A full month had passed since Kaelen first entered the gates of the Reaper Slayer Academy. In those thirty days, he had forged himself into something lethal—a weapon capable of the unthinkable. He was no longer just a boy; he was a predator in the making.
Killing a Reaper was a complex nightmare. His CRIMSON OVERLORD SYSTEM was as cruel as it was powerful—it would only manifest a weapon specifically designed to kill a Reaper whose blood Kaelen had already tasted.
Because Kaelen had previously tasted the B+ rank blood from a bone-shrapnel bullet, his system had granted him the Heavy Battle Axe. It was a massive, bone-crushing tool of destruction, but it carried a terrifying limitation: it could only end the life of a Reaper belonging to that specific bloodline.
To overcome this, Kaelen had pushed his body through hell. He had mastered the unwieldy weight of the axe and, more importantly, he had learned to leash his volatile Emotion Power, turning his internal chaos into a focused, icy resolve.
The sky above the academy was bruised and dark, heavy with the promise of a torrential downpour. Kaelen stood atop a jagged peak, his hair whipped by the rising gale. From this height, the entire Reaper Slayer Academy looked like a toy set, small and insignificant compared to the fire burning in his chest. His eyes were fixed, unblinking, fueled by a vengeance that even the freezing winds could not douse.
"So, E-Rank brat," a voice drawled from behind.
Kaelen didn't turn. He knew the voice. It was Warsan, a member of the elite A-Group.
"One month," Warsan continued, his footsteps crunching on the stone. "I suppose you've finally become capable of taking at least one life."
"I am ready," Kaelen said, his voice flat and dangerous. "I'm going to find that bastard Reaper who killed my mother. And I'm going to end him."
Warsan let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Your blood is hot, boy. But remember—Reapers may look like us, but they possess horrors no human can match. And your axe... it's a one-trick pony. To kill another, you must taste their blood first. I doubt you'll even get close enough to try."
In response, Kaelen reached down to a leather holster on his leg and unsheathed a short, elegantly crafted blade. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it whistling through the air behind him.
Warsan caught the hilt between two fingers, his eyes widening as he examined the blade. "This... this is Miss Ailza's 'The Killer Might' sword. Why do you have this?"
Kaelen smirked, finally looking back. "Ailza gave it to me herself. I'll use this to draw their blood, taste it, and then let my system forge the instrument of their demise."
Warsan's lips curled into a predatory grin. "She trusts you more than I thought." He looked into Kaelen's glowing Blue Eyes. "Do you want to go on a killing spree already?"
"I am in full control now," Kaelen said. "I'm heading back to my village. Alone. I know those Reapers returned there to collect 'taxes' from the survivors. I'm going to build their graves with my own hands."
Warsan tossed the sword back. Kaelen caught it, spinning it effortlessly on his finger before sliding it into its sheath.
"The village is 350 kilometers away," Warsan said, stepping toward the cliff edge. "There are no roads, no towns between here and there. How do you plan to get there before they vanish?"
Kaelen looked down at the sprawling forest below, a dark smile playing on his face. "I have God Speed. My Emotion Power is the engine, and my rage is the fuel. In this state, I can cover 300 kilometers in ten minutes. I just have to ensure the anger doesn't consume me—I have to use it as fuel, not let it be the driver."
Warsan rubbed his chin. "A race then? To your village—Bahan, in the northern regions of Corlus. Let's see who arrives first."
Kaelen let out a short, sharp laugh. "A race? Fine. I accept."
Suddenly, the sky split open. Rain began to pour in sheets, and lightning illuminated the world in jagged strobes of white. The wind roared, threatening to uproot the trees below. Both men took a starting stance, facing east.
Kaelen's eyes surged with brilliant blue light.
"On the next strike of lightning," Warsan shouted over the thunder.
"Copy that," Kaelen replied.
CRACK-BOOM!
A massive bolt hit the earth nearby, and in an instant, both figures vanished, leaving nothing but scorched air and displaced rain behind.
Back at the Academy, in Kaelen's empty room, a letter sat on the desk. Ailza stood by the window, reading it. A soft, rare smile touched her lips. "I'll be waiting, Kaelen," she whispered. "Come back soon."
Meanwhile, Kaelen and Warsan were tearing through the atmosphere. The air pressure would have blinded a normal human, but Kaelen's eyes remained wide open, piercing through the storm. He wasn't just running; he was a projectile of pure vengeance.
Warsan, struggling to keep his eyes open, glanced at Kaelen. This kid is on another level, he thought. He's turned his grief into a literal engine of power.
They hit the outskirts of the village simultaneously. It was a tie. Warsan collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily. "Take... take a breath, kid. You can't fight in this state."
Kaelen didn't even stop. He walked toward his old home, his footsteps heavy and silent. He opened the door. On the wooden floor, the dark, dried stains of his mother's blood were still there.
He didn't look at the stains. He walked into his room and sat by the window, watching the shadows of evening stretch over the village.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a Gunshot.
Kaelen didn't flinch. A twisted, demonic smile spread across his face. He stood up and gripped the handle of his Heavy Battle Axe.
"I know that sound," Kaelen whispered into the dark. "So, you've returned. And it sounds like you've just taken another life."
The blue glow in his eyes intensified until it looked like a swirling galaxy—a universe of cold, calculated destruction.
"For a whole month, my axe has been thirsty for your blood," Kaelen growled, his voice vibrating with power. "Tonight, its thirst will finally be quenched."