The Young Master of the Second Moon had returned to his cold marble abode nestled deep within the Land of the Wolf. His black robe trailed behind him as he strode through the courtyard, hands behind his back, chin lifted with his usual air of disdain. The Second Moon compound, with its sleek rooftops and stone pavilions, was bathed in the light of the setting sun—but that light only seemed to sharpen the scowl growing on his face.
Voices drifted to him from the servants and disciples nearby.
"…I swear it's true, they said the beast fell in just one strike—"
"And Ondira saw it with her own eyes, the Luminous Huntress wouldn't lie—"
"They're calling him the Sect Slayer now, I heard even the higher sects are—"
Agabah stopped mid-step. His thin mustache twitched. His brows furrowed like storm clouds. One servant noticed too late and quickly lowered his gaze, backing away in silence.
Kazel.
That name again. It rang through his ears like a gnat refusing to die. He gritted his teeth.
"Silence," he hissed, low and venomous. The voices faded immediately.
He continued his walk, slower now, the sounds of praise and wonder echoing in his skull. Kazel this. Kazel that. Kazel and his absurd, impossible feats. The boy he once thought beneath him—no, a dying rat in a bed—was now being whispered like legend.
Agabah's nails bit into his palm. He was supposed to rot. He was supposed to fade.
The courtyard grew colder as his temper simmered. Flowers wilted under the pressure of his presence. The wind dared not blow.
"No," he whispered to himself. "I refuse this lie."
A gust finally passed, carrying away the last of the whispers. But the fury remained.
Agabah sat alone in his private chamber, the low light of the oil lamp casting shadows across his pale face. The curtains were drawn, the air inside thick with incense and bitterness. His fingers drummed the lacquered table slowly, methodically. Each tap a beat of fury. His pride had been gouged and left to rot under the sun for all to see.
A soft knock.
"Enter."
The elder of the Second Moon stepped inside, a man with a long grey beard and heavy robes stitched in the moon's sigil. His gait was slow but steady, his eyes calm—until he saw the expression on Agabah's face.
The Young Master rose from his seat, eyes burning beneath his brow. "Elder Faen," he said, voice low, "tell me... does the moon not shine anymore?"
Faen gave a slow nod. "It still shines, Young Master. But the world has turned to stare elsewhere."
Agabah clenched his jaw. "To the Immortal Sect, of all places."
Faen was silent.
"They laugh at us. Whisper behind our backs. Even in our own Land, the name Kazel is spoken more than mine," he seethed, turning away to pace. "Since the Jade Basin… not a single sect dares look me in the eye. I was slapped aside like a fly. My name used to bring respect. Now, it brings snickers in dark corners."
He stopped, his voice sharp. "Second Moon has suffered humiliation. Do you understand that, Faen? Humiliation."
Faen's gaze remained steady, but the faintest sigh left him. "And what would you have me do?"
Agabah turned, eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. "I want revenge," he said. "I want to teach them what it means to scorn the Second Moon."
"You want to start a war," Faen said quietly.
"No," Agabah replied. "I want to end one. Quietly, precisely."
His hand slammed the table. "We will eliminate the Immortal Sect."
The words hung heavy in the chamber, curling into the walls like poison.
Faen did not speak immediately. He looked at Agabah—his posture stiff, his pride bleeding, his fury shaking like a storm caged inside a teacup.
"You know such a move will cause more trouble."
"I don't care."
Elder Faen remained still, his eyes narrowing beneath his heavy lids. "Young Master," he said after a long pause, "have you truly considered what this means?"
Agabah raised an eyebrow. "You doubt me?"
"I doubt the simplicity of your anger." Faen's voice was cool. "This isn't about pride anymore. It's about names. About reputation. Kazel has earned a name... Sect Slayer."
The words struck the air like thunder.
Faen continued, stepping closer. "Do you know what they say? That he destroyed two sects in a single afternoon. Then now, that he felled an Epic-class spirit beast as the dusk fell upon his back. Perhaps the Land of the Tiger or Dragon has taken notice."
Agabah scoffed. "Tales. Nothing more."
"They are tales believed," Faen said sharply. "And that makes them dangerous. Tales draw attention. Tales build legends. He is not the same boy you tried to humiliate in the Jade Basin. That slap you received—that was before the world even knew his name."
Agabah's eyes trembled with rage. "And now they whisper it like a prayer."
"Or a curse," Faen said. "He walks with beasts, the Luminous Huntress was seen beside him, and they say he laughs in the face of death."
"But the Land of the Lamb," Agabah hissed, "is still at the bottom of it all."
Faen's expression tightened. "Yes. And that's what makes this dangerous. For the weak to rise... that's when the powerful start to panic."
Agabah turned away, his cloak fluttering behind him. "Let them panic. Let them run. It only makes the hunt sweeter."
Elder Faen remained a while longer, his presence as heavy as the tension in the room. Then he spoke, voice lowering into a more deliberate, calculating tone. "Young Master, if I may… direct confrontation would bring us more eyes than blood. The Immortal Sect may not be the strongest, but many now watch it. Too many."
Agabah's hands tightened into fists. "Are you telling me to do nothing?"
"I'm telling you to strike with precision. Not pride," Faen replied. "Hire someone. A blade with no banner. One who doesn't ask questions. One who kills, and leaves nothing behind."
Agabah's eyes narrowed. "A mercenary?"
"Yes. There are many who would take such a contract. And Kazel… he may have caught the attention of the world, but not its protection. Not yet. The Luminous Huntress, as far as we know, has not claimed him. She is not known to take disciples, nor lovers. Her presence may have been a coincidence."
Agabah's gaze flickered, as if weighing the elder's words. "You believe she won't interfere?"
"I believe," Faen said, "that she already walked away once. A show of respect, perhaps. But not protection."
Agabah leaned back into his seat, expression cooling into thoughtfulness. "…Then we'll test that. Quietly. If no shadows follow after the blade, then we'll continue from there."
A grin slowly stretched on his face.
"So be it," he said. "Let the world mourn the Sect Slayer before he rises too far. And let no one know we were the ones holding the dagger."
Faen bowed. "I shall make the arrangements."
The candlelight flickered as the elder left the chamber, leaving Agabah seated alone in his cold victory.