Interlude 46: Burning Kamas (2)

Kael Lohars had once practiced a principle with his own hands—solve everything with a blade.

It was nothing to boast about. That principle was simply too foolish. If killing could end killing, then Kamas would never have fallen into the flames of war.

But if someone wished to investigate the reason, to know why he had adhered to that principle so steadfastly in the past, they would likely discover a surprising answer after a long search: Kael Lohars had simply had no other choice.

He did not understand strategic depth, nor did he know how to win hearts, govern civil affairs, or turn ruins into a thriving city of progress from nothing.

So, he could only kill. What other choice was there? Was he supposed to start learning from the beginning? He could have, certainly, but they had not had the time back then—too many things had arisen from that.

The words "lack of time" had hung like a sharp sword over the heads of all those capable of seeing through the fog during the Great Crusade, baring endless cold light at them. Under the threat of that sword, even the Emperor had been forced to compromise in many places.

But what about now?

Kael pulled out his right hand.

A beast's chest had been torn open. It wailed, trying to struggle but unable to exert any strength. Its limbs had already been sliced to pieces. Clearly, some butcher had patiently and meticulously dismembered it.

Its viscous blood and scattered flesh spilled across the scorched earth. They should have seeped into the ground, but were held fast by shadows that moved like living things, unable to sink.

Kael bent down and looked into its one remaining eye. Then, suddenly, he thrust his right hand deep into its chest again. He