. The echo seemed to resonate off the newly restored walls, as if even the wood itself understood the weight of that figure.

Klee blinked several times, her golden eyes widening in surprise, almost disbelief. The hand holding the trembling wineglass slid off the rim, and she placed it on the table to avoid spilling. The silence grew thick, everyone watching the mysterious elf's reaction.

She took a deep breath and murmured, her voice cracking between doubt and shock:

"You... you know my mother?"

Sylphie, completely uninhibited, took a sip of her wine before letting out a nervous, mocking laugh:

"Yes, we do. That crazy fucking pyrotechnician."

The sentence fell like a bomb. Irelia immediately raised her hand, slamming it down on the table with enough force to make the glasses shake.

"Sylphie!" Her tone was reprimanding, but there was a flicker of hidden agreement.

Kael sighed heavily, bringing his hand to his face. "By all the gods..."

Amelia coughed discreetly, but didn't even try to hide the small smile that threatened to appear on her lips.

Klee, on the other hand, widened her eyes even further. Her face flushed red—with anger, with embarrassment, perhaps both. She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor with a screech.

"Crazy?!" her voice echoed. "You dare talk about my mother like that?"

Sylphie, unfazed, raised her wine glass as if toasting the chaos. "Well, isn't she?" A provocative smile curved her lips. "The woman appears out of nowhere, blows up half a village in an 'artistic' display, laughs as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and then demands applause!"

"It's true…" Amelia muttered softly, crossing her arms.

Klee felt her cheeks burn. "She's not crazy!" she shouted, slamming her hands on the table. "She's… she's brilliant! Visionary! You don't understand!"

Irelia sighed, trying to intervene. "Look, we're not saying she's not powerful. But you have to admit she has… peculiar ways."

"Peculiar?" Sylphie laughed. "Calling that 'peculiar' is like calling a dragon breathing fire in a library 'slightly inconvenient.'"

Klee clenched her fists, her eyes flashing with the same energy that betrayed her magical heritage. For an instant, the electric tension in the air threatened to create visible sparks.

Kael stood up suddenly, his chair being pushed back with a force. His golden aura exploded through the room, heavy and suffocating, like a storm about to break loose.

"Enough!" His voice echoed, sharp.

The four of them—Sylphie, Irelia, Amelia, and Klee—stopped immediately, as if the pressure of his presence had crushed their urge to fight.

Kael looked at Sylphie first, his gaze hard. "You… shut up. I told you to control your tongue. What the hell happened to you during this training? You were cute and sensitive! Now you look… I won't even tell you what you look like!"

The silence in the tavern was almost palpable. The echo of Kael's voice still vibrated through the walls like thunder that refused to die down. His golden aura wavered around his body, thick, suffocating, almost overwhelming. Sylphie swallowed hard, Irelia maintained her erect posture despite the pressure, and Amelia simply took a deep breath, as if knowing that the next moment could further inflame the atmosphere.

But, in a synchronicity as natural as it was rehearsed, the three spoke together, without hesitation, staring Kael down firmly:

"Blame your grandmother. Our teacher."

The sentence fell like a sword piercing the charged atmosphere. Even Raven, who until then seemed to be watching everything like a privileged audience, raised her eyebrows and let out a low, amused whistle. Sazhara, on the other hand, bit her lip to keep from laughing at the scene, though her eyes burned with flames of sarcasm.

Kael blinked. Twice. Then he rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, as if waking from a nightmare.

"You... you're telling me..." He pointed his finger at each of them, slowly, as if to nail the accusation to their foreheads. "...that my sweet, wise, and absurdly dangerous grandmother is responsible for you turning into three hysterical versions of walking storms?"

Sylphie was the first to respond, crossing her arms with that mischievous insolence only she could muster. "If anyone here is hysterical, it's you. And yes, your grandmother trained us. Intensely. For months. And you know what? She broke us, rebuilt us, and then broke us again. All to bring us up to her level."

Irelia, serious as ever, added, "She didn't just train us. She molded us. She said if we wanted to be by her side, we couldn't just be girls waiting for protection. We had to be blades, as sharp as hers."

Amelia, silent until then, let out a sigh before speaking, her voice calm but firm: "You can blame us for the outcome, Kael, but don't blame our motivation. We wanted to be able to walk beside you. Your grandmother simply showed us the way… in her own way."

Kael was silent for a few seconds, his hands resting on his face. Finally, he slid his fingers down, revealing a look somewhere between incredulous and exasperated. "Of course. It had to be her doing. It wasn't enough to torment me since I was a child, she had to drag you into this circus too."

Raven laughed out loud, throwing her head back. "Oh, I didn't see that coming! The Witch Queen herself, turning young ladies into living weapons just so she wouldn't be outdone by her grandson? That's so like her!"

Sazhara arched an eyebrow in interest. "So the legendary Witch Queen really exists. And she's to blame for these… walking explosions." She shot a venomous look at Irelia, who immediately scowled back.

Kael held up his hand, as if to stop the spark from rekindling. His voice was weary, but still filled with authority: "Enough. I won't allow another fight in here. It was humiliating enough destroying the second floor and forcing Raven to put on a little show of magical restoration."

"A little show?" Raven feigned offense, clutching her chest. "Honey, that was art. But go on, I'm loving the angry father scolding you're giving."

Kael ignored her. His gaze returned to the three girls. "Oh... because I still tried." He placed his hand on his head, then turned away. "I'm going to go get quests from the guild. Do whatever you want."

The silence that followed Kael's statement was thick, like a dense fog weighing down everyone's shoulders. He was already turning toward the door, each step heavy, laden with frustration and exhaustion. Her golden aura wavered slightly, as if about to dissipate, but it still vibrated in the air like a latent threat.

Sylphie was the first to break the silence, her voice firm, almost impatient:

"Wait a minute." She slammed her fist on the table, leaning forward. "You're not just going to walk out like that after dropping a bomb like that."

Kael stopped, but didn't turn around.

Irelia was second, her voice calmer, but still firm:

"Why are you in this city, Kael? We've seen what you carry. We've seen your strength. It doesn't make sense for you to be here, lost among mercenaries and taverns, instead of in the Witch Kingdom. This is where you belong."

Amelia, until then observing with that usual analytical air, spoke next. She folded her hands on the table, her expression intent.

"You're not just some wanderer. We know that. So why are you here, pretending you can live as if you were?"

The three of them were staring at him now. Even Klee, her eyes still moist with anger from the earlier provocation about her mother, seemed to have forgotten the fight and was looking at Kael curiously. Even Raven, who had been laughing at the chaos until then, now remained silent, her eyes narrowed as if trying to decipher every detail of the boy.

Kael took a deep breath. Slowly, he turned. His golden gaze gleamed in the tavern light, and for a moment, he seemed heavier than everything inside.

"Because..." He sighed, his voice carrying a weight no one expected. "...it wasn't me who decided. It was my mother."

The silence fell again, only this time more sharp.

"What do you mean?" Irelia was the first to ask, her eyebrow arched.

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, massaging his temple as if the memories burned in his mind.

"My mother decided I would stay here. She said I needed to…" he paused, as if the words were heavy in his throat, "…to learn. To train. To grow. Not in the comfort of the Witch Realm, not under my grandmother's shadow… but here, where every choice and every struggle depends solely on me."

Sylphie snorted, slumping against the back of the chair.

"So she just threw you into this shithole of a town and said, 'figure it out'?"

Kael opened his eyes, staring intently at her.

"She didn't throw me anywhere. She gave me a path. I just need to follow it."

Amelia tilted her head curiously. "And what path is that?"

Kael looked away, staring at the door as if the answer lay beyond it.

"To grow stronger." The sentence came out simple, but charged with conviction. "Train until I no longer need to depend on anyone. Not her. Not my grandmother. Not you."