Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

Kael's world fragmented into flashes and shadows.

Each breath was laced with pain, as if the air were laced with splinters. Blood ran down the side of his face, hot, viscous, seeping into his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the forest around him distorted into patches of red and gray.

The rock he had been thrown against now felt like an anchor. His body refused to move, his muscles heavy as cast iron. Even more frightening was the feeling of emptiness. The mana, always pulsing beneath his skin like a hidden river, was simply... gone. There was no flow, no flame. Only silence.

He tried to lift his hand. Nothing.

He tried to mutter a word. Nothing.

His entire body felt detached, like a puppet with its strings cut.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his stupor.

Five.

He could make out five silhouettes emerging from the smoke and flames. They moved in formation, careful but unhurried. The crackling fire cast elongated shadows behind them, giving them the appearance of creatures more than human.

Voices began to emerge.

"Shit... the trail's lost here," a man said, coughing from the smoke. "She's getting further and further away."

"Do you really think we're going to find the princess in this?" another replied, his tone sharper, almost mocking.

Kael kept his head down, but his ears caught every word.

Then he heard it.

A feminine voice, firm, without needing to raise its voice to assert itself.

"The princess should be far away by now."

The others fell silent immediately, as if her word were law.

The woman took a few steps forward. Her silhouette stood out more clearly against the flames: tall, erect, her long cloak flapping in the hot wind. The hood hid her face, but there was something about the way she walked—measured, elegant—that conveyed absolute control.

She stopped in front of Kael.

He couldn't move his gaze upward, but he saw her slowly lean forward until she was just inches from him. The ground trembled beneath the distant explosions of the fire, but her figure seemed unmoving, as if nothing could disturb her.

Kael felt his own blood trickle into his mouth, the metallic taste filling his tongue. He wanted to speak. He wanted to stand. Nothing happened.

The woman watched him silently for long seconds, as if evaluating a strange object. Her eyes—Kael could see them for a moment, as the light from the flames reflected—were a deep gray, almost silver, and held a sharp, analytical glint.

"And you...?" she asked, her voice calm, almost soft, but imbued with deadly curiosity. "Who is it?"

Kael remained silent. Not by choice, but by inability. Her throat didn't respond. Only the ragged sound of her breathing filled the space.

Behind her, laughter echoed.

"That one?" one of the men laughed loudly, spitting on the ground. "Better get this over with. It's just a little rat. A little rat that killed half our squad."

Others laughed, fueled by rage.

Kael wanted to glare at them. He wanted to at least show he wasn't afraid of them. But the woman raised her hand, signaling silence. The gesture was simple, but it was enough to silence everyone.

"Shut your mouths," she said, without raising her voice. "And tie this man up."

There was a moment of hesitation among the group. But the order was too clear to question. Two of them stepped forward, pulling thick ropes from their backpacks. The fibers smelled of smoke and oil, made to withstand even fire.

Kael felt them turn him onto his side, pulling his arms behind him. Pain lacerated his ribs, but he couldn't react. The harsh sound of the rope tightening around his wrists echoed in his mind like a sentence.

As he was tied, the woman looked up. The fire lit the sky in orange and red hues, but above the heavy clouds, there was a change. The smell of ozone mingled with the smoke. The wind carried moisture.

She smiled slightly.

"The rain will come soon."

Kael watched her, or rather, forced his eyes to remain open just to take in every detail.

The hood she wore finally fell.

Her hair was long, a glossy black, but with bluish highlights, like raven feathers in the light. Her pale skin contrasted with the flames, and a thin scar ran from her left eyebrow to her temple—not ugly, but striking, like a signature. Her lips were narrow, firm, and when she smiled, it wasn't a smile of kindness, but of certainty.

The sight of her seared itself into Kael's mind, even as his consciousness wavered.

There was something about this woman unlike any enemy he'd faced. Authority. Mystery. And a calm that was more frightening than hatred.

He tried to draw on mana again. Nothing. The void remained.

"Let's take him to the rendezvous point," she said, slowly turning, her cloak flapping in the heavy air. "I want him alive."

"Alive?" one of the men grumbled. "Why?"

The woman stared at him. Just that. Her gray eyes flashed for a moment.

The man who had questioned the order needed no more than that look. Her weight fell on him like an invisible blade. His shoulders hunched, and without another word, he returned to his attention, turning to the fire consuming a nearby tree, kicking at the embers with suppressed rage.

The silence that followed was even more oppressive than the laughter from before.

Kael felt the ropes tighten around his wrists and ankles. They were rough, oil-soaked, and each knot was pulled brutally, until pain lanced through his bones. His body trembled involuntarily, not from fear, but from the effort of resisting the humiliation of being tied up like slaughtered prey.

"I can't... I can't faint now..."

The thought throbbed in his mind, but the void where mana had once flowed was like an abyss.

The men finished tying him up and dragged him across the ground, leaving red marks on the ash-covered stones. Each movement made the wounds on his back sting. He felt the heat of the fire licking the air, but also the rising humidity gathering in the clouds.

The woman—the leader—walked a few steps ahead, as if she didn't even need to look to confirm their obedience. Her long cloak moved with the wind, catching sparks, but nothing about her seemed out of place.

Kael studied her with narrowed eyes. Every detail of her burned into his memory: the scar on her eyebrow, the bluish highlights in her hair, her almost supernatural calm. She wasn't like the soldiers. It wasn't driven by anger, nor haste. That kind of coldness always hid something deeper.

"He's tougher than he looks," one of the men commented, dragging Kael under his arms. "He should be dead by now."

"Maybe he's just stubborn," another replied, spitting beside him.

"Or maybe..." the woman said, without turning around. "...he has reason to keep breathing."

The words hung in the air, heavier than the fire around them.

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the rain begin to drip onto his heat-scorched skin. With each drop, the ground hissed, and clouds of steam rose. The entire forest seemed to sigh under the promise of a storm.

They continued through the twisted trees, their footsteps muffled by the distant rumble of thunder. The group maintained a tight formation: two in front, two behind, and the woman in the center. Kael, dragged along, was the dead weight between them, but no one seemed willing to lighten the load.

"What if he tries something?" one of the soldiers asked, shooting Kael a quick glance. "He decimated half of Darrus's squad single-handedly."

The woman lifted her chin slightly, as if savoring the memory.

"He won't try anything."

"How can you be sure?"

She finally turned her face. Her gray eyes gleamed in the flamelight, so cold that the man shivered.

"Because I severed his connection to the mana."

The silence that followed was almost reverent.

Kael's eyes widened, even though he lacked the strength to react. So this was it. It wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just injury. She had done something—a spell, an invisible mark—that had cut him off from his own power. The void wasn't his. It was hers.

He tried to scream, but only a hoarse sound came from his throat. The muffled chuckle of one of the men echoed.

"So he's just meat now."

Kael closed his eyes, fighting the despair that overcame him.

The rain finally fell. Hard, heavy, extinguishing parts of the fire but turning the forest into a muddy swamp. The soldiers grumbled, pulling leather cloaks over their shoulders. The leader didn't move, letting herself be soaked through, as if the rain were simply part of her nature.

They walked a few more minutes until they reached a clearing where the earth sank in circles, as if something immense had fallen there long ago. The surrounding trees were charred, and the center of the crater held ancient ruins—broken stones covered in moss, toppled columns, and engraved symbols that glowed faintly in the rain.

That was the meeting point.

Kael was thrown against one of the columns. The impact drew another gush of blood from him, but still his eyes fixed on the symbols. He recognized them, in fragments: ancient signs of imprisonment. A place where dangerous things were kept.

One of the soldiers kicked his shoulder, forcing him to stand aside.

"Do you want us to take care of him now?"

The woman shook her head.

"No. He'll serve."

"Serve...?"

She walked over to Kael, crouched down in front of him. Her hair dripped wet, sticking to her face, but her eyes remained implacable. She moved close enough for only he to hear.

"You're not just anyone," she said in a low, almost confidential tone. "I saw what you did. Ordinary men don't kill entire squads. Ordinary men don't carry the weight I see in your eyes."

Kael tried to turn away, but couldn't.

"And that's why you'll stay alive," she continued, smiling subtly, enigmatically. "Until I find out who you really are."

She stood and turned to the soldiers.

"Stand guard. The storm will last for hours. Tomorrow, we head for the fortress."

The men obeyed, still grumbling. They lit torches that resisted the rain thanks to minor enchantments, erected makeshift tents among the ruins, and tied Kael to the stones with reinforced chains.

He lay there, motionless, his body aching and the emptiness in his soul growing suffocating.

But amidst the pain and humiliation, a thought pierced him like a burning iron:

If she wanted to find out who he was...

...he needed to find out who she was, too.