The merchants made camp close to the soldiers, too afraid to flee, too bound by fear to sleep. They didn't speak of it, but they all knew. The sin they had nearly committed—robbing a prince, selling his comrades like livestock—was one that could only be paid in blood.
They didn't beg. Not yet. But they would.
Not far from them, Alaric sat beside Prince Lucas, the firelight casting long shadows on their faces. The prince reached into his cloak and pulled out a small stone etched with runes—a mana identifier, used by nobles to test the potential of warriors.
He handed it to the boy.
"Light it up," he said, with the same tone one might use to order a drink.
Alaric held the stone. Nothing happened.
The prince didn't seem surprised.
"Close your eyes. Focus on your core. Find the energy."
A pause.
"Can you see it?"
Alaric nodded once. He had used power before. Healing was just another form of control.
"Now draw it to your hand. Feed it into the rune."
On the third try, the stone began to glow faintly. That was all Lucas needed.
He leaned back, eyes cold.
"Now use that power. Kill the ones who deserve to die."
No protest came from Alaric. He had never been taught mercy. Only hunger. Only survival.
He stood.
Moving like a shadow, he approached the guards. His dagger was hidden beneath his tunic. The merchant looked up, confused.
"Did the Prince summon us?"
Alaric didn't answer.
The dagger slid across the guard's throat before the question finished leaving the man's mouth. Blood spilled. The man gargled, collapsed. The others jumped to their feet.
Prince Lucas didn't look back. He poured himself another glass of wine.
The guards were untrained. Unworthy. Alaric's blade—now humming with faint aura—cut through them with ease. No wasted movement. No hesitation. The screams faded one by one until silence took their place.
The merchant fell to his knees, begging now. Alaric stared at him.
He didn't respond.
He picked up a fallen greatsword and, in a single motion, split the man in half.
The blood was warm, but Alaric felt nothing.
He wiped his hands clean and returned to the prince, silent.
Lucas glanced at him and filled a second glass.
He handed it over without expression.
"Welcome, 1-star aura master," he said, raising his own cup.