After talking about some things with Druvarn, Kael returned to the village.

The bear trailed beside him, his stubby legs pattering over the packed dirt path while his button eyes gleamed with smug triumph.

His fur was dusted with dried soil, and his stubby paws twitched every so often as if he couldn't resist shaping another spike or two.

"You know," Kael drawled lazily, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "for someone who says he doesn't care about recognition, you're walking like you just conquered a kingdom."

Druravn puffed his chest. "Correction—I did. A kingdom of spikes."

Kael smirked. "How noble."

As they neared the village, the noise of daily life returned—hammer strikes against wood, distant laughter, the bubbling of stew from the square.

Rue and Rina were the first to spot them when they crossed the open stretch near the stream.

"Druravn!" Rue's voice cut through the air like a bell. She dropped her stick and bolted toward him, Rina close behind.

The plush bear barely had time to react before Rue scooped him up, spinning him in a dizzying twirl. "You were gone all night! Where were you?"

"Training!" Druravn grunted as his tiny head spun. "Now put me down!"

Rina giggled softly, pressing her fingers against her lips. "You smell like dirt."

"It's called earth mastery, thank you very much," Druravn said, crossing his tiny arms even as Rue hugged him tighter. "Let me go before I turn the ground beneath you into a swamp."

"You wouldn't," Rue teased, nuzzling his soft fur. "You're too nice."

Druravn sighed in defeat, muttering, "She's lucky she's cute…"

Kael's lips curved faintly as he passed them. "Enjoy your glory, bear."

"I will!" Druravn called, but his indignant tone was buried under Rue's delighted laughter.

Kael's gaze turned toward the northern edge of the village, where rows of men and women were hammering stakes and laying stones.

The rhythmic sound of labor filled the air—a raw, honest noise that echoed against the trees.

But among the workers were the criminals—nineteen of them—doing their work like normal people.

They had all talked about how they didn't like doing it, but they were still doing it only because they could still remember the face and power of the lady Kael had killed that night.

Now, as Kael's golden gaze swept over them, the nineteen froze mid-work.

A single, lazy gesture—Kael lifting two fingers slightly—was enough.

One by one, they set their tools aside and followed him.

No one spoke.

The forest swallowed their footsteps as they walked deeper, past the soft hum of village life, into the damp silence beneath towering trees.

Eventually, the group reached a clearing marked by moss-covered stones and an ancient oak that looked as if it had seen centuries.

Kael turned, his posture relaxed yet commanding—the kind of calm that made men stand straighter.

The nineteen gathered loosely before him.

Ronan stood at the front—a tall wolfman with slate-gray fur streaked with white and eyes like moonlit steel. His arms were crossed behind his back, his expression patient but wary.

Behind him loomed a blunt minotaur with a scarred horn, a lizardman with venom in his grin, and a thin, antlered boy who fidgeted nervously, avoiding Kael's gaze.

They waited. No one dared speak first.

Kael's voice came soft, smooth, but it cut through the clearing like a blade. "I won't waste words. I couldn't find an immediate solution to your problem."

A few of them shifted uncomfortably. The lizardman clicked his tongue, muttering, "Tch. Figures."

Kael ignored the remark, continuing, "You crave blood. Battle. Purpose. That kind of nature doesn't vanish overnight. I won't force you to pretend otherwise."

His eyes, molten gold beneath the sunlight, swept across them—measured, knowing.

"So here's your choice." He folded his hands behind his back. "If you can't wait, if this peace gnaws at you, you're free to leave. I'll even help you get back to the city if that's what you want. No chains. No punishment."

Murmurs rippled through the group. The deer boy glanced nervously at Ronan, who kept his silence.

Kael's tone didn't change as he added, "But if you stay—if you have patience—then the future waiting for you will be something far greater than anything you've seen."

He fell silent, letting the words settle.

For a long moment, only the wind spoke through the trees. Then, one by one, nine of them stepped back. Their eyes were sharp—hungry.

"City's more familiar," one muttered.

Another chuckled darkly. "And easier to bleed in."

Kael knew their intent. He could read it in the twitch of their hands, in the faint curl of their smiles.

They weren't going to live quietly. They'd hunt. Kill. Maybe nobles. Maybe guards. Maybe all those people who had put them through worse in Veldera.

Yet, he didn't stop them.

They'd been caged long enough. If their fates demanded blood, then so be it. They weren't his responsibility once they were gone.

"Go," Kael said simply, his voice like a quiet verdict. "Do what you will for now. I'll send word when I'm ready to move you."

The nine nodded, their faces blank, and began to walk back the way they came.

Kael's gaze lingered on them until the forest swallowed their figures, then he turned back to the ten who remained.

Ronan was still at the front, his jaw tight but eyes steady.

The minotaur stood beside him, arms folded, rumbling softly.

The lizardman gave a shrug that didn't quite mask his curiosity.

The deer-boy fidgeted but didn't step away.

Kael's expression softened slightly. "I expected as much from you, Ronan."

The wolfman inclined his head. "You knew I'd stay."

"You have a wife here," Kael said quietly. "And you want to build something real for her. That much was obvious."

Ronan didn't answer, but the flicker of gratitude in his eyes was enough.

Kael's gaze moved across the rest. "You stayed because you're different. You've seen what chaos brings. You want something more."

The lizardman let out a low chuckle. "Or we're just tired of running."

Kael smiled faintly. "That works too."

He took a step forward, the faint hum of mana brushing through the grass around his boots. "I can't erase what you've done. But I can give you the means to shape what you become."

The air stilled.

"I'll teach you a breathing technique," he said. "Something refined. It'll channel your energy faster than you can even think of. Through it, you'll grow stronger than ever."

At first, no one spoke. Then the minotaur frowned. "Breathing? That's it?"

The lizardman scoffed, flicking his tail. "We came out here for breathing techniques? We already have them, you know."

Even Ronan's brows knit slightly. "With respect, my lord… we can't just change our breathing technique. That would mean that we have to start over."

Kael's lips curved in a quiet, knowing smile.

"The breathing techniques I hold," he said, "aren't the ones you know. A month of discipline with them, and you'll be strong enough to roam the forest freely. Hunt beasts. Carve your path. But that month—" his gaze sharpened—"will require patience. No shortcuts. No giving into your instincts."

He looked at each of them in turn, letting his words sink in. "Can you manage that?"

Silence.

Then Ronan nodded once. "We can."

The minotaur grunted in agreement.

The lizardman muttered something under his breath, but his tail flicked in assent. Even the deer-boy straightened, his voice trembling but firm. "I'll… try."

Kael's smile deepened—faint but genuine. "Good."

He turned slightly, the sunlight catching in his golden eyes. "So let's begin with something that would give you guys results by tomorrow."

The ten demihumans leaned forward, unable to quite understand what Kael was going to do, but still curious.

"What will you do?" The lizardman was the one to ask, and Kael smiled, his tone light, almost conversational.

"I'll be naming you all."

The words hung in the air.

The lizardman blinked, his tail curling. "Naming us?"

The minotaur frowned. "We already have names."

Even Ronan's composure wavered slightly, his brow furrowing. "My lord, I don't understand. For what purpose?"

Kael's hands slipped casually into his pockets, a lazy smile touching his lips.

"A test," he said simply. "Something I've been… experimenting with. If it works, you'll be thanking me tomorrow."

They exchanged uncertain glances, murmurs rising among them. Kael's eyes were half-lidded as he added, "It's what made Druvarn—the earth bear as you know him—stronger overnight."

That silenced them.

The lizardman's pupils narrowed. "You mean THE earth bear?"

"The same," Kael said. "If you all think he was strong before, then you should know that the current him could defeat two of his past selves. All because of what I did."

A ripple of disbelief passed through the group, quickly replaced by something sharper—interest. Even Ronan's steady demeanor cracked with intrigue.

"If your… experiment made him stronger," the minotaur rumbled, "then I'll take my chances."

"I second that," said the lizardman, his grin returning. "I'll take whatever makes me less likely to die next time."

The deer-boy nodded hesitantly. "If it's something Lord Kael does… I trust it."

Kael chuckled softly. "Good."

He raised a hand, golden light gathering at his fingertips—soft, warm, yet commanding. "Then listen carefully. From this moment, you'll carry a name of my choosing. Don't resist it. Accept it."

The glow deepened, threads of radiant gold weaving from his palm, coiling like ethereal ribbons that reached each of them.

Unlike last time, when Kael had done it unknowingly, this time, he was doing it intentionaly, so the effects might also be different.

But he didn't know for sure yet, so his voice lowered, almost a whisper, but it resonated through the clearing.

"Ronan—your name remains. Loyalty suits you."

The light pulsed around the wolfman, who flinched as the air seemed to hum in his chest.

"To you," Kael continued, "and the rest—your names will bind you to your will, not to me. But if my theory's right…" His gaze turned thoughtful, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. "…you'll feel something more."

As he spoke each name, one by one, the air shimmered. The earth beneath them thrummed faintly. Something unseen shifted—an invisible bond, soft but present, weaving through their cores.

Kael could feel it—threads of loyalty, faint yet unmistakable, stretching toward him like sunlight finding its reflection.

He exhaled slowly, watching the light fade. 'So it's true… naming forges connection.'

Druvarn had told him how he couldn't help but feel loyalty toward Kael since he had awakened, so Kael wondered if it was because of naming, but now he was sure.

His mind wandered briefly, curiosity sparking. 'How many could I name before the bond breaks? Ten? A hundred?'

But the thought passed as quickly as it came. For now, he simply smiled—a faint, knowing smile that carried both amusement and mystery.

"Good," he murmured, stepping back. "Let's see how strong you are by tomorrow."

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