Kael didn't get far before the land punished hesitation.
The ground dipped sharply ahead, the road narrowing into a shallow ravine where stone walls pressed in close on either side. The air felt stale here, unmoving, as if the wind itself avoided the place.
Kael slowed.
This wasn't coincidence.
He stepped forward anyway.
The first strike came without warning.
Stone exploded beside his head as something heavy slammed into the ravine wall where he'd been a breath earlier. Kael twisted instinctively, rolling as debris tore through the space he'd occupied.
Sound arrived late.
Too late.
Four figures dropped from above, landing hard but controlled, weapons already drawn. Not travelers this time. Not opportunists.
These moved with intent.
"You shouldn't have walked past us," one of them said, blade angled low and ready. His stance was disciplined. Trained.
Kael rose slowly, hands empty, posture neutral.
"I didn't stop you," he replied.
The man snorted. "You didn't need to."
The silence inside Kael tightened sharply.
These weren't testing him.
They were here because of him.
The second attacker moved first, lunging in a shallow arc meant to cut space rather than flesh. Kael shifted sideways, letting the blade pass close enough to feel displaced air, then stepped inside the man's reach.
He struck with the heel of his palm.
The impact didn't sound like much.
The man flew backward anyway, slamming into stone hard enough to leave a shallow crater.
The others reacted instantly.
Two attacked together, blades crossing to trap him between them. Kael ducked low, sliding under the first strike and twisting as the second blade skimmed past his shoulder, opening fresh pain along already injured muscle.
He hissed softly.
Too slow.
Too restrained.
Kael pushed.
The silence snapped into place.
Movement erased warning again, his body crossing the space between them in a single, impossible step. He struck once, twice—precise, controlled—but the feedback hit harder than before, pressure exploding behind his eyes.
He staggered.
The fourth attacker waited for it.
A heavy blow crashed into Kael's side, driving him into the ravine wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Stone cracked. Pain flared white-hot.
Kael slid to one knee.
The silence recoiled violently this time, pulling inward as if refusing to be used again so soon.
Good.
That meant he was near the edge.
The attackers closed in, blades raised, confidence sharpening now that they'd seen him bleed.
"This is why we were sent," one of them said. "To see how far you go."
Kael looked up slowly.
Not angry.
Focused.
So they weren't here to kill him.
They were here to measure.
Kael planted his foot against the stone and pushed himself upright.
"I don't like being measured," he said quietly.
The silence didn't answer.
But something else did.
Not power.
Not sound.
Decision.
Kael shifted his stance—not defensive, not aggressive.
Final.
The men hesitated.
For the first time since the ambush, uncertainty flickered.
They felt it too.
Whatever happened next wouldn't be restrained.
And Kael knew it.