Reincarnated: I Became The First Warlord Of The World-Chapter 59

Willow, on the other side, was barely holding on.

Her knees buckled slightly, her palms scraped and bleeding. She had summoned every ounce of her remaining strength to raise a final wall of defense, but even that was crumbling. The man in front of her was no ordinary fighter—he was an earth user, like her. But unlike Willow’s calculated, protective style, his earth magic was brutal, raw, and meant for destruction.

Rocks had formed into jagged claws around his fists. The ground beneath him was broken and sharp, like a battlefield sculpted by rage.

He towered over her now, his chest heaving slightly from the heat of the exchange, but his eyes were locked on her with deadly certainty.

"You’re done," he growled, raising his arm for the finishing strike.

Willow barely lifted her head. Her breathing was weak, her limbs heavy. She had nothing left to block the next blow.

Then—CRASH!

Out of nowhere, Jonathan collided with the man like a meteor.

His orange-wrapped body slammed full force into the attacker’s side, lifting him off the ground before sending him crashing into the dirt with a heavy thud. The earth trembled, and sharp cracks split the surface where the man landed.

The Alphacrest elite rolled once, stunned, and tried to rise, but his arm trembled under the weight of the impact. His magic flickered. His control was broken.

Willow gasped.

She stared wide-eyed, trying to process what had just happened. The man who had nearly taken her life... was now groaning on the ground, defeated in a single hit.

Her gaze turned toward the figure standing in front of her, body still faintly glowing orange, breathing heavily from the charge.

It was Jonathan.

She blinked once.

Then again.

"Jonathan?" she said, barely above a whisper, voice shaky from exhaustion and disbelief.

He didn’t look at her at first. His eyes remained forward, fixed on the enemy, making sure he didn’t get back up. His fists clenched slightly. The orange aura around him began to fade slowly.

Then he turned his head, just enough for her to see his face.

"I saw you," he said, his voice steady. "And I wasn’t going to let you fall."

Willow’s eyes widened as her heartbeat raced, not from fear—but from the shock of being saved by the one person she didn’t expect to leap in like a hero.

She had never seen Jonathan fight like that before.

Willow was stunned.

She stood there, breathing hard, still trying to steady herself after the clash. Her arms trembled from exhaustion, but her eyes were locked on the figure in front of her.

Jonathan.

It was Jonathan who came to her rescue. Jonathan, the quiet one. The one who always stayed in the background during briefings. The one who barely spoke unless asked. She never expected him to move like that—or hit like that.

And what shocked her more wasn’t just that he came... but that he was strong enough to fend off Paul.

Paul.

The same Paul who had almost crushed her defense minutes ago.

He wasn’t just any fighter—he was a skilled earth magic user with one of the toughest defenses in the entire Alphacrest squad. His attacks were powerful, but it was his body armor made from stone layers that made him a nightmare to fight. Hitting him was like punching through a wall.

For Jonathan to push him back like that... for Paul to go staggering across the field...

Willow’s mind raced.

Jonathan must’ve used everything he had in that one move, she thought.

But even if he did—even if it drained him completely—what he did couldn’t be ignored.

Willow couldn’t help but stare in silence for a moment. Her lips parted slightly. Her heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t from fear anymore.

She was... amazed.

Amazed that Jonathan—the one no one had counted on—was the reason she was still standing.

Paul’s expression darkened completely on the spot.

Lying in the dirt, his fists clenched and his jaw tightened, he could hardly believe what had just happened.

A junior soldier—someone barely worth noticing in his eyes—had just slammed him to the ground like he was nothing more than dead weight.

Him, Paul, the heavy-fist warrior of Alphacrest. The earth-user with a defense that even advanced mages couldn’t crack. He had survived three warfronts. Broken the ribs of elite fighters. And now... some quiet soldier whose name he didn’t even bother to remember had just blindsided him?

He gritted his teeth so hard it echoed in his ears.

His pride wasn’t just wounded—it was bleeding.

He slowly pushed himself up, the dust falling off his shoulders as he did. His gaze burned a hole through Jonathan, who now stood in front of Willow, slightly hunched from the strain of his earlier attack.

Paul’s nostrils flared.

Willow was supposed to be his target. That was the plan.

Everyone knew Evan was the team’s first in command—quick, dangerous, and slippery as a shadow. Paul had tried to get him, but Evan had already darted off to challenge Jake Brown, the Alphacrest captain himself.

"Damn coward," Paul growled under his breath. "Running off to face Jake like he’s a hero."

He scoffed, but there was a bitter twist in his voice.

Evan had left the rest of the squad exposed.

And when Evan disappeared into the chaos, Paul didn’t hesitate. He immediately shifted his attention to the next best target—Willow, the second in command.

She was tough. Her defense magic made her a pain to deal with. But Paul had cracked tougher shells before. He was seconds away—seconds—from finishing her when Jonathan flew in like a storm and ruined it all.

And that’s what made him furious.

Not just the fall, not just the surprise, but the interruption.

He had almost ended a core member of the Dreamway squad, and this no-name soldier had blocked him at the dying minute.

Paul’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His hands were trembling—not from fear, but from rage.

"Little punk," he muttered, eyes fixed on Jonathan. "You shouldn’t have stepped in."

His magic pulsed under his skin. The ground beneath him cracked as his earth energy surged again, thicker, darker, sharper. He was about to make sure that Jonathan regretted ever interfering.

Paul slowly rose to his feet, brushing off the dirt from his shoulders with sharp, angry movements. The cracks in the ground beneath him still glowed faintly from his magic, his energy simmering just below the surface like a volcano waiting to explode.

He cleared his throat loudly, just to get their attention, and then his voice thundered across the field.

"You’re pathetic, Willow."

Willow, still kneeling, flinched slightly at the words. Her eyes narrowed, but her body remained still.

"You?" Paul scoffed, motioning toward her with disgust. "You wouldn’t even make it into our junior division, let alone the elite squad. And yet they call you second in command?"

He shook his head and spat to the side.

"Second command in any real team should be able to single-handedly defeat the entire enemy force. But you? You’re just a weakling hiding behind walls."

He then turned his cold gaze to Jonathan. His voice dropped, slow and heavy.

"And you," he said, pointing at him like he was some pest, "you’ve been ruining all the fun for me."

Paul’s energy began to rise again, heavier, more twisted.

"I’ll kill you in one move."

The threat was clear. He meant it. His tone had no doubt, only rage.

Willow grit her teeth as she tried to stand, her legs shaky but her will burning. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"I’m not done yet," she muttered, slowly forcing herself upright.

But before she could fully rise, Jonathan stretched out his arm—blocking her path.

His eyes never left Paul’s.

"Stay down," he said calmly. "I’ll handle him."

Paul burst out laughing the moment he heard Jonathan’s words.

His laughter was loud, raw, and filled with mockery. It echoed through the battlefield like a bell of arrogance ringing in victory before the fight had even begun.

"You?!" Paul barked, pointing at Jonathan with disbelief. "You want to fight me?"

He laughed again, louder this time.

"Your second-in-command, Willow Carlos, couldn’t hold me down! And you think a mere soldier like you stands a chance?"

Willow heard every word.

She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms. Paul wasn’t wrong—she had lost that exchange. And deep inside, a part of her did feel the shame. But another part—her heart—burned with frustration and fear... not for herself, but for Jonathan.

"Jonathan," she said, her voice weak but urgent. "Stay down. Don’t do this. Please."

But Jonathan didn’t respond to her.

His eyes remained fixed on Paul, his expression cold and still. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink.

Then, calmly, he spoke.

"I want to see your best attack."

Those words cut through the air like a blade.

Paul’s laughter stopped.

His eyebrows lowered slowly. The mocking smile on his face faded into a serious scowl. He had expected Jonathan to step back—to watch him humiliate Willow further. Instead, this soldier was challenging him.

"Well then," Paul said, his tone low and filled with deadly intent. "If that’s what you want..."