The first waves of magical wind entered through the crack in the cavern ceiling, kicking up dust and ash. It was as if the atmosphere itself had become too heavy to breathe. The sound—that collective roar of thousands of voices, of spells echoing like thunder, of wings slicing through the air—invaded every empty space, filled every silence.

The woman gritted her teeth, trying to pull herself up with her good arm. Her body trembled, no longer from the pain of her wounds, but from the survival instinct screaming in her mind. Her eyes, still turned skyward, couldn't keep up with the movement of so many witches in formation, circling like a black swarm of death.

She had no way to defeat this.

No one did.

"No... it can't be..." she whispered, her voice almost broken.

Kael turned with difficulty, propping herself up on her elbow. Her hair, stained with blood and dust, fell over her eyes, but there was still a glow there—a stubborn, cruel, yet living fire. He looked up at the mana-laden sky, then at the woman beside him.

"I warned you..." he murmured, spitting blood. "You bound me, tortured me, took my mana... but... you never managed to break me."

He pointed the remaining chain toward the sky, as if it were a raised war flag.

"They came for me."

The woman felt her throat dry even more. Every fiber of her body screamed for flight, but her feet wouldn't respond. Her broken arm throbbed, her chest burned with every breath, and her vision trembled at the approaching spectacle.

Suddenly, a burst of light illuminated the interior of the cave. It wasn't her spell, nor Kael's. It was the reflection of the first beam of energy fired by the witches milling outside. A bolt of mana streaked across the sky, cutting a path through the darkness. Others followed, streaking the sky with colors—green, blue, red, purple. It was as if a comet storm was about to strike.

Kael laughed, even as he coughed up blood.

"You don't understand... from the beginning, the only thing you needed to do was survive until they arrived."

He rested his head against the stone, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he stared at the woman with a cruel smile.

"Now, your world is over."

The first witches descended. Their silhouettes loomed against the moon, like giant birds of prey swooping down on their prey. The sound of their voices, chanting hunting songs, echoed in unison. It was a symphony of war, and every note signified destruction.

The woman finally tried to retreat. She crawled among the rubble, dragging her wounded body, as if that could keep her from the inevitable truth. But every movement only brought her closer to despair.

"No... no! I can still... I can fight!" she screamed, but her own voice sounded hollow, lacking conviction.

Kael watched her calmly, almost with contempt.

"Fight? Against them?" He laughed, his laughter broken and bitter. "You won't even get the chance to try."

A crash shook the ground as the first of the witches landed before the cave entrance. Her black cloak trailed dust, her eyes blazing like torches. Soon more came—two, five, ten, each surrounded by circles of mana, like flaming rings orbiting their bodies.

Their gaze wasn't one of doubt.

It was the gaze of hunters facing marked prey.

The woman's eyes widened, her very soul shrinking. No matter how strong her mana sword was, no matter how many spells remained in her reserves. Before the Hunting Order, she was nothing.

Kael, still on the ground, uttered one last sentence, cold as a sentence.

"Yes... it's over."

Dust still hung in the air of the ruined cave when the ground shook. It wasn't a natural tremor, but the coordinated impact of dozens of feet striking the earth at the same time.

From above, through the gaping cracks in the ceiling, a battalion of witches descended like a black, flaming swarm. Their cloaks flapped against the wind, their auras clashing in varying colors—blue, red, gold, black—illuminating the space as if stars had fallen from the sky.

They landed in a circle, forming a wall of bodies and mana around the destroyed battlefield. The makeshift arena, made of cracked stone, dust, and blood, was now the stage not just for combat, but for a silent trial.

Kael remained seated amidst the rubble, his body covered in wounds, blood streaming down his arms and face. The chain still rested in his hand, heavy, a symbol of resistance. His eyes, tired but burning, slowly rose to stare at the circle of warriors surrounding him.

The woman beside him froze. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and for the first time since the battle began, her eyes were not on Kael, but on something much greater. Fear. A pure, ancient fear, etched into the bodies of anyone who dared stand against a legion of raging witches.

From the center of the formation, one of them stepped forward. Her presence immediately silenced even the echo of the magical flames around her.

She was tall, wrapped in a dark cloak that trailed along the ground. The runes that glowed around her body had a distinct elegance: they were not just symbols of war, but marks of command. Her hair, silver as moonlight, fell in waves to her waist, and her eyes were the deep hue of glowing amber.

She walked until she stood before Kael.

And then, to the surprise even of the woman lying beside her, she bowed slightly. The edge of his cloak touched the bloody dust on the floor.

His voice rang out clearly, laden with respect, without wavering:

"Prince Kael Scarlet."

The title rang heavy, solemn, reverberating in every corner of the cave like whispered thunder.

The other witches, in perfect unison, bowed their heads in reverence. The movement was like the bending of a single wave, the physical demonstration of absolute order.

The enemy woman's eyes widened in disbelief. "P-prince...?"

Kael ignored her. Slowly, he lifted his bloodstained face and stared at the witch who had introduced herself. A wry smile appeared on his lips.

"It's been a while since I heard that said out loud."

The witch in the center straightened, her steady gaze meeting his.

"It's good to see you're well." There was seriousness in her voice, but also a quiet relief hidden deep within the words.

The witches behind her murmured protective chants, erecting barriers to isolate the field. The pressure of thousands of auras still weighed down on everyone, but there, in the central circle, silence reigned—as if the world had stopped only for Kael and his presence.

Kael took a deep breath, leaning on the broken chain as if it were a cane. His eyes slid over the battalion surrounding him.

And for the first time since the beginning of this hell, he didn't seem alone.

Kael, still leaning on the broken chain, took a deep breath. His body burned with pain, but his eyes didn't lose the cold gleam of authority. He looked up at the witch who had bowed and spoke in a deep, hoarse voice, yet firm enough to echo throughout the space:

"I want a report."

The words cut through the air like invisible blades. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

The witch before him, the one with amber eyes and silver hair, bowed her head in respect again, her knee almost touching the ground.

"Yes, my prince." Her voice was controlled, but tense. "The group responsible for the attack... we've identified signs of origin in the Kingdom of Skaldi. However, we don't believe they're natives."

Kael narrowed his eyes, the chain creaking in his hand as he tightened his grip.

"Foreigners using Skaldi as a front... cowards."

The witch nodded, continuing her report:

"We've sent scouts to confirm, but everything indicates there's a larger network behind this. Not just mercenaries... but experts in rupture magic."

His amber eyes moved slowly to the woman lying beside him, who was breathing heavily but still conscious, her broken arm hanging at her side.

"And this, my prince..." The amber-eyed witch raised her hand, pointing to the fallen woman with a restrained but solemn gesture. "Her name is Linea Fontane. Daughter of a demonic sorceress... Sarah Fontane."

The name hung in the air like a sentence.

Linea's eyes widened, shock etched on her bloodied face. Her breath hitched for a moment, as if simply hearing that name aloud was impossible.

"How did you..." she tried to speak, her voice cracking between anger and fear.

But she didn't have time to finish.

"Silence," the witch ordered firmly, her voice charged with magical authority.

In the same instant, a translucent serpent, made of pure, shimmering mana, materialized in the air. Its scales shone like molten glass, and its eyes were two slits of emerald fire. The creature slithered across the space toward Linea, coiling itself with cruel speed around her head.

The serpent's coils tightened over her mouth, gagging her completely. Linea tried to struggle, but the magic burned her skin like cold embers, forcing her to remain still. Her screams were muffled, suffocated by the summoning's grip.

Kael watched in silence. His narrowed eyes reflected the scene with a mixture of interest and suppressed hatred. A slow, almost sadistic smile appeared on his bloodied lips as he saw his enemy reduced to silence before him.

The leader bowed before him again, keeping her head lowered in respect.

"Forgive us for taking so long, we are asking you to…"