Morning came too easily.
Sunlight poured over the Draven estate, warm and calm—as if nothing had happened.
As if no one had died.
Inside the main hall, servants moved quietly, their voices hushed. Black drapes still hung along the walls, but already, the atmosphere had begun to shift.
A death in a declining noble house was not tragedy.
It was routine.
At the head of the table sat Kael's stepbrother.
Lucien Draven.
Elegant. Composed. Untouched by grief.
He sipped his tea slowly, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable.
Across from him, a steward spoke in a careful tone.
"My lord, the burial was completed last night. No complications."
Lucien nodded faintly.
"And the physician?"
"He confirmed poison as the cause of death."
"Good."
Lucien set the cup down with a soft click.
Everything had gone exactly as planned.
Clean.
Efficient.
Final.
And yet—
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
"…Bring the maid," he said.
Moments later, Lira was escorted into the hall.
She bowed deeply, her posture flawless.
"My lord."
Lucien studied her.
Quietly.
Carefully.
"You confirmed his death?" he asked.
Lira didn't hesitate.
"Yes, my lord. I personally saw his body before burial."
Lucien's gaze didn't change.
But something behind his eyes shifted.
"Describe it."
A pause.
Small.
Almost imperceptible.
"He was pale," Lira said. "Cold. No breathing. No response."
Accurate.
Perfectly accurate.
Too perfect.
Lucien leaned back slightly.
"…And the wine?"
"It was empty," she replied. "Completely consumed."
Another correct answer.
Lucien closed his eyes briefly.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Everything aligned.
Every detail.
Every step.
No mistakes.
So why—
"…You may leave," he said.
Lira bowed again and exited without a sound.
Silence filled the hall.
Lucien remained still for a long moment.
Then—
"Follow her."
A shadow detached itself from behind a pillar.
Another assassin.
Hidden.
Watching.
"Yes, my lord."
The figure vanished as silently as it had appeared.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"Kael…"
The name lingered in the air.
"You were never impressive," he murmured. "But you weren't careless either."
He tapped the table again.
Once.
"The poison was flawless."
Twice.
"The timing was exact."
Three times.
"And yet…"
His eyes opened.
Cold.
Sharp.
"…something feels wrong."
Deep within the forest—
Kael stood at the center of the ruin.
Dozens of undead surrounded him, unmoving, silent, waiting for command.
The air was thick with dark energy.
Heavy.
Alive.
He raised his hand slightly.
One of the undead soldiers stepped forward instantly.
Perfect response.
Perfect control.
"Again," Kael said.
The soldier halted.
Turned.
Returned to formation.
Kael nodded.
"…Good."
They were crude.
Slow.
Unrefined.
But loyal.
Absolutely loyal.
And that was enough.
For now.
A faint chime echoed in his mind.
[Daily Intelligence Available]
Kael's eyes sharpened.
"Show me."
[Intelligence Acquired]
[Your stepbrother has begun to suspect your death. An assassin has been sent to confirm your grave.]
Kael went still.
Then—
He smiled.
"…Faster than I expected."
So Lucien wasn't a fool.
Good.
That made this interesting.
Kael turned toward the entrance of the ruin.
His gaze distant.
Calculating.
"If he checks the grave…"
A pause.
"…then let him."
His smile deepened.
"Prepare," he ordered.
The undead moved instantly.
Silent.
Efficient.
They began positioning themselves—some near the entrance, others hidden within the forest above.
A trap.
Simple.
But effective.
Kael stepped forward, stopping just beneath the broken ceiling where faint daylight filtered through.
"Curiosity," he murmured.
"It always kills faster than poison."
Back at the estate—
The shadowy assassin moved swiftly through the trees, following the path toward the grave.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Orders were clear.
Confirm the death.
Report back.
Nothing more.
The forest grew darker as he approached the burial site.
Quieter.
Still.
Too still.
He stopped.
Something felt off.
The ground ahead—
Disturbed.
The grave…
Empty.
The coffin—
Broken open from the inside.
For the first time—
The assassin's expression changed.
"…Impossible."
A faint sound echoed behind him.
A step.
He turned—
Too late.
A blade pierced through his chest.
Clean.
Precise.
The undead assassin stood behind him.
Silent.
Unseen.
The man gasped—
But no sound came out.
From the shadows—
Figures emerged.
One.
Two.
Ten.
Dozens.
The forest was no longer empty.
It was watching him.
Kael stepped forward.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flashed.
Fear followed.
"You're… dead—"
Kael tilted his head slightly.
"I was."
He raised his hand.
"Kill him."
The forest moved.
And the scream never left the man's throat.
Miles away—
Lucien Draven stood by the window, gazing out toward the distant forest.
Waiting.
Minutes passed.
Then—
An hour.
No report came.
Lucien's expression slowly darkened.
"…I see."
His fingers tightened behind his back.
"Kael."
The name was no longer dismissive.
Now—
It carried weight.
"Interesting."
A faint smile appeared.
Cold.
Dangerous.
"Let's see," Lucien whispered, "how long you can stay dead."
Deep in the forest—
Kael stood among the corpses.
Another added to his growing army.
He looked toward the horizon.
Toward the manor.
His eyes gleamed.
"Come find me."
The game had changed.
Now—
It was war.
[End of Chapter 6]