Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The guild's reception area was crowded. The usual hustle and bustle—warriors negotiating bounties, hunters arguing, merchants filling out paperwork. The clink of coins, the creak of armor, and the smell of sweat and iron permeated the air.

However, when Kael walked through the main door, the atmosphere seemed to lessen. Not because he was seeking attention—quite the opposite. But it was impossible not to notice.

In his right hand, swinging gently, was a thick leather bag. The weight inside caused the leather to stretch, and the dark stain seeping from the bottom left no room for doubt.

The silence began in waves. First, the nearest adventurers wrinkled their noses at the metallic, putrid smell emanating from the bag. Then those further away, who stopped their conversations when they noticed what Kael was carrying. Within seconds, the normal hubbub of the guild had become an uncomfortable whisper.

Kael walked unhurriedly, his steps steady. The golden aura that always seemed to radiate from him was contained, hidden. Yet his posture conveyed something many in the room didn't understand—the firmness of someone who didn't need to prove anything to anyone.

He stopped in front of the counter.

The guild administrator, a woman with blond hair tied in a bun and an impeccable uniform, looked at Kael first. She almost opened her mouth to greet him, but her gaze dropped to the bag.

And then, reflexively, her expression tightened.

"...You can't be..." she interrupted herself, taking a deep breath. She straightened her back, maintaining her composure, though the narrowing of her eyes betrayed her nausea. "Don't tell me... you brought this all the way here."

Kael didn't answer immediately. He simply placed the bag on the counter with a heavy thud. The hide partially opened, and inside, what remained of the Goblin Lord could be seen: its colossal, grotesque head, with yellowed fangs, its skin already beginning to lose its shine, and its eyes closed in death.

A shiver ran through everyone present. Some adventurers backed away, others leaned in for a better look. The silence in the reception area was now almost suffocating.

The administrator covered her mouth for a moment, disgust etched on her face. Then she took a deep breath and tried to maintain formality.

"Okay... so... it is indeed his head..." she murmured, more to herself than to Kael.

And then, unable to contain herself, she looked directly at the young man.

"But how?" Her voice, this time, wasn't just filled with surprise. It was filled with disbelief. "How is it possible that... a wizard cut it so cleanly?" She pointed to the creature's neck. "There's no serration, no axe mark or ordinary blade... It's as if a perfect, enchanted blade did the work."

Kael held her gaze silently. There was no challenge, no explanation. It was a look that said everything and nothing at the same time.

The administrator felt the weight of this silence. She swallowed hard, looked away, and raised a hand in surrender.

"Okay... you won't answer. I understand." She straightened the papers on the desk, trying to regain her composure. "In that case, I'm not the one to deal with you."

Kael arched an eyebrow slightly, as if to say, "Really?"

The woman bowed slightly, her voice low, almost confidential.

"You'd better take this upstairs... to the second floor. The Master of the Freedom Guild needs to see it for herself."

Kael's gaze remained fixed on her for a few seconds. He didn't exactly look surprised, but there was a weight in his expression. Finally, he sighed softly and picked up the bag again.

He turned without a word.

The corridor leading to the staircase was to the right, behind a heavy, reinforced wooden door. Few adventurers had ever passed through here. The second floor wasn't just another floor—it was restricted territory. The guild's elite, the strategists, the faction masters, and the leader herself.

It was the first time Kael had set foot there.

The staircase was wide, made of polished stone, lit by blue embers in iron brackets. Each step Kael took echoed in a solemn silence, so different from the noise of the floor below. It was as if walking those stairs was crossing a threshold—from a world of noisy adventurers to a world of secrets and power.

At the top, two imposing doors, black wood carved with the guild's symbol: two broken chains. Guards in silver armor crossed their spears before Kael as he approached.

"Second floor is restricted," one of them said firmly. "By authorization only..."

Kael simply lifted the bag. The leather creaked, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner. The putrid smell permeated the air.

The guards looked at each other, the seriousness in their eyes giving way to a brief moment of shock. One swallowed, the other simply raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The wood slowly opened, revealing a silent corridor.

Kael entered.

The interior was another world. The stone walls were replaced by dark wood paneling and shelves filled with books and scrolls. Tapestries hung depicting ancient battles and symbols of freedom. Magical torches burned with blue flames, casting soft shadows.

There were fewer people there. A few adventurers, all high-ranking, wearing cloaks or armor that bore stories in their scars. They stopped to look at Kael, some frowning, others just watching him silently.

At the end of the corridor, double doors rose, even more imposing than the ones before.

Kael took a deep breath. He clutched the bag in his hand, feeling the weight of his head inside. Not the physical weight—but the weight of what it represented.

He was about to meet the woman behind the Freedom Guild.

The Master's room was large, circular, with windows overlooking the city. A large map of the kingdom covered one entire wall, marked with colored pins. Stacks of documents lay on oak tables, and in the center, in a tall chair, sat her.

The Master of the Freedom Guild.

A woman of overwhelming presence, yet her posture was calm. Silver hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes were a cold, piercing blue. She wore a dark blue robe embroidered with gold threads that shimmered in the magical light.

She looked up when Kael entered.

"So... you're the boy who made all the noise downstairs."

Her voice was firm, melodious, but carried authority.

Kael walked to the center of the room. Without a word, she placed the bag on the table in front of her and opened it.

The stench spread immediately. But the Master didn't flinch. Her eyes remained fixed on the Goblin Lord's head, analyzing every detail.

Silence.

For long seconds, she simply watched.

Then, calmly, she looked up at Kael.

"Impressive." Her voice wasn't one of surprise, but of recognition. "And frightening."

She interlaced her fingers before her face, resting her chin on them.

"You're not just a mage, are you?"

Kael held her gaze. He didn't answer.

She smiled, very slightly.

"No need to answer. I already know."

For a moment, silence reigned. The aura between them felt dense, as if each unspoken word were a weight in the air.

And Kael, for the first time, understood: the second floor wasn't just a physical place. It was a test. A limit. And now, he had crossed that threshold.

The silence stretched on, heavy.

The Master leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes still fixed on Kael, as if dissecting him right there, trying to comprehend every unspoken detail.

"So..." she said finally, her voice soft but firm, "...this was a mission intended for an entire team of mid-high-level adventurers." She pulled a scroll from the side of the table, where the guild seal was still intact. "The contract clearly specified that it was a high-risk undertaking."

She raised an eyebrow.

"And yet, you appear here... alone... bearing not only proof of victory, but the severed head of a Goblin Lord."

Kael remained motionless. His silence, as always, spoke louder than words.

The Master placed the scroll on the table, sliding her finger over it.

"So tell me, Kael." His name escaped her lips with disconcerting ease, as if she already knew him. "How did you do this?" She tilted her head. "I want the full report. From the beginning of the mission... to the moment this... thing"—she gestured slightly to the Lord's head—"fell beneath your blade."

Kael remained silent for a few seconds. Inwardly, he was breathing deeply. He was never one to waste words. But this wasn't a question that could be ignored.

He straightened his shoulders.

"The mission was poorly designed." His voice was low but clear. "It wasn't just a group of fortified goblins. From the beginning, there were signs of a Lord. The movement, the ambushes... the coordinated attacks."

The Master frowned slightly, attentive.

"Explain."

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, remembering.

"First, I found traces of destroyed caravans. No survivors." Markings on the ground showed this wasn't a disorganized attack—there was discipline. Skirmish groups, quick attacks, and retreats. An ordinary group of goblins wouldn't do that.

He inhaled, opening his eyes.

"As I advanced deeper into the forest, I came across the first horde. Over a hundred. They attacked in waves. First in disarray, then in rudimentary formation, with archers poised." His tone was cold, technical, like someone describing a training session. "The guild's normal resistance wouldn't stand a chance."

The Master placed her fingers over her mouth thoughtfully.

Kael continued.

"I cut them down. All of them. With each wave, the formation changed. With each advance, there were signs that something larger was coordinating them."

He tightened his fist lightly on the now empty bag.

"So, the village."

The Master's eyes narrowed.

"How many were there?" she asked.

Kael looked at her directly.

"Thousands." Her answer was dry. "At least three hundred, arrayed at the entrance." Shamans behind, archers in the trees, shields in front. It was a small, makeshift fortress, and in its center... the Lord.

The air seemed to grow heavier.

A few seconds passed in silence, until the Master took a deep breath.

"And yet, you entered. Alone."