Sera's Pov
The moment Kael smiled—that dark, merciless thing that held no humor—I knew the fight had changed.
The lazy playfulness from before was gone. His opponent must have realized it too because, for the second time since stepping into the circle, he hesitated.
A mistake.
Kael moved.
Fast.
Too fast for anyone to react, least of all the warrior still gripping his baton like it would save him.
The next few moments blurred into brutality.
The opponent swung—wild, desperate. A heavy strike aimed straight for Kael's ribs.
Kael sidestepped.
Another swing. Kael ducked.
The baton whistled through the air, hitting nothing but empty space.
He swung again, and again, his movements growing more erratic, more panicked. He feinted to the right, twisted his wrist, tried to strike from below—anything, anything—but it was like fighting a ghost.
Kael didn't just dodge.
He anticipated.
Every move was read, countered, dismissed with infuriating ease.
And then Kael struck.
His daggers flashed, barely visible before slicing into flesh.
A cut to the thigh—deep, crippling.
The warrior staggered, breath shuddering.
Another cut, this time across the chest.
A thin line of crimson bloomed beneath his shirt, the sting of it making him flinch.
Kael circled him.
A predator closing in.
And then, with terrifying precision, he swept the warrior's legs from under him.
The man crashed to the ground, a grunt escaping his lips as the air was knocked from his lungs.
Kael was on him before he could recover.
Pinning him down. A knee on his arm.
A dagger pressed to his throat.
The baton, his only defense, was still clutched in his other hand—
Kael stabbed straight through it.
The blade sank through the warrior's palm, pinning his hand to the dirt beneath them.
The scream that followed was raw, animalistic.
I flinched.
The opponent writhed, trying to push Kael off, to do something, but Kael kept him against the ground.
He was trapped. Completely. Utterly.
And Kael wasn't done.
With chilling patience, he twisted the dagger deeper into the warrior's hand.
The opponent let out another scream. His body arched off the ground, his face contorted in agony.
Kael's expression didn't change.
His grip on the dagger was steady, almost… fascinated.
He pressed down harder, dragging the blade through flesh, inside his opponent's hand, slowly, deliberately.
The man screamed again.
And then—he begged.
His voice cracked, raw with pain, desperate for mercy.
Kael tilted his head, as if considering.
Then he pressed down harder.
Something in my stomach twisted violently.
I thought I'd throw up.
The air was thick, suffocating. The entire training ground had gone silent. No one moved. No one breathed.
It wasn't until one of the instructors shouted that Kael finally, finally stopped.
The fight was over.
The match had been won minutes ago, but Kael had dragged it out, turned it into something far more than just a competition.
Something cruel.
The medics rushed in, pulling the opponent away, working quickly to stop the bleeding.
Kael stood, slow and unhurried, watching them for a second before finally turning back toward me.
His gaze landed on mine.
And then he smiled.
Not like during the fight.
This one was familiar. Lazy, teasing.
Like he hadn't just tortured someone in front of a silent, horrified crowd.
He walked up to me, reaching out—
And patted my hair.
Like he always did.
Like nothing had changed.
Like his hand wasn't slick with blood.
I forced myself to stay still as his fingers ruffled through my hair, smearing red against the strands.
"You're up next, Sera." His voice was light, almost playful. "Good luck."
I swallowed hard.
The taste of bile burned my throat.