Jumanji stood with a posture full of stability and serenity. He didn't even bother to glance seriously at the boy in the yellow robe standing boastfully before him.
Instead, Jumanji coldly flipped the "Spirit Core" he had just extracted from one of the insects between his fingers, as if he were holding a worthless piece of candy.
The glow of the core emanating from Jumanji's palm was enough to draw the boys' eyes like a magnet. One of them whispered, darting glances at the boy in the yellow robe before fixing his gaze on the brilliance: "Marion, look! He's carrying something in his hand... it's a Spirit Core!"
Marion narrowed his eyes, trying to process the scene. At that moment, another boy from the group cut in, his voice low and suspicious: "Look at his clothes... he definitely isn't from the 'Al-Qalaq' Clan; their men wear a uniform, while this boy wears strange attire."
A third boy added, examining the details of Jumanji's black robe and red ribbon: "He isn't wearing the robe of the 'Brown Bear' tribe either... Who is this boy, I wonder? And how did he manage to obtain a core on his own?"
The questions lingered in the air while Jumanji watched their reactions with cold eyes, fully aware of what they were thinking.
Jumanji stepped toward them with slow, measured strides. The sound of dry branches snapping under his feet echoed in their ears like the ticking of a clock warning of approaching danger.
Silence reigned for a moment, and the tension was only broken by Marion's voice. He gathered what remained of his courage and took a step forward, trying to sound firm: "Boy... hand over that core immediately, and I won't make things difficult for you. Leave in peace, and we will consider that we never met."
Despite his attempt to project authority, a slight tremor in his tone betrayed a deep-seated caution eating away at him from the inside.
Jumanji raised his hand with the Spirit Core, contemplating it with a cold smile that carried a hint of disdain. Then, he spoke in a voice as quiet as the grave: "I understand from your words... that you wish to steal my property?"
Here, one of the accompanying boys couldn't restrain himself. He narrowed his eyes and shouted in an authoritative, ignorant tone: "It would be best for you to listen to our tribe's genius and follow his order without discussion, before you regret it bitterly, you ignorant brat! There is no place for the weak like you here."
"And what if I don't?.. What will your reaction be then?" Jumanji asked coldly, his voice carrying a silent challenge that made the air around them grow heavy.
One of the boys couldn't handle the provocation. He lunged forward, shouting in frustration: "You are just an ignoramus! And a fool who doesn't realize his own size doesn't deserve to step on the soil of cultivators!"
The boy raised his fist, which emitted a faint watery glow, and struck with a move that seemed—in his own eyes—fast, precise, and capable of crushing an unarmed opponent.
But Jumanji, who had been observing the boy's muscles before he even moved, didn't bother to retreat. Instead, he tilted his body a few centimeters with extreme grace, letting the wild fist pass through empty air.
Before the attacker could realize his strike had failed, Jumanji placed his palm on the boy's shoulder with terrifying calmness. To the onlookers, it seemed like a light touch, but in reality, it carried a weight that felt like a ton.
The boy's body couldn't withstand the immense pressure. His strength failed him, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to move, as if a mountain had clamped down on his chest.
Jumanji's instincts had reached a level of sharpness that an ordinary human could not perceive. The experience of a thousand years of battles and blood shown to him by the "Al-Ailq Al-Nathra" had refined his soul, making him see the movements of these boys as if they were in slow motion.
How could a naive boy like this, who had not yet tasted the bitterness of death, touch the hem of Jumanji's robe? Even if Jumanji hadn't officially ascended the ranks of cultivators yet, the gap between his experiences and these boys was deeper than the Rift itself.
Stunned silence gripped the remaining boys as they witnessed their companion's collapse from a single touch. Driven by childish impulsiveness and wounded pride, they lost their senses and rushed at him all at once like a raging flood.
Jumanji moved among them like a passing shadow, slipping through their wild fists with a terrifying agility.
It required no effort from him. He passed each one, leaving behind a silent touch on the shoulder or chest. That touch, charged with invisible weight, was enough to shatter their will and drop them to the ground, piling them up one by one in a humiliating scene.
In the end, their screams faded, and only Marion remained, frozen and staring at Jumanji with eyes full of terror and disappointment.
Marion took a step back, growling in a trembling voice: "Making an enemy of the 'Carp Fish' tribe will do you no good... you will only bring evil upon yourself!"
A sarcastic smile played on Jumanji's lips as he asked with lethal coldness: "And is making peace with the 'Carp Fish' tribe what will shower me with benefits? Tell me then... what is the nature of this 'evil' I will bring upon myself?"
He paused for a moment, his eyes flashing with a mysterious glint as he added in a deeper tone: "If this evil is the only way to gain benefit, then so be it... I will make peace with this evil and embrace it."
Jumanji asked his questions as he advanced with crushing confidence, forcing Marion to retreat step by step. The "Genius" facade crumbled before the presence of this human beast approaching him like an inevitable fate.
Marion gnashed his teeth in anger, finding himself trapped between his wounded pride and a bitter reality. He had nothing left to do but attack, so he rushed toward Jumanji, attempting the same as his four companions before him.
But did a different fate await him? Of course not. Just as it happened with the boys, it happened to him. Jumanji slipped behind his defense and placed his palm on his shoulder with cold mechanicality. Before Marion could realize what had hit him, Jumanji whispered in a low voice that shook the surroundings: "Al-Ailq Al-Nathra..."
The words were calm, but their impact was like a thunderbolt. Marion fell to the ground with a force that rattled his nerves, losing the ability to move. As for Jumanji, the scene changed completely. His body suddenly ignited from within, and waves of new, violent memories began to flood his consciousness.
This time was not like before; it was a heavy burden that exceeded his human capacity for endurance.
Jumanji staggered, his balance failing as his mouth began to expel a large amount of dark blood before his strength collapsed, and he fell unconscious beside the broken Marion.
After a considerable amount of time, Jumanji regained consciousness and sat up shakily, panting heavily as he tried to absorb the torrent of wild memories that had invaded his being.
Even though he had experienced a thousand years of memories before, what happened this time was entirely different. It was a terrifying disturbance unlike anything he had known, as if time itself had birthed a heavy secret.
He remained silent for a moment, bewilderment sweeping through every cell of his being, before he muttered in a hoarse voice: "Despite everything I did... despite it all, the end was death? What the hell is happening?"
Jumanji sank into a sea of deep thought, analyzing those future flashes he had seen. After a while, he stood up, clenching his fist with strength and determination: "I realize now what will happen... It seems I must change the plan slightly, or perhaps change it entirely."
He remembered the features of that strange person who appeared in his vision and whispered to himself: "There is a third party that will intervene, someone who did not exist the last time. Either they were lurking in the shadows, or my personal intervention has warped the course of events and created a new timeline.
But it doesn't matter; I will deal with this variable in due time. The appointment is still far off."
He gazed toward the misty horizons between the towering trees and spoke in a firm tone: "I must move now... obtaining that 'Al-Ailq' is the priority at this moment."
Jumanji carved his path through the giant tree trunks, the memories that had invaded his mind still echoing in his soul.
He had seen his future through Marion's eyes this time. Despite his proud stance in the center of the village, the end was different from what he had planned... it was death.
It was a swift, lethal strike, executed with pinpoint accuracy by a Rank 4 cultivator.
More importantly, the appearance of the "Ambassador of Mae Egin" in that scene was a fundamental variable he hadn't seen throughout the thousands of years he lived in his previous vision.
Jumanji whispered to himself, doubt gnawing at his thoughts: "Even though I have done nothing and made no major moves to speak of, the landmarks of the future have begun to drift from their familiar path...
Is it because of the healing of 'Nero's Fetus'? Or has my mere presence here begun to shake the pillars of fate? Most likely, that is the only explanation."
End of Chapter