Kayden’s gaze remained locked on Damian, his voice low but chillingly clear. “The agony of shattered bones is only the beginning. The real torment-the kind that will make you wish for death-comes when your intestines start to tear apart. I’ll make sure you understand that whatever you faced in Devil’s Gorge was nothing. That was just an introduction. The real horror begins now.”
With those words, Kayden plunged the final silver needle into Damian’s body, his hand steady and precise.
Damian’s eyes widened in disbelief. Panic clawed at his mind. Why did I ever cross paths with this man? he thought, terror, seeping into his every nerve.
Then the pain hit, slowly at first, like the tightening grip of a vice. But it quickly escalated, flooding his body like a tidal wave. It felt as though his bones were splintering from within, splintering and cracking with every breath he took.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It made the worst injuries he’d suffered in battle seem like mere paper cuts. It was as though thousands of tiny creatures were gnawing away at his bones, burrowing deeper with each second, draining the very marrow from his core.
Damian, once a warrior renowned for his resilience, could no longer hold back. His body writhed uncontrollably on the ground as a scream ripped from his throat-a raw, primal sound of pure suffering.
His mind clouded, overwhelmed by the relentless, piercing agony. Every nerve, every inch of his body was alight with the unbearable sensation.
Just as he thought the pain had reached its peak, a new wave tore through his abdomen. It felt as though his insides were being twisted and shredded, his stomach writhing in agony. This was a pain he hadn’t even known was possible.
He had once believed that surviving Devil’s Gorge had made him invincible, that nothing could ever truly break him again.
But now, he realized how naive that had been. This was something else entirely-this was beyond anything he had prepared for, beyond anything human.
If only I’d never accepted that job, he thought bitterly. The offer from Leonel had seemed too good to pass up: one hundred million in cash. But now, with every spasm of pain, he knew the price had been far too steep.
If given the choice between facing Devil’s Gorge again and enduring this, he would choose the Gorge without hesitation.
The pain was so intense that he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t passed out yet.
His thoughts were still sharp, still painfully aware of every shred of torment coursing through his body. Normally, a person would have blacked out by now, but he remained cruelly awake, forced to endure every moment of this hell.
He turned his gaze toward Kayden, his mind screaming the question: Why am I still awake?
Kayden crouched down beside him, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?” he said softly, his voice almost gentle. “Wondering why you haven’t passed out yet? That’s because I hit you just right. I’ve mastered how to keep someone conscious, no matter how much pain they’re in. And don’t worry-you won’t die from the pain, either. I’ve made sure your body won’t give out too soon. You’ll stay alive long enough to feel every bit of what’s coming.”
Damian’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t just torture. This was something far worse-this was methodical, calculated destruction. Kayden wasn’t just trying to kill him; he was trying to break him, piece by piece.
As Damian’s body convulsed in pain, he realized just how far out of his depth he was. He had once taken pride in his reputation as an unstoppable force in the underworld, feared by many.
But now, in the face of Kayden, he felt utterly insignificant.
This is no ordinary man, Damian thought, a chill running down his spine. This is a real monster.
Eventually, Damian’s body could take no more. He collapsed, his chest heaving, his eyes bloodshot and filled with desperation. With what little strength he had left, he managed to lift his head and rasp, “Kill me… please… just end it.”
Death, once something he had feared, now seemed like mercy. Anything to escape the endless torment.
Kayden’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “You’re the weakest opponent I’ve ever faced. You couldn’t even withstand this. What a waste.”
He stood up, his voice cold and final. “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll end it. But I’ll do it in honour of my brother.”
In one swift, deliberate motion, Kayden’s blade sliced through the air.
Damian barely registered the cold steel against his neck before his head hit the ground with a dull thud. Blood sprayed from the severed neck, splattering the ground in a gruesome arc.
The ancient art of beheading, long thought forgotten, had found its place again in Seclela.
It was brutal, efficient, and final.
Kayden wiped the blade clean, his voice steady as he proclaimed, “Anyone who dares harm a hero of Seclela will face the same fate. No exceptions.”
He bent down and picked up Damian’s severed head, holding it by the hair. The sight was too much for Cheetah, who had been watching from the shadows. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed in a heap, unconscious, a dark stain spreading down his pants.
The once-feared leader of the Hiphia underworld had now pissed himself-twice in one day.
Kayden dropped Damian’s severed head at Britton’s feet, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic.
He then lowered Britton’s body gently as if handling something sacred. With calm precision, Kayden removed the curved blade from around Foster’s neck and placed it on his chest like a badge of honour. Straightening, he snapped a crisp salute to his fallen comrade, a soldier who had given everything for him.
But there was no time for mourning. Kayden turned away, lifting Georgia into his arms.
Britton was gone-loyal to the very end. But Georgia, the woman who had stood by him through it all, was still alive, and that was something. That was enough for now.
She rested quietly against him, her breathing steady, her face soft and peaceful, completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded around her.
Thank God she didn’t see any of it. If Georgia had witnessed the bloodshed, the horror, it would have shattered her. She wasn’t built for this world of violence. She was just a normal woman caught in the middle of something far darker than she ever should have been.
With Georgia safely in his arms, Kayden walked out of the warehouse, the metallic scent of blood still thick in the air. The silence that followed his footsteps was almost unsettling.
The warehouse, once filled with screams and the sounds of death, had returned to a kind of eerie stillness-a stillness that now belonged to him.
The massacre hadn’t been born from some twisted bloodlust. Kayden wasn’t a man who killed for pleasure. No, the people in that warehouse had sealed their own fates. They’d betrayed him. They’d threatened what was his.
And Kayden wasn’t the kind of man who let that slide. He didn’t need their gratitude, but he sure as hell wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect. If someone endangered him or the people he cared about, there was only one outcome-swift and brutal retaliation.
It didn’t matter if it was one person or an entire group. The result would always be the same.
As he stepped into the open air, a squad of soldiers came into view, their posture rigid, their eyes sharp. These were his men-the elite, unwavering in their loyalty.
“Defender, is the lady alright?” Greedy Wolf asked, stepping forward, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Kayden glanced down at Georgia, still sound asleep in his arms. “She’s fine,” he said quietly.
“Take care of the bodies inside,” Kayden continued, his tone cold and measured. “And make sure Britton Foster gets the honour he deserves. He fought like a true soldier. I want him promoted posthumously to General of Seclela. Give him the highest military honour.”
Greedy Wolf nodded, already signalling for the men to move. Kayden didn’t wait for a reply. Without another word, he walked away from the blood-soaked warehouse, his steps slow but deliberate.
“Farewell, Defender!” Tanlang and the soldiers called out in unison, bowing deeply as Kayden passed by, their voices filled with respect.
As one, they echoed again, “Farewell, Defender of the South!”
Once Kayden had disappeared into the distance, Greedy Wolf gave a sharp nod. “Move out,” he ordered.
The soldiers moved as one, entering the warehouse without hesitation.
Inside, the scene was a nightmare made real. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, blood pooling around them in thick, dark rivers. It wasn’t just a warehouse anymore-it was a battlefield, a place where life had been torn apart in minutes.
The men exchanged glances, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and respect. Even in the midst of such carnage, there was almost something artistic about it.
This wasn’t just a display of violence. This was the work of their leader, a man they revered as more than just a commander. To them, Kayden wasn’t just a soldier-he was a force of nature, a god of war. Only he could turn death into something so precise, so calculated, so… inevitable.