Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 141: When the Wind Shifts

Chapter 141: When the Wind Shifts

High above the island, on the jagged peak that crowned its center, Alex stood with the wind howling around him like a living thing. The salty air whipped past his coat, tugging at his long, yellow-golden hair as he stared toward the horizon.

The wind had shifted, stronger than before, more insistent.

It came from the direction of Europe.

Three weeks had passed since he first arrived here. His body, though still battered, had mostly mended. The deep wounds—punctured organs, shattered ribs—were slow to knit, even for someone at the Grandmaster level. Without high-grade potions or spiritual elixirs, time was the only healer. And for warriors like him, time was both a blessing and a threat.

Nyxara lay draped lazily across his broad shoulders, her small feline body rising and falling with his steady breath. The tigress had practically claimed his shoulder as her throne, watching the horizon with the same cold patience he carried in his heart.

At that time, the two had hunted for food, slept beneath the stars, and listened. More accurately, Nova listened, Alex’s ever-watchful AI system.

Nova’s voice had been his window to the world while his body was recovering. She had tracked every possible maneuver and strategy shift from the Higher Clans.

But one update had struck him with quiet disbelief.

"The Wind Clan issued a public bounty on your head," Nova had told him, her tone calm as ever.

Alex remembered frowning at the time. That wasn’t their style.

He had expected shadow games, assassins in the dark, silent knives rather than blaring horns.

A bounty this public... it didn’t make sense.

And yet the other Higher Clans did nothing, especially the Fire clan. No outrage. No denouncement. No counteraction. As if they were watching and waiting. Or perhaps... testing.

It didn’t matter.

He had told Nova to also shift her monitoring to the government. The bounty was a flare in the dark—one bound to pull them in. And Alex was almost certain they’d make their move soon. The Wind Clan had thrown the bait. The question was—who would bite first?

He exhaled slowly, his breath lost in the rush of wind around him.

Three weeks of silence is enough.

Behind his gaze, Nova’s interface shifted, scanning real-time data from afar. But he wasn’t focused on the screen. He was focused on the hunt.

Nyxara shifted slightly, opening one eye, her tail curling tighter around his arm. Then, in that low, knowing voice, she asked:

"So... are you ready, Alex?"

A beat passed. Then he replied, his tone calm, steady, and cold as steel drawn in moonlight.

"Yeah."

He stepped forward slightly, the wind pressing against his face as the island trembled under its windswept silence.

"It’s time."

A long pause. Then the final words, simple and deadly:

"Another one’s booked."

------

In another part of the world, a sleek black mobile cruiser glided down the elevated highway, its tinted windows casting mirrored reflections of the sky. Inside, Lauren sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the blur of scenery passing by—but she wasn’t seeing any of it.

Beside her sat Liam, his posture casual, but his eyes sharp. He turned to her for the fifth time in the last hour, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

"Hey, Lauren. You’ve been spacing out more than usual. What’s going on?"

Lauren didn’t answer right away. Her head turned slowly toward him, her expression unreadable—icy, distant, composed. The kind of look that once made Liam’s heart race when he first fell for her.

But this time... he thought he saw something more. Something sharper beneath the surface.

Was that disgust?

He blinked and immediately pushed the thought aside. No, probably just my imagination.

"Nothing, Liam," she replied in her calm, detached tone. "I’ve just been thinking about the mission. And Europe."

She paused briefly before adding, "Unlike the rest of the continents still under human control, I’ve never been to Europe. Funny, really—I’ve visited Antarctica three times, but not once have I stepped foot in Europe."

Her voice was smooth, the delivery flawless, like a rehearsed script. Anyone else would’ve believed her.

But Liam didn’t.

Still, he knew better than to push. Especially now.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. The only sounds were the faint hum of the engine and the occasional static from the comms device as their escort team followed in formation behind them.

When they arrived at the teleportation station, a group of Master-ranked guards was already waiting, securing the area and clearing a path to one of the activated portals. The blue-white light shimmered like liquid glass, reflecting on the marble floors.

As they approached the platform, Lauren’s eyes fixed on the portal.

She took a breath—just one—and as the wind from the teleportation stream swept across her face, a single thought echoed in her mind:

Here I go, Alex.

Time to find you.

----

In another part of the world, within the towering spires of the Wind Clan’s stronghold, Cassius sat upon his throne, silent, armored in gleaming chainmail that caught the flickering light like tempered lightning. His eyes, calm yet fierce, gazed upward at the vaulted ceiling.

The wind howled.

Not a gentle breeze, but a wild, untamed force, roaring through the throne room as though the walls did not exist. Though enclosed by stone and enchanted glass, the chamber itself echoed with the same pressure and sharpness one might feel at the summit of a sacred mountain.

Yet Cassius stood within it as if it were still.

His cape fluttered violently behind him, silver strands of hair whipping across his sharp features. But his body remained unmoved, grounded like an anchor against a hurricane.

And then there were the runes.

Hundreds-no, thousands of them—glowed in the air around him, suspended like celestial bodies caught in orbit. They drifted, pulsed, shimmered in synchronized rhythm, casting a stormy radiance across the throne room. Each rune whispered a different truth of the wind: speed, sharpness, pressure, silence, rage.

Cassius surveyed them without awe. He had seen them countless times. They were part of him.

The runes pulsed once more—then dimmed.

He rose.

He descended the dais with slow, deliberate steps, , boots echoing against the stone. The wind parted around him, bowing to its master.

As he reached the towering doors, he spoke—not to anyone present, but to the wind itself, or perhaps the world.

His voice was calm. Final.

"It’s time."

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