Re-Awakening: Cannon Fodder With Strongest Talent

Movement in the jungle caught one of the guards' attention. "Contact approaching from sector seven. Single individual, moving openly through the approach route."

A guard named Martin raised his own scope, studying the figure with professional assessment. "Alone? That's either incredible stupidity or..."

"Or what?" one of the guards asked, tension creeping into his voice.

"Or incredible confidence," Martin finished. "Either way, he's about to learn why approaching Lord Vance's stronghold without permission is a fatal mistake."

The stranger continued his unhurried approach, showing no awareness of multiple targeting systems tracking his movement. His casual gait suggested either ignorance of danger or complete disregard for it.

"Should we signal alert status?" A newer guard suggested.

Martin shook his head dismissively. "One individual? Against our entire defensive structure? Let's handle this professionally. Identify, eliminate, warn if necessary."

He activated the communication array, his voice carrying across the defensive perimeter with magical amplification. "Unknown individual, you are approaching a restricted military zone. Identify yourself immediately."

The stranger looked up at their tower with expression that seemed almost... amused? As if their challenge was somehow entertaining rather than threatening.

"This should be interesting," Martin muttered, his weapon tracking the approaching figure. "Wonder what kind of idiot walks into a fortress alone."

"The kind that doesn't walk out," One of them laughed.

...

Ethan stopped directly in front of the stronghold's main defensive perimeter, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he studied the impressive fortifications with apparent curiosity. The three-dimensional city stretched above him like a monument to organized military power.

Guard Captain Martin peered down from his watchtower platform, his Peak-Silver aura flickering with confident authority as he assessed the solitary figure below. Beside him, two other guards maintained their positions with the relaxed efficiency of soldiers who'd never encountered serious opposition.

"Single target, approaching openly," the first guard reported through their communication network. "No visible weapons, no apparent backup force."

Martin adjusted his scope for better visual assessment. The stranger showed no signs of combat preparation—no armor, no obvious weapon systems, no tactical equipment that suggested military capability.

"Look at this idiot," Martin said to the second guard. "Walking up to our front door like he's visiting relatives."

The second guard laughed dismissively. "Probably some lost territorial refugee. Maybe hit his head during whatever disaster eliminated his original settlement."

"Either way, he's clearly mentally ill," Martin decided with professional assessment. "No sane person approaches Lord Vance's stronghold without proper authorization."

He gestured toward the first guard with casual authority. "Go down there and bring this guy here. Handle him carefully—might be suffering from combat trauma or territorial displacement syndrome."

The first guard nodded with obvious amusement. "Should I bring restraints? He might become violent when reality sets in."

"Use your judgment. He doesn't look dangerous, but mentally unstable subjects can be unpredictable."

The first guard descended from the watchtower with efficient speed, his Middle-Silver capabilities allowing rapid transit through the stronghold's vertical architecture. Within minutes, he reached ground level and approached the waiting stranger.

"You there," he called out with smug confidence. "This is a restricted military zone. You need to come with me for processing and identification."

Ethan remained motionless except for a slight smile that played across his features. His hands stayed in his pockets while his relaxed posture suggested complete unconcern for the military protocols being enforced around him.

"Did you hear me?" the guard continued, his tone growing more authoritative. "Move away from the perimeter and follow me to the processing station."

Still no response from the stranger, though his smile seemed to widen slightly. The guard's confidence began shifting toward irritation as his authority was casually ignored.

"Last warning. Comply with lawful orders or face forcible restraint."

Within moments, additional guards had descended from various positions to surround the unresponsive intruder. Five Peak-Silver specialists formed a loose circle while Martin observed from his elevated position.

"What's your name?" the second guard demanded. "What territory are you from? What's your business here?"

Ethan's smile broadened as he studied the faces surrounding him with apparent amusement. Their professional competence was impressive by regional standards, but they operated within power scales he'd transcended entirely.

"Are you mute?" the third guard asked with growing frustration. "Do you understand the situation you're in?"

"This guy's definitely brain-damaged," the fourth guard concluded. "Look at that expression. He thinks this is funny."

"Mental illness isn't funny," Martin called down from his watchtower. "But approaching our stronghold without authorization is definitely stupid."

The guards began closing their circle, their coordinated movement demonstrating professional training in prisoner management. Each specialist maintained optimal positioning for rapid restraint while avoiding mutual interference.

"You're surrounded by Peak-Silver combatants," the first guard explained with patronizing patience. "Resistance will only result in additional injury to your already damaged mental state."

"Come quietly and we'll ensure you receive proper medical attention," the second guard added. "Lord Vance's territorial policies include humanitarian consideration for displaced refugees."

Ethan's smile reached maximum width as he studied their earnest expressions. The situation had developed exactly according to his strategic assessment—voluntary approach to the stronghold's interior through their own invitation.

"Are you done?" he asked conversationally.

The question caught everyone off-guard. His voice carried casual authority that seemed completely inappropriate for someone surrounded by military specialists within a hostile stronghold.

"Huh? What is this guy saying?" the third guard muttered. "His brain damage is worse than we thought."

"He needs to be taught proper manners," the fourth guard concluded. "Maybe some disciplinary action will restore his understanding of military protocols."

Martin leaned forward on his watchtower platform. "Bring him up here for proper interrogation. Use restraints if necessary."

"Time to learn some respect," the first guard said, reaching toward the stranger's arm with confident authority.

Ethan's smile never wavered as he spoke again. "I gave you a chance to reconsider."

Whish! Whish!

Wind blades materialized in expanding circles around his position, invisible cutting edges that moved faster than perception could track. The area-of-effect technique covered every guard within a ten-meter radius with surgical precision.

Five heads separated from their bodies simultaneously, the cuts so clean that blood didn't begin flowing until several heartbeats after decapitation occurred.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Bodies collapsed around him while heads rolled across stone pathways like discarded debris. The entire engagement had lasted less than three seconds from activation to completion.

Martin's expression transformed from smug confidence to shocked horror as he processed the systematic execution occurring below his position. Five Peak-Silver specialists eliminated without visible effort or apparent weapon usage.

"Impossible," he whispered, his tactical mind struggling to accept witnessed impossibility.

But training overcame shock within moments. His hand slammed against the emergency communication crystal with desperate force, magical energy blazing through the stronghold's alert network.

"ENEMY ATTACK!" Martin's voice carried across every communication channel simultaneously. "PERIMETER BREACH! MULTIPLE CASUALTIES! ALL UNITS TO COMBAT STATIONS!"

Warning bells began ringing throughout the three-dimensional city while magical barriers activated with blinding intensity. Eight hundred subjects received simultaneous alerts that their stronghold was under assault.

From various watchtowers and defensive positions, additional guards witnessed the impossible—one individual standing calmly among the corpses of five Peak-Silver specialists, his hands still casually tucked in his pockets.

"Single combatant eliminated five specialists?" came confused reports through communication channels. "That's not possible! Unless he is a gold ranker!"

"I'm watching it happen!" Martin screamed into his communication device. "Unknown capabilities! Extreme threat level! Request immediate reinforcement!"

Ethan looked up toward Martin's watchtower with the same casual smile, his expression showing mild interest rather than combat urgency. Five corpses at his feet meant nothing compared to the eight hundred targets still breathing within the stronghold.

"Thank you for the invitation," he called up to Martin with conversational politeness. "This is much easier than forced entry would have been."

At the watchtower, Martin did not hesitate. His hand slammed against a secondary crystal embedded in the tower's control panel—this one glowing with more intense magical energy than the basic communication arrays.

The response was immediate and devastating.

Click! Click! Click!

Automated crossbow mechanisms emerged from concealed positions throughout the watchtower's architecture. Dozens of magical ballista systems activated simultaneously, their targeting arrays swiveling with mechanical precision toward the threat below.

The crossbows themselves were masterworks of military engineering—not crude wooden constructs, but sophisticated magical weapons forged from enchanted metals and powered by crystalline energy cores. Each bolt carried enhancement magic that could penetrate most defensive capabilities.

Martin's face showed grim satisfaction as the automated systems locked onto their target. "Let's see how you handle this, whatever you are."

The targeting arrays completed their calculations within seconds. Red targeting beams painted Ethan's position from multiple angles while range-finding crystals determined optimal firing solutions.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

The crossbows fired in perfect synchronization.

Whish! Whish! Whish!

Dozens of enhanced bolts screamed through the air, their magical enhancement creating visible contrails as they carved through atmospheric resistance. Each projectile carried enough kinetic force to punch through castle walls while magical sharpening effects promised penetration of even enhanced armor.

The barrage created a killing field that would have eliminated entire squads of silver combatants. No escape routes remained as overlapping trajectories covered every possible evasion angle.

Ethan watched the approaching death with raised eyebrows, his expression showing genuine interest rather than concern. The automated defense system represented sophisticated military technology that spoke of higher-tier territorial development.

"This would've killed a mid or perhaps a high-gold rank," he muttered with analytical appreciation. "But not me."

He smiled as the enhanced projectiles closed the final meters to impact.

Enhanced Speed activated to casual levels. Reality shifted into slow motion as his perception accelerated, turning the lethal barrage into manageable obstacles moving at comprehensible speeds.