Alan froze instantly.
The old man narrowed his eyes and gave Alan a once-over, inspecting him from head to toe. Then, he took a step forward, his voice raspy and threatening.
"Hand over that tier-diamond magic skill—now. Or else… you'll die right here."
Alan bit down hard on his lip, his breathing starting to grow heavy and unsteady.
This intimidating old man in front of him—he had to be one of those legendary big shots.
It was obvious. The other kingdoms were now done playing nice. For the sake of that tier-diamond skill, they were prepared to shed all pretenses.
Realizing this, Alan slowly moved his hands behind his back.
The old man with the crescent-moon hairstyle imdiately caught the movent. He sneered.
"Don't tell you're actually thinking of resisting?"
Alan chuckled as well, completely unafraid. He directly called out the old man's true intentions.
"Even if I gave you the tier-diamond magic skill, you'd still kill to eliminate the risk. Do you really take for a fool?"
The old man's expression darkened slightly, but then curled into a mocking smile.
"I don't mind dealing with smart people. You've reminded —killing you and then taking the skill really is the safest route."
With that, he advanced again, step by step, closing in on Alan.
But Alan didn't retreat. Instead, he spoke up just as the old man took his first step.
"Hate to disappoint you, but even if you kill , you still won't get that tier-diamond magic skill."
The old man paused, quickly picking up on the deeper aning behind Alan's words.
"The skill isn't on him? But that doesn't matter. If he's co into contact with it, he must know where it is. I don't need to kill him—not right away. I'll just torture him until he's begging for death. When he finally drops to his knees and pleads for rcy, I'll know exactly where the thing is."
Having reached that conclusion, the old man no longer hesitated. He flashed forward with astonishing speed, reappearing behind Alan in just a few quick steps.
Sensing the incoming danger, Alan stopped holding back. He poured all his strength into a single punch behind him.
This old man gave off a sense of danger—and recently, only tier-platinum-level big shots had been capable of doing that to Alan.
Which ant he had to go all out.
A thunderous boom echoed through the forest. The violent tremor shook the ground so fiercely that birds took flight from every direction, startled by the shockwaves.
The aftershock stirred up thick clouds of dust, blanketing the area.
A figure shot out of the dust—
But it wasn't the old man. It was Alan.
At that mont, Alan looked like a cooked shrimp, his body bent in a sharp arc as he flew backward through the air, flanked by flurries of startled birds.
Monts later, gravity took over, and Alan crashed hard onto the ground, creating a deep pit upon impact.
"Cough… cough cough!"
At the center of the pit, Alan gritted his teeth and slowly raised a hand, brushing away the layers of dirt that had covered him.
But when he tried to rise, he found his legs completely unresponsive.
A dense earth elent surrounded him like an invisible cage, anchoring his lower body in place.
"No… sothing's wrong."
Alan quickly realized that this power wasn't just earth elent—it was denser, sharper.
It was tal elent.
A special form of tal elent, forged from the imnse mineral content buried in the surrounding earth.
The old man now stood at the edge of the crater, looking down upon Alan's dirt-covered body with a condescending expression.
"You actually survived my Golden Judgent and kept your body intact? Not bad. But your greed led you to covet sothing you never should've touched. Ti to die."
As he spoke, countless multicolored mineral sands gathered behind him, condensing into a massive, pitch-black sword. Its tip pointed directly at Alan—and then lunged straight toward him.
Alan could even hear the sonic booms from the blade tearing through the air.
The mineral-sand greatsword wasn't just massive—it was fast. Even a tier-platinum mage would suffer serious injuries if they took it head-on.
But unfortunately for the old man, Alan wasn't one of those frail mages.
He was a magus.
The old man had picked the wrong opponent.
Alan inhaled deeply and slamd a hand against his chest. In a flash, a longsword-shaped staff erged from his body.
Compared to the enormous mineral-sand greatsword, Alan's staff-sword looked pitifully small—barely a few dozen centiters long.
But in the next instant, a blinding crimson light burst forth from the sword's tip.
The light converged into a nearly invisible thin line and sliced straight through the giant sword's body.
A mont later, a soft sizzling sound rang out as the mineral-sand greatsword was instantly reduced to molten iron by Alan's fire elent.
But Alan wasn't done.
With the massive sword neutralized, Alan gripped his staff-sword and charged straight at the old man.
He leapt high into the air, channeling all his montum into the blade, then ca crashing down—intending to split the old man in half.
"Foolish!"
The old man roared and unleashed a burst of sound waves that distorted the very air. The shockwave slamd into Alan's staff-sword mid-swing.
BOOM!
Another explosion shook the surroundings. Alan felt his hands go numb from the force. He couldn't hold onto the staff-sword anymore. Then the shockwave engulfed him and hurled him into the sky once again.
The old man lifted his head slowly, eyes locked on Alan's airborne figure. He muttered under his breath.
"Not just magic—his body's been trained to this extent too? What a freak…"
He scanned the area warily.
From the beginning, Alan had been fighting alone. Even now, when he was clearly at the edge of defeat, no one had co to interfere.
That confird it for the old man—Alan really was just so lucky no-na nobody.
Otherwise, how could he have stumbled into this miniature world?
To enter a place like this, most young elites needed backing from royals or nobles. Otherwise, they wouldn't even make it past the guards at the gate.
And a nobody like that—well, killing him didn't require a second thought.
Just then, Alan—still plumting from the sky—spotted more of those black mineral sands rising from the ground.
The particles quickly gathered into the shape of a triangular spike, positioned right below him.
The old man must be afraid of a last-ditch attack—trying to end the fight cleanly.
He's scared!
Realizing this, Alan's confidence reignited.
Tier-platinum big shot? I'll still kill you if I have to!
Just before hitting the ground, Alan twisted in mid-air and kicked off a tree trunk beside him, changing his trajectory just enough to avoid the spike's sharpest point.
But the mont he landed, that heavy, binding sensation returned—like his legs were shackled by massive chains, rendering him immobile.
The old man's eyes glead with ridicule.
He was a bloodline mage, born with the power to manipulate tal elent.
And Alan? At best, a rookie who had just reached tier-bronze.
The fact that he'd survived this long was already a testant to his grit.
Did this kid really think he could harm a tier-platinum-level foe with re tier-bronze tricks?
What a joke.
But just as the old man was about to finish things, he witnessed sothing he never expected.
Still bound by the tal elent, Alan placed his hand on his chest once more.
Before the old man's very eyes, he drew out yet another staff—this one made of sacred oak, radiating holy power.
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