Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 417: Reuniting with Irelia...

Kael walked through the Imperial Capital of Ascaron as if strolling through a place he already knew... and, at the same time, as someone completely out of place.

There was no escort.

No imperial knight marching behind him.

No observant mage hidden on the rooftops.

This hadn’t been carelessness—it had been a direct request.

When the captain of the guard had suggested, almost begging, that at least some Crimson Knights accompany him "for safety," Kael had only sighed wearily.

"No," he had said. "If I can’t walk through a city without an escort, then we have already failed as a world."

The captain didn’t know what to answer.

Now, Kael walked alone.

The wide streets of Ascaron were alive.

Merchants shouted offers in calculated tones, trying to stand out amidst the constant murmur. Enchanted carriages glided smoothly along the central paths, pulled by domesticated magical beasts. Children ran between the legs of adults, laughing, while apprentice mages loudly discussed theory near fountains of crystallized mana.

Everything worked.

Everything was... efficient.

Kael watched in silence.

"—Hm..." he murmured.

He passed a square where artists manipulated colorful illusions to entertain crowds. On another corner, a friendly duel between two swordsmen drew applause. There was order, structure, progress.

And yet...

"—Boring," he concluded, before letting out a short laugh.

It wasn’t disdain.

It was comparison.

In the Kingdom of Witches, the streets changed shape according to the city’s mood. Houses rearranged themselves. Magical creatures discussed politics in taverns. Witches dueled verbally while casting experimental curses in the middle of the street, just to test hypotheses.

Ascaron was... polished.

Safe.

Predictable. "They call this the capital of the civilized world," he mused to himself. "I imagine the shock if they saw my grandmother having tea while rewriting a law of reality."

He chuckled softly, proudly.

Despite this, there was no arrogance in his steps.

Kael walked with his hands inside the sleeves of his black kimono, the fabric reacting almost imperceptibly to his aura. No carved demons glowed. No dragons stirred.

The garment remained silent.

Stable.

It was a reflection of him.

People passed Kael without knowing exactly why they felt a slight tightness in their chest, or why their instincts screamed for attention. Some glanced twice. Others looked away, uncomfortable, not understanding why.

A woman dropped a bag of fruit as she crossed paths with him.

Kael stopped immediately.

"Whoa."

He knelt down, picking up the fruits one by one and placing them back in the bag. When he held it out to the woman, she stared at him with wide eyes, as if she were facing something that shouldn’t exist in such a common setting.

"Here," he said, smiling calmly.

"T-thank you..." she replied, taking the bag with trembling hands.

Kael nodded and continued on his way.

He didn’t want attention.

He just wanted... to arrive.

As he moved away from the shopping center, the architecture began to change. Older buildings appeared, made of solid stone and classical lines. Noble families maintained their residences there, far from the excessive noise.

"Right..." he murmured. "If I were a house of arrogant swordsmen with a thousand-year-old legacy, I would stay here."

He stopped near a fixed guard post, where two imperial soldiers observed the movement with moderate attention. Both wore standard armor, runic spears resting on the ground.

Kael approached unhurriedly.

One of the guards turned first.

"Sir," he said professionally. "Can I help you?"

Kael inclined his head slightly.

"Yes, you can. I’m looking for the official mansion of the Ainsworth family."

The guard blinked.

"Ainsworth...?" He exchanged a quick glance with his colleague. "The Sword King’s family?"

"That’s right."

The second guard narrowed his eyes, assessing Kael more closely now. Not hostility—curiosity.

"May I ask... who’s asking?"

Kael sighed inwardly.

"Of course."

He reached for the ancient seal discreetly attached to the inner sash of his kimono, but stopped mid-movement.

"...No," he thought. "I’m not going to make anyone faint today."

He withdrew his hand.

"My name is Kael," he said simply. "I’m an acquaintance of the family."

The guards exchanged glances again.

"Just... Kael?" asked the first.

"Just Kael."

There were a few seconds of awkward silence.

Then the second guard scratched the back of his neck.

"Well... the Ainsworth mansion is in the eastern upscale district." He pointed to a wide avenue lined with tall trees. "Follow that way, past the Founder’s Arch, then turn right at the third roundabout. You’ll recognize it. It’s not exactly... discreet."

Kael smiled.

"Swordsmen rarely are."

"True," agreed the guard, chuckling softly.

Kael took two steps... then stopped.

"Ah," he said, turning to them. "Thank you for your help."

"Y-you’re welcome, sir."

He continued on.

The guards watched as the figure in the black kimono walked away, blending into the crowd again.

"Strange..." murmured the first.

"Very," agreed the other. "He didn’t seem noble. Nor a mercenary. Nor a mage."

"But he seemed... important."

Kael was now walking along the indicated avenue.

The path was quieter, almost silent. The trees filtered the sunlight, casting long, elegant shadows on the ground. The air seemed cleaner, more controlled.

He passed the Founders’ Arch—an ancient structure covered in inscriptions that narrated the Empire’s early wars. Kael read some of them as he passed. "— Hm... they’ve gone a bit overboard here," he commented. "My grandmother would have cut half of those sentences."

He turned right at the third roundabout.

And then he saw it.

The Ainsworth mansion.

It was impossible not to recognize it.

A vast structure, built of light stone reinforced with enchanted steel, straight and aggressive lines, like a blade transformed into architecture. Low but wide towers, strategically positioned. The main gate bore the family crest: a vertical sword piercing an incomplete circle.

The whole place exuded only one thing:

Disciplined strength.

Kael stopped on the other side of the street.

For a moment, he just observed.

He felt something stir within his chest.

Not Chaos.

Memory.

"— So this is it..." he murmured.

He took a step forward.

And then another.

Each step seemed to pull something ancient to the surface. Training under the sun. Heated discussions. Heavy silences. Rare, but genuine, laughter.

Irelia.

Kael took a deep breath.

"Alright..." he said to himself. "Time to stop procrastinating."

He crossed the street.

On the other side of the gate, ancient magical sensors reacted to his presence. Not with alarm—but with confused recognition, as if something had returned after a long time.

Inside the mansion, Adalric Ainsworth’s laughter ceased abruptly.

It wasn’t a gradual silence.

It was as if someone had cut the sound of the world with a blade.

The Sword King turned his face slowly toward the main gate, his heightened senses picking up something that didn’t need to be announced. The entire mansion seemed to react along with him—ancient runes vibrated, the air grew thicker, and the stone walls echoed an involuntary recognition.

"...So you really did have courage," Adalric murmured, his eyes gleaming with pure excitement. "Coming in here without warning."

In the inner courtyard, Irelia shuddered.

It wasn’t fear.

It was shock.

Something inside her chest tightened forcefully, as if an invisible rope had been suddenly pulled. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and the sword in her hand almost slipped.

"Uncle...?" she called, confused, feeling her heart race erratically. "What’s happening?"

Adalric didn’t answer.

He was already moving.

Outside, Kael stopped a few steps from the gate.

The magical sensors continued to react erratically, as if trying to confirm an identity that should no longer exist. The black kimono rippled slightly with the change in air pressure.

Kael sighed.

"...This is going to hurt, isn’t it?"

He took another step.

And then—

BOOM.

The main gate exploded outward.

It wasn’t opened.

It was destroyed.

Tons of reinforced stone and enchanted steel were hurled into the air as if made of paper, fragments spinning violently as a monstrous presence surged through the wreckage.

Adalric Ainsworth emerged like a human cannonball.

Sword drawn.

Controlled, yet overwhelming, murderous intent.

"KAEL!" the name roared like an ancient challenge.

Kael didn’t have time to respond.

Instinct took over.

Chaos responded.

"Summoning: Glacial Blade of Chaos."

The air around Kael’s right hand froze instantly. Dark blue ice crystals spiraled, compressing into the shape of a long, translucent sword, with black veins pulsing within. He raised the blade just as Adalric arrived.

CLANG—!

The impact shook the entire block.

A shockwave exploded outwards, cracking the street floor and hurling debris against nearby buildings. The ice on Kael’s sword creaked under the absurd pressure, fissures spreading across the blade.

Kael was pushed several meters back, his feet dragging on the ground.

"Old man...!" he grunted. "Is that any way to greet a visitor?!"

Adalric smiled.

A dangerous smile.

"You’ve grown," he said, with clear satisfaction. "But you’re still too slow."

Before Kael could react, Adalric’s sword vanished.

And his hand appeared in front of Kael.

He grabbed him by the collar of his kimono.

With enough force to bend steel.

"Wait—!"

Too late.

Adalric spun around and threw Kael as if he were throwing an annoying child away.

"THEN GET IN PROPERLY!"

The world turned.

Kael hurled through the shattered gate like a projectile, flying dozens of meters before crashing violently onto the inner courtyard floor.

"UGH—!"

The impact ripped the air from his lungs.

He rolled across the stone floor, his kimono protecting him from some of the damage, but not enough to prevent his face from scraping against the ground, opening small cuts.

Kael stopped on his stomach.

For a second... everything was silent.

The taste of blood mingled with the dust.

— ...Hah... — he breathed heavily. — Right... this is familiar too...

He turned his face slowly.

And then...

He saw.

A blonde girl stood a few meters from him.

Her golden hair was disheveled from recent training, her breathing uneven, her eyes wide in utter shock. The sword had fallen beside her, forgotten.

Irelia.

Time seemed to slow down.

She stared at him as if she were seeing a ghost.

Her lips trembled.

— ...Ka... — her voice faltered. — ...Kael...?

Her eyes filled with tears before she could stop them.

Uma. Two.

Three.

They started to fall.

They dripped directly onto Kael’s face.

Hot.

Real.

He blinked, confused for a moment.

"Hey..." he murmured, forcing a crooked smile even in that absurd situation. "That’s not how you greet someone after a—"

CRACK.

The world exploded again.

Irelia kicked his head.

It wasn’t a hesitant kick.

It was a perfect blow, charged with years of frustration, obsessive training, and pent-up emotion.

The impact echoed like a dry thunderclap.

"YOU IDIOT!" she yelled.

Kael was thrown aside like a weightless rag doll.

His body flew several meters before violently slamming against the mansion wall, cracking the stone around the impact.

"THUD!"

He slowly slid down the wall until he landed sitting on the floor, his head spinning, stars dancing before his eyes.

"...Oookay..." he murmured, dazed. "I definitely deserved this..."

Irelia stepped forward with heavy steps, her fists clenched, tears now streaming freely.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA—?!" her voice broke. "DO YOU HAVE THE SLIGHTEST IDEA WHAT YOU DID?!"

Kael looked up at her, still trying to focus.

"I... showed up unannounced...?" he ventured.

She trembled.

"YOU WOKE UP, DAMN IT!" she yelled, pounding her chest. "ONE YEAR! ONE YEAR IN A COMA! WITHOUT A WORD! WITHOUT A MESSAGE! WITHOUT—! YOU DARE TO WAKE UP AND NOT WARN ANYONE?!"