"I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die—!"
In the dense forest, a white-haired boy—clothes torn and muddy—ran with a speed far beyond human limits. He didn't even dare look back.
Suddenly, the sunlight vanished.
The boy instinctively looked up—and his face froze in despair.
A massive boulder, big enough to fill his entire field of vision, blocked the sky above him.
Before the "meteor" could crash down, cold mist surged from the boy's body—Cryo elemental energy. Boosted by that power, he narrowly slipped out of the falling radius.
But the blast of wind from the impact still sent him tumbling like a rag doll.
He rolled across the ground several times, then—without pausing—scrambled up and continued fleeing.
From high above, one could see the path he'd run: gigantic stone pillars and boulders had crashed down one after another, standing abruptly amidst the forest.
And high in the sky hovered the one responsible—
A dragon.
Its form was part dragon, part qilin. Golden eyes, with vertical amber pupils, shone like molten metal. They were sharp, intelligent, not the eyes of a beast driven purely by bloodlust.
That was Morax.
The Geo Archon.
What is a "god"?
Just consider them a race born impossibly powerful.
And Morax—one of the strongest among them—had just been hit in the face.
To be precise, moments earlier, a newborn yaksha had thrown an ice spear and struck him right between the eyes.
Even hilichurls wouldn't tolerate being treated like that!
If his control over Geo weren't precise, there'd still be a frozen imprint on his face.
How to describe this feeling?
Like you go out, excited for a date with the goddess of your dreams—
and a random brat jumps out and sprays you with ink from a water gun.
Morax could not bear that insult.
So he retaliated—
by hurling down three slabs of compressed Geo energy.
(They were definitely not "bricks." Absolutely not.)
And then Morax noticed—
the brat dodged.
From high above, with his inhuman vision, Morax saw the white-haired child streak out from between the falling stones, covered in dirt, but still alive.
After venting his irritation, rationality returned.
He became… curious.
A newborn yaksha, yet he dodged a casual strike from an Archon?
Interesting.
Morax followed him, silently.
If the boy had known Morax's thoughts, he would probably stand still and get crushed rather than keep running.
But Morax grew more and more astonished.
How is he still running?
It had already been several days.
Was this really a newborn yaksha?
Or… a baby god?
That thought lasted only a second.
Even newborn gods weren't that weak.
Yet this child was still impressive.
Morax needed help—and badly.
As more humans sought his protection, the once solitary dragon now constantly worried about defense and territory. He couldn't split himself into clones; he couldn't guard every settlement alone.
So he was recruited.
And yaksha were perfect for fighting corruption and monsters of chaos.
His recruitment method was simple:
First, beat them up.
Then they follow you.
Experience told him it worked.
Most of his yaksha subordinates had been "recruited" this way.
Later, more yaksha joined voluntarily, which—
…honestly ruined the fun.
The boy suddenly stopped running.
Morax perked up, hopeful.
Realization? Submission?
Instead, the yaksha looked up at the sky and screamed:
"You damned oversized lizard! If you want to kill me, then do it! Why chase me for three days and three nights just to humiliate me? If you've got guts—come down here and fight me properly!"
…No, he hadn't fought enough.
More boulders rained down.
The yaksha shrank his neck.
Dying in a proper fight? Fine.
Being crushed by random rocks? Unacceptable.
Morax stared, baffled.
How does this newborn still have stamina?
He observed the boy weave Cryo energy to dodge. By logic, the child should've exhausted his elemental strength long ago.
This could take forever.
Morax finally got serious.
The yaksha heard a new sound in the wind—different from before.
He looked up just in time to see four Geo pillars, carved with rigid rectangular patterns, crash down and form a square around him.
He darted forward, instinctively trying to escape—
Too late.
Golden light shot upward, turning into a barrier.
The yaksha pressed his palm against the barrier and tapped—
"clink clink", like striking polished jade.
He took a stance, lowered his center of gravity—
and punched.
"OW OW OW! AHHHH!"
He hopped in place, clutching his hand.
Outside the barrier, Morax watched with undisguised amusement.
He wasn't a petty Archon.
But when a brat finally faced consequences… It was funny.
Oh? What now?
Morax narrowed his eyes.
The yaksha raised both arms. Cryo surged—condensed.
An ice spear formed in his hands.
Morax's brows rose.
Right—he'd forgotten the brat could shape elemental energy.
Element shaping could be explained by innate talent.
But weapon usage?
Even gods needed to learn weapons.
Powerful species usually relied on innate abilities and their bodies.
Weapons were a learned discipline.
So this child—
really knows how to use a spear?
Morax became interested.
Truly interested.
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