The magical reserves of the Golden Toad—Xerm—were bleeding out fast.
Each spell he hurled, each rune he carved, cost him more than the last. And Josh… Josh Aratat didn't just withstand the barrage—he answered each one with terrifying precision. Even before breaking through to the Brigadier General rank, Josh had been formidable.
But now?
He was a one-man storm, refined by fire, sharpened by war, and made unstoppable by purpose.
Xerm's chest heaved. He knew this had to end. And soon.
> "Golden Light… Arcane Twist!" the Toad roared, desperation lacing his voice.
From the air in front of him, a slithering mass of semi-corporeal magic unfurled—a shimmering fusion of a serpent and a sentient robe. Its body shimmered with iridescent scales, pulsing with golden runes, and its head bore twin orbs of molten energy in place of eyes. It hissed—not with sound, but with psychic pressure, making the ground tremble beneath it.
The entity darted forward with unnatural intelligence, beelining for Josh, aiming to constrict his neck and coil around his limbs like a python with a vendetta.
But Josh was already moving.
He didn't flinch. He didn't even look surprised.
His Kingly Awareness surged—his perception stretched like a divine lens over everything within fifty meters. The creature's trajectory, speed, and intention were laid bare before him as clearly as if it were written in glowing letters.
He twisted his body gracefully, almost lazily, and dodged the first assault with a step so fluid it felt like time had paused for him.
In his hand, his gold-grade, high-level sword gleamed—a blade etched with ancient runes gifted through the Kingly System Interphase, sharpened not just with steel, but with the resolve of a man who refused to bend.
The sword had blocked, cleaved, and shattered spell after spell from the Golden Toad. It had tasted cursed fire, lightning serpents, and sonic waves—and it had come through all of them gleaming, still eager for more.
Josh gripped the hilt tighter, pivoted on his heel, and with a burst of speed that made the air scream—
SHING!
He slashed downward, cleaving the serpent-rope cleanly into two halves.
But it didn't stop.
The magic creature's two severed pieces quivered for a second—then twitched, twisted, and lunged again, both halves moving independently, still aiming to bind and crush Josh.
Josh's lips curled into a smirk.
"You should've tried that before I broke through."
With a swift, skyward leap that blurred him from sight, Josh twisted midair like a divine gymnast. And as he descended, sword raised high—
CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—
In the span of a breath, he struck. Once. Twice. Thrice. Ten times. Twenty.
The slashes came faster than sight could follow—faster than the serpent-robe could regenerate.
By the time he landed, the creature was in so many pieces, it looked like a field of scattered golden ash, writhing weakly, before finally fizzling into nothingness.
The backlash was immediate.
The golden runes that had kept Xerm tethered to his power flared, cracked, and shattered like brittle glass.
Xerm groaned.
He staggered. Then dropped to all fours. His legs gave way as blood spurted violently from his lips. He gasped and instinctively reverted to his toad form, hoping the regenerative qualities would buy him a few more minutes.
It didn't.
He looked up at Josh with bloodshot, bulging eyes, fury and fear dancing in equal measure within them.
"You… crazy maniac…" he croaked, his voice raspy and thick with pain.
But Josh wasn't done.
He stepped forward slowly, his blade dragging slightly behind him.
"No, Xerm. You haven't seen crazy yet."
Each word hit like a drumbeat of judgment.
Each step echoed like a verdict being passed.
And deep down, for the first time in over a century… the self-proclaimed Toad God of Ruma realized something bone-chilling.
He might not make it out alive.
Josh Aratat had changed.
No, not just changed—evolved.
Since he arrived at the Ruma Swamp, he had grown tremendously, both in power and insight. But the true catalyst—the sudden explosion in his strength—had been Lola's breakthrough.
A shiver had run down his spine the moment it happened. He didn't need to see her or even hear of it. The Kingly System Interphase had told him everything.
"Death-Level Loyalist: Lola Eclair (The Assassin maid)– Breakthrough to Brigadier Level Confirmed."
"Kingly Resonance Initiated."
"Host Josh Aratat has advanced to Brigadier General Rank."
"Depth of Rank: Low-Tier – Expansion unlocked."
Josh had felt the rush of power surge through every vein in his body. It wasn't just a simple increase in strength—it was refinement. His instincts sharpened, his awareness expanded, and the connection between him and his generals deepened. He now felt them with sharper perception—not just where they were, but who they were in that moment. Their intentions, their convictions, their courage.
And none shone brighter than Lola, his most loyal lieutenant.
The Kingly System Interphase was a relic beyond comprehension—a masterpiece of divine architecture, capable of feats no system or sect technique or royal cultivation method could match. While others clawed their way forward one arduous inch at a time, Josh had something else…
A web of destiny, spun by loyalty.
Those who bore the Death-Level Mark of Loyalty were more than subordinates. They were anchors of his growth, his kingdom-in-the-making. When one broke through, he rose with them. When several broke through… the leap was exponential.
And Lola had been the spark this time.
As she burst through the ceiling of her limits, Josh didn't just rise with her—he soared.
The Kingly Interphase didn't just hand out strength without condition. The depth of Josh's advancement in the new rank depended on how many of these loyalists he had—and how many of them had pushed past their barriers. That meant the more loyal, capable people he nurtured and led, the more godlike he became.
It was a cheat.
An obscenely powerful one.
But only a fool would think it made him lazy.
He could have taken shortcuts—used the Rank-Up Potion stored in the Kingly System's hidden vaults. And he had been tempted before. But he understood the cost.
The potion would advance him, yes—but it wouldn't deepen him. It would be like wearing a general's armor with a foot soldier's body. His abilities would rise, but his connection to his weapons, his awareness, his mental fortitude—all would be hollow, like a façade waiting to crack.
"Only the truly forged are fit to rule," David Stormborn, the kingly system Interphase avatar once said to him.
So he chose the path of fusion: his own cultivation efforts, enhanced and accelerated by the breakthroughs of those he led—not ruled, but inspired.
And now, here he stood.
Sweat trickled down his jawline. His breath was steady but deep. His muscles ached, and bruises painted his body, but his grip on the gold-grade sword never faltered.
Xerm, the so-called Toad God, stared at him with wary, glassy eyes.
The fight wasn't just a battle of might anymore.
It was a clash of purpose.
One fought for domination, to enslave others and drink from their lives like a goblet of power.
The other fought for a world where no child would ever be drugged, caged, or sold into ritual again.
And deep in the swamp, the tides had turned.
Josh Aratat was no longer just a powerful outlander.
He was a king in the making. And his kingdom? It began wherever his loyalists stood.