Althéa and Lucanis were staring at Kael without understanding. Still breathless from the storm of anger and incomprehension, they struggled to restore some order in their minds.

  Below them, the Overdrawn was slowly descending from the cliff, a twisted smile stuck to her face. A sick glint in her eyes.

  Her jet-black hair drifted behind her, carried by the rising breeze. Her body moved with the elegance of a predator—feline, fluid, hungry.

  She wasn’t running.

  She was savoring it.

  As if every step brought her closer to a dish that had been simmering for far too long. She was going to feast on Kael.

  Althéa stepped back, bow still in hand, but unable to act. Lucanis, jaw clenched, stared at Kael with more questions than certainty.

  Him—Kael…

  He didn’t move.

  Standing. Alone.

  That smile still hanging from his lips.

  A beaten dog’s smile. A madman’s—or perhaps a satisfied strategist’s.

  The Overdrawn was irritated by that insolent calm.

  Her legs pounded the ground, her silhouette growing more threatening, her blade—no, her hand transformed into a blade—gleaming with a steel-like sheen.

  She wasn’t going to simply kill Kael anymore.

  She was going to punish him.

  She was going to make him choke on every mockery.

  Every useless dance step.

  Every whistle.

  And Kael…

  Still did nothing.

  Not a gesture.

  Not a blink.

  Just that smile, set there like a slap.

  As if to say: you took the bait.

  The Overdrawn felt it.

  She ground her teeth, slightly shifted her trajectory, as if sharpening her angle of attack. Her gaze grew wild. Feral.

  Althéa and Lucanis stared at Kael without understanding.

  The silence that had settled around them felt unreal, almost sacred. Below them, the Overdrawn advanced slowly, with the grace of a predator at the end of the hunt.

  Her eyes gleamed with unhealthy delight.

  Her supple body descended the slope, without sound, without hesitation.

  She wasn’t running.

  She was savoring it.

  She was finally going to put an end to this game.

  And Kael, for his part, was still smiling.

  Arms hanging loose, relaxed.

  As if he were welcoming an old friend.

  “Your companions abandoned you,” the Overdrawn declared as she reached their level. Her voice vibrated with arrogance.

  “They want to kill you. You’re all alone now. So… what are you going to do?”

  Not a word.

  Not a movement.

  Kael never took his eyes off her. A crooked, provocative smile, as if carved into his flesh.

  The Overdrawn walked past Althéa and Lucanis without even granting them a glance.

  They had become insignificant.

  Kael was her target.

  Her humiliation.

  Her revenge.

  She stopped one meter from him. Slowly, she raised her arm.

  A dagger, fused to her flesh, glittered in the daylight.

  She aimed for Kael’s throat…

  And struck.

  But the blade never reached its target.

  The sound of severed flesh burst through the air.

  The Overdrawn blinked.

  Her arm was gone.

  She turned her head—slowly, in disbelief—and saw her own limb hanging in the air. Cleanly cut, just above the elbow.

  Lucanis stood behind her, sword still raised, his gaze burning with fury.

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  A cold fury.

  Measured.

  Unstoppable.

  Barely had she registered this when an arrow whistled through the air.

  It lodged straight through the Overdrawn’s throat.

  Althéa hadn’t hesitated.

  Blood erupted. A hot, red spray, pumped by a panic that came too late.

  She staggered. Her knees struck the dusty ground.

  Her gaze slowly lifted toward Kael, who loomed over her in silence.

  Kael looked down at her, his face impassive.

  The Overdrawn tried to speak…

  But she no longer had a voice.

  Only wet gargling sounds, and the certainty of having faced something stronger than herself.

  Kael sighed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, as if all of this had slightly exhausted him.

  Then, finally lowering his eyes to the Overdrawn kneeling before him, he spoke in a calm voice, almost compassionate.

  “I have to admit… your adaptation is truly effective.

  Terrifying, even.”

  The creature kept one hand pressed against her throat, her gaze clouded with confusion and pain.

  Blood seeped between her fingers in weak, trembling pulses.

  “But you see… your mistake was choosing humans.”

  A smile formed once more on Kael’s lips, darker this time.

  “You didn’t just take their shape.

  You also copied their flaws.

  Their ego.

  Their arrogance.”

  He tilted his head slightly to the side, the way one might with a wounded beast, just before delivering the final blow.

  “And that’s what… doomed you.”

  The Class-S tried to lift her head, but her strength was already failing her.

  Her eyes lost their light.

  Her body finally collapsed—heavy, inert—at Kael’s feet.

  Lucanis slowly sheathed his sword.

  Althéa lowered her bow without a word.

  Silence fell all at once.

  Dense. Thick.

  Kael closed his eyes for a moment, then murmured to himself:

  “Three times.

  You lost three times.

  I think we’re done now.”

  The Overdrawn’s corpse lay at their feet.

  Lucanis and Althéa, on their knees, hands trembling, faces pale, had yet to catch their breath.

  Kael, meanwhile, remained standing.

  The wind gently lifted his cloak, stained with dust and dried blood.

  He was no longer smiling.

  He looked at the lifeless body the way one looks at a solved equation.

  Lucanis lifted his head. His voice was hoarse.

  “Why did you do this to us?”

  Kael looked down at him. His answer fell, cold and precise:

  “Because you had to hate me.

  Not pretend.

  You had to feel it.

  So that he would believe it too.

  That’s why I said nothing when you asked me for my plan.”

  Althéa, still on her knees, clenched her fists against the earth.

  “And those two days…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “All those humiliations?”

  Kael didn’t move.

  He spoke slowly, every word heavy as lead.

  “I had to wear you down.

  Drain your reserves.

  Exhaust you physically.

  Break you mentally.”

  “I needed you vulnerable.

  I needed him to sense your weakness.”

  “It was the only way to draw him out.”

  A shiver ran up Althéa’s spine.

  Lucanis stared at Kael as if he no longer recognized him.

  “You cut yourself off from us… on purpose?” Lucanis whispered.

  “Of course.

  If he still saw me as your ally, he would have waited. He would have prepared something worse.

  He needed to believe you wouldn’t help me anymore. That I was alone.

  He took the bait.”

  Althéa slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were red.

  “How did you know?”

  Kael went completely still. A heavy silence settled.

  Then he exhaled, almost in a whisper:

  “Because he changed when he took human form.

  He didn’t just imitate a body.

  He took their flaws. Their instincts. Their pride. I noticed it the moment you mastered and disarmed her—he was angry. That was the proof. He had an ego… and that ego could be provoked, pushed to its limit.”

  He stepped forward. His shadow covered the corpse at his feet.

  “And here’s the result. He became arrogant. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to humiliate. To dominate. To savor it.

  And above all… he wanted to kill me himself. I had ruined his plans twice already—he really didn’t appreciate that.”

  He slowly raised his eyes to his companions.

  “He didn’t want to see me die.

  He wanted to watch me die.”

  Lucanis gagged.

  Kael then crouched in front of them, his voice low and calm:

  “So I gave him what he wanted: an isolated Kael. Weak. Hated.

  A nice little toy… ready to be broken.”

  An abominable silence followed.

  Lucanis could no longer hold his gaze.

  Althéa looked away, sickened by the precision, by the icy control he had exercised over them… just as much as over the enemy.

  They had just seen Kael kill a monster.

  And what terrified them the most…

  Was that he hadn’t even lifted a finger.

  Kael remained silent for a moment, then lowered his eyes slightly, as if weighing every word.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely.

  His tone was calm. For the first time in days, he wasn’t playing anymore.

  Althéa immediately looked away. Her eyes, reddened by exhaustion and rage, were shining. She clenched her jaw, trying to swallow the frustration. She wanted to believe his apology—but she couldn’t yet.

  Lucanis remained silent. He watched Kael with more distance. The fire of his anger had given way to a kind of cold understanding. He gave a slight nod.

  “You did what had to be done,” he murmured. “It was… brutal, but it worked.”

  Kael looked at him, then turned his gaze back to Althéa.

  “I won’t pretend it was easy,” he said. “Making myself be hated on purpose. Trying to break you. It was… horrible. But it was the only way to force him to reveal himself. I knew he was watching everything. That he was looking for a weakness.”

  He stopped, a shadow crossing his eyes.

  “So I decided to be that weakness.”

  Silence fell over the three of them. Althéa still said nothing. Lucanis lowered his gaze, thoughtful. Kael watched the two faces before him. He knew what he had broken would not be repaired in a single night. But at least they were still alive.

  And the Overdrawn was dead.