Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The world stopped.

Not metaphorically. Not as exaggeration.

It stopped.

The heat of flames froze mid-air, fragments of stone from a recent explosion simply hovered, as if time itself had bowed. The wind ceased, screams fell silent. Even pain seemed to hesitate, afraid of what was coming next.

Every gaze turned to the center of the ruin… to him.

Kael.

And then, like a breath being sucked into a void—he vanished.

It wasn't teleportation. It wasn't magic.

It was presence.

One moment he was amidst shadows and cinders. The next—he was there, inches from the dark elf still holding Sylphie's hair like a trophy.

The invader didn't see Kael move. No one did.

They only... felt it.

The pressure in the air became unbearable. The sensation was that something colossal and alive had descended from the heavens—as if the universe itself held its breath, terrified of what Kael might do.

The dark elf tried to move. To flee. To summon any defense.

But his body betrayed him. Every cell, every nerve, every instinct to survive was buried beneath the overwhelming weight of Kael's presence. As if his brain screamed: Don't fight. Don't run. Accept death.

Kael didn't attack.

Not yet.

He ignored the enemy completely.

His eyes were fixed on one thing—Sylphie.

With a calm so deep it bordered on insanity, he took her into his arms. As if she were made of glass. As if he feared the slightest touch might break her further.

And perhaps it would.

Because Sylphie... wasn't just injured.

She was broken.

Hair matted with blood. Skin marked by rune-shaped burns—symbolic torture. Her once gentle, radiant face now disfigured. One eye swollen shut. Her lips split, caked in dry blood. Her jaw visibly out of place.

Her neck bore deep purple bruises—signs of repeated strangulation.

Her arms… God. Her arms were covered in thin, deliberate cuts. Not battle wounds. Experiments. Studied cruelty.

Her fingers were missing nails, some cracked. Her wrists were swollen. One shoulder dislocated.

And then Kael saw.

Two teeth missing.

And something inside him snapped.

His breath turned ragged. The blood from old, reopened wounds began to rise and shimmer in the air. His aura began to burn—not with magic, but with pure hatred, forged into a living, hungry entity.

He closed his eyes for one second.

Just one.

And in that second, the entire world screamed.

The power within him—sealed, contained, chained by fear or humanity—shattered its bonds and roared into the world. A silent thunder rolled across the battlefield. The runes etched into the ground extinguished. Arcane crystals cracked, like ice beneath a newborn sun.

Sylphie trembled in his arms, caught between life and the void. And Kael... Kael chose.

He couldn't save her as he was.

So he chose what had to be done.

His eyes ignited with an impossible white-golden glow, like the shimmer of accelerated time itself.

And then—ancient arcane tattoos began to emerge across his body. Symbols even Kael had never known he bore. His chest and arms ignited.

And then he began to transfer his life force.

Not mana. Not common magic.

Essence.

He... was sacrificing the Blessing of the World Tree. Yes, he had begun to transfer all his life energy and divine blessing to heal her.

Kael screamed. Not in pain, but in power. A scream that didn't rise from the throat—but from the soul. A primal roar that tore through the fabric of reality like a blade.

His aura expanded in concentric waves of light and shadow, warping the air, making the earth tremble. Sylphie's unconscious eyes responded. Her eyelids twitched. A faint warmth returned to her chest.

The wounds began to close, slowly. The burn marks faded like soot scattered by wind. Bones realigned with soft, muffled cracks. Her skin, still stained by pain, regained color.

But Kael... was withering.

His face lost its glow. His veins bulged. His arms trembled—not from rage, but from total, consuming exhaustion. He was falling apart inside. The price of returning light... was paying with his own.

He collapsed to his knees, still holding her. But he didn't let go.

"No..." he murmured. "Just a little more..."

And then, with eyes burning, tears finally falling... he called.

"Ahri."

The name didn't echo in sound — it echoed in the spiritual realm.

And the world answered.

From the thinning air, from the embers that danced like drifting leaves, from the shadows bent around frozen time... she appeared.

Ahri.

The nine-tailed fox, with celestial eyes and steps that never touched the ground.

Every movement was grace incarnate, restrained destruction in every breath. Her body was both translucent and solid, like light condensed into flesh. Her tails—nine living spirals of cosmic energy—flowed like veils on a still tide.

She said nothing.

She didn't need to.

Her eyes fell on Sylphie with a compassion no mortal being could ever hope to imitate... and then on Kael, with a silence heavy with reverence.

She approached without sound. One of her tails rose with divine delicacy and wrapped around Sylphie, lifting her gently from Kael's arms.

He resisted for a moment.

But then, he let go. Ahri looked at him—as if to say: "I'll take care of her. Finish what must be done, Hunter…"

Kael fell forward, catching himself on trembling hands, gasping, his body shaking, sweat dripping in heavy drops. The tattoos across his skin now burned crimson, nearly extinguished, on the edge of fading forever.

He couldn't cast another spell. Not take a single step more.

But Sylphie was breathing.

And that was everything.

Ahri held Sylphie like a divine mother cradling her child—her nine tails encircling the girl's broken body like a cocoon of pure light, shielding her from all pain, all cold, all darkness. It was a silent vision of redemption.

The war still echoed in the distance, but here, in this broken circle of magic, there was only peace.

Kael lay motionless on the ground, his body drained, pale, struggling to breathe. Life still flickered within him, but like a candle at the end of its wick. He had given everything.

Everything, for her.

And then, like a gentle breeze through a dying afternoon, something changed.

A whisper passed through fallen leaves, over broken roots, through the still-warm ashes of the battlefield. A scent rose—of damp earth and forgotten flowers.

And with it... Umbra.

"What a performance," the voice came soft, melodic—and of course, taunting and sarcastic.

She appeared, not with light, but with presence. Umbra, ancient spirit of the forest, a woman with long brown hair like drooping branches, dancing with the wind, cloaked in a white, flowing robe made of mist and petals.

Her bare feet didn't touch the ground. Her irises held the color of living wood — a deep green veined with gold.

With a lazy, mocking smile, she knelt beside Kael and, with a casual gesture, wrapped him from behind in a warm embrace, her hands gliding over his chest as if she were warming a tree trunk in winter.

"The good thing about being a nature spirit…" she whispered near his ear, like someone sharing a secret, "...is that I can produce life energy like sap. And unlike you, darling… I don't die doing it."

The energy flowed.

Not like ordinary magic — but like raw, untamed life.

The grass beneath Kael began to grow anew. The ashes were swept away by an invisible breath. Vitality surged into his veins like a verdant flood. The scorched tattoos on his body reignited — not with rage, but with balance.

Kael's chest rose with a deep breath.

His eyes opened.

Colored.

Alive.

"Have a little more faith in us, would you?" Umbra said, narrowing her eyes with false sternness as she still embraced him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You can't keep burning your life force every time someone sneezes near you."

Kael tried to reply. But only managed to laugh.

A rough, exhausted laugh — but genuine. As if it were the first real breath he'd taken in centuries.

"You're all... unbearable," he murmured, with a crooked smile.

"And you're an adorable idiot," Umbra grinned mischievously, and before vanishing, she bit gently on Kael's earlobe, leaving behind a trail of warm, almost provocative energy. Then, like a whisper of the ancient forest, her body dissolved into mist and wildflowers, scattering into the sky.

"Now… there are some people to tear apart."

Kael stood still for a moment.

He inhaled.

And rose.

As if nothing had happened.

The body once collapsing now stood firm, posture erect, eyes unshaken. His steps weren't hurried — they had purpose. He simply turned to Ahri, who still held Sylphie with her nine tails gently entwined around her, protecting her like a divine reliquary.

Kael nodded, wordlessly.

Ahri returned the gesture with a silent bow of her head. She understood.

Now it was his turn.

Kael walked through the ruins, where the battlefield had become a graveyard of shattered hopes.

The remaining invaders saw him coming.

"G-Get him!" one of them screamed.

But the order died in the air.

As all things died in the presence of Kael.

He didn't run. Didn't scream. Didn't summon anything.

He simply killed.

With movements so fast and precise they seemed to dance with the wind.

Every thrust was a full stop.

Every strike, a sentence.

Swords shattered.

Shields crumbled.

Bodies fell before they even realized what had struck them.

Kael's fury wasn't brutal.

It was surgical.

There was no chaos in his movements — only destiny.

A methodical execution.

A broken soul purifying the world in his own way.

Within minutes, only one remained.

The Dark Elf.

Kneeling, throat already bruised where Kael had lifted him earlier. His body trembled. His defensive magic—shattered. His mind—broken. He was still breathing. But with the weight of knowing he was under the gaze of an awakened monster.

Kael approached.

Slow steps.

The elf recoiled slightly, trying to speak, maybe bargain. But before he could open his mouth—

"KAEL!!"

A scream.

Loud. Desperate.

It came from behind, through the dust and ruins.

The voice of Princess Elizabeth.

"KAEL, THEY MUST HAVE TAKEN AMELIA AND IRELIA TOO!"

The world stopped.

Again.

But this time, not because of divine presence.

Not because of oppressive aura.

It stopped because of something far more dangerous.

Because of what broke inside him.

Kael froze. The air around him seemed to bend.

He turned his head slowly, like a cracked gear creaking back to motion. The eyes that had once glowed with fury no longer glowed.

They were black. Bottomless.

The ground beneath his feet groaned.

Nearby stones began to float.

Reality itself seemed to recoil.

"I really should be more strict… It seems this world still hasn't understood anything…" he murmured as his mana surged outward. He threw down all of his restraints, and his mana exploded—

He found them, despite their energy being faint and almost gone…

"Exelia," he spoke through magical communication, "Head west and send a squad east. Find two girls — one with blue hair and an icy aura, the other blonde with a sword's presence. You'll find them easily. Bring them to me… and bring me those responsible."

"Take Sylphie with you. I don't want her waking up while I do what I'm about to do." he commanded.

Ahri nodded.

"Yes, master…"

As soon as Ahri and Sylphie vanished…

Kael's body tensed.

"I'm going to find whoever did this," he said, breathing deeply.

"I hope someone respectable is behind it. Because I'm going to annihilate an entire kingdom."

He smiled — demonic.

He no longer looked like a man… but like a Demon.