The ultimate one of Gaia

Martin was walking, normally, peacefully, but in the jungle there was chaos.

The forest that teemed with life only moments before now lay silent. The birds had vanished. The insects had burrowed deep. Even the monstrous apex predators hiding among the silverleaf trees and moss-draped ruins were cowering in their dens.

The beasts that dared approach him, fell to the ground, trembling uncontrollably, eyes rolling back as their brains short-circuited under the weight of his presence.

'Dread shroud is working splendidly,' Martin thought, watching as another massive horned gorilla toppled sideways, foam dripping from its slack jaw.

Elsewhere, within the forest

Three students crouched under a wide stone outcrop, clutching their weapons and suppressing their breaths.

"That's him, isn't it?" whispered the first, a spear-bearer with golden hair tied in tight braids. Her voice trembled despite her efforts to control it.

"Yes," said the second – a thin boy with spectacles, rune analyst glyphs glowing faint blue across his lenses, "His mana readings… I can't quantify them. It's like trying to measure an ocean with a rope."

The third, a girl clad in heavy plated robes lined with purple defensive weaves, clenched her fists so hard her gauntlets creaked. "Let's intercept him."

"Intercept him?" The spear-bearer hissed, eyes widening with disbelief. "Did you not see how many beasts just fell over their heads?"

"You should listen to him," Martin said calmly.

They froze.

Martin stood there, inches away, having emerged from the drifting fog like a phantom made flesh. His coat billowed softly behind him, reddish-black mana swirling at his feet like slow coiling serpents.

The spear-bearer screamed, thrusting her weapon forward with desperate speed. Mana flared across the spearhead as layered piercing glyphs activated, focusing all her stored reserves into one lethal strike.

Martin tilted his head slightly.

The spear stopped. Not from impact, but because the girl herself froze mid-thrust, her eyes glazing over as blood splashed from her nose and mouth. She slumped forward, the teleport glyph activating to whisk her away before her heart could fully rupture.

Martin's gaze shifted to the rune analyst.

"Your turn," he said softly.

The boy scrambled back, dropping his rune slate as his trembling fingers clawed uselessly at the moss-slick stone behind him.

"Please… I don't want to—," he whispered, tears welling and spilling down his cheeks.

His eyes rolled back. A wet sound escaped his throat as his body collapsed sideways, convulsing once before the teleport glyph blinked him away to safety.

Martin turned his attention to the last one standing.

She was trembling, but she remained upright, her warding robes flickering with gold and purple glyphs as they tried to stabilize her internal mana flow. Her lips moved silently, whispering prayers to gods that would never intervene.

"Your will is strong enough not to faint," Martin said, his tone almost admiring, "Interesting. Tell me, what is your name?"

"F-Fiora… Fiora Lumen," she stammered, tears brimming in her eyes.

"House Lumen… not a major house. You're here as fodder, aren't you?" Martin asked, tilting his head slightly, reddish-black mana flickering behind his pale gaze, casting monstrous shadows across his face. "That means I can do whatever, I want."

"Please… don't…" Fiora whispered, her voice breaking.

"Don't worry, it will be quick," Martin said.

He raised his hand slightly, and the Dread Shroud extended.

It was like watching her soul peel away from her body. Fiora's knees buckled, her plated robes clattering as her body convulsed. Blood gushed from the pores of her face, leaking down her neck in crimson rivulets before the teleport glyph finally activated, whisking her away just before her heart burst under the pressure.

Martin stood alone once more, the forest dead silent around him. The black-red mana surrounding him pulsed gently, flickering like a dark flame in the half-light of the morning sun filtered through thick canopy.

'Weaklings,' Martin thought coldly, 'This is their limit. How can they ever hope to survive the world beyond these borders?'

He walked on, his boots crunching softly over fallen leaves and broken stone. Every step radiated dread, corrupting the ground itself with mana scars that steamed faintly before fading.

In the Observation Hall

"Why is he like this…?" Roen whispered, his voice hoarse, fingers trembling slightly as he watched Fiora's blood splash across Martin's vision feed.

"He's amplifying the fear of those around him through incantation resonance," Belisarius explained, his tone cold and clinical. "It bypasses instinctive defense triggers by corrupting the victim's mana-perception pathways. Only those with iron will or fractured minds can resist it."

"I wonder what will happen when he wrecks the twelve scions of CLL," Bellarine said softly, eyes narrowed with faint amusement.

"He will be fulfilling his purpose to the excess," Belisarius replied, leaning back in his chair, his armored fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

"You mean raising the standards of Varncrest?" Roen asked, voice hollow.

"Yeah, except this thing is being broadcasted to every province in the empire," Bellarine said with a faint smirk. "So, there will be… consequences."

Belisarius closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. "There always are."

Back in the Forest

Martin paused near the edge of the artificial clearing, his eyes half-lidded as he let the swirling dread mana recede slightly. Birds returned to the trees above, chirping cautiously as if testing whether the storm had passed.

'The scions will come soon,' he thought, 'Let's see if they can give me something worth remembering.'

He smiled, thin and cruel.

A smile that promised that the day's true horrors had not yet begun.