A group of figures moved in shadows,with their bodies blurring through the shadow casted by the sun as they jumped from one tall structure to another. Their movements were swift and calculated, each landing silent as a whisper.

Just as they were about to leap again, one of them suddenly froze, his body tensing.

The others skidded to a halt, and their hands instinctively reached for their weapons.

"What happened?" The leader, a man wearing a black mask, asked in a hushed tone.

For a moment, the man who had stopped was drenched in sweat, his breath shaky.

"N...Nothing… I just felt a presence."

The leader's brows furrowed beneath his mask. "A presence?"

A heavy silence fell over them.

...…

Meanwhile, back on the streets, Kael opened his eyes and his body went rigid.

His sudden glaring cold gaze made both Gare and Baret react immediately, as they felt an intense murderous intent and reacted instinctively, going for the sword.

"We're being followed," he muttered.

"Huh?" Both of them blurted at the same time, their expressions filled with suspicion.

Kael's eyes twitched in frustration. "What? You don't believe me?"

Just because he didn't have mana didn't mean he couldn't use it. Once someone mastered the art of control, they could easily manipulate the surrounding mana.

And right now, Kael could feel it..

A strong, overwhelming presence lurking nearby.

A presence that felt like a rabid dog, just waiting to pounce.

Baret exchanged glances with Gare before whispering, "It might be Duke's personal guard."

Kael's brows are knitted together. "His guard?"

"You don't know about them?" Baret asked, a bit surprised.

Kael shook his head, signaling him to explain.

Baret took a deep breath before speaking.

"Veydrin has three types of forces."

"The first is the Blue Lion. They're normal knights responsible for maintaining law and order."

"The second is the Red Lion Guard. A force built for war, purge, and defense. They are elite, highly trained combatants tasked with guarding the fortress and key locations."

Then, his voice dropped slightly, carrying a hint of unease.

"And then comes the third... the Black Lion."

Kael's expression darkened.

"The most superior and secretive force of Veydrin. They are composed of Elders personally chosen by the Veydrin heads. The deadliest and most feared Watchers, striking terror even in the bravest souls."

Kael's face twisted in disgust. "What kind of shitty description is that? You make them sound like death incarnate."

Baret simply shrugged, but Kael clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Every powerful family had their own hidden forces, and even the father of his previous life had one.

But what he hated the most was the way these forces were created.

Brutal. Deadly. Inhumane.

Loyal dogs who followed the Head's orders blindly. If the Head was good, fine. But if they were a psychotic bastard… then it was nothing short of a nightmare.

A dark memory surfaced in Kael's mind, but he immediately suppressed it, turning his gaze outside as moved out of the noble district diving into the lands of commoners.

The streets stretched before them, their elegance illuminated by the golden glow of the city's architecture.

Kael couldn't help but marvel at it. "The streets feel surreal."

His eyes landed on the tall, rod-like structures lined up at every corner.

"Are those… lamps?" he asked, pointing.

Gare nodded. "Yes, Sir. They light up at night."

Kael hummed in interest but then smirked when Gare asked the inevitable question.

"Sir, where are we going?"

Kael's lips curled into a mysterious smile.

"The slums… No, wait. It's better to say an orphanage."

His voice softened slightly as he muttered, "We'll be visiting the orphanage."

Baret and Gare, watching Kael's gentle smile, suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

The City of Cole, the capital of the Duchy of Veydrin, stood as a majestic stronghold in the East of the Heinz Empire, its towering walls built to defend against monsters and brutes lurking beyond.

Outside the city, smaller provinces and cities sprawled across the land, each governed by City Lords.

One such place was Gory, a rough and grimy city at the edges of civilization.

...….

At the very periphery of the slums, where the streets reeked of stale alcohol, sweat, and misery, a large, brutish man dragged a frail boy by his hair and slammed him face-first against a wooden door.

BANG!

The boy let out a sharp cry, his head spinning from the impact. His small hands trembled as he clutched at the splintered door, trying to stabilize himself.

His cheeks were swollen, his lips split open, and his body ached from previous beatings.

The booming voice of the man echoed through the alleyway.

"You little squeak… how the fuck did you dare steal from me?!"

His breath reeked of alcohol, his scarred face twisted in rage, and his one good eye glowed with menace.

The man was One-Eyed Slim—was a known thug, a ruthless bastard feared by the slum dwellers.

The boy whimpered in pain, but his anger burned hotter than his wounds.

"Steal...? It's my money, you fat shit!" he spat out, his voice shaking. "I cleaned your damn shoes, but instead of paying me, you beat me up!"

BAM!

A glass bottle, still dripping with liquor, slammed onto the boy's face, sending him toppling to the ground. Blood mixed with the filth on the street as the boy cried out, his hands gripping his nose.

A crowd had already gathered, and each of their faces was filled with twisted excitement.

The poor and downtrodden of Gory loved a good beating—especially when it wasn't happening to them. Some cheered, some laughed, while others placed bets on how long the boy would last.

"One-Eyed Slim's at it again!"

"That brat's done for!"

The boy crawled back, his vision blurry. His ragged clothes were drenched in dirt and blood, but his eyes blazed with defiance.

Slim cracked his knuckles, his one eye gleaming dangerously.

"You've got some mouth on you, brat," he sneered. "Do you even know who I am?"

The boy wiped his bloody nose, glaring up at the towering man.

"Yeah, I know you." His voice was hoarse but laced with venom. "You're One-Eyed Slim… the so-called 'fearsome bastard' everyone talks about."

"But so what?"The boy spat the blood.

Slim's grin widened, his yellowed teeth showing.

"Damn right. I own these streets, runt. You should've kept your hands off my purse."

The boy tried to get up, but Slim's boot smashed into his stomach, sending him skidding across the dirt.

"ARGH!" The boy curled up, coughing violently.

Slim didn't let up. He grabbed the boy by his torn collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.

"Brats like you need to be taught a lesson."

With a powerful slap, he sent the boy's head snapping to the side. A fresh streak of red trickled down his face.

The crowd howled in amusement, some mocking the boy's pained groans.

"Beat him, Slim!"

"Show the brat who's boss!"

Slim grinned, enjoying the attention. He raised his fist, ready to deliver another brutal punch.

But just then—

BANG!

A glass bottle soared through the air and smashed against Slim's head and shards exploded in every direction.

"Guh—?!"

The thug staggered back, clutching the side of his head, with blood trickling down his temple. His one good eye widened in shock before it twisted into rage.

The crowd fell silent, eyes darting around in curiosity.

Slim whipped around, his voice booming with fury.

"Who the fuck did that?!"

A moment of tense silence followed.

Slim's face twitched, his fists clenching.

"Come out if you have the guts, you little shits!"

Then, from the shadows, a voice chuckled coldly.

"FUCKKKK!"

"Are you challenging me?"