Reincarnated: I Became The First Warlord Of The World-Chapter 58

All the rats—hundreds of them were crushed, dismantled, and shattered in one go. Their bones cracked, fur scattered, and not a single one was left standing. The ground trembled for several seconds after the impact.

A silence followed, Everyone Jonathan, Willow, Ezra stood frozen in disbelief.

The only sound was the light echo of Evan’s boots as he walked calmly through the mess of destroyed beasts.

He tilted his head slightly.

"I guess this," he said with a faint smile, "will be a captain fight."

Outside the dome, Jake’s smirk twitched. He had felt the energy—he had felt the loss.

He hadn’t expected it.

His rats—his summoned beasts—were wiped out with one move.

He blinked. Then slowly, his lips curled upward.

Instead of anger, he laughed.

It wasn’t forced. It was real.

"Oh... so you’re that strong."

His voice grew deeper, darker.

His cheeks lifted with excitement, stretching to the corners of his eyes.

"This," Jake said, his arms slowly lifting as he gathered his own strength,

"is going to be interesting."

All around him, the air shifted again. The ground outside the dome cracked. Jake’s body glowed with a wicked, burning force. A storm of energy, different from before, began to build—wilder, colder, stronger.

His eyes turned pure white.

His energy flooded the battlefield.

Jake stood calmly outside the earth dome, his arms crossed behind his back as his aura continued to rise. His entire body radiated a thick, pulsing wave of magical energy that warped the air around him. He wasn’t rushing. He was calculating.

He was already at the seventh stage of the magical path—a realm few ever reached.

Unlike most who attacked with full force, Jake had used a weaker skill earlier on purpose, just to test the waters. He needed to understand what kind of threat Captain Evan posed.

Now that he had felt it, now that he had studied the residual pressure of Evan’s previous strike—he knew.

Jake’s smirk widened.

"Fifth stage," he said under his breath, eyes glowing faintly. "You’re strong, Evan... but not enough."

He didn’t just sense Evan’s level—he recognized the skill Evan had used. That punch technique... it was C-ranked. Strong, yes. Dangerous, for sure. But not high-tier. And based on the raw energy released, Jake could tell it was Evan’s strongest technique.

That meant Evan had already shown his best move.

Jake’s grin sharpened like a blade.

"There is no escape for any of you," he said confidently, his voice slipping into the earth dome through the cracks like poison.

Inside, Evan said nothing. His hand tightened slowly.

With a sudden roar of energy, he slammed his fist to the ground again.

"Giant Punch Attack!" he commanded.

The ground exploded beneath him, trembling with greater intensity than before. The earth dome cracked slightly along its edges, and a deep rumble tore through the space like thunder trapped in a cage. Thick clouds of dust rose instantly, swirling around the battlefield and hiding everyone from view.

Jake’s expression shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected Evan to use the same technique again. But now, he understood something else—

Evan wasn’t just fighting.

He was strategizing.

"Using the dust as cover... that’s clever," Jake muttered with a chuckle. "You’re trying to isolate us. One by one. That’s the only way you can win."

Inside the dome, Jake’s elite squad gritted their teeth, trying to see through the clouded battlefield. The dust was thick, blocking vision, dulling hearing, and choking their senses. Panic started to rise.

Jake, however, smiled once again.

"Pretty impressive," he whispered to himself. "You’re not just brawn. You’ve got brains too."

As the dust began to clear—bit by bit, particle by particle—two figures appeared through the fading cloud.

Their silhouettes stood close, unmoved by the destruction around them.

And when the last veil of dust dropped... the full image came into view:

Captain Evan and Ezra, standing face to face with Jake, eyes cold, a silent threat burning in their gaze.

Jake’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked at the two figures in front of him. Just two—Captain Evan and Ezra.

His face remained calm, but a flicker of confusion passed through his eyes. For someone who claimed to be serious, Evan had only brought half a strike team to face him directly?

He cleared his throat and tilted his head, almost as if trying to make sense of it. Then, with a faint smirk, he spoke:

"You could’ve brought the entire team to attack me," he said, his voice relaxed but sharp. "It would’ve saved you time."

The moment those words left his mouth, the temperature inside the dome dropped. The earth beneath them cracked gently under pressure, and the surrounding walls trembled faintly.

Jake finally released his energy.

A violent surge of magical force erupted from his body—silent at first, then roaring like an invisible firestorm. The very air bent around him, and sparks of dark lightning crackled in slow motion through the dome.

Ezra took one step back on instinct, his muscles tense.

Evan’s eyes narrowed. He had sensed it before, but now it was clear—Jake was at the seventh stage of the magical path.

A stage that only few elite warriors ever reached. A stage where raw power wasn’t just felt—it commanded everything around it.

Jonathan, who had been standing further back, blinked slowly as the force hit his skin like waves of heat. He clenched his fists and turned his face to the side, trying to shield his eyes from the wind caused by the energy.

His heart beat faster. Not out of fear but because of how fast everything was happening.

The battlefield this space where giants clashed it didn’t pause. It didn’t give room to breathe. One second he was watching; the next, the ground was shaking, and energy was flying through the air.

Too fast.

He had been standing, trying to keep up. But now it hit him, clear as day, this was just like his previous world.

The battlefield was always unforgiving, It never waited. It never gave a second chance, If you hesitated if you stood still you were already losing.

Jonathan’s lips parted slightly, as if he had just tasted bitter truth.

He came to a realization at that very moment.

The battlefield doesn’t wait, So why was he waiting?

He slowly stepped forward, his eyes sharper now. The fire that had dimmed inside him earlier began to flicker again.

If he wasn’t moving now, he wasn’t surviving, he should be working now.

Jonathan took a deep breath, steadying his heart as the dust still floated heavily in the air like smoke after a violent storm. His lungs filled with the weight of it, but his focus sharpened.

He closed his eyes for a second—not out of fear, but to see better.

He allowed himself to listen—not with ears, but with instinct. With training. With that deep, quiet voice inside him that had guided him through his past life’s most brutal wars.

And through that dense cloud of dust and noise, he sensed it, Jake’s energy.

It pulsed like a heartbeat—louder, stronger, and heavier than anyone else’s. It had weight. It had shape. It was violent and cold. It stood at the center like a king without a crown, demanding the attention of everything around it.

Jonathan’s fingers twitched, there he was—the boss.

And Jonathan knew one thing from every battlefield he had ever survived:

You go for the boss.

If the boss falls, the chain breaks.

If the leader is gone, the followers crumble.

No matter how strong the minions are, once the mind guiding them is severed, they are finished.

That was the rule of war, Jonathan opened his eyes, now filled with a sharp glow. His gaze locked forward, past the fading dust, past the cracked earth, past all the chaos.

He found Jake, without hesitation, he activated his technique.

"Body Slam!" he shouted.

An orange burst of energy flared around him, wrapping his entire body in a glowing shell. It looked like armor made of pure heat. His muscles tensed, and the ground under his feet cracked slightly from the force gathering within him.

His entire body became a weapon fast, heavy, and unstoppable.

He took a deep stance, ready to launch himself like a meteor.

But just before he moved he felt something.

His energy, so focused on the target ahead, was suddenly pulled by something to his right.

A flicker. A cry. A heartbeat.

Willow.

His eyes darted sideways—and in that instant, he saw her.

Pinned.

She was surrounded by two Alphacrest elites, their blades raised. She had blocked the last strike, but her stance was broken, and her arms were bleeding. One more second, and she’d fall.

Jonathan’s heart clenched.

He could go for Jake, he could end the battle, he could win.

But—Not like this.

He couldn’t sacrifice a comrade to win a fight. Not now. Not ever.

With a low growl, he gritted his teeth and shifted his stance mid-charge.

"Plus one!" he muttered.

Jonathan moved like a flash of lightning.

The moment he muttered "Plus One," his body didn’t just accelerate—it vanished. The orange aura around him streaked across the battlefield like a burning trail in the air, cutting through the dust and debris with pure force.