From the depths of the dense forest, a figure emerged.
A middle-aged man dressed in a delicately embroidered black-gray magic robe stepped forward. His long, light brown hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his sharp amber eyes gleamed with an eerie brilliance beneath a prominent hooked nose.
He moved effortlessly across the soft forest floor, where layers of decaying leaves and tangled weeds should have hindered his steps.
But they didn't.
It was as if an invisible force upheld him—allowing him to walk unimpeded.
Beneath his feet, the earth did not sink, nor did the foliage bend.
And with each step—
A tangible aura radiated outward, pushing aside the surrounding branches and leaves, clearing a path of absolute dominion.
The moment his presence took hold, the White Mist Witch, who had been writhing in agony just moments before, abruptly fell silent.
Her Emerald Leaf sister instinctively grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly, their heads bowed as if compelled by some primal fear.
And then—
A strange sight unfolded.
The White Mist Witch's torn belly—the very wound from which the Frogman had emerged—began to stitch itself back together at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Yet despite her physical recovery—her aura weakened significantly.
Sakeer's eyes narrowed, his entire posture shifting into a state of heightened alertness.
Even at this distance, he could feel it—
This man was unlike any opponent he had faced before.
There was something fundamentally different about his presence, something beyond mere level disparity.
Could he be Level 20?
No—
Level 29 or higher.
A mage who had truly stepped into the realm of "Heroes"!
His gaze flickered toward the Twin Witches, a realization clicking into place.
So this was it.
The Twins had sent the Cavelizard Man to provoke him—deliberately drawing him into their territory.
They had wanted him to deal with this gray-robed mage.
Borrowing his blade to slay their enemy.
Clever.
Extremely clever.
Sakeer smirked coldly.
But who exactly was this gray-robed mage? And why was he here?
The mage's light brown gaze shifted upward—settling on the Principality Observation still hovering defensively above Sakeer.
A faint glimmer of amusement flickered across his face.
"A fourth-tier Principality Observation?"
His voice was calm, yet laden with hidden derision.
"No wonder you dared to step into the Great Wetlands alone."
His tone was detached, assessing.
"To wield magic of this level at your age…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Interesting."
Then, almost casually, he murmured—
"There shouldn't be anyone of your caliber in the Slenian Nation…"
"So—another hidden 'talent'?"
His voice dripped with mockery.
And when he uttered the word "talent," he deliberately emphasized it—his tone thick with scorn.
A sneer curled his lips.
"Human rights are supreme. Humans are God's chosen race."
He spat out the words with utter disdain.
"That kind of brainwashing ideology…"
His voice grew sharper, harsher—
"Disgusting."
His disdain turned to anger.
"Those high-ranking fools in your Theocracy… they are the real cold-blooded—"
"Excuse me."
Sakeer's calm voice cut through the mage's tirade.
The gray-robed figure turned to him, his amber gaze chillingly indifferent—
Like a butcher eyeing his next slaughter.
Sakeer met his gaze steadily, his expression unwavering.
"I don't know what grudges you hold against the Slane Theocracy," he said plainly.
"But just to clarify—"
"I am not from the Slane Theocracy."
"..."
Silence.
The gray-robed mage tilted his head slightly.
"Oh?"
A slow exhalation followed.
His light brown eyes shifted from cold to indifferent.
"That's a pity."
He sighed, shaking his head almost in mock disappointment.
"I was considering letting you live a little longer."
Then—his voice hardened.
"But I suppose…
this is fine, too."
And with that—
A murderous intent erupted from his body.
Sakeer's gaze darkened slightly as he tightened his grip on the bone chain of the Barghest, his voice calm yet laced with curiosity.
"It seems that even if I leave on my own initiative now, I can't do it. So before I die, can you tell me what's going on with this frog man?"
A smirk curled across the gray-robed mage's hooked nose.
He chuckled lowly, raising his hands in amusement.
"Are you stalling for time?"
"Or… do you actually think you stand a chance?"
There was no concern in his voice—only amusement, as if Sakeer's caution was nothing more than an entertaining diversion.
"Doesn't it seem miraculous? A Frogman… crawling out of another creature's belly?"
His light brown eyes shimmered with an unsettling fervor as he continued—
"Frogs are fascinating creatures."
"They reproduce through eggs, and during their growth, they undergo dramatic transformations—changing shape entirely. Frogmen share the same trait."
As he spoke, the gray-robed mage reached down to his waist and retrieved a pearl-sized, translucent sphere from his robe.
It gleamed under the sunlight, reflecting a faint glow.
"Look closely."
His voice dripped with pride as he held it up between his fingers.
"This… is a Frogman's egg."
"Of course, I gave it a little 'enhancement' before it fully developed."
Sakeer's brows furrowed.
His mind immediately made the connection—
Wasn't this the same concept as a frog's natural 'metamorphosis' process?
Could it be that this world's scholars had begun studying such biological transformations?
The mage twirled the Frogman's egg between his fingers, his tone laced with a chilling certainty.
"That little 'enhancement' I added…"
"It grows with the Frogman—developing alongside it until maturity."
"And once fully grown, the creature is entirely under my control."
The gray-robed mage exhaled sharply and shook his head, his expression shifting from pride to dissatisfaction.
"But this process is far too slow."
"A Frogman requires at least ten years to fully mature. Naturally, I sought another way."
And with that—
He tossed the pearl-like egg into the air.
In an instant!
The small egg expanded rapidly midair—its growth accelerating at a speed visible to the naked eye.
First—
It transformed into a writhing, black tadpole the size of a fist.
Then—
Its long tail began to shrink, dissolving into its body.
Muscular hind legs sprouted, followed by webbed forelimbs.
And in the span of just two or three breaths—
A full-grown Frogmanstood before them.
Taller than a man.
Muscular, imposing, and grotesquely unnatural.
Sakeer's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.
If this weren't such a life-threatening situation—
He might have cursed out loud.
Yet, before Sakeer could process what he had just witnessed, the gray-robed mage sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Tsk. A shame."
His voice was full of contempt.
"This method… still doesn't work."
The moment those words left his lips—
The Frogman's body suddenly convulsed.
It swelled—
Then shrank—
Then—
BOOM!
A grotesque explosion of blood and viscera erupted, splattering the surroundings.
But before even a single drop of the creature's remains could touch the gray-robed mage—
His magic robe flared, releasing a protective wave of energy that repelled the carnage.
The air reeked of burning flesh.
The mage exhaled in mild irritation.
"Tch. Useless."
Then, his cold gaze shifted toward the other Frogman—the one birthed from the White Mist Witch.
He raised a hand and beckoned.
"Come, my precious experiment."
The Frogman, who had stood motionless until now, suddenly twitched.
Then—
With a powerful leap, it landed right next to the gray-robed mage.
A gust of wind blasted outward from the sheer force of its jump.
"Excellent."
A slow smile crept across the mage's face.
He extended a single finger, pressing it against the Frogman's forehead.
BOOM!
A deep, rhythmic pulsing—like a beating heart—reverberated through the Frogman's body.
And then—
Its entire form began to collapse.
Skin.
Muscle.
Bone.
All of it decomposed and compressed back into a single pearl-shaped egg, which fell to the ground with a soft thud.
The gray-robed mage bent down, plucking it up with a satisfied smile.
"A perfect work of art, wouldn't you say?"
His light brown eyes gleamed as he turned to face Sakeer—
His murderous intent is unmistakable.
For a moment—
The entire forest fell silent.
Sakeer stared at the egg in the mage's hand, then slowly let out a breath.
"Incredible."
He sighed, his voice laced with genuine awe.
"It seems that I really won't be walking out of this forest alive."
After all—
For the gray-robed mage to reveal this much information so openly—
It could only mean one thing.
He had no intention of letting Sakeer leave alive.
But instead of fear—
Sakeer grinned, baring his teeth in defiance.
"Then again—"
His eyes locked onto the mage's, unwavering.
"You'll have to kill me first."
A pulse of power surged through the air—
The gray-robed mage's mana erupted like a raging storm.
Above him—
A two-meter-long silver spear materialized in midair, gleaming with lethal intent.