Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

Greg stared at Drakonix in disbelief. Torch him? The words echoed in his mind, absurd and infuriating. Ever since he had learned about Absolute Concepts and the powerful beings who wielded them, he had found himself constantly under pressure—ordered, and looked down upon by Drakonix. Although it was more of unserious and teasing remark, he still held grudge in his heart from it.

A dull frustration bloomed in his chest. But who was to blame? While most players were busy grinding level 50 bosses and savoring small victories, he was thrown into the middle of cosmic conflicts, facing apocalypse-tier powerhouses and refusing their commands outright.

Without saying a word, Greg turned and walked away, his back straight but his heart burning. He made a silent vow—One day, I'll become strong enough to punish Drakonix for this, sleeping Drakonix unaware of the mess he placed his future self

--

"Goddess, you are back," Number One said, the first among the hooded figures kneeling before the ornate throne.

"Indeed," Rebecca replied, her voice soft, almost nostalgic. "I went to visit an old friend… but it seems that friend no longer exists."

She seated herself gracefully on the throne, her golden hair flowing around her like a waterfall of light. Yet there was a shadow in her eyes.

"So your suspicion?" Number Two inquired.

"Correct," Rebecca said bitterly. "Although the universe recreated them, these are not the same souls. Everyone who died in the Origin World when I destroyed it remains dead. The beings in this world… are nothing more than carbon copies—shadows mimicking the originals."

Disappointment clouded her expression as she looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers as if to grasp something long lost.

"Goddess," said Number Twenty, stepping forward, "about the one you're looking for… the girl who manipulates shadows as if they are part of her—among the foreigners, I believe I know who she is. A friend told me as a parting gift."

Rebecca's eyes gleamed with sudden interest. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Kate. Lately, she hasn't been active in the apocalypse. It seems she's remained within her own world for the time being."

"There's no need to rush," Rebecca murmured, closing her eyes. "I still need to completely heal this soul and regain the ability that once defined me. Only then can I merge with her. Then, and only then, shall terror rain upon the universe once more."

"In the meantime," she continued coldly, "let us keep this world occupied. Release the Shadow Slaves. We'll raze this world to the ground, then move on—one world at a time—until either my ability returns… or there are no worlds left."

"Gladly, Goddess," Number Five said, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Just a few final tweaks, and they'll be ready."

---

Meanwhile, Grey sat motionless within his residence in the Celestial Realm. His body was still, his eyes closed, immersed in deep meditation. A memory flickered in his mind like an old wound reopening.

He saw himself plunging a dagger into Rebecca's heart. Yet his own heart did not stir. No remorse, no guilt—only silence. It was as if the ache of betrayal had been numbed out of existence.

"You should let it go," said a familiar voice. The Celestial King appeared without invitation, stepping through space itself. "You didn't do anything wrong. You tried to save our universe."

"I know," Grey replied, his voice distant. "But I wish I could feel the pain. The heartache. At least then, I'd feel human again."

The Celestial King said nothing, watching him with ancient, knowing eyes.

"Our current theory," he said at last, "is that our souls were shattered—fragmented into countless pieces and scattered across every universe in this half-reality. To become whole again, we must meet our alternates, defeat them, and devour their souls. Only then can we begin to return to what we once were. Even if it's not perfect, it's closer to our true selves."

"How do you know this?" Grey asked, his brow tightening, though his eyes remained shut.

"Speculations," the Celestial King admitted. "Pieced together from memories, data, and confessions. Some of the foreigners we captured claimed that the System—that damned universal will—has announced a grand competition. Each world like theirs is part of it."

Grey exhaled slowly. "And what about her? Do you think Rebecca's soul was scattered, too?"

"I hope so," the king said quietly. "Because if she retains all her power, there's no winning this war. Unless we drastically accelerate our merging… and surpass our previous selves."

Grey gave a subtle nod, still unmoving.

"How's your progress?" the king asked. "With the Law of Darkness?"

"I still can't control it. It's there, but dormant. I need more of me—more fragments—if I'm going to awaken it."

"I see. Then I'll leave you to your meditation," the Celestial King said. In a shimmer of light, he vanished, bending the fabric of space and teleporting to his next destination.

---

Two uneventful days passed. Players remained on edge, waiting for the inevitable. Greg's warning had spread far and wide. All knew: something world-shaking was coming.

And when it finally did, the world fell eerily silent.

Just like in previous major events, everyone was forcefully ejected from the game. Cities were quiet. Streets were empty. Not a single buzz came from any device connected to Apocalypse.

The calm was absolute.

Everyone waited. No movement. No sound.

Only breathless anticipation.

---

Elsewhere, across the dark reaches of existence…

"Have you found his location?" the Universe Ender asked. His voice was low, deep, resonating through the obsidian throne room.

Standing before him was his second-in-command—a monstrous being with no eyes, no ears, no nose. Only a wide, lipless mouth that curled into a toothy grin.

Hair like coiled vipers writhed atop his head, each serpent hissing, their golden eyes glowing with primal menace. They were the ancient race that had been believed to be almost extinct, the petrifiers. Hundreds of them making up the hair of the second in command.

His hands, clawed and crimson, belonged to the ancient Primordial Devils—creatures known as unbreakable brokers, who could forge unshakable contracts that bound even legends.

A glimmering gem pulsed in his chest, nestled within smooth black obsidian scales tougher than any known metal. His legs were monstrous and scaled, wings sprouting from his ankles—gifts of the extinct Blazer race.

This being was known as Prey, the last survivor of the predator race—feared across the cosmos for their grotesque ability: they were born as heads, with only mouths. They completed their bodies by devouring others and replicating the parts they desired.

The predator race had once been so feared, so hated, that every known civilization joined forces to annihilate them. Only one survived. Prey.

And he had been found by the Universe Ender.

"I located him," Prey said, his voice rasping. "He's far… extremely far. Even at light speed, it would take ten years to reach him."

The Universe Ender leaned forward. "What about our weakest soldier?"

"They could get there in one, maybe two years if they don't rush."

"Then let them go ahead. Once they're close, we'll arrive."

"Why not just go now and eliminate the threat ourselves?" Prey asked.

"We don't know his army. His strength. I have other universes to end before then. Let the soldiers march first."

Prey lowered his head. "As you command."

And with that, he vanished—leaving nothing behind but the echo of hissing serpents and silent dread.