Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Darklore — Caelion's Territory.

It was a magnificent place.

Truly, on that point, there was nothing to blame the Caelion for.

The road was well-paved, but not with mere rocks—no, it shimmered under the searing sun of Darklore, glowing faintly with a copper-orange hue that bordered on blood-red, like molten wealth pressed into stone, whispering the pride of a merchant dynasty.

On each side of the road, merchants sat. Some on carpets under shade, others in elaborate shops haggling, smiling, shouting, doing their best to bleed a few extra coins from any poor soul walking by.

The street pulsed with life. Buyers and sellers locked in verbal combat, voices rising and falling like some rhythmic chant of profit and survival.

And honestly, some of them were so good at bargaining it was almost a performance as watching a price go from 1 gold coin to 50 silver in mere minutes was both hilarious and impressive.

A difference of 50 silver coins was enormous for common folks.

But not here.

Not in the territory of the greatest merchant family in all Waverith.

The ones who, despite their limited martial strength, held the economic leash of an entire stronghold.

The Caelion.

A merchant family by blood and bones, a vassal of the Elamin family since the earliest records. From their birth to now, they traded and grew, until now their shadow stretched across the markets like a silk-robed emperor watching a kingdom of coin.

And at the very edge of this golden city, stood a mansion so luxurious it looked sculpted by divine artisans—walls glinting like tempered silver and smooth gold, windows trimmed with polished darkwood, left open so the scent of ink, cinnamon, parchment, and profit could drift inside like perfume.

The gates bore the emblem of a scaled hand clutching a ledger, and within the mansion, there were no paintings of ancestors or battles—only framed ledgers, pristine and elegant, each a record of some glorious deal that shaped their rise.

Luxury.

Refinement.

Order.

But peace?

No.

Because today, something far too unexpected—perhaps even shocking—was happening in the very training ground of the Caelion.

…

Caelion Estate – Training Ground

Inside the unnecessarily massive, perfectly polished, gold-accented training ground of the Caelion, something absolutely unheard of was taking place.

A young man stood tall, his red hair flickering like divine fire under the sun, eyes of the same hue staring straight ahead with unwavering calm as he faced a girl with matching hair but with eerie green eyes that shimmered with sharp wit and cold intelligence.

Zaki Caelion.

And his half-sister, Zara Caelion.

Both of them in the center of the arena, weapons in hand.

Zaki, as always, wielded his mother's twin daggers, an extension of her memory.

Zara held a beautiful spear, elegant and dangerous like herself.

Spectators filled the private viewing stands, all of them members of the Caelion or close allies, whispering with disbelief as they watched.

"What's happening? Did I hear right? That idiot Zaki actually provoked a duel with young lady Zara?" one man said, jaw practically on the floor.

"What a fool. Has he finally lost it?"

"For the past two months, he's been acting strangely. One time, he even dared to look me in the eye while I was beating him."

"Look in the eye? He dared to strike back one time. I broke his ribs for it."

They talked.

They laughed.

They mocked.

But the truth was undeniable, Zaki had changed.

He had transformed from a silent punching bag to something else entirely.

It hadn't come easy.

Even with all his planning and mental tricks, the beginning was brutal—forcing himself to stand up, to train, to walk into the very ground where he'd been humiliated time and time again.

But he did it anyway.

And more importantly, he didn't think about it.

The moment the thought appeared "I should train" he stood up and moved. He didn't give his brain time to argue or make excuses.

Because he knew the moment he gave his mind a window to retreat, it would.

So he acted, over and over and over.

Until, after a month, he no longer had to think.

The moment he decided, his body moved.

It had become a habit.

A good one.

And with it, he started keeping his word to himself.

He made eye contact. He fought back. He talked. He endured.

Yes, it made things worse.

Yes, they beat him harder.

Yes, they humiliated him more.

But…

He no longer cared.

Because what was worse, humiliation? Pride? Or continuing to live like some sick joke of fate?

The answer was obvious.

So he threw pride in the dirt, bit down on every wound, and pushed forward with discipline.

And with discipline came confidence.

And with confidence came belief.

And with belief…came power.

"What changed you?" Zara asked coldly, spear pointed at him with narrowed eyes.

"I wonder," Zaki replied simply, his tone flat, unreadable.

Zara frowned.

She didn't like this version of Zaki.

She didn't like this still, calm, fearless brother who no longer flinched under her gaze.

She wanted the old Zaki back.

So she tried to break him the only way she knew how.

"A coward like you… who watched his own mother die right in front of him and did nothing now acting high and mighty?" she said, her voice like frozen glass breaking in winter.

The words cut deep.

They always did.

Zaki's jaw clenched tightly, but no emotion leaked through his face.

They wanted him to react.

But he would not give them that pleasure.

So he closed his eyes.

And he breathed.

'I feel what I choose to feel. No one can make me angry. Words can't make me angry. They don't control me. They don't.'

He repeated the words in his mind again and again, until the boiling inside him cooled to embers.

And when he opened his eyes again, they were still.

Unshaken.

He looked past Zara, to the man standing behind her.

A man with similar features.

His father.

And beside him were three elegant women dressed in expensive fabrics, all looking at him with scorn.

His stepmothers.

He smiled softly.

"Today is not a duel."

"It was a trap, let's say."

"It was just a way to pull all of you out of your golden cages and make sure you were all here… to hear these simple words of mine."

He turned slowly, letting his eyes pass across every single person in the training field until they stopped again on his father.

And his smile…

His smile twisted.

"Next time I see you again…"

"…you'll regret not killing me when you had the chance."

And the moment he said that,

Zaki vanished.

Not from the training ground but from Darklore.

Already en route to Fokay.

And with that…

The wheel began to turn.

The domino had been pushed.

The storm was coming.

—End of Chapter 132—