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"Tch! The so-called Red-Caped Demon..."

"You’re nothing but a joke."

The Flowing Swamp Leader sneered, his golden armor gleaming in the flickering firelight. He looked upon the smoldering battlefield with a mixture of contempt and amusent.

Not just him—the gathered crowd shared his sentint. They had expected Dawn to put up a fight, to struggle against the overwhelming might of a Gold-ranker. Instead, he had been wiped out in a single attack.

Anticlimactic.

A veteran warrior in the crowd sighed and shook his head.

"Take this as a lesson, young ones," he said, voice carrying the weight of years. "No matter how strong you think you are, you cannot stand against the world alone."

A few warriors grit their teeth, their hands tightening into fists. The words stung, but they held their tongues.

.....

Mira Silverfire stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat.

No... this doesn’t make sense...

Her mind refused to accept what her eyes had witnessed. Dawn—who had slain the Nether Wraith King with terrifying ease—couldn’t possibly have fallen so simply.

Beside her, Alex shook his head in disbelief.

Jasmine, however, remained still, her silver eyes unreadable.

The embers danced in the cold wind, scattering into the night.

And then—

A tremor ran through the air.

The air grew unnaturally heavy.

The Flowing Swamp Leader’s smirk wavered. His eyes, sharp as daggers, flickered with uncertainty.

Then, the smoke cleared.

And there stood Dawn.

Unscathed.

Not a single tear in his clothes. Not even a speck of dust on his crimson cape.

"Impossible..." the Leader breathed, his pupils shrinking.

"No way a pest like you survived that attack..."

Dawn rolled his shoulders, his gaze dripping with mockery.

"Is that really all?" His voice was laced with disappointnt. "I was actually worried for a second."

The words sliced through the night like a dagger through silk.

The Leader’s face twisted with rage. A growl rumbled from his throat—low, guttural, like a wounded beast.

Witnessing this scene Dawn sighed, shaking his head.

A grown adult acting like a child.

Why had he even entertained the idea that this fool was a threat?

He had wasted enough ti.

The Flowing Swamp Leader noticed the shift in Dawn’s gaze—how his eyes darkened, sharp and resolute. A cold chill ran down his spine.

"What’s with that look in your eyes, pest—"

Before he could even finish his words, the leader’s voice cut off.

A red streak blurred through the air.

The Leader barely had ti to blink before—

Schlick!

A crimson flash pierced through his golden armor.

Blood sprayed into the air.

The attack had been too fast. Too effortless.

A gasp echoed.

A woman’s voice, sharp and panicked, sliced through the silence.

"STOP—!"

But it was too late.

The red light passed cleanly through the Leader’s chest, exiting his back.

He staggered, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. His hands trembled as they reached for the gaping wound in his torso.

His knees buckled.

The world tilted.

And then, he crumpled to the ground.

Dead.

....

Silence.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The only sound was the crackling of dying embers, and howling winds.

A lone figure stepped forward, none other than the mysterious woman who promised to protect the leaders life, her presence radiating restrained power. The woman hands trembled slightly. Her wide eyes locked onto Dawn, burning with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"That power..." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

No Silver-ranker could kill a Gold-ranker in one strike. That was impossible.

Unless—

Her breath hitched.

Could he be...

A Mythical warrior?

The thought was absurd. No one of that caliber would be here. And yet, those eyes—two burning suns—made her question everything she knew.

Dawn, however, ignored her entirely.

Her presence hadn’t triggered his Superhero Danger sense skill.

She wasn’t worth his ti.

His attention was elsewhere.

Two golden crystals, shimring with power, tumbled toward the ground.

His fingers twitched.

He wanted to grab them.

But instead, he let them fall.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to the crowd below.

.....

"No way..."

"He actually killed him..."

"What do we do now?"

The warriors of the Flowing Swamp murmured in pure horror.

Dawn studied their reactions. So stood frozen in shock. Others looked ready to flee at the slightest movent.

He almost wanted to see his own reflection.

Did he really look that terrifying?

Even the onlookers, those who had watched from the sidelines, were at a loss.

One man finally spoke.

"What... what did I just witness?"

"There’s no way a Gold-ranker died in a single attack," another stamred, his voice barely audible.

But of all those gathered, Jasmine was the most shaken.

Her fingers dug into her palm, her breathing uneven.

"How...?" she whispered to herself.

She had seen Dawn fight before.

She had seen him struggle.

Against the Nether Wraith King, he had barely won. It had been a hard-fought battle.

And yet...

How much ti had passed?

How had he beco this strong?

For the first ti, the gap between them felt insurmountable.

She had always thought of Dawn as a rival—soone she could catch up to.

Now, she realized...

She had never been close at all.

....

Dawn lightly exhaled.

Then, he spoke.

His voice was not loud, yet it carried across the battlefield with the weight of an unshakable truth.

"From today onward, the Flowing Swamp organization ceases to exist."

A shudder ran through the crowd.

"This area is now mine."

The finality in his words sent a wave of fear through the warriors.

"I will give you three breaths to leave."

His tone remained calm.

"Or don’t bla for being ruthless."

Thunder rolled in the distance.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—chaos.

Everyone moved at once. Warriors scrambled, pushing past each other in their desperation to flee. The mysterious woman hesitated, casting one last lingering glance at Dawn, before vanishing into the night.

Before three breaths had passed, the compound was empty.

Almost.

Dawn’s gaze flickered to the side.

One remained.

A young man with trembling legs and pale face.

He stood alone, shaking like a twig caught in a storm.

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