Reincarnated: I Became The First Warlord Of The World-Chapter 83

At that moment he stepped down from the body now, slow but firm. His boots made a solid thump on the ground.

"That’s not weakness," the man added. "That’s control."

He gave Jonathan one last glance.

"It’s a good thing to be able to size yourself by yourself."

He said that like he meant it. Like it came from something he’d learned long ago, Jonathan didn’t shift his feet. His eyes didn’t move away for a second.

He stared hard at the bald-headed man, his chest rising and falling slow but heavy. His thoughts weren’t loud—they were sharp, quiet, clear.

Something isn’t right, he looked down again at the dead Alphacrest soldier beneath the bald man’s boots. The body was still. Too still. The kind of still that came with death. Jonathan’s hand twitched once beside his leg, as if his body still hadn’t accepted what his eyes were showing him.

But deep inside, Jonathan knew one thing clearly—he didn’t kill that man.

I planned to strike again. That second punch wasn’t enough... not to finish him. I was waiting. I had a plan.

He remembered it clearly, he had wanted to hit the Alphacrest soldier with a third attack—one powerful enough to break him down without killing him. Then he would ask. Ask about Charles.

He wanted answers. Not just revenge, Jonathan’s jaw tightened.

I wanted to know which path Charles took. I wanted to block him before he reached the Rescue Center. That was the goal.

Because that place... that area... wasn’t just any place, It might have cameras, It might have eyes, It might be a trap, Jonathan’s fingers curled into fists at his side, but he didn’t raise them. Not yet.

He couldn’t let himself be caught fighting Charles openly—not where people might be watching. Not where the world might turn against him before he even knew how far the technology of this land had grown.

He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust anything right now.

He slowly blinked, once. His stare stayed locked on the bald-headed man, this man took his chance, he ended the fight before I was ready to end it, Jonathan’s eyes sharpened.

He wasn’t just staring anymore—he was reading. Studying. Watching how the man breathed. How he stood. How his hands were still folded across his chest, calm and cool, like he had no fear in the world.

That calmness? It made Jonathan’s heart beat just a little harder.

He wasn’t afraid, but he was ready, he would find out why that man stepped in, and he would find Charles... before it was too late.

Jonathan stood quiet for a moment, his eyes still on the bald-headed man. Behind the silence in his face, his mind was already racing. His head slowly turned to the sky above, and he watched as one of the military patrol cars zoomed by. The car wasn’t rolling on the ground—it was flying.

Yes. Flying.

That alone reminded Jonathan just how far ahead this world was from the one he used to know. Flying cars. Advanced suits. Soldiers who wore armor that could hold blasts. This wasn’t his old world. It was something bigger... something smarter... something far more dangerous.

Jonathan took a deep breath and slowly let it out, the air passing through his nose with a quiet sigh.

This world is way more advanced than mine... I need to stop underestimating it, he wasn’t scared, He was just disappointed.

Disappointed that the Alphacrest soldier died before he could finish him off himself.

He had already pictured it—how he would move left, duck under a punch, and land a clean third blow that would send the soldier crawling. Then he’d press him. Ask questions. Drag the truth about Charles out of his mouth.

That was the plan, but that plan? Ruined.

Because this bald-headed man killed the soldier before he could even speak, Jonathan’s eyes grew darker. His shoulders slowly tensed, he ruined it. And now I won’t even know which path Charles took.

And Charles... just the thought of that bastard made Jonathan’s lips press into a firm line. He was tired of waiting. Tired of holding back. Tired of the lies, the fake smiles, and the masks people wore.

Charles took his brother-in-arms’ wife, Charles worked with the people who were killing innocent kids.

Charles stood with the enemy—and stayed standing, Jonathan had seen enough.

He wanted to fight. He needed to fight, Now.

He clenched his fist and stepped forward, his tone low but steady, like a calm storm ready to break.

"I don’t have time for that," he said, his voice sharp. "And I don’t have time to chat with you on what my perspectives are."

His eyes met the man’s eyes, cold. Focused. Clear.

"I better we should just start fighting already," Jonathan said with no fear in his voice. "We are enemies after all."

The moment Jonathan said those words, he didn’t wait. He took off—fast and fierce.

He zoomed straight toward the bald-headed man like a flash of wind. His feet pushed off the ground so hard it cracked beneath him. His eyes were fixed. His hands clenched. His mind was only on one thing—attack first.

The bald-headed man didn’t move right away. He just stood there calmly like someone watching a leaf float in the air. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and his mouth curled into a half-smile. He wasn’t surprised. In fact, he almost looked amused.

"You are not as smart as I thought," the man said in a slow voice.

Jonathan didn’t care. He didn’t even blink. He didn’t waste time replying. Words weren’t needed now. His body moved with full force as he reached the man. His right hand was already moving—ready to land a powerful blow on the man’s chest.

But...At the very last moment, the bald-headed man simply shifted, Just one step, Effortless, smooth like he had done this a hundred times, Jonathan’s punch missed completely.

Before Jonathan could even land properly or think about his next move—BAM!

A sharp kick landed directly in Jonathan’s middle. The bald-headed man’s leg moved with so much power and control, it was like a battering ram had slammed into him.

BOOM!!!

The impact exploded through Jonathan’s body. His back arched. His eyes widened from the shock. Air rushed out of his lungs. His boots scraped the ground as he was thrown back like a broken arrow.

At that moment his body hit a wall across the street with a hard thud, cracking the surface. Dust rose all around him. For a moment, everything went quiet.

The bald-headed man stood in the same place, hands still behind his back. His face hadn’t even changed.

He looked forward with a steady gaze.

Not proud. Not angry Just calm, Like he already knew Jonathan wouldn’t be able to land a hit.

At that moment the impact was so strong, it threw Jonathan through the air like a ragdoll. His body crashed through two buildings—breaking walls, shattering glass—until the third building couldn’t take it anymore. That one came down on top of him.

BOOM!

The ground shook, dust flew everywhere. The building collapsed completely, burying Jonathan under heavy stones and wood, It was quiet, Very quiet.

At that moment none of them could believe what they just saw, it was like a dream but it was real.

Deep under the rubble, Jonathan lay there, still. Blood was running from his nose. His lips were dry. His hands were shaking. His chest went up and down slowly. Every breath felt like fire. His bones felt like they were snapping with every move.

"Damn," Jonathan cursed under his breath, trying to shift his body just a little.

He had messed up.

He was too confident. He thought the bald-headed man would be like the last one—strong, but beatable. But this one... this one was different.

Jonathan now understood why, he could feel it—the power in that man’s body. It wasn’t normal, he wasn’t just one step ahead, he was four full stages ahead.

Jonathan clenched his teeth. In the magical path, every stage was a mountain. Climbing even one stage could take years. But this man was four whole stages above him.

It didn’t seem like much when you said it out loud.

But in battle? that gap was like standing on the ground and trying to fight someone flying in the sky, Jonathan’s eyes darkened. His fingers twitched.

"This might be it..." he whispered to himself. "The end... again."

His heart started to pound faster. He was angry—but not at the man. He was angry at himself, he thought he was ready, but maybe he wasn’t.

Above ground, the bald-headed man slowly cracked his neck to the left and then to the right. His muscles shifted as he stretched. He looked relaxed—like someone just starting a warm-up.

He took a slow step forward, heading toward the broken building.

"I know you’re not dead," the bald-headed man said in a calm voice, his tone almost casual.

"Come out... let’s finish this."