Chapter 2: The Devil Child in the City
Even at seven, I understood power. Not just the strength of arm or blade, but the flow of qi in the world, the pulse of life in the city, and the currents of energy running through humans, beasts, and stone. The kingdom of Eryndor thrived on cultivation, influence, and discipline. Every street, every alley, every merchant's stall and warrior's stance pulsed with hidden currents — some weak, some strong, some dangerously unrestrained.
My lands in the northern provinces stretched across fertile plains and forested hills. Twenty attendants served in my household, trained in etiquette, combat, and strategy. Every day, I practiced cultivation, refining my qi, studying tactics, history, and laws of Eryndor. I trained my body as meticulously as my mind, honing combat precision and control over energy. My studies were not idle: one day, every corrupt soul in the kingdom would feel justice.
Monsters roamed the wilds beyond the city, each core a fragment of volatile energy. Some enhanced cultivation, some refined qi, some strengthened life force. I could sense them, even now. Even at seven, I understood their nature and how to harness what the world offered without cruelty.
Today, my attention was drawn to a tavern near the market. Qi flared sharply — fear, cruelty, and arrogance radiated like a flare.
The tavern smelled of smoke, spilled ale, and roasting meat. Floorboards groaned under boots. Patrons murmured uneasily.
At the far end, Kael Draven towered over a small shopkeeper. Broad-shouldered, scarred across his left cheek, expensive but torn clothing dusted from previous scuffles. His qi radiated raw arrogance, heavy and cruel.
"You think you can run a shop in my city?" Kael sneered, pressing a finger into the man's chest. "Pathetic. You exist to serve me."
The shopkeeper staggered back. "Please… please… I don't have any more! I can't! Somebody help… please!"
Kael shoved him into a table. Wood splintered, mugs toppled, coins scattered. Patrons ducked instinctively, murmuring under their breath.
"Keep your heads down…" one whispered.
Kael yanked the man upright, slamming him into another table. "Excuses! You exist for my amusement!"
"Ughhh! Ahhh! Please… stop! Somebody…" the man cried.
I paused at the doorway. His qi was unrefined and arrogant, wasteful, dangerous. The shopkeeper's qi trembled with fear. Pathetic. Cruel. Wasting power on humiliation.
I considered the possibilities: how could I subdue him without unnecessary harm? How to make the lesson clear to all, without hurting innocents? The city would remember this day.
I stepped forward, cloak trailing like smoke, gaze cold and unblinking.
Kael glanced at me casually. "And who is this kid?" he said, as if swatting at an insect. "Thinking he can interfere? Hah. Pathetic."
I met his gaze. "Stop." Calm. Precise. Unyielding.
Kael laughed, sharp and loud. "Stop? You? Do you think you command me? I am Kael Draven. No one tells me what to do. I make the rules here."
The shopkeeper whimpered, "Ughhh! Ahhh! Please… I can't! Stop! Somebody help…"
Kael ignored him, smirking, stepping closer. "You see? Weak. Worthless. Your suffering is your only purpose. And you," he said, glancing at me, "are still too young to understand power."
I narrowed my eyes. Power without restraint is tyranny. I will correct this.
"Power without restraint is tyranny. You will stop, or I will make you," I said evenly.
Kael's smirk twisted. "Make me? You? You are nothing. I am the law here. My men, my city, my will. You—"
He swung at the shopkeeper.
"Ughhh! Ahhh! Stop! I… I can't!" the man screamed.
I moved. Swift, precise, controlled. My hand shot out, gripping Kael's collar and lifting him effortlessly. His thrashing was futile; my hold was iron.
"You will stop," I said again, cold as steel.
Kael's pride erupted. "Little brat! I'll crush you!" He struggled, swinging wildly.
Only then did his men react. I flowed through them like a storm, sensing their qi, using precise strikes to neutralize without unnecessary damage. One collided with a table; wood splintered. Another slammed into a chair; mugs toppled. Coins scattered. Dust and smoke twisted in every motion.
Kael thrashed beneath my grip, teeth gritted, face red with fury. The shopkeeper crawled behind a half-collapsed table, trembling, bruised, bleeding. Patrons leaned against walls, silent, hearts hammering, whispering quietly:
"He… he doesn't even fight all of them…"
"The boy… terrifying…"
"Someone… he's unstoppable…"
I crouched slightly, scanning the room. Calm, unyielding. Every move measured. Every display of force restrained yet absolute. In my mind, I calculated paths, energy flows, outcomes. One day, every corrupt man in this city would learn restraint and respect, or they would be removed.
"I am Mykel Cassian Voss, crown prince of this land. Hurt no one here again."
Silence fell. Even amidst chaos, awe filled the room. The shopkeeper dared a small, trembling sigh of relief.
Kael Draven lay beaten, humiliated. His men battered, retreated, glancing at each other in disbelief.
Every eye understood the same truth: Mykel Cassian Voss would not be denied. He would not falter. He would not be forgotten.