Vonjo leaned his back against the cold steel of the van’s inner wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Outside, the landscape grew dimmer, the sun smeared like dying embers across the horizon.

The vehicle hummed as it sliced through the forest road, its tires crunching gravel, its body reinforced with a spell of condensed fallen curse energy—an enchantment not commonly granted to escort vans, but this wasn’t just any job.

Vonjo, however, was not so easily impressed. He knew the reinforcement only protected the vehicle, not its passengers. Not him. Not the kid beside him, who hadn’t said a word since entering.

And that’s why the two drivers—the tall one behind the wheel, and the round-faced man riding shotgun—were visibly agitated.

They could feel the tension thickening, like static before lightning.

Vonjo had been humming a cursed melody earlier, subtle but provocative, a frequency that attracted wandering beasts.

They’d told him to shut up. Twice. But he didn’t.

Vonjo wouldn’t waste this golden opportunity to show off of course, why would he listen to these two?

Suddenly, a distant chorus of howls rang out, echoing across the trees like the rise of a primal army.

“Awooooo!”

A second call came then a third. Then it became too many to count.

The forest felt alive now. And it was now rampaging.

Inside the van, the drivers stiffened.

“Shit,” muttered the tall one, gripping the wheel tighter. “You hear that?”

“I hear it,” said the round-faced man, tone strained. “He did something, that bastard.”

They glared back through the cage-grated divider.

Vonjo only gave them an arrogant grin.

Outside, the beasts drew closer—snarls, claws, low growls. Dozens. Possibly hundreds.

And then—Vonjo would see the bullet comments again.

[Bullet Comments: SYSTEM ONLINE]

— “Who the hell is that guy??”

— “Yo, is he provoking the beasts? In a cursed zone??”

— “I swear, he just said he’s the strongest? LMFAO.”

— “Wait, wait, who is Vonjo? Is he some hidden character?”

— “Ngl this is starting to look like a suicide attempt.”

— “Bro got death flags all over him”

Suddenly, brakes screeched.

The van lurched forward and came to a grinding halt in the middle of the road.

Dust billowed into the air and some leaves rustled as the forest hushed, but only for a moment.

“Get out and deal with it,” barked the tall man, eyes not leaving the rearview mirror.

The round-faced man grumbled but obeyed, reaching for the door handle.

Vonjo shifted, smirking. “Bout time.”

He slammed his foot into the back door of the van with a clang that echoed into the woods, popping the door open.

With one smooth motion, he stepped out into the encroaching twilight.

The round-faced man cursed and followed. But Vonjo didn’t wait for him.

He turned toward the teen still inside the van. “Kid,” he said, voice low but proud, “watch and witness my true power.”

The teen stared at him, mouth parted. But no words came. He could only watch.

And then, the forest erupted behind Vonjo like he’s some kind of a God.

A blur of movement—fur, claws, glowing red eyes. Dozens of cursed beasts burst through the tree line like a black wave of death, eyes fixed on Vonjo’s figure.

[Bullet Comments]

— “NO WAY HE SURVIVES THAT.”

— “Bro’s got some main character delusion.”

— “This is nuts. That’s a class-C beast wave!”

— “WAIT. HE’S NOT EVEN FLINCHING??”

— “IS HE SMILING?? WTF??”

Just as the beasts lunged from behind—

BOOOOM!

A deafening roar exploded from the side of the van. The very air shivered from the force of it like a fast shockwave.

A sound that didn’t just echo in one’s body, but rattled the soul.

The ground quaked, and the trees bent back as if cowering. A bestial aura filled the clearing like the breath of a god.

It wasn’t just a beast.

It was a force.

From the left side of the van, a hulking creature stepped out—a dog-like beast, easily the size of a small house, with glowing veins of purple curse energy writhing beneath its obsidian fur. Its jaw unhinged with a second roar.

The approaching beasts halted mid-charge.

A silence fell again—charged, trembling.

Then—another roar.

And like terrified children fleeing a nightmare, the beasts scattered into the trees, howling in fear, no longer predators but prey.

Vonjo’s expression twisted into irritation. His hands, once ready for combat, fell limp.

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “My showtime—ruined.”

He was planning to show off, as the system wanted him to. But now, it had disappeared just like a burst of bubbles in an instant, all at once. However, Vonjo only grinned. “Alright, I’ll use you to show off instead,” he whispered.

From the side, the round-faced man returned, and behind him, emerged the true threat.

A beast far larger than even the hound that killed the landlady back in Vonjo’s district.

A monster of nightmares.

This hound didn’t roar. It growled, and the sound alone made the earth rumble beneath it. Its hide was thick with living scars, its eyes glowing with malice and intelligence.

And then came the tall driver, stepping out from the front of the van, sneering.

“Thought you’d go out in a blaze of glory, huh?” the tall one said, scoffing.

Vonjo frowned. “You think I was—?”

The round-faced man chuckled darkly. “What, you gonna die with dignity? Or you thought you’d take us with you? Pathetic.”

Vonjo flinched. They really thought that? That this was suicide?

Inside his head, Vonjo cursed again. They think I’m just some cursed energy junkie trying to off himself?

The two men drew closer, confidence rising now that their beast was out.

“You picked the wrong day to play hero,” the tall man said. “You die here.”

Vonjo clenched his fists, about to retort with something smug—

But then the sky cracked.

A sonic boom thundered above, and a shadow shot across the sky—faster than any bird, a blur like ink on water.

“FATHER!!” the teen beside the van suddenly shouted, eyes wide.

All heads turned to the sky.

What at first appeared to be a falcon—sleek, deadly, and swift—began to change. Its body distorted into strokes of black ink, its wings spreading like brushstrokes on parchment. It wasn’t flying. It was being drawn across the sky.

Vonjo’s breath caught. He recognized that style.

The bird wasn’t real—it was a creation. A fallen cursed creation using fallen curse energy.

“It’s him,” Vonjo muttered. “The Illusionist…”

The falcon dive-bombed in a streak of speed, then reformed midair, lines reshaping themselves into a humanoid figure.

A man landed with a gentle crack of wind, his long coat fluttering like parchment in the breeze. In his hand was a cursed pen, still glowing faintly with residual energy.

It was George—the infamous master of illusion, but also the father of the main character, Eugene.

The artist whose cursed pen could breathe life into drawings, even if only simple ones due to the limitations of fallen curse energy.

He stood tall beside Eugene, who immediately ran to his side.

George looked at the scene, eyes scanning the massive hound, the two men, and finally—Vonjo.

“My son…” he said, calm but firm. “Are you alright?”

His tone was serious. His body was relaxed. But his gaze—his gaze—watched Vonjo, the two drivers, and even the hound with the sharpness of a man ready to rewrite reality itself.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep