The water surged from the mana stones in thick, powerful streams, drenching the scorched earth beneath the villagers’ feet. They clutched the glowing gems with trembling hands, their fingers slick with sweat and soot, aiming desperately at their burning hos. Their expressions were twisted—a frantic mix of determination and despair. The air was thick with heat and smoke, the crackling flas consuming wood and thatch as if mocking their efforts.
’Good. It’s working.’
Heinz barely registered the cries of anguish around him. The fire was growing, spreading just as planned. No matter how much water they poured, the flas refused to die. That was Azure’s doing. Hidden within the heart of the destruction, ensuring the embers never truly faded.
His hands moved with practiced ease, controlling the mana flow, feeding just enough energy into the stones so the villagers could wield them. It was an unusual sight—water spewing wildly from the smooth, glowing gems, cascading down in erratic, undisciplined sprays. Primitive. Inefficient. But effective.
And yet...
Sothing was wrong.
His gaze flickered away from the flas, scanning the shifting figures around him.
’Where is he?’
Florian had been gone too long.
Heinz’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t expected him to be quick, but this was... excessive. Florian wasn’t careless. He wouldn’t waste ti. The plan had been simple—get in, confirm what they suspected, and return.
A sharp, uneasy pang settled in Heinz’s chest, sothing unfamiliar clawing at the edges of his thoughts. He pushed it down. Focus.
’He hasn’t scread yet. So that must be a good sign.’
His eyes landed on Augustus. The elderly chief stood near the edge of the chaos, his withered hands placed gently on the back of a woman sobbing into his shoulder. Her house had been the first to burn. She clutched at his robes, trembling, her entire world reduced to ash. The chief’s expression was unreadable—calm, composed, as if he had already made peace with the loss.
But sothing was off.
It took Heinz a second to register what it was. A tiny, almost imperceptible detail.
Kane.
The chief’s nephew. His ever-present shadow. The man had always been at Augustus’s side, barely leaving him alone for more than a breath. Heinz had found it irritating, predictable. And now—
He wasn’t here.
The tightness in Heinz’s chest sharpened.
’No. That’s not right.’
His head turned, eyes scanning the village again, this ti with renewed urgency. The growing inferno painted everything in shifting shades of orange and black, figures moving frantically against the chaotic glow. Villagers rushing. Screaming. But no Kane.
His hands clenched.
His first instinct was to stop. To cut off the mana flow, abandon the spell, and move. The storage unit. Florian. Sothing was wrong—
A sudden blast of heat roared from behind him, sending a wave of scorching air and sparks into the night sky. Another house had caught fire.
The villagers scread.
Heinz exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay still.
’No. I need to be careful.’
But his pulse was quickening. A weight was settling in his gut, twisting tighter with every passing second.
There was a nagging feeling that sothing had gone wrong. Especially with Kane’s absence.
’Should I go after all? But that would alert the rest of the villagers.’
Heinz gritted his teeth slightly, his brows furrowing. He was conflicted.
Heinz was never conflicted.
Heinz was calculative.
Heinz was powerful. Heinz was a king.
Blood had been on his hands, he had destroyed kingdoms, he had killed his own father, had his half-brother executed with no remorse.
This was just a minor setback.
A minor setback caused by an unpredictable event. That was all.
And yet...
Why were his eyes still roaming? Why was his hand twitching?
"Sir, sir... we need more water!" A desperate voice cut through his thoughts. A villager stood before him, sweat and soot streaking their face. "The fire is growing! We need more water!"
’Right...’
Heinz gave a short nod, raising his hand again to feed magic into the mana stone.
The water continued to surge from the mana stones, cascading down in desperate attempts to smother the flas. It poured over burning wood, hissing and steaming, but the fire refused to die. Heinz moved thodically, feeding the magic with precise control, his expression unreadable. But inside—
’This feeling won’t go away.’
It was a nagging pressure at the back of his mind, an unfamiliar weight pressing against his chest. Every second that passed, every glance he stole toward the storage unit, only made it worse.
Sothing had happened.
His hands clenched at his sides. He should go. Now. Before it was too late—
"Kane?"
The single word cut through the chaos, spoken in a voice rough with disbelief.
Heinz’s head snapped toward Augustus. The elderly chief was staring at sothing—no, soone—his worn face twisting with surprise and unease.
Heinz followed his gaze.
His breath hitched.
Kane was there. Erging from the thick smoke, the orange glow of the fire casting jagged shadows across his face. His clothes were singed, his dark hair damp with sweat, but he wasn’t alone.
He was carrying soone.
Heinz’s entire body went rigid.
Florian.
A dead weight in Kane’s arms, his slender fra limp, his light purple hair matted with soot and streaked with crimson. The telltale glint of his glasses was gone, revealing his true appearance—pale skin, delicate features, utterly exposed. Blood dripped from his head, soaking into Kane’s sleeve as he carried him forward. But what caught Heinz’s attention more than anything else—
The blood on Florian’s hands.
It wasn’t his.
Heinz’s breath ca slow, controlled, but he could feel his pulse hamring beneath his skin. His mind was already working, piecing together what must have happened, but he needed confirmation.
"Who is that?" Augustus asked, his voice cautious, laced with sothing colder than before.
Kane laughed.
A slow, amused chuckle that sent a ripple of unease through the gathered villagers. Even those still battling the flas turned, drawn to the spectacle before them like moths to a dying ember.
"Funny, isn’t it?" Kane drawled, his grip shifting slightly as he hefted Florian’s unconscious form higher in his arms. "This kid—our dear little helper—was in the storage unit."
Augustus stiffened. The murmurs of the villagers grew louder.
Kane tilted his head, his grin widening. "You know, for soone who was so eager to help, he sure was in an interesting place, don’t you think?"
A pause. A breath. Then—
"Aden," Augustus murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
A shockwave of silence passed over the villagers.
Then, all at once, the atmosphere shifted.
The panic, the desperation—the faces that had monts ago been filled with grief and helplessness—turned dark.
Slowly, like a single entity, the villagers turned.
Toward Heinz.
Heinz, who had orchestrated the very chaos surrounding them.
Heinz, who now stood frozen, not because of the danger, not because of the sudden shift in the villagers’ deanor—
But because he was still staring at Florian.
’No.’
His fingers twitched. He could feel the weight of the mana stone in his palm, the energy still surging through his veins. The fire crackled around them, casting flickering shadows across expectant faces, eyes gleaming with newfound resolve.
"You all know what to do," Augustus said, his voice firm, unwavering.
A low murmur rippled through the crowd.
And then Heinz felt it.
Bloodlust.
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