The guards hesitated.
Steel-clad warriors, some of the kingdom’s finest, looked to one another for silent permission. But none moved. Not a single step.
They felt it too.
The Hakana that surged through Kael wasn’t just power—it was will. Ancient, commanding, primal. It wasn’t just that he’d defeated Rand. Or broken Dareth. It was that he now stood like a god reborn—balanced between wrath and purpose, forged by betrayal, and no longer bound by mortal limits.
Kael turned his silver-black gaze to the guards.
“Come,” he invited, voice like iron wrapped in velvet. “Try and see what side of history you want to fall on.”
Still, they didn’t move.
Tiffany broke from Harond’s grasp then, unable to stay back any longer. Her steps were cautious, her eyes brimming with disbelief and awe.
“Kael…
