Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The magic circle didn't appear as a simple drawing in the air. It was born from the ground, from the burning trees, from the very smoke that filled the air. Incandescent red lines emerged like burning roots, spreading throughout the clearing where Kael was trapped.

There were dozens. Then hundreds. Then thousands.

Each one intertwined with the other as if part of a gigantic living organism, a hellish mandala etched into the depths of the forest. The assassins froze for a moment—not with fear, but with instinct. They knew magic. They knew rituals. But this… this was different. It wasn't just power, it was a sin spat against nature.

Kael's amber eyes shone brighter than the surrounding fire itself. His body trembled, not only from exhaustion, but from the effort of channeling an energy no man should carry.

"Hellfire Gale."

The words came out as a roar, but also as a decree.

And the world responded.

The air, previously choked by smoke, was violently sucked into the circles. The flames spreading through the trees were pulled back, twisted, bent, and molded against their own nature. The heat intensified to the point of burning skin even without direct contact.

Then the storm came.

A wave of fire exploded outward in a spiral, like an inverted hurricane. The wind was so strong that it ripped off entire sections of charred trees, lifting burning trunks to spin through the air like projectiles. The flames swirled with it, transforming into living blades, whips of fire that cut through everything in their path.

The first assassin didn't even have time to scream. His body disintegrated amidst the whirlwind, reduced to ash that mixed with the smoke. The second tried to roll out, but the gale pulled him back, crushing him against a burning trunk until his flesh burst.

Kael spun in the center, arms outstretched, sword in one hand and flames in the other, like the conductor of an apocalypse.

The remaining five fought against the wind, digging their blades into the ground to avoid being sucked in. Their black cloaks flapped like shattered wings, their eyes wide beneath their masks.

One of them summoned courage. With a stifled scream, he hurled a dagger at Kael. The projectile was swallowed by the gale, incinerated before it even reached them. Another tried to run from the flank, but the fire enveloped him like a hungry serpent, coiling until it transformed him into a human torch.

Four.

Kael felt blood trickle from every wound, but he didn't stop. His body ached, his lungs burned, but his soul seemed to burn even brighter than the fire he conjured.

"I will not fall... not before they are safe."

Two assassins locked eyes, and in a synchronized movement, they advanced together toward the eye of the hurricane. They used the wind itself to propel their leaps, spinning their blades in spiraling slashes.

Kael roared.

His sword met the first's midair, the impact generating a shockwave that scattered sparks like shooting stars. The second managed to sever his left arm, tearing the flesh to the bone. Kael screamed but did not retreat.

With the force of the pain, he twisted his body and pierced the first enemy's abdomen, cutting him in two. The second tried to pull away, but Kael grabbed his mask with his bloodied hand and, with a snap, unleashed a blast of fire straight at his face. His head exploded in the flash.

Two.

The last assassins resisted, rooted to the ground, gnashing their teeth against the maddening wind. One of them raised a sealed scroll, activating a spell of his own. A blue dome appeared around his body, repelling the fire. The other took advantage of the gap and launched three poisoned daggers.

Two grazed him, but the third pierced Kael's thigh. The pain was excruciating. His knee nearly gave way, but he planted his foot on the ground, supporting his weight.

Blood flowed freely, mixing with the heat of the fire. He knew: he didn't have much time.

"All I need... is to hold you here."

Kael raised his sword again and focused all his remaining energy. The circles began to shatter, one by one, like shattered glass. The gale screamed in one final howl, concentrating in a single direction.

He pointed the blade forward.

"Die with me."

The storm launched like an arrow of pure destruction. The assassin with the blue dome was struck dead on; his barrier held for two seconds before imploding, shattering his body into flesh and ash.

The assassin, shielded by the blue barrier, didn't have time to scream. As the wave of fire engulfed him, the magical shield held out just long enough for him to feel every bone being crushed from the inside out. The dome imploded, sending sparks and arcane fragments flying. His body vanished in a flash, leaving only a charred shadow imprinted on the ground like a scar of magic.

Kael gasped, his body hunched over, but his amber eyes still glowed like live coals. Only one enemy remained—the most silent of them all. The man remained kneeling, his curved blade stuck in the ground, resisting the dissipating gale. His black mask revealed nothing, but the way he moved betrayed discipline. He didn't tremble, didn't yield, didn't show fear.

Unlike the others, this one was different.

The wind slowly died, the flames around him fading in intensity, as if the forest itself were gasping for breath after the massacre. Ash fell from the sky like black snow, covering the mutilated bodies.

Kael let the sword lower for a moment, breathing heavily. Every muscle screamed, every wound throbbed like red-hot iron. His left arm barely moved, dripping blood in drops that evaporated in the heat. The poisoned dagger was still stuck in his thigh, the metal throbbing next to his heart.

Still, he rose.

"You're still here…" he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Do you want to die last?"

The assassin didn't answer. He simply stood slowly, the curved blade gleaming in the red light of the flames. His posture was impeccable: firm, poised, deadly.

The two stared at each other in silence.

And then, the world disappeared.

All that remained was the muffled sound of blood rushing in his ears.

The assassin struck first. Quick as a shadow, he slid across the ground, striking in an upward arc. Kael blocked with his sword, sparks flying from the impact. His arm ached, but he forced the blade down, pushing his enemy back.

The man spun, lashing out with the other blade. Kael recoiled, feeling the edge graze his skin and open another cut on his side. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain.

It was like fighting his own reflection.

The assassin made no mistakes. Every strike was precise, calculated. Where Kael advanced with brutality and instinct, his enemy responded with pure technique, cold as steel.

Sword against blade. Fire against shadow.

They moved through the burning trees like predators in an ancient duel. Each thrust was accompanied by the crackle of flames, each parry illuminated by the sparks falling from the sky.

Kael felt exhaustion dragging his body, but his fury kept him on his feet. He roared, slashing diagonally. The assassin dodged fluidly, counterattacking in the same opening. The curved blade tore through his shoulder blade, blood cascading down.

The world spun dizzily, but Kael drove his sword into the ground, using it as a pillar to keep from falling. The metal hissed against the burning earth. His chest heaved like a broken bellows, and each breath tasted of blood and smoke.

His amber eyes, however, did not waver. They glowed like raging coals.

"I will not fall here…" His voice sounded hoarse, almost a growl. "Not until they are safe."

He raised his bloodied hand. Small circles of fire ignited at his fingertips, fragile and unsteady, but still deadly. He lacked the energy for another gale, but still had enough power to kill.

The last assassin didn't hesitate. He leaped forward, curved blade raised, his eyes fixed on the gap in Kael's guard. His speed was inhuman, precise, deadly.

Kael met him without flinching. Their swords met in a brutal clash, sparks scattering like stars among the flames. At the same instant, he detonated the circles in his free hand. A short but devastating explosion exploded against his enemy's chest.

The impact threw them both in opposite directions.

Kael slammed into the trunk of a burning tree, the air leaving his lungs in a choked groan. He coughed, spitting dark blood that ran down his chin.

He looked at his left arm—or what was left of it. The flesh was charred, the armor melted and stuck to his skin. The smell of burning flesh mingled with the forest, a hellish perfume that threatened to make him vomit.

"Shit… I should have invested more in my fire resistance…" he muttered, laughing bitterly. The sound sounded more like a broken roar than a laugh.

Even so, he raised his mangled hand, letting a greenish glow appear in his palm. The energy of the World Tree coursed through his veins, as if nature itself still, despite itself, accepted him.

The arm was restored. The skin returned, the muscles mended, the bone regenerated. But the pain… the pain remained, piercing every nerve like fiery needles.

Kael looked up at the smoke-shrouded sky and muttered through clenched teeth,

"World Tree… you must be really pissed at me."

And indeed, if she could have responded, she might have screamed. The once-verdant forest was gone. In its place rose a hellish domain, a realm of flames and smoke that devoured everything without distinction. Trees screamed as they fell, the ground cracked into ash, animals fled in living flames.

Kael was at the center of it all—not just as a survivor, but as a catalyst. Man and hell were one.

And yet, even in this demonic world he had created, he raised his sword again. His body trembled, but his soul roared.