The lower courtyard of the Iron-Garrison was where the sun went to die. Tucked beneath the shadow of the high eastern wall, it smelled of stagnant water, wet rust, and the low, murmuring resentment of people who had been discarded by the world.
When Kaelen stepped onto the cracked stone pavings, the black iron token swinging casually from his index finger, he found eight people waiting for him. They didn't look like an army. They looked like a line of men and women waiting for the gallows.
"This is a joke," a voice sneered from the left.
Kaelen stopped, his eyes drifting to the speaker. It was a woman leaning against a stack of empty supply crates. She wore a tattered, dark grey cloak that seemed to swallow the light around her, her face obscured by a deep hood. Only a pair of sharp, luminous amber eyes and a tuft of silver hair peeked out.
"They told us we were getting a new commander to take us past the wall," she continued, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "I expected a disgraced knight or a bloodthirsty mercenary. Instead, General Reinhardt sends us a pretty boy whose sword looks older than his lineage. Did your mother forget to wipe your nose this morning, captain?"
Kaelen didn't snap. He didn't pull rank. He just let his eyes track the faint, subtle ripples of dark mana clinging to the hem of her cloak. *A shadow-weaver,* he recognized instantly from his secret midnight readings in the royal archives. *Forbidden magic.*
"The sword works just fine," Kaelen said, his cocky smirk firmly in place as he stepped closer. "And as for my nose, the mountain air keeps it quite clear. I’m Kai. What’s your excuse for being in this hole?"
The woman narrowed her amber eyes, taken aback by his total lack of fear. "Sylvia," she spat. "And my excuses are none of your business, city boy."
"She’s a deserter from the Western Auxiliary," Jax’s voice called out from the back of the group. The thief was sitting on his upturned rucksack, looking thoroughly miserable to be included in this suicide squad. "Got caught trying to smuggle forbidden shadow-stones out of the border vault. They were going to cut her hands off before the General decided to throw her to you."
"Shut your mouth, rat, or I’ll stitch it closed with your own shadow," Sylvia hissed, her hand shifting toward the hilt of a pair of jagged daggers concealed beneath her cloak.
Before Jax could whimper a reply, the stones beneath Kaelen’s boots vibrated.
A massive shadow fell over the courtyard as a giant of a man stepped forward. He stood nearly a head taller than Sergeant Vane, his bare torso covered in crude, self-inflicted tribal tattoos that marked the berserkers of the Northern Frost-Peaks. His hair was a wild, unkempt mane of red, and he carried a massive, unpolished iron club over his shoulder that looked like it had been torn straight from a castle gate.
"Too much talking," the giant rumbled, his breath misting in the cold air. He stared down at Kaelen, his chest heaving. "In the Frost-Peaks, we do not follow children who smile too much. We follow the strongest. You want me to cross the black mountains, little man? Show me your spine."
The giant didn't wait for an answer. With a sudden, explosive roar that echoed off the courtyard walls, he brought his massive iron club down in a brutal, vertical arc directly aimed at Kaelen’s head.
"Goran, stop!" Jax shrieked, covering his eyes.
Kaelen didn't flinch. The rebellious thrill inside his blood violently flared to life. This was exactly what he wanted—no noble protocols, no courtly manners. Just raw, unadulterated strength.
*BZZZZT!*
Kaelen didn't draw his sword. Instead, he channeled a dense, hyper-concentrated burst of lightning mana directly into his legs.
*Lightning Flicker.*
*CRACK!*
The giant’s iron club slammed into the stone floor, shattering the pavings into a cloud of dust and debris. But Kaelen wasn't there.
Goran blink-blinked, his massive brow furrowing in confusion as his club struck nothing but empty air.
"Too slow, big guy," a voice whispered right next to his ear.
Before the giant could turn, Kaelen appeared in his blind spot, his body still crackling with residual azure static. Kaelen didn't use a weapon. He drove his fist—coated in a vibrating, high-frequency electric current—directly into Goran’s exposed ribs.
*BOOM.*
The kinetic impact, combined with the electrical shock, bypassed the giant's thick muscles and struck his nervous system. Goran gasped, his massive eyes widening as his knees buckled. The seven-foot berserker crashed heavily onto one knee, the massive iron club rolling out of his grip as static electricity danced across his skin, temporarily paralyzing his muscles.
Kaelen stepped back, casually shaking out his knuckles, a wild, confident grin plastered on his face. The lightning died down, leaving the courtyard in a stunned, breathless silence.
Sylvia’s hand froze on her dagger. She stared at Kaelen, her amber eyes wide with a sudden, profound realization. *That wasn't a standard spell. He didn't chant. He didn't even use a focus. He just... became the lightning.*
Kaelen walked over to the center of the courtyard, looking over the eight misfits who were now staring at him like he was a demon masquerading as a boy.
"Listen up," Kaelen said, his voice carrying a natural, commanding resonance that made them all subconsciously straighten their spines. "I don't care what laws you broke, what magic you hid, or whose daughter you ran away from. Past that wall, the kingdom’s laws don't exist. There are no kings, no baronies, and no regulations. There is only survival, and there is glory."
He kicked Goran’s massive iron club back toward the giant, who was slowly recovering, looking up at Kaelen with a newfound, savage respect in his eyes.
"We leave at dawn," Kaelen said, his smirk returning in full force as he pointed toward the jagged, black peaks of the Unconquered Ash-Wastes rising beyond the fortress walls. "We’re going to find out what's out there. And if it tries to bite us, we're going to break its teeth. Who’s with me?"
Jax groaned, but slowly raised his hand. Goran let out a low, gravelly chuckle, lifting his club. Sylvia stood up straight, pulling her hood down slightly to look at Kaelen with a strange, intense curiosity that wasn't entirely hostile anymore.
The Ghost Squad had just drawn its first breath.