Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 449: Imperial Frustration

Kael walked through the gates of the royal palace without looking back.

The grand white stone arches, the imperial coats of arms, the motionless sentinels—it all seemed smaller now. Distant. Like a backdrop that no longer concerned him. As soon as his feet touched the outer path, far from the walls that stifled the air with politics and pretension, he finally stopped.

And sighed.

A long sigh. Tired. Deep.

"Fuck you, this whole family..." he murmured, running a hand through his red hair, which now fell loosely down his back.

The light morning breeze touched his skin, carrying the scent of the city and something distant of freedom. Even so, the weight wouldn’t go away. Not completely.

"That’s exactly why I didn’t want to be here," he continued, his voice low but heavy with frustration. "An entire empire of people who think the world is a chessboard... and people are disposable pieces."

He took a few steps, feeling the solid ground beneath his feet, as if he needed it to anchor himself. All he wanted was simple. Ridiculously simple.

To talk to the Emperor.

To understand the situation.

To leave.

That’s all.

But no. Of course not.

"That woman..." he laughed humorlessly. "Damn strategist."

Hella Valroth.

The name echoed in his mind like an elegant curse. Every word of hers now rearranged itself with unsettling clarity. The discreet invitation. The private room. The wine. Elayne’s calculated presence. The exact moment Cassian appeared.

Nothing had been a coincidence.

"She wanted me to kill Cassian," he said aloud, as if verbalizing it made the truth more bearable. "She wanted my hands dirty, my name carrying the weight... while she sat on the throne of ’necessity’."

Kael stopped again.

The memory of the other prince, killed earlier that day, flashed through his mind. A brutal act. Public chaos. A scandal impossible to hide.

"She knew," he murmured. "She knew that after that spectacle... Cassian would come. Wounded pride. Anger. Too arrogant to ignore."

Hella had orchestrated everything with the precision of someone who didn’t need to thrust the blade—only to ensure the victim took a step forward.

"What if I had killed him..." Kael closed his eyes for a moment. "There. One less heir. One obstacle removed. And she would remain clean. Perfect strategy."

He opened his eyes again.

"But I am not her tool."

The wind blew a little stronger, making the trees in the outer garden sway gently. Kael looked up.

The sky was absurdly blue.

Clean. Immaculate. Not a single cloud in sight.

It was almost offensive, so beautiful, after the political hell he had just been through. That kind of heaven that doesn’t go with intrigue, betrayal, bloodshed for vanity.

Kael stood there, staring upwards, letting the blue reflect in his own eyes.

"Look at this..." he murmured. "The world out there is still beautiful, even with people trying to kill each other for golden chairs."

He let out a low laugh.

"Witches, vampires, empires... in the end, it’s all the same shit. Too much power in the hands of those who just want to prove something."

For a moment, he thought of Elayne.

Not with pity. With curiosity.

She didn’t want to rule for glory. Nor for blind ambition. She just wanted to stop her brother. A simple goal. Direct. Almost honest, by the standards of that place.

"Good luck, girl," he murmured. "You’ll need it."

Kael lowered his gaze, staring at the path ahead. The road leading out of the capital stretched like a silent promise. Far from palaces. Far from strategies. Far from people who smile while sharpening knives.

"I don’t belong here," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "I never have."

He took a deep breath.

Then the world around him began to darken.

The shadow first appeared at his feet, stretching unnaturally, even under the high sun. It spread like spilled ink, slowly engulfing his body. The edges trembled, alive, as if the very absence of light had a will.

Kael felt the familiar cold envelop his skin.

Not the cold of anger.

The cold of home.

"I’m tired..." he murmured, as his form began to dissolve. "Fuck the thrones. Fuck the games."

His body became ethereal, its contours dissolving into pure darkness. The wind passed where he had been, without any resistance.

In the blink of an eye, Kael was no longer there.

The shadow contracted.

And disappeared.

The palace remained in the distance, imposing, silent, oblivious to the fact that it had just lost something it could never control.

And the sky remained blue.

Indifferent.

Kael appeared at the edge of the Ainsworth mansion’s garden like a shadow dissolving in the sun.

The contrast was immediate.

No cold marble, no tense guards or calculating gazes. Only the rhythmic sound of clashing steel, occasional laughter, and the fresh smell of newly cut grass.

Adalric and Irelia stood in the center of the lawn, swords in hand.

Adalric attacked with brute force, wide and direct blows, while Irelia responded with irritating precision, dodging by centimeters, turning her body lightly, the blade always at the exact angle. She smiled when she managed to disarm him for the third time.

"Again," she taunted. "Or are you tired already?"

"Shut up," Adalric grumbled, picking up his sword from the ground. "You fight like you’re dancing."

"And you fight like you’re fighting a door," she retorted, raising the blade again.

Kael watched the scene for a few seconds, arms crossed, feeling something rare: tranquility.

Then his eyes wandered.

Amelia was lying on the grass, on a light towel, wearing a simple bikini, but one that seemed tailor-made to irritate any notion of self-control. Her skin was golden from the sun, her body relaxed, her sunglasses covering part of her face. The day was beautiful.

She was too.

No. More than that.

She was too hot.

As if sensing his gaze, Amelia turned her face slightly. Her sunglasses slipped down her nose a little, revealing attentive—and immediately amused—eyes.

"Hey," she called, dragging out the word. "Since you’re back from your traumatic tour of murderous palaces... put some lotion on me?"

Kael closed his eyes for a second.

He inhaled.

He exhaled. "Of course..." he murmured, defeated.

He walked over to her and sat down beside her on the lawn, taking the bottle of lotion. The scent was soft, something floral mixed with something sweet. He poured some into his hands, rubbing slowly, more out of habit than haste.

"You know this looks like a trap, right?" he commented.

"It always is," Amelia replied, smiling slightly, turning onto her stomach and resting her chin on her arms. "But you fall for it anyway."

Kael began to spread the lotion slowly across her back, the touch automatic, almost too careful for someone who claimed not to care.

"Hella killed one of your cousins," he said suddenly, too casually for the weight of the sentence. "Or whatever they are to you. Imperial family is confusing. And I almost killed Cassian."

Amelia’s movement froze.

Literally.

For a full second, the garden seemed to hold its breath along with her.

Then— "HAHA!"

Amelia burst into laughter.

It wasn’t a restrained giggle. It was a loud, open laugh, the kind that makes your whole body move. She turned her face to the side, resting her forehead on the towel, laughing as if she’d just heard the best gossip of the century.

"I CAN’T BELIEVE IT," she said between laughs. "You were gone for what? A few hours?!"

Kael blinked. "That was exactly my reaction."

She lifted her face, still laughing, her eyes shining.

"I’m gone for two days and you almost start a civil war?!" she continued. "Impressive even for you."

"Hey," he retorted, pointing his finger, still with lotion on his hand. "Technically, they tried to use me to start a civil war. I just... politely refused."

"Politely?!" Amelia laughed even harder. "Kael, you almost killed the heir to the throne!"

"Irrelevant detail." She turned her back again, still smiling.

"My God..." she murmured. "I go out to sunbathe and when I come back you’re involved in murder, conspiracy, and imperial succession."

Kael resumed the movement, now on her shoulders.

"That’s why I hate palaces," he said wearily. "I just wanted to talk to the Emperor and leave. But that woman... that damned strategist."

"Hella?" Amelia asked, still amused. "Ah, she’s always been like that. Human chess."

"She wanted me to solve her problem," Kael continued. "Permanently."

Amelia was silent for a moment.

Then she smiled, too calmly. "And you didn’t."

"No," he replied. "And I won’t."

She nodded, satisfied.

"Good," she said, stretching slightly on the lawn. "Then everything’s alright."

Kael stopped moving and stared at her. "Is that all?"

Amelia turned her face, smiling lazily at him.

"My aunt is problematic, she’ll always use the best to keep the empire’s problems under control, that includes, of course, using everything and everyone to her advantage to achieve her goal." Amelia paused briefly, "What can I say?" she said, shrugging.

"I don’t care," she said and affirmed, "As long as it’s not me, I want my cousins ​​to all suffer together. They’re all rotten to the core, I just want to live my life with the man I love, and enjoy opportunities for happiness, the Imperial family isn’t for me." Amelia concluded.

Kael smiled, after all, that was exactly what he knew she would say, and sighed, "Anyway, let’s continue this."