In the heart of the city, Anton remained imposing, exposed, challenging anyone who dared to face him.
His magnetic, almost intimidating presence was recognized by everyone around, or at least by the legends about his abilities.
He didn't need to hide; people stayed away from him.
"Where are we going?" asked the Pandorian, her long ears twitching slightly as she looked around, apprehensive.
"To hunt that Colin guy?" added the human with black hair and blue eyes beside him.
Anton, however, seemed completely at ease.
He massaged his shoulders in a relaxed motion, like someone preparing for a trivial activity, and replied calmly.
"Don't be so hasty. You felt that green-haired woman's mana, didn't you? Colin isn't the problem here. She is. If you find him, you can defeat him. But, if you find that woman, do not face her. Do not underestimate the danger she represents."
He looked at the counter in the sky and stared at his companions.
"Let's split up. Cover more ground and stay alert."
The Pandorian and the human exchanged quick glances but obeyed without questioning.
They dispersed, disappearing into the city streets, leaving Anton alone with the Dark Elf. Unlike Colin, this one possessed pointed ears and an impressive height, surpassing two meters.
Seated, he meditated.
"What are you going to do?" asked the Elf, opening his eyes slowly. "I managed to track Colin. Are you going after him?"
Anton rested his chin on his hand, thoughtful.
"Did you memorize the shape of the green-haired woman's mana?" he asked, ignoring the Elf's inquiry.
The Elf nodded, an almost imperceptible movement. "Yes, but... Anton, don't tell me you plan to..."
"That's right," interrupted Anton, a confident smile on his face. "Are she and Colin together?"
"No. They just split up."
"Perfect!" exclaimed Anton, rubbing his hands together before an irresistible opportunity. "Let's get going."
The Elf, however, did not seem so enthusiastic. Reluctant, he swallowed hard and looked around once more, hoping something or someone would dissuade him from moving forward.
He knew Anton was strong, incredibly strong, but the mana emanating from the green-haired woman was something completely different.
It was powerful, so powerful it could equal that of a Monarch. And that scared him.
"That woman might be a Monarch..." said Crizyus, the Elf, trying to make Anton reconsider. "I don't think it's a good idea to face her..."
Anton halted and turned slowly, facing Crizyus over his shoulder.
His eyes shone with unshakable, almost arrogant confidence. "So what?"
Crizyus swallowed hard again, feeling the weight of Anton's decision. "Anton, you are strong, but... she is different. Her mana is dense, almost oppressive. Don't underestimate that."
Anton laughed, a low, disdainful sound. "Did you forget I'm a level 7 user? Besides, my tree is the most destructive among all twelve. Fighting a possible Monarch will be a piece of cake. I've beaten other Monarchs before, so relax."
Crizyus knew there was no point arguing. Anton was like that: confident, almost to the point of arrogance, but with reason for it.
He had never lost a fight, not even when he was a level 3 user. His trajectory was marked by impressive victories, and Crizyus had faith in him, even though the situation seemed dangerous.
Anton was born with a clear purpose: to achieve excellence in everything.
From the start, his upbringing was meticulously planned, guaranteeing him all the necessary tools to triumph.
Money was never an obstacle; he had access to the best masters, top-notch equipment, and a library full of the most valuable and rare books.
This relentless pursuit of perfection molded Anton in a peculiar way.
His arrogance was evident, fueled by the knowledge acquired and the achievements reached. He believed he had the right to feel superior and, in a way, he was right.
In combat, Anton easily ranked among the top one hundred on the continent. His abilities were legendary, and his opponents often surrendered before the confrontation even began.
But behind all that confidence, there was something else: an obsession with proving his superiority, with showing the world he was the best.
And now, faced with the possibility of fighting a possible Monarch, Anton saw a golden opportunity to test his limits and, who knows, reach a new level of power.
"Let's go," said Anton, turning and walking with firm steps. Crizyus followed him, still reluctant, but knowing there was no turning back.
Fate was set, and Anton wasn't the type to back down from a challenge. Meanwhile, the test continued, oblivious to the approaching confrontation. But for Anton, that was more than a simple battle; it was a chance to prove, once again, that he was the best. And he didn't intend to waste it.