He remembered the early days, the searing heat of the forge where he’d first discovered his affinity for steel. The master smith had seen it in his eyes—a cold, unwavering focus that surpassed mere talent. "You carry a storm within you, boy," the old man had whispered. "Learn to steer it, or it will consume you and everything you touch."
Tonight, the challenge was different. A band of marauders, led by a man known only as The Shadow, had been terrorizing the border settlements. They were more than mere bandits; they were a manifestation of the chaos Kaelen was meant to confront.
Kaelen had taken those words to heart, but the path of the Seven Killings was never smooth. He was a natural leader, yet he thrived in the margins, away from the stifling bureaucracies of the capital. His methods were direct, often brutal, and always effective. He didn't play the games of courtly intrigue; he broke the board.
The battle was short and decisive. Kaelen moved through the enemy ranks like a scythe through wheat. He didn't feel fear, only a profound, cold clarity. In the heat of combat, the world slowed down, and he saw every opening, every weakness.