The Fist King moved. Not fast. Not flashy. Just gone. And suddenly right in front of him.
Kael didn't get another warning. One moment he was standing there, irritation still fresh from being called late, and the next something slammed into his face hard enough to snap his head sideways.
His vision blurred instantly as his body staggered, boots scraping against loose stone before he barely caught himself from falling off the narrow path.
For a second, he didn't even understand what had happened.
Then the pain caught up.
"What the Fuck old man!"
"Don't curse at your master."
The second hit came before the sentence could finish.
This time it wasn't his face. It was his ribs. The impact folded him in half like paper, the air in his lungs bursting out in a dry, choking gasp as his feet left the ground for a brief second before he crashed down onto the rocky slope.
Kael coughed violently, a mix of spit and blood hitting the ground as his body tried to recover from the shock.
