Kael closed his eyes.

  For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the creaking of wood and the slow rhythm of wheels grinding over uneven stone. The wagon rocked gently, sunlight shifting in narrow slats across the interior. Dust drifted lazily through the air, caught in thin beams of gold.

  Then he opened his eyes again—calm, cold, empty of anything that might resemble warmth.

  “Better a cockroach than a backstabber,” he said evenly. His voice carried no strain, no visible anger—just quiet precision. “Besides… who was the one who ordered assassins to gang up on me? Since you were too weak to kill me yourself, pussyboy.”

  Eric’s jaw tightened.

  The faint smile that had lingered on his lips faded into something far sharper.

  “Who are you calling that?” Eric asked softly, though the softness did nothing to hide the edge beneath.

  Kael tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question seriously. “The guy who almost wet himself the day I nearly killed him. Am I wrong?”

  A flicker—brief but unmistakable—flashed across Eric’s eyes. Memory. Rage. Something darker.

  Eric said, voice dropping lower. “Don’t pretend you won that fairly.”

  Kael’s brow lifted faintly. “Fairly? Since when did you start caring about fairness?”

  Eric leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. “since the beginning” besides am innocent "

  The wagon creaked as it rolled over a deeper rut, jolting them slightly. Neither man broke eye contact.

  Kael exhaled slowly through his nose. “You expect me to believe you were innocent?”

  Eric didn't say anything

  Kael’s lips curved—not into a smile, but into something colder. “as expected,I expect nothing from you. I learned that lesson.”

  For moments , Eric said nothing. His fingers tapped once against the hilt at his side, then stilled.

  “You should have stayed dead,” Eric muttered.

  “And you should have grown a spine,” Kael replied. “Instead of hiding behind hired blades.”

  Eric’s voice sharpened. “You think I sent them because I was afraid?”

  “You sent them because you were unsure,” Kael corrected. “There’s a difference.”

  Eric leaned back slowly, the wood creaking beneath him. “You always did love pretending you were above everyone.”

  “And you always hated that I was better.”

  The air inside the wagon thickened, suffocating and heavy. Words hung between them like suspended blades.

  Eric’s gaze hardened. “You don’t get to come back from the grave and talk like nothing happened.”

  “I didn’t come back for you,” Kael replied flatly. “This mission just happens to be… convenient.”

  “Convenient?” Eric repeated. “For what?”

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  Kael didn’t answer immediately. His eyes drifted briefly toward the slatted opening where sunlight streaked in.

  “For settling old debts,” he said at last.

  Eric’s fingers tightened around his weapon again. “Try it.”

  Kael met his stare without blinking. “Not here.”

  Silence swallowed the wagon.

  It stretched on and on, thick and suffocating. Even the faint humming from the merchant at the front had long since died. The air felt heavier than armor, pressing down on lungs and thoughts alike.

  Thankfully—mercifully—the carriage jerked to a sudden stop.

  Outside, Mary’s sharp whistle cut through the stillness like a blade.

  A second later, Musk’s heavier signal followed—two short taps of metal striking stone.

  Enemies.

  Rough laughter echoed across the road ahead, carried on the wind.

  Kael rose smoothly to his feet. Eric stood at the same time.

  They stepped toward the wagon’s rear opening and looked out.

  The road ahead was blocked.

  About twelve men stood sprawled across the path, dressed in mismatched leathers and dented, rust-streaked armor. Some carried axes chipped from poor maintenance. Others held spears or curved blades stained darker than rust alone could explain.

  At their center stood the leader—a broad-shouldered brute with scars lining his bald scalp. A heavy chain was wrapped around one thick fist. The other end was secured cruelly around a young girl’s neck.

  She couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

  Her dress was torn, her face smeared with dirt and tears. She trembled, small hands clutching at the chain as if she could loosen it herself.

  “If you don’t want your little sister to die,” the bandit leader sneered at someone kneeling off to the side—a young boy, perhaps seventeen, bruised and bloodied, “you’ll let me and my boys have some fun. We’re hungry.”

  The boy’s jaw clenched. “Please… don’t hurt her.”

  The leader yanked the chain slightly, forcing the girl to stumble. She cried out, choking.

  “We’ve been patient,” another bandit said with a snicker. “Haven’t we, boss?”

  “Very patient,” the leader replied mockingly. “But patience runs thin.”

  Before more could unfold, one of the bandits jogged back from a nearby bend in the road.

  “We’ve intercepted a carriage!” he called.

  The leader’s grin widened, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth. “Finally. I can smell money.”

  A few of the men laughed.

  The messenger turned to go.

  “Wait,” the leader added lazily, tightening his grip on the chain. “If there are women—keep them alive. We’ll have fun all day.”

  A ripple of cruel amusement passed through the group.

  The messenger grinned and hurried back toward the wagon.

  Several bandits began advancing, blades drawn, confidence radiating from their loose stances.

  At the front of the caravan, Mary stood firm, shield raised. Musk rolled his shoulders, hammer lowering into both hands.

  One of the approaching bandits called out, “Afternoon! We’ll make this quick. Hand over the gold, leave the wagon, and maybe we won’t carve you too badly.”

  Another pointed toward the merchant’s carriage. “Looks heavy. Bet it’s worth something.”

  Mary’s voice rang clear and steady. “Turn around. Walk away. Last warning.”

  The bandits laughed.

  “Did she just threaten us?” one asked.

  Musk grinned broadly. “I think she did.”

  Inside the wagon, Eric cracked his neck slowly, tension rolling off him like heat from a forge. “Finally,” he muttered. “I get to stretch my body.”

  He glanced sideways at Kael. “Sit there. I’ll handle everything.”

  Kael gave him a flat look. “Like I’d let you keep all the fun.”

  Without another word, both men stepped down from the wagon.

  Boots hit dirt almost in unison.

  The advancing bandits slowed slightly when they saw two more figures join the fray.

  “Well, well,” one sneered. “More heroes.”

  Eric flexed his fingers. “You take left.”

  Kael didn’t respond, but the shadows at his feet deepened subtly.

  The bandit leader up ahead noticed the shift in posture from the adventurers. His grin faltered slightly.

  “Kill the guards,” he barked. “Leave the wagon intact!”

  The men surged forward.

  Steel flashed in the sunlight. Laughter turned into battle cries.

  Mary met the first attacker head-on, shield slamming into his chest hard enough to send him sprawling. Musk’s hammer swung in a brutal arc, crushing a spear shaft and the hand holding it in one motion.

  A bandit lunged toward Eric.

  Eric stepped aside fluidly, drawing his blade in a clean, economical motion. One precise strike—clean, efficient—the attacker collapsed before he even understood what had happened.

  Another rushed Kael from the side.

  The man’s shadow twisted unnaturally beneath him.

  He froze mid-step, confusion flickering across his face as darkness coiled around his ankle. Kael moved forward without haste and struck once. The bandit dropped.

  The remaining attackers hesitated.

  The leader’s grip tightened on the girl’s chain as he watched his men falter.

  “Don’t just stand there!” he roared. “They’re only four!”

  Kael’s gaze lifted toward him.

  Four.

  The leader swallowed.

  The bandits had been smiling.

  They weren’t anymore.