Supreme General Vincent Kim amplified his voice with the authority of his deep cultivation, his words reverberating like a thunderclap across the trees and huts.
"Kid, surrender now, and I might spare your miserable life. Become my slave, and perhaps you'll be useful polishing boots. Resist…" his eyes narrowed, his voice lowering into a dangerous growl, "and you won't even know how you died. You're nothing but a pitiful brat stuck at the 2nd level of the Ocean Opening Realm. Your little ambush worked once, but now that we're prepared—don't delude yourself into thinking you can do more harm."
As he spoke, his hand shifted almost imperceptibly behind his back, giving coded signals to his lieutenants. Like shadows, a dozen men broke away from the formation, slinking through the underbrush and circling toward the boy's position with murderous intent.
Granero's reply cut across the silence like a blade. His voice roared with youthful defiance, "All you vile creatures, listen well! My hero, the Black Dragon, will return! He will slaughter every last one of you and feed your corpses to the dogs!"
The general's eyes flared. For a man of his stature, argument was beneath him, yet the boy's unshakable defiance struck something raw. His teeth clenched, his composure cracked, and his tone rose with venom.
"I am sick of hearing that cursed name! Every fool in Region One wailed about this so-called Black Dragon before they died under my blade. If he is so mighty, where is he now? Why does he cower in shadows like your pitiful emperor? Hiding, trembling, too afraid to face me!"
His words drew nervous laughter from his soldiers, but his heart burned hotter. For the first time in years, Supreme General Vincent Kim felt an itch of annoyance beneath his iron will. And that annoyance turned quickly into a murderous decision: this boy would not leave alive.
Granero stood high in the boughs of a towering tree, his eyes glinting like burning coals as he sneered.
"The Black Dragon… scared?" He let out a harsh laugh. "Do you even know who you mock? He single-handedly slew the Manticore King! He crushed the Kraken of the Wastelands! He shattered the Golden Toad into dust! If not for that accursed Trickster God who meddled, he would already be here, and your bones would already be ash. But I still trust him. My king will return. And when he does, you will curse the day you set foot in this empire. The Nazare Blade Empire is not your backwater garden where you can just wander around aimlessly with your stained personalities and deformed images... "
His voice lowered, dripping with scorn.
"As for Emperor Groa Aratat—he was no emperor at all. A wastrel. A weakling who sat on a throne too heavy for his feeble spine!"
With those words, Granero's hand slashed through a rope tied beside him. A sharp twang filled the air. Suddenly, a storm of arrows rained down from hidden positions all around the tree. The ambush was merciless—soldiers fell screaming as shafts pierced their throats, eyes, and chests.
Before the men could react, six more bodies collapsed onto the blood-soaked soil. The smell of iron filled the air, mingling with the cries of dying men.
Supreme General Vincent Kim didn't flinch. His gaze was calm, like a predator who had seen prey squirm too many times to care. An arrow had buried itself deep into his chest, grazing dangerously close to his clavicle. Without hesitation, he reached up, snapped it free, and tossed it aside. The shaft clattered harmlessly on the ground, its bloody tip glinting in the fading light.
His indifference was chilling, his demeanor that of a mountain too vast for pebbles to move. His silence alone said: The bite of ants cannot shake this elephant.
So far, Granero had slain ten soldiers out of the colossal army of 599,600. The tally shifted—599,590 still stood. Yet in that moment, it wasn't the numbers that mattered. It was the crack of defiance, the ripple of belief that one boy had the courage to stand against an empire.
And Vincent Kim, for all his arrogance, felt it.
Suddenly, a thought flickered across Supreme General Vincent Kim's mind. His sharp instincts, honed through countless campaigns, whispered that something was amiss. He narrowed his eyes and turned to one of his aides.
"If he is just standing there—openly—then he is no fool. That posture is not of someone recklessly attacking, nor is it of someone surrendering." His voice dropped into a calculating tone. "No… it is the posture of someone guarding. Protecting. There is something—no, someone—behind this defiance."
His words hung heavy, carrying the weight of realization. Slowly, his lips curled into a thin, cruel smile.
The longer he pondered, the more the pieces fell into place. And then, with eyes glinting like cold steel, he straightened and bellowed his command, amplifying it with his cultivation so that not only his soldiers, but Granero himself, would hear.
"Search every hut! Tear them apart, stone by stone if you must! That boy is hiding something!"
The army roared in obedience, squads immediately breaking formation and rushing toward the shabby huts of the forgotten village. The thundering of boots echoed like drums of doom.
Up in the tree, Granero's heart jolted. His breath hitched—just for a moment—but he forced his face to remain carved in defiance, glaring down at the soldiers with feigned contempt. Yet inside, fear clawed at him.
Mother…!
His mind burned with panic. His mother, frail and broken, lay helpless in one of those huts. A woman who could not even sit upright without pain, her spine broken, her body thin and pale from days of wasting away. She could not flee. She could not even scream for help. She was trapped—half alive, half dead—clinging desperately to the thread of existence.
Granero's throat tightened. He had steeled his resolve long ago: he would either call for help and meet the Black Dragon here or die fighting. But never—not once—had he imagined the soldiers' search would fall so quickly upon his most vulnerable secret.
For the first time, his mask of iron cracked. His fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the bowstring. His eyes darted toward the hut where his mother lay, then quickly back to the enemy. He couldn't let them see his weakness. Not now.
But Vincent Kim had already noticed. That brief flicker of fear, that sharp glance toward the huts—it was enough. The general's cruel grin widened.
Granero's chest burned with helpless rage. If they find her… if they touch her… His teeth clenched so hard they threatened to crack. His mind raced: should he fire and draw their attention back to himself? Should he leap down in reckless battle? Or should he gamble everything, waiting desperately for the Black Dragon to appear before it was too late?
The seconds stretched long and heavy. Each soldier's step toward the huts was a hammer strike against Granero's heart.
As time passed it seemed that, the boy who roared like a lion now tasted the bitterness of true fear.