Chaos Maker: The Wanderer

Cold breezes swept through the forest, carrying the crisp night air and rustling countless leaves, creating a calm and gentle melody akin to a beautiful, relaxing symphony. Crickets and other insects played their unique instruments in sync with the whispering leaves, blending their sounds to compose a lullaby that only nature could offer.

Above, the dark, starry sky stretched infinitely, with the moon hanging like a gentle bulb, illuminating the night and casting golden hues over the darkness. Behind this breathtaking sky loomed an unimaginably massive planet, its sheer size occupying most of the celestial backdrop.

Amidst this serene night, a wooden cabin stood quietly within the forest, its warm lights seeping through the windows and casting a soft glow on the surroundings.

Inside, a handsome young man with black hair, a red bandana tied around his forehead, and a well-built physique stood by the stove. He wore simple clothes, his expression distant as he cooked a steak, lost in thought.

That young man was none other than John.

"It's been a few years since I entered the Old World..."

John reminisced as he flipped the steak.

"I set sail across the vast ocean, drifting aimlessly without a clue where I was or where I was headed. With no choice but to push forward in a straight line, I could only hope for the best—hoping to stumble upon an island, the mainland… something."

His voyage had lasted years before he finally discovered the mainland and landed in this mysterious forest.

"For some reason, I always encounter forests before anything else. Whether it's fate, luck, or just some cosmic joke, I don't know."

The first thing he did upon arrival was build a small cabin. After that, he went into seclusion inside his personal space—a unique domain existing within his eyes and soul. That space was Tovara, one of the countless weaker passive abilities of his eyes.

Inside Tovara, John was omnipotent. He could control everything—the flow of time, the laws of reality, creation, destruction, life, and death. Everything bent to his will. He could replicate everything effortlessly, making Tovara his ultimate trump card, home base, and training ground.

To maximize his progress, he adjusted Tovara's time flow, making it infinitely faster than the outside world. Even if he spent an eternity inside, only a second would pass beyond it. Of course, he could synchronize its time with the real world if he wished. After all, in that space, he was invincible.

"How am I so sure of that? My instincts tell me so."

Some might call it arrogance, but his instincts had never failed him. He trusted them.

He had spent eons inside Tovara, refining his base strength—his normal human state without using his eyes. After his training, he could confidently claim to be the strongest.

"If anyone heard my thoughts, they'd probably laugh at my arrogance. But I don't care. It's simply the truth. As long as the strongest beings of my creation don't interfere, I am the strongest. And even if they do, I have plenty of trump cards to ensure victory."

Just then, a sharp, burnt smell pulled him from his thoughts.

He glanced down.

The pan was in flames.

His steak was burning—charred black.

"Oh, shit!" He hurriedly grabbed the lid nearby, slamming it onto the pan. After a while, he removed the lid and looked at his ruined steak. A helpless smile crossed his face.

He wasn't the type to waste food. After scraping off the burnt layer, he ate what remained before cooking another.

Later that night, he sat atop a tree, enjoying his dinner beneath the vast, starry sky.

Early the next morning…

John swung his hoe, plunging it into the earth. He had been working for a while now, turning several hectares of land into farmland. He was so focused on plowing that he failed to notice a middle-aged man approaching from the distance. He only sensed him when he was close.

"Oh, Troy! Long time no see. It's rare for you to visit me. Did something happen in the village?"

Troy was a middle-aged man with white hair, a well-groomed handlebar mustache, a muscular physique, and tanned skin. A veteran blacksmith, he lived in a nearby village about 50 miles away.

Troy frowned. "Why do you always assume I bring bad news whenever I visit?"

John shrugged. "Let's see... The bandit incident twenty years ago, the Glavion Kingdom raid a year after that, the magic sword request ten years ago, the dragon raid a year later, Baron Moglok's threats, the beast tide five years ago, the lost child case two years after that, the assassination case after that... and this year, you had me investigate the missing livestock. Given your track record, it's hard not to assume bad news when you show up."

Troy coughed awkwardly, choosing to ignore John's words. "I'm here to deliver a message. The Queens of this Kingdom—Dragonov—wish to see you."

John blinked. "Huh? Come again?"

John and Troy sat on wooden chairs John had just created with his Wood Release.

That's right. He had Wood Release, and it was far beyond the level of Hashirama Senju from the Naruto series. His Wood Release was the original Wood Release—an ability from the Primordial Tailed Dragon Nero.

Nero was an unfathomable entity, one so powerful that even the god who created everything feared him. And that same god… answered to Nero.

But that was a topic for another day.

Returning to the present, John created two wooden chairs and offered Troy a seat. He then handed him a cup of fresh chocolate milk, made from his cows and garden.

Troy raised an eyebrow. "You're still drinking kids' drinks?"

John shrugged. "What can I say? I don't like the taste of alcohol."

Troy scoffed. "Says the man who brews the finest wine—wine that even rivals Dragon Wine, brewed by the legendary Wine Dragon."

John smirked. "Yeah, that guy... 'Woodhand' is a master winemaker. I'd love to meet him someday, maybe share some tips about my chocolate milk brewing technique."

Troy's eyes twitch; this guy was shameless.

John, of course, was Woodhand—one of the many aliases he used to sell his products. His wine had gained a legendary reputation, yet no one knew it was him behind the name.

But enough of that.

John's expression turned serious. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Tell me about the Queens."

Troy matched his tone. "Here's what you need to know…"