Kayden stood motionless, his machete resting casually at his side. His calm demeanor was unnerving. The group of over a thousand men, once brimming with confidence and combat readiness, seemed frozen in place, as if caught in an invisible vice.
Then, in a flash, chaos erupted.
Limbs flew, blood sprayed, and anguished cries filled the air. The estate’s courtyard, once a scene of order and power, was now a slaughterhouse. Over 1, 300 men-armed and dangerous-were reduced to writhing bodies on the ground, their strength snuffed out in mere moments.
Kayden stood among them, unshaken and commanding, like a colossus towering over the fallen. His presence was overwhelming, his aura like that of a king surveying his conquered realm. There was no trace of effort on his face-only an unyielding calm that bordered on indifference.
Dennis and Mr. Roberts were rooted to the spot, their eyes wide with disbelief. The air around them felt suffocating, thick with the scent of blood and fear.
“How… how is this possible?” Dennis’s voice was barely a whisper. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, his body betraying the terror that had seized him.
Mr. Roberts, usually composed and confident, was just as shaken. Though he had trained in martial arts for years and considered himself formidable, he knew his limits. Taking on a hundred men might have been within his grasp-but a thousand? And to see them fall so effortlessly? It was beyond reason.
Kayden hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“Is he even human?” Dennis murmured, his voice trembling.
Mr. Roberts swallowed hard, his throat dry. His mind raced, piecing together the only explanation that made sense.
“A Grand-level Hermit,” he muttered under his breath.
Dennis turned to him, confused. “What?”
Mr. Roberts didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Kayden, who stood amidst the carnage like an unshakable deity.
“This is no ordinary man,” Mr. Roberts said, his voice low and hoarse. “He’s far beyond anything we can comprehend. I thought… I thought such power was only a myth.”
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Kayden’s earlier arrogance, his refusal to explain himself-it all made sense now. He wasn’t dismissive because he was rude; he was dismissive because they were insignificant to him.
Suddenly, Mr. Roberts dropped to his knees, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked courtyard. His entire body shook as he bowed his head low.
“P-please!” he stammered, his voice cracking. “Forgive me! I was blind-foolish to offend you!”
Dennis stared in disbelief.
This was Mr. Roberts-the Lloyd family’s trusted steward, a man he had always looked up to as a pillar of strength. And now, he was groveling at Kayden’s feet, begging for his life like a common coward.
It shattered something inside Dennis. He had clung to hope that Mr. Roberts might stand against Kayden, that he might at least try to fight. But this? This was defeat without a single blow exchanged.
And yet, Dennis couldn’t blame him.
Kayden’s presence was suffocating. He wasn’t just a man-he was a force of nature, an unstoppable storm that tore through everything in its path.
Mr. Roberts reached out, his trembling hand tugging at Dennis’s pant leg.
“Get down!” he hissed, his voice urgent. “Do you want to die?”
Outside the estate, two shadowy figures perched in a tree, their faces pale as they watched the scene unfold.
“Did you see that…?” George whispered, his voice barely audible.
Asher nodded, his face drenched in sweat. “I saw it. I just… I can’t believe it.”
One man, one blade, and over a thousand men reduced to nothing in minutes. It was beyond comprehension.
George wiped his forehead, his hands trembling. “We need to leave. Now.”
Carefully, the two men climbed down from the tree, their movements awkward and shaky. They reached their car in silence, but the tension between them was palpable.
George slid into the driver’s seat, fumbling for a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, but his hands were trembling so badly that he couldn’t light it. After several failed attempts, he gave up, tossing the lighter onto the dashboard.
Asher sat beside him, his face pale and drawn. “George… what do we do? He’s going to come for us, isn’t he?”
George exhaled sharply, gripping the steering wheel to steady himself. “What do we do? We stay as far away from him as possible. That’s what we do.”
“But what if he comes after my family?” Asher’s voice cracked.
George turned to him, his eyes dark and serious. “If he wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. You saw what he just did. He’s not the kind of man you can run from or fight. Your best bet is to pray he doesn’t see you as a threat.”
Asher’s hands clenched into fists. “But my father-”
“Your father?” George interrupted, his voice harsh. “Your father would end up just like the rest of them-if he’s lucky. Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about power or influence. This man is on a completely different level.”
George started the car, the engine roaring to life. He glanced at Asher, his expression grim.
“Listen to me. Go home. Stay quiet. And whatever you do, don’t provoke him again. People like him…” George hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “People like him don’t just kill you. They erase you.”
With that, he stepped on the gas, the car speeding off into the night. Neither man spoke as the headlights cut through the darkness, their minds consumed by the haunting image of Kayden standing amidst the carnage, untouchable and unstoppable.