"You can't fool me with your act of being an old man," Draven expressed his suspicions.
Mr. Goodness tilted his head. "And what gave me away?"
"Your presence," Draven said. "The time you come to me, the air became heavy. And that body of yours—you're not just some old man hiding under a robe. You've got bulk, strength, and enough control to toy with me."
"Well observed. You're more perceptive than most. But tell me, Draven, what do you gain by attacking me? Are you testing me or yourself?"
Draven's grin faded slightly. "Maybe both. I don't trust people who talk in riddles. If you're strong, prove it. If you're weak, stay out of my way."
"Always so direct," Mr. Goodness said, shaking his head. "But let me offer you some advice. It's not strength that defines a man. It's what he does with it. You've spent your life taking the easy path, overpowering everything in your way. What will you do when brute force isn't enough?"
Draven didn't answer. Instead, he shifted his stance, his body ready to attack again.
"That's enough!" Mr. Goodness said his tone firm.
He raised his one finger and pointed it downward. Suddenly, gravity pressed down on Draven like an invisible weight, forcing him to kneel.
'What the heck is happening? I can't move!' Draven muttered while struggling.
"You're strong. But raw strength alone will get you nowhere in the trials ahead. If you want to survive—truly survive—you'll need more than just your fists."
"Really?" A smirk escaped from Draven lips.
Then he started to push hard against the invisible force pinning him down. The ground beneath him groaned, cracks spreading outward as his sheer willpower fought back against the gravity.
'Incredible,' Mr. Goodness muttered.
With a low growl, Chayil rose to one knee, his veins bulging with effort. "You think this is enough to hold me down, old man?"
But before he could fully stand, the old man raised two fingers and pointed it again downward.
Another crushing wave of gravity descended on him, much stronger than the first, the old man slammed him back to the ground.
"Stay down," Mr. Goodness said, his voice calm. "You're strong, no doubt about it. I have an offer for you."
Draven's cunning glint in his eyes returned but still struggled in gravity force. "I knew it. This discussion will end with a summon,"
"Well, you can say that. But think of it as an opportunity. A chance to prove yourself in another world - something you did not experience from your old world."
'Another world?' Draven is intrigued. "And what if I refuse?"
"You won't," Mr. Goodness said simply. "Because deep down, you know this is what you've been searching for. A challenge worth your strength."
"No, I declined!" Draven answered rudely even though he really was interested, seeing the old man's skills.
"Yes, you will do it Draven." A sly smile came to Mr. Goodness as if he knew what he really wanted.
Then an intense brightness took all over the place forcefully closing Draven's eyes.
"Protect the Verdants."
That was the last words Draven heard before the weight of gravity went back to normal again.
He blinked several times, and as his sight cleared, he found himself standing in a lush forest.
'Is this the world that he's talking about? Geez, that geezer.'
His grin returned as he stood up and surveyed his surroundings.
Massive trees stretched toward the sky. Their branches formed a roof that filtered sunlight onto the ground.
"What kind of world is this? And who are the Verdants?"
As he was looking around, distant sounds of galloping horses snapped him out of his awe.
He spun around just in time to see a group of riders charging toward him.
Their rouge armor and looks appear like they would eat him alive.
"They look barbaric. What era am I in?"
Before Draven made another move, someone grabbed him from behind.
Then the person yanked him into the tall grass.
She was a woman in his twenties, with sharp golden eyes and long white hair tied in a pony tail.
She pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for him to stay quiet.
The riders had already gone, but Draven couldn't stop staring at the woman.
His heart raced as he leaned closer, taking in her features.
'Is she real?'
He had met many beautiful women before. Actresses, models, and even some foreigners from other countries.
But she was different.
Her beauty seemed almost unreal.
Her delicate face gave her a calm and kind look. But her golden eyes hinted at something stronger.
Her hair's subtle fragrance was also intoxicating. Her breath was light, brushing against his skin.
'What is this feeling?'
It stirred something deep within him, awakening a desire he hadn't felt in a long time.
At that time, their faces were locked in an intense gaze, barely ten centimeters apart.
Her lips, parted just slightly, caught his attention next. They were flushed, glistening faintly, the kind of lips that begged to be kissed without even trying.
Without thinking, Draven reached out.
His body automatically moved out of control and kissed her on the lips.
Slap!
"Pervert!"
The woman stood up, brushing dirt off her rough, worn tunic.
Her face changed into a disgusted expression.
"A pathetic perv!"
Without another word, she turned and stomped away deeper into the forest.
"Aw!"
Draven rubbed his stinging cheek. His hand pressed against the heat from where her slap landed.
For years, he'd been used to women melting into his arms—drawn by his fame, his looks, or the sheer force of his presence.
He didn't ask. He took what he wanted. And they always gave in.
He winced but couldn't help the excited grin tugging at his lips.
"Hey man, don't forget you're in another world," he scolded himself as he dashed after her.
"Wait, miss! I know I was rude! I'm sorry!"
The woman's steps were quick as she disappeared deeper into the forest. She has no intention of forgiving him anytime soon.
"I'm lost! Can you tell me where I am?" Draven called after her.
But the woman didn't even flinch. It was like his voice didn't exist.
'Where is she even going?' he wondered, glancing around. The forest seemed endless.
"By the way, who are those riding in horses earlier?"
There were no clear paths, no signs of civilization.
Just tons of trees.
'I don't know anyone here and she seems nice. Maybe she can help me.'
Draven pursued her even though it took twenty minutes before she finally stopped.
She turned to face him just as the last of the sun's rays hit her face perfectly, making her look even more captivating.
"Close your eyes."
She smiled, soft but disarming, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts.
Draven's pulse quickened. For a second, he let himself imagine what might come next.
'Is she going to kiss me? Is this her way of forgiving me?'
He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and braced himself for whatever was coming.
"Do you forgive me now?"
The woman paused just before he felt her breath near his ear, then she whispered.
"Idiot."
A guy from behind had already pointed a dagger's blade at his throat.
Suddenly, more people emerged from the grass and trees.
Draven observed them with a smile.
"Don't dare to move, you know what would happen," the woman said.
They tied his wrist with rough rope and covered his eyes with cloth.
"Fine, fine I will." Draven responded even if he could not see anything
'The hands tying me were shaking. And the blades just lightly grazed my neck. Easy to counter… They don't intend to kill me. Maybe I'll tag along.'
"Lock him up in the cell," the woman ordered.
"Yes, ma'am," the group responded in unison.
"Really? I already said I'm sorry, goddess. You're breaking my heart!"
---
Finally, after a couple of hours, they pulled the cloth off his eyes.