chapter 12 : The first kill, a spell adjustment.
After half an hour, Kallen stood before a group of bound bandits, surrounded by an aura of authority. Leaning on his sword, its polished surface gleamed under the sunlight.
The bandits looked up, fear mingling with defiance, but the murderous glares from Javin and Gareth kept them in check.
“Where is your base?” Kallen asked, his voice steady yet eerily calm.
The gang leader, a scruffy man with a ragged beard, swallowed hard, desperation creeping into his voice. “We’re just poor souls trying to survive, my lord. We mean no harm—”
But his words stumbled as Kallen swiftly drew his sword, the blade glinting menacingly. The leader’s eyes widened, and panic flooded his senses. “Please, spare us—”
Before he could finish, Kallen’s sword lashed out, effortlessly cutting the man’s throat. Blood sprayed like a crimson fountain, staining the ground a deep red. The man collapsed, his body hitting the earth, eyes wide open in shock, his final expression frozen in disbelief.
Kallen inspected the blade, now stained with the leader’s blood. He remarked, almost absentmindedly, as the remaining thieves trembled in horror, “A really good sword.”
Gareth and Javin exchanged glances, surprised by Kallen’s cold demeanor. Meanwhile, Thomas and Lily, witnessing the brutality from a distance, were left stunned.
“What… what just happened?” Lily whispered, her voice trembling with fear.
“Shut up,” Thomas hissed, instinctively pulling her back, his eyes betraying the shock he felt.
Kallen turned to the remaining bandits, a calm smile returning to his face. “I didn’t ask who you are; I asked where your base is.”
Panic spread among the bandits. They knelt, some trembling. One stammered, “Please, spare us! We don’t know anything.”
But Kallen did not relent; he pointed his sword at another thief, smiling. “I’m not in the mood for excuses. Tell me, and you might earn a great honor.”
Fear gripped the bandits. “Please, kind sir—”
Before they could form coherent thoughts, another thief shouted, “Two hours on foot to the northeast!”
Kallen replied, gesturing with his sword at the bald man in the middle, “Good, pull him out.”
The bald man who spoke was pulled forward, relief washing over him as he was separated from the others. Kallen raised his hand, signaling to the soldiers: “Kill the rest.”
The knights did not hesitate. The air filled with the sound of steel meeting flesh, and Kallen watched in steady smile as the executions took place. Thirteen heads fell to the ground, their lifeless bodies scattered in the dirt.
Kallen turned his gaze back to the bald man, leaning closer, his voice a mere whisper. “You’ve earned a great honor, you know.”
“Thank you, my lord!” said the thief, kneeling with tears in his eyes. “I will never forget your kindness!”
Kallen smiled, though his expression was menacing. “No, you won’t. Your honor will come from satisfying my curiosity.”
He placed his hand on the bald man’s head, a faint light emanating from his palm, and muttered, “Catalytic Conversion.”
“Ah!” The bald man let out an inhuman scream, writhing in pain like a worm as the energy surged through his body. The others watched in horror, witnessing a living man being reduced to a mere vessel for Kallen’s experiments.
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Sweat poured down the bald man’s face as he gripped Kallen’s wrist, but his strength was no match for Kallen’s enhanced physique, supported by potions and rigorous training.
The difference was still vast; even if there was a size disparity, the quality of muscles and skeletons was on different levels.
As energy enveloped the bald man, his screams grew more horrific and distorted, echoing the agony through the forest. Kallen’s expression remained focused, fascinated by what was happening.
The bald man turned pale with a bluish hue, red spots appearing all over his body, while vomit spilled from his mouth and excrement from below. His hands weakened, dropping from Kallen’s grip as his breath ceased and his heart stopped beating, filling the air with the foul stench of death.
The process continued for a few seconds.
The only sound was the bald man’s tortured screams.
A sound of swallowing echoed as everyone stared at the mangled corpse in horror.
Even the most experienced had never seen such a method of death.
Kallen ignored them as he gazed at the corpse, muttering, “I expected this, but seeing all the chemical reactions accelerated in the body provides more information. I need to note this, and there’s still more room for improvement. Perhaps if I focused on the speed of melanin production to change the skin color to black instead of light blue due to the lack of oxygen in the blood and the bursting capillaries…”
Kallen stepped away from the looks of astonishment on Gareth’s and Javin’s faces, their mouths agape and eyes wide with disbelief. The creaking of the cart wheels on the cobblestone road accompanied his steady steps as he returned to the sanctuary of his private quarters. The cart, adorned with luxurious furnishings and plush seats, formed a stark contrast to the stunned faces he left behind.
Inside, warm sunlight flooded into the cart, casting dancing shadows on the wooden planks. Kallen sat in his seat, opened his book with a soft sigh, and the familiar scent of parchment filled the air. He began to write, the quill gliding smoothly across the page, the words flowing like a stream of his thoughts.
After a moment, Kallen’s respectful companion interrupted him. “Young sir, if you don’t mind me asking,” Gareth began, his tone laced with respect, “You are an alchemist, aren’t you?”
Kallen paused, placing the pen above the paper, then replied, “Yes.” He resumed writing, his focus unwavering.
Gareth’s curiosity intensified, leaning forward, his voice filled with urgency. “Then, what was that spell you cast? I’ve never encountered anything like it in the path of alchemy. It seemed like a combat spell, and alchemists don’t typically use combat magic.”
Finally, Kallen closed his book and turned his attention to Gareth, his expression shifting from focus to measured pride. He explained in a calm voice charged with latent intensity, “That was the Catalytic Conversion spell.”
Gareth frowned, confusion clouding his features. “Catalytic Conversion? Isn’t that a potion mixing spell?” He struggled to reconcile what he had just witnessed with his understanding of alchemical principles.
Kallen nodded, his voice becoming more animated as he elaborated. “That’s right. The original form of the Catalytic Transformation for potions is designed to accelerate reactions in controlled, limited environments. But I adapted it for combat, where control… is smoother.” He gestured as if illustrating the complexities of his thought process. “By enhancing the spell’s parameters, I can amplify all the reactions it touches, not just selectively boost potion fermentation. Think of it as igniting every latent reaction in the target instantly. In combat, this means not only burning but also destabilizing the fundamental composition of anything I touch.”
Gareth’s jaw dropped, disbelief mingling with awe. “What do you mean by adaptation? Is that really possible? Didn’t your mental realm collapse from changing the spell?” His mind reeled from the implications of Kallen’s explanation, chaos swirling in his thoughts as he struggled to comprehend the nuances of such power.
Kallen shook his head, a slight smile forming on his lips. He clarified, his confidence unshakable: “I didn’t touch the essence of the spell; I merely added to its surrounding framework and enhanced it.”
As Kallen returned to writing, Gareth watched him, his mind racing. Thoughts cascaded over one another like leaves caught in a storm. He had heard many speak of the young master—The gifted heir of the Veyrith family, a miracle in human form.
Teachers spoke of him with a respectful tone; the knights bowed their heads in bewilderment at his talent.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he realized the truth of Kallen’s abilities. It seemed that what everyone had said was… lies. Talent? Miracle? Nonsense... Ha ha ha! This child is a monster!
He was struck by the realization like a storm’s force. Kallen was not merely talented; he was reshaping the very foundations of magic itself. And as the sun hung in the sky, shadows danced across the cart, reflecting the shifting dynamics of power, knowledge, and ambition contained within. In the dim light, Gareth realized he was witnessing the dawn of something extraordinary and could only hope to keep pace with the brilliance of the young master before him.