Kael was going to sleep. He truly was, as nothing mattered to the dragon more than his sleep.
But as he went to his bed, he decided that he should spread his senses and check if anything was wrong or if there was so beast that had sneaked into the village.
What he found, however, wasn’t a beast—it was a group of demihumans gathered in a house.
For soone to have a late-night gathering like this, their intentions were highly questionable.
"Ugh, I really can’t catch a good night’s sleep these days," he’d groaned before moving toward the house.
When he arrived, he used Weightless Grace to erase his sound while controlling his mana in a way that no one would be able to sense him until they saw him.
Since then, he sat quietly, listening to them ntion their problems.
’Hm, they aren’t much different from Alenia,’ he’d thought, recalling how that woman was scared of people seeing her in a bad light.
These people—murderers, killers, and assassins—despite not showing it on the outside, desired to live a normal life.
Yes, they were people who craved killing, but living a part of their lives in the slave houses, being treated as slaves, had made most of them realize the importance of life.
Therefore, Kael knew that they were useful, especially a few of them, like Ronan or the lizardman who kept saying things he didn’t even an.
Overall, Kael felt that things were fine, and just when he was about to leave, a woman, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stepped up.
"Hah..." He sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, "And here I was thinking that things were better than I had expected."
The mont his voice rolled, the whole place went dead quiet.
Even the fire in the hearth sounded like it had stopped, like it didn’t dare make a sound.
Because Kael, annoyed that his sleep was delayed again, had inadvertently let a bit of his mana leak.
Then, the dragon lifted his hand, lazy as if he was brushing sothing off. The woman with the daggers shot up into the air, her feet kicking uselessly while so invisible grip clamped around her throat.
She thrashed, her arms jerking, and her blades flashing in the dim light, but it didn’t matter—her body wasn’t in her control anymore.
Kael tilted his head, his golden eyes catching the firelight, sharp and hot like molten tal. His fingers curled just a little, and her whole body stiffened, frozen midair, locked tight.
"That’s better," he said softly, his voice smooth but with that edge that could cut. "That look fits you a lot more than that smug face you wore before."
His boots tapped against the floor, slow and heavy, as he walked toward her.
The rest of the killers, on the other hand, shifted back, not because they had to—he hadn’t bound them—but because every nerve in their bodies told them moving wrong ant dying.
Kael stopped right under the woman, looking up at her like she was nothing. "You know what I hate? People who stir shit for no reason. Poisoning calm water, ruining sothing that could’ve just... stayed bearable."
Her eyes bulged, bloodshot and desperate, her throat straining against the invisible hand as if she were trying to say sothing.
Kael raised one brow. "Got sothing to say?"
She blinked hard, frantic, pleading.
That made him hum as he snapped his fingers, and just like that, the grip loosened.
She sucked in air like a drowning woman, ragged and broken, and when she looked back at him, her eyes were suddenly soft and worshipful.
"L-Lord Kael," she stamred, her voice shaking but trying to dress itself up in flattery, "I didn’t an to upset you. I was only helping—cutting the trash out of your ranks, that’s all."
Kael’s mouth twitched into a small smile, elegant on the outside but colder than the look in his eyes. "Trash, huh? So killers are trash?"
"N-No!" She said quickly, her daggers trembling in her hands. "I-I’m different. I kill for a reason, not like them. I—"
Kael cut her off with a flick of his hand. "Forget that. Here’s the real question. Were you doing it for ...? Or because you rely couldn’t hold back? Because you like killing people?"
Her eyes went wide, naked panic flashing through before she slapped on another smile. "Of course it was for you, Lord Kael. Who else?"
Inside Kael’s head, the voice of his instincts echoed loud and clear.
[The woman’s words are judged as a lie.]
Kael smirked a little, only to himself. Outside, his smile softened as if he were pleased. "Good. I like your devotion."
The air in the room shifted as everyone grew uneasy.
None of them believed the woman’s words, but they weren’t stupid enough to open their mouths before Kael.
Kael’s golden eyes narrowed as he continued. "So tell , are you ever going to pull sothing like this again? Or worse, even think of laying hands on the villagers outside?"
The silence stretched, heavy as stone. Everyone knew this was the mont that decided if she lived or died.
The woman’s lips curled into a wide smile. Her voice ca out sweet as honey. "Never, Lord Kael. I’d never dare. I’ll devote myself to you. Completely. In every way." Her tone dipped into sothing low and suggestive. "Even in your bed, if—"
But before she could complete her words, Kael’s fists closed, and in that instant, a wet crack echoed through the house.
The mont Kael’s fist had clenched, an invisible grip had crushed the woman’s body from every side.
Her bones snapped, blood gushed, and steel bent and folded. She didn’t even look like a person anymore—just a broken ball of at and twisted flesh that hit the floor with a heavy and wet thud.
The killers flinched back. A few gagged. No one had seen him move. No one had expected it to be that sudden.
Kael, on the other hand, let out a slow breath, shaking his head like the ss at his feet was more annoying than anything else.
"Just because my patience level is high with won," he muttered, his voice low, tired, and cold. "Doesn’t an I wouldn’t kill one."
He dusted his hands, rubbing his eyes as he muttered, "Damn, I need to sleep."
Then he turned back toward the circle of killers, tilting his head as though he’d just rembered they were there.
"Where were we again?" He asked, his voice smooth, almost casual, but to the killers, it was heavier than anything they had heard.
What Kael got in reply, however, was silence.
Not a single throat dared to swallow, not a single breath dared to co too loud.
"Ah, yes," Kael went on, as if nothing had happened. "You were all talking about what to do."
He folded his arms neatly behind his back, his posture aristocratic, his golden eyes sweeping across the circle of trembling killers.
"So allow to start," he said, his voice low, yet loud enough for the killers. "First thing you should all know... this village is under my rule. And only those who live by my rules can live here."
His eyes squinted as he observed their reactions.
"Rule number one," he drawled, raising a finger. "Don’t make things... annoying for . I want a quiet life. That’s all."
"Anyone who tries to disturb it," he gestured at the woman, who was now a lump of at, "will be turned into a atball like her."
A shiver rippled through the room. So of the killers were already shaking, their shoulders quivering with the effort not to collapse under the pressure of his presence.
But then, the pressure vanished as Kael’s lips curled, a soft laugh escaping him. "Of course, that’s only if you break the rule. But I’m sure you won’t."
The shift from nace to laughter was worse than if he’d stayed angry. His unpredictability was a storm they couldn’t chart.
But just when they were about to relax a bit, the pressure ca back, and Kael’s eyes narrowed.
His voice dropped low, sharp. "...Right?"
Every head bobbed furiously, nodding like chickens pecking grain.
Kael tilted his head, unsatisfied. "No, no. I need to hear you say it."
A chorus of desperate voices rang out. "Yes, Lord Kael! We understand! We won’t break the rule!"
He smiled again, his expression elegant and pleased. "Good."
His eyes scanned the group again as his lips parted again.
"Now, another thing." His gaze flicked across them, sharp and curious. "Tell , are there any among you who thought that woman was right? Anyone who feels dissatisfied with what I did?"
The killers shook their heads so fast it was almost comical, their eyes wide, sweat dripping down their necks.
Kael raised a brow. "Say it."
"No, Lord Kael! We are not dissatisfied! We don’t think you were wrong!"
For a while, there was silence as Kael listened to the voice of his instincts inside his head.
Soon, a soft laugh left his lips, his arms still folded behind him. "How convenient it is, having the ability to tell truth from lies. It lets judge people not by appearances... but by what they truly are."
The room froze.
Most didn’t outright understand why Kael was suddenly talking about this, but before they could—
Kael clenched his fist.
Six bodies ruptured at once—flesh and bone crushed into grotesque lumps that hit the dirt floor with sickening thuds.
The survivors flinched back, so gagging, others biting down on screams that clawed their throats.
Kael, on the other hand, unbothered by it, stretched his arms lazily, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off stiffness. "There. Now, only those who spoke the truth remain."
He walked toward the door at his own pace, his boots thudding in eerie rhythm. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back once.
His eyes found Ronan first. "Don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone who doesn’t cause trouble."
The wolf man tensed before relaxing a bit, nodding.
Then, Kael’s gaze slid to the bull man. "And as the problem about bloodlust... I’ll think of sothing."
With that, he stepped outside, the door still open behind him. "Hah, I can finally sleep," were his last words that the killers heard.
Then, Kael vanished, and the killers left inside stared at the atballs littering the floor.
None dared move, none dared breathe too loud. Their thoughts twisted in the silence.
That man—no, that thing—was the brightest light they had seen in this forsaken world. And yet, he was also the darkest shadow now.
They couldn’t tell which was his true self.
Perhaps both.
Perhaps neither.
Perhaps he was just a crazy bastard with a screw loose.
But one thing was certain: they would never risk being the next "atball."
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