Chapter 11: Fusion Ambition
The next morning, Kaelor left the town’s edge, ignoring the curious stares from those laboring at the rice fields. Word had clearly spread, about the strange new seedlings, the arcane flames, and the lord who’d once drowned in wine now walking like a man reborn.
He didn’t slow his pace.
Instead, he made his way toward the other side of town, an open expanse of flattened earth where six Dreadclaw warriors clashed in pairs, wooden sabers in hand. Their bodies moved with predatory grace, furred limbs blurring as they exchanged brutal strikes.
In this forsaken town, far removed from the gleam of noble steel and the ceremonial longswords of aristocrats, the common blade was a knife. But for these transformed warriors, knives had evolved, grown. The weapon they wielded now was closer to a curved saber, wide-bladed and long-handled. It reminded Kaelor of a katana, but with a broader width, nearly the size of a grown man’s palm, crafted more for slashing than finesse.
Hunting devil beasts required force, not elegance. A single, committed slash. A sidestep, then a cleaving blow meant to maim or kill. If you missed, there might be no second swing.
When they spotted him, the six warriors halted, falling into a rigid line. Hound stood before them, a wall of muscle and dominance.
"My Lord!" they said in unison, bowing deeply.
"You may continue," Kaelor said, brushing aside the formalities. "I’m not here to watch. I’m here to train."
Hound turned toward a nearby rack and returned with another oversized wooden saber. He offered it with a smirk, though it held no malice, only a quiet, knowing amusement.