Lyria Denvair… are you blind?"
Those words struck a nerve.
Insults aimed at him mattered little. But to insult his wife? That was crossing the line. Valen Malavant had unknowingly touched Kael Renforth's most untouchable sore spot.
For that, there could be no forgiveness.
Kael's expression darkened, his demeanor shifting in an instant. The man who had seemed unassuming mere moments ago now exuded the presence of a reaper, his very existence a harbinger of death.
The hundred-odd armed men rushed toward him, weapons raised high.
Kael didn't flinch. He didn't even move.
The first attacker who got close enough didn't have the chance to scream—he fell to the ground, lifeless, in the blink of an eye.
The crowd froze in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.
Then, as if awakening from a trance, they collectively gasped for air, their breaths ragged and disbelieving.
Kael walked forward, his steps unhurried, his gaze fixed on Valen Malavant, who stood surrounded by three bodyguards.
His eyes, sharp as blades, locked onto Valen with unrelenting intensity.
"Today is your last day." Kael said, his voice low and icy.
Valen Malavant's bravado evaporated instantly. Under Kael's murderous glare, he felt as though he'd been plunged into a freezing abyss, his body trembling uncontrollably.
This man was no ordinary threat—he was a predator, a force of nature, and Valen felt as powerless as prey awaiting its inevitable end.
The three bodyguards tensed, their instincts honed from years on the battlefield kicking in.
These weren't ordinary guards. They were retired special forces soldiers, hired at great expense by the Malavant family to protect Valen. Hardened by war, they were the best of the best.
But the suffocating aura emanating from Kael was unlike anything they had faced before. It wasn't just his killing intent—it was his unyielding dominance, a force that seemed to crush the very air around them.
Despite Kael standing there seemingly defenseless, the bodyguards felt an overwhelming sense of futility just from the cold detachment in his gaze.
"Sir," one of the bodyguards said respectfully to Valen, "please retreat to a safer location. If a fight breaks out, you may get hurt."
Valen scoffed, his arrogance intact despite the palpable tension.
"Retreat? Are you kidding me? With three elite soldiers and over a hundred armed men at my disposal, why would I fear this useless son-in-law of the Denvair family?"
The three bodyguards exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable. If anything, they pitied their employer's sheer ignorance.
Kael Renforth, his expression unchanging, slowly raised his hand and clenched it into a fist.
In an instant, the hundred-odd attackers froze in place, unable to move.
The silence was deafening.
Kael took another step forward, closing the distance between himself and the bodyguards. Or rather, between himself and Valen Malavant.
His footsteps echoed like the tolling of a death knell.
The bodyguards instinctively shifted into formation, their nerves taut as they faced this unearthly adversary.
The leader of the bodyguards spoke again, his tone cautious but respectful.
"Sir, must you insist on killing Master Malavant?"
Kael's reply was cold and unwavering.
"He must die."
The bodyguards sighed in resignation. The man before them had clearly made up his mind. There was no reasoning with someone so consumed by intent.
For a brief moment, Kael's gaze softened—though not with mercy. His eyes narrowed as he observed their defensive stance.
"Soldiers are meant to protect the nation and its people," Kael said, his voice laced with disappointment. "And yet, you choose to defend this man? You have failed your calling."
The weight of his words struck them like a blow.
Kael continued, his tone growing colder. "You disgrace the very principles of a soldier. You've aligned yourselves with scum like him, and for that, my anger burns hotter."
The bodyguards tightened their grip on their weapons, their expressions grim.
"Sir, our duty is loyalty to those we serve. Even if it costs us our lives, we must fulfill that duty," the leader said, drawing his knife. "Even if we are no match for you, we cannot stand idly by."
The three moved in perfect synchronization, their blades flashing as they lunged toward Kael with lethal precision.
Kael let out a derisive snort.
With nothing more than a flicker of intent, the three bodyguards collapsed to the ground, their knives clattering uselessly beside them.
They weren't dead—just utterly incapacitated, their bodies refusing to obey their commands.
Kael took another step forward, his gaze fixed on the now-terrified Valen Malavant.
"Your protectors have fallen. No one can save you now."