The cave's darkness swallowed the rustle of bushes as two more figures stumbled in, clumsy in the shadows. They gripped wooden clubs and knives, pointing them into the gloom, their breaths ragged.
The stink of their fear, sour sweat, trembling hands, hit Kairos like a wave. He sat still, a silhouette against the back wall, watching.
"Hey, you!" the leader barked, voice cracking, trying to sound tough. His knife shook in his grip. "Coins, goods, whatever you got! Hand it over, or we'll gut you!"
Kairos didn't move, didn't speak. His eyes narrowed, catching the faint moonlight filtering through the cave's mouth. Slowly, he stood, muscles coiling, fluid, like a predator waking.
His body, stronger now, thrummed with draconic power, itching to tear through these fools. He held it back, barely, his gaze glinting, blue with a flicker of gold.
The men froze, sensing something wrong, but too late. "You deaf, bastard?" the second one snarled, raising his club, stepping forward.
Kairos vanished. Not just fast, gone, a blur in the dark. The three men stiffened, eyes darting, clubs and knives useless.
"Where's he...?" the third started, but Kairos was already beside him. His hand struck the man's neck, precise, brutal.
Bone snapped, a sickening crunch echoing in the cave. Blood sprayed from the man's mouth, eyes wide, then blank. He crumpled, lifeless, his club clattering loud against the stone.
"What the hell!" the other one screamed, voice shrill, terror taking over. He swung his knife wildly, slicing air.
Kairos wasn't there. He ducked, spun, his leg sweeping low, shattering the second man's knee.
The crack rang out, like dry wood breaking. The man collapsed, his scream ripping through the cave, bouncing off the walls.
He clawed at Kairos, desperate, but Kairos stomped his wrist, bones grinding under his boot. The knife fell, a faint clink in the chaos. The man's screams turned to sobs, raw and broken.
Only the leader was left, stumbling back, knife shaking so hard it slipped from his hand. "Monster!" he choked, tears streaking his grimy face, voice barely a whisper.
Kairos stepped forward, slow, deliberate, each boot echoing against the stone. His eyes tightened, pupils slitting like a snake's, a cold smirk curling his lips.
He saw more than a thief, pulse hammering in the man's neck, sweat soaking his pale skin, the reek of fear sharp and sweet. His draconic instincts roared, craving blood, but he leashed them, just.
"Baron Varkos," Kairos said, voice low, rough. "Where is he tonight?"
The man flinched, eyes wild, confused. "Varkos? You crazy?" he shrieked, voice cracking. "I..."
Kairos closed the gap, letting his aura slip, a pulse of draconic heat, like a furnace flaring. The air shimmered, scorching, making the man recoil, hands shielding his face.
"Know or not?" Kairos hissed, gold flecks sparking in his eyes.
"N-no!" the man sobbed, collapsing to his knees. "His castle! Always at his castle! Don't... don't kill me!"
"Convoy to Veridian," Kairos cut in, ignoring the pleas. "When? Route?"
The man shook, words spilling out. "Next week! Iron River bridge! Bren's men, they… they're planning something!" His voice broke, tears mixing with sweat.
Kairos nodded, eyes locked on him. It matched Marta's intel—Vaelgard's ambush, Therion's convoy. Solid.
He stepped closer, raising a hand, palm glowing faint, ember-red. The heat rolled off, singeing the man's skin from a foot away.
"What'd you see tonight?" he growled. "This cave, this forest?"
"Nothing!" the man screamed, shaking his head, frantic. "Lost in the fog! Swear it!"
Kairos stared, cold, weighing him. Then his hand dropped, the glow fading.
"Run," he said, voice flat, menacing. "Forget this place. Forget me. If you talk, I'll find you. Burn you to ash."
The man froze, stunned to be spared, then scrambled up, tripping over his dead comrade's body. He staggered out, crashing through the bushes, his sobs fading into the night.
Kairos stood among the carnage—two bodies, one still, one groaning. The cave reeked of blood and fear, but he ignored it, crouching by the second man, knee shattered, wrist mangled.
"Heard what I said?" he asked, voice like ice. The man nodded, trembling, pain etching his face.
"Good," Kairos said, standing. "Pray I don't come back." He turned, melting into the cave's depths, the groans behind him fading.
His mind was already moving, sharp, relentless. The thieves' info locked in, Varkos at his castle, the convoy at Iron River, Bren's ambush.
It fit the village whispers: Therion's grip slipping, Vaelgard circling, rebellion simmering.
He saw the plan: hit the bridge, spark a fight, let Therion and Vaelgard tear each other apart. The villagers' anger could be fanned, their blades turned.
But this body, fast, lethal, wasn't enough. His fire, his true power, was still too wild, ready to erupt if he slipped.
He'd train, hone it, make this vessel a weapon. Kairos sank back against the cave wall, eyes closing, fire in his core humming, warm, steady.
The forest outside buzzed, crickets, wind, distant howls. He filtered it out, replaying every detail: Marta's smirk, the blacksmith's spit, the widow's stare, the thieves' terror.