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# š **Saiyan of the Red Dawn**
## **Chapter 4 ā The First Kill**
*(Part 1)*
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By dawn on the sixth day, Kael's body was a tapestry of bruises and shallow cuts.
He had learned to cross the skywalks without a tremor.
He had memorized the feel of ki suppression fields choking off his power.
He had endured.
Yet Varis assured him that none of it mattered until today.
Today, he would shed his first blood.
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**The briefing room** was little more than a recessed amphitheater carved into the cliff's heart.
Cold light panels glared down onto the polished stone floor, where Varis waited alone.
When Kael entered, the elder Saiyan motioned for him to approach.
Without a word, he activated a holoprojector at his side.
An image flared into existence: a squat, insectoid creature clad in mismatched armor. Four yellow eyes gleamed above a fanged maw.
"This," Varis said quietly, "is your target."
Kael studied the projection.
"Its power?" he asked.
"Forty thousand," Varis replied. "Not remarkable, but enough to kill you if you are careless."
Kael's tail flicked behind him.
"What is it?"
"A Kesh'an warhound," Varis said. "Mercenaries. They prey on outposts too small to resistāvillage colonies, transport convoys. Normally beneath our attention. But King Vegeta has ordered that you learn to fight a real opponent."
He let the projection rotate slowly.
"You will be dropped on their encampment. You will kill this creature and its pack. You will bring me its skull as proof."
Kael looked into the flickering eyes of the alien.
"And if I fail?"
"Then you die," Varis said simply. "Or worseāsomeone else finishes the task you could not."
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**The dropship** was a narrow, angular coffin that rattled with every gust of wind.
Kael sat alone on the metal bench, stripped again of armor, clad only in a simple black combat suit.
His scouter had been removed. No readings. No support.
He would rely on instinct.
As the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, Kael reached up and touched the narrow scar that curved along his jawāa gift from Caldas's boot heel.
*I am alive,* he reminded himself. *I am free.*
The bay doors opened with a hydraulic groan.
Below, a rocky valley spread outāa tumble of shattered boulders and gullies.
Half-buried among them squatted the Kesh'an encampment: corrugated huts, rusted artillery pieces, small fires burning in open pits.
Figures moved through the shadows, their insectoid profiles unmistakable.
Kael felt his pulse quicken.
This was no simulation.
This was life and death.
And he realized, with startling clarityā
He welcomed it.
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**He jumped.**
Wind tore at his hair and tail as he plummeted in a controlled descent.
He hit the ground in a crouch, dirt and pebbles exploding outward.
For a heartbeat, the camp lay oblivious around him.
Then the nearest Kesh'an turned, mandibles clacking in alarm.
Kael did not hesitate.
His hand snapped up, palm splayed. Ki surged in a brilliant red flare.
The first blast took the creature full in the chest, spraying black ichor across the stones.
Screeches erupted all around him.
Kael rose, exhaling slowly.
*I am alive.*
He advanced.
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