A short distance from Coter Village, five men gathered in the depths of the forest, speaking in hushed tones. These were not ordinary travelers. They were highly skilled magicians from a neighboring kingdom, trained in espionage and combat. Yet, despite their abilities, they failed to notice the presence of the one watching them—a being so fearsome that even monsters feared him.
"F*ck… what is that monstrosity? That thing shouldn't exist," Rox, an A-class magic swordsman, whispered, fear evident in his voice.
These five men had been the drunkards John had humiliated earlier. Their true mission had been to locate a rumored God-like blacksmith—a mortal said to forge divine weapons with skill rivaling the gods themselves. But after their encounter with John, their plans had changed.
"Our mission has failed," Loc muttered, his face pale, still shaken from John's overwhelming bloodlust. "We need to report this to the General."
Loc was a prodigious magic swordsman who had reached A-class by sixteen. Though his talents were extraordinary, he had remained a foot soldier, avoiding promotions. But at this moment, no amount of talent could shake the terror that gripped him.
"Not necessarily," Fed, an espionage expert, countered. "With that kind of power, that thing must be our target. Our mission was successful—we just need to follow him and find out where he lives."
"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Joy, their leader and an A-class mage specializing in Card Magic, snapped. "He could've killed us just by standing there. You think he wouldn't notice us following him?"
Silence fell over the group. The realization of what they had encountered was sinking in.
"We need to retreat," Joy finally said. "The General must know about this."
Just as they prepared to leave, a voice spoke from above.
"And who's that General, might I ask?"
The five men froze. Slowly, they turned their gaze upward.
Perched on a tree branch above them, clad in black attire with a red bandanna tied around his forehead, was John.
Joy's breath caught in his throat. An A-class mage like him hadn't even sensed John's presence.
"You…!" he stammered in horror.
The others fared no better. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably as an overwhelming fear gripped them. Every fiber of their being screamed at them to run.
John grinned. "So, would you kindly explain who this General is?"
But they didn't answer. They didn't even try.
They ran—scattering in different directions, hoping that splitting up would increase their chances of survival.
John shook his head. "You're just making this more bothersome."
With a sigh, he stood up and vanished from the tree.
Rox sprinted through the forest, his body pushed to its absolute limits. In just 30 seconds, he had covered miles, pouring every ounce of his stamina and magic into escaping.
"I have to get out of here… I have to escape!"
And then, in the distance—he saw him.
A silhouette stood against the fading light of the forest, exuding an aura of immense power.
It was none other than Archmage Alberto Lapis, the most powerful magician of his kingdom.
Relief flooded Rox's body. He was saved.
Alberto Lapis was a 300-year-old mage who had mastered various forms of magic, including space-time magic. He was among the few individuals capable of traveling between worlds and fighting dragons on equal footing. Though unknown to the common people, he was a force feared by the continent's most powerful beings. Even the Dark Mage Zeref, whom Alberto had once fought, had failed to kill him.
Rox rushed toward him, desperate to speak, but Alberto simply raised a hand, stopping him.
"No time," the old mage said, his voice steady. "You're the only one left."
Rox stiffened. Only one left?
The realization hit him like a blade to the chest. His comrades—all dead.
Rage burned in his heart, but fear was stronger. The memory of John's terrifying presence haunted him.
There was nothing he could do. He clenched his fists but remained silent.
"Come," Alberto gestured.
Rox followed. But as he walked behind the archmage, unease crept into his mind. How did Alberto know his comrades were dead?
His gaze flickered to Alberto's right hand. Something felt… off. But he couldn't quite place what.
Noticing the scrutiny, Alberto spoke without looking back.
"Remember this day, kid." His voice was calm but carried a weight of absolute certainty.
"True monsters cannot be killed or defeated. The only thing you can do is wait for your death… or run with all your might."
Rox swallowed hard and nodded, saying nothing more.
Alberto took a final glance behind them, then continued walking.
From atop a distant tree, John sat on a branch, juggling four bloody heads in his hand.
Blood dripped freely, staining the leaves below—but none of it touched him. Not because of luck, but because he willed it so.
His gaze followed Rox and Alberto as they walked into the distance.
Then, Alberto suddenly turned back—locking eyes with him for a brief moment.
And then, without a word, the old mage nodded before continuing on his way.
John smiled. A silent exchange. Acknowledgment.
"Gratitude accepted," he murmured, his voice carrying amusement. "We'll meet again next time… though I doubt you'll be thrilled about it."
With that, he vanished—leaving the four heads to fall to the ground with a wet thud.