"You bastard! You killed Monka! Die!"
When the other members saw the yellow-haired man—Monka—go down, they reacted instantly, rage snapping whatever caution they had left.
"Great Flame Bomb!!"
The man with the afro thrust his palm forward, launching a roaring fireball straight at Kael.
"Bala!"
Kael lifted his hand and fired a Bala. The fireball had barely cleared the caster's fingers when Kael's shot cut through the air first—faster, sharper—colliding with the flame head-on.
The impact detonated in midair, heat and pressure bursting outward in a violent flash that swallowed the space between them.
"Aaargh!!"
The afro-haired man was blasted backward, his body thrown off balance as the backwash of his own attack slammed into him.
Kael's voice stayed calm. "Eleven left."
"Bastard!"
The remaining Phantom Lord operatives seethed. They had been careless because Kael looked young. They never imagined he would erase two of them in moments.
Worse—he had done it easily.
That realization crawled up their spines like ice, turning anger into a sharp, instinctive fear.
"Wind Blade!!"
A man raised his hand and unleashed a storm of slicing wind, crescent-shaped blades screaming toward Kael's chest and throat.
"Sonído!"
Kael's figure blurred—an afterimage left behind for a fraction of a second—and the wind blades carved through empty air.
In the next moment, he was already in front of the caster.
A single clean motion.
The Zanpakutō flashed.
"Aaargh!!"
The man's chest split open before he could even widen his eyes. Blood sprayed as his knees buckled and he collapsed.
"Ten left."
Kael didn't pause. He turned his gaze to the cluster behind the fallen mage and raised his index finger.
Emerald light gathered at the fingertip, condensing into a dense, compact sphere that hummed with contained force.
"I'll block it!"
"Earth-Molding: Wall!!"
The ground trembled. Stone and soil surged upward, forming a thick wall in front of them—wide, heavy, and reinforced by magic.
"Cero!"
The green sphere elongated into a beam in an instant, a concentrated column of energy that tore forward and expanded as it traveled.
The earth wall didn't merely crack—it was erased. The beam punched through as if the barrier had been made of paper, pulverizing stone into dust and hurling fragments outward like shrapnel.
"Aaaaaargh!"
"Waaaaah!"
Four Phantom Lord operatives were caught in the path of destruction. Their screams cut off as the blast swallowed them.
When it ended, a massive trench scarred the ground—deep, jagged, and still smoking where the energy had burned through.
"Six left."
"Die!"
A figure in a skintight suit—moving like a shadow—appeared silently behind Kael. He was close enough that the air barely stirred.
His blade drove for Kael's heart.
"Kael, watch out!!"
Elfman's warning came a heartbeat too late.
The sword hit Kael.
And then—
The assassin's weapon snapped.
The sound was sharp and final, metal failing as if it had struck solid stone.
"What?!"
The attacker's eyes widened, shock turning instantly to panic. He tried to spring back—
But Kael's hand caught his face.
Not his collar. Not his arm.
His face.
The grip was absolute.
The assassin felt an unstoppable force slam his head down into the ground.
The impact cracked the earth open, leaving a crater where his skull struck. Kael released him. The man's eyes rolled back and his body went limp, unconscious before he even understood what had happened.
"Five left."
"M-Monster!"
The remaining operatives froze, terror finally overwhelming their bravado. Explosions hadn't hurt him. Blades couldn't pierce him. If this wasn't a monster, what was?
How did you fight something you couldn't injure?
"Keep attacking! If one hit doesn't work, hit him ten times! A hundred times!" someone shouted, voice shaking with forced courage. "I don't believe we can't kill this monster!"
They scattered and attacked together, trying to overwhelm him with numbers.
"A useless struggle."
Kael's outline flickered across the battlefield—appearing, vanishing, reappearing—each movement too fast to track properly.
Four more bodies fell almost immediately, dropping in succession like cut strings.
These operatives weren't weak. They had just wiped out an entire squad of Rune Knights—mages trained and equipped by the Magic Council.
In any normal guild, they would have been elite.
But in front of Kael Vane, they had no chance.
Speed. Strength. Offense. Defense.
Kael was on a different level in every category, and none of them survived more than a single exchange.
"One left."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The leader—Kamil—who had been watching from the side the entire time, began to applaud slowly, as if he had just witnessed an entertaining show.
"Wonderful. Truly wonderful."
"Kid… to have this much power at your age… it's amazing."
Kael Vane's green eyes turned to him. "Your companions are all dead. Should you be so happy?"
"Companions?" Kamil's tone held no warmth. "Only the strong can be my companions. They weren't my first companions either. They killed my old ones and took their place."
He tilted his head slightly behind the silver mask. "With your strength, isn't it a waste to work such a hard job?"
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What should I be doing?"
"Join me, of course."
"What's in it for me?"
"Benefits?" Kamil laughed. "There are so many benefits. Join me, and we'll overthrow the Magic Council. We'll create a world that we rule—our rules. The whole world will be ours."
His voice rose with fanatic confidence. "You'll be free to do whatever you want. Money, status, fame, power, women—anything you want."
Kael Vane cut him off, voice flat. "Enough."
Kamil paused. "What? Have you decided to join me?"
"Of course…" Kael's gaze sharpened. "I refuse."
"What?!"
Kael's disdain was unmistakable. "I thought you were going to say something amazing, but in the end, that's it? You wasted two minutes of my time."
He stepped forward slightly, not afraid in the slightest. "You talk a big game, but you're all alone now. You think you can trick me into working for you?"
His lips curled. "Are you a main character or something? Overthrow the Council? Rule the world? You really don't know your place."
Kamil's mask couldn't hide the sudden chill in the air. "Kid… I invited you because I value talent. If you refuse, then you'll die."
Kael Vane didn't blink. "Sorry. I'm in a hurry. So please— you die."
"Sonído!"
Kael vanished in a blur and appeared at Kamil's side, sword already moving—an execution-level slash aimed cleanly through.
And then the blade warped.
Not deflected normally. Not blocked.
Warped—as if space itself bent the edge away from its target.
Kael's eyes widened as he twisted away instinctively.
He avoided the worst of it—
But the counter-curve caught him.
The blade pierced his shoulder.
"Hm?"
Kael's expression tightened. This was not what he expected.
He retreated instantly, creating distance, then lifted his right hand and pointed his index finger at Kamil.
Green energy gathered again, denser than before.
"Cero!"
The beam fired straight toward Kamil—fast, direct, lethal.
Kamil didn't move.
At the last possible moment, the Cero's path bent.
The emerald beam turned around in mid-flight and screamed back toward Kael.
The redirected blast carved through everything it touched—fences, walls, and the sides of nearby buildings—ripping a violent path of destruction across the area.
Kael had already moved.
The moment the beam reversed, his figure blurred and reappeared at a safer distance, Sonído carrying him out of the line before the reflected attack could reach him.
Kamil's voice held a cold satisfaction. "Too bad. If you had been any slower, that would have hit your head, not your arm."
"Kael, are you okay! You bastard!"
Elfman's right arm transformed into a beast's arm, muscles swelling as he prepared to charge.
"Don't come over!"
Kael Vane lifted one hand—firm, controlled. "Protect the client. I'm fine."
Kamil sneered. "Fine? Kid, your right arm is useless now."
He leaned forward slightly. "I'll give you one last chance. Join me. Become my subordinate. If not, you'll die—and so will your friend."
Kael ignored him.
He gripped the blade lodged in his shoulder with both hands and slowly pulled it free, steel sliding through flesh with controlled precision.
The instant the blade cleared, the wound began to close.
Skin knitted together at high speed, the torn muscle restoring itself as if rewinding time.
Within moments, the injury vanished completely—as if the sword had never pierced him at all.