From the moment it triggered, the expeditionary force felt the change. They, a motley crew assembled across all the races totaling about a thousand people, felt an unmistakable tugging in their chest drawing them forward. It was a disquieting feeling that only grew with every beat of their heart.

This feeling was unlike the one they had when they Delved deep into the ground to bathe in the grace of their god. No. This feeling was not comforting nor welcoming in the slightest. It was a suffocating call bereft of illusion or charm, not even attempting to hide the pure malice and contempt the caster had for them.

Without any prompting, they each slowed their flight in shock and, locking gazes with one another, confirmed that they were not alone in this feeling. Even the avatar of their god stopped for a moment.

It was at the forefront of the group, a brilliant beacon lighting their way, a colossal serpentine construct of pure divine power. The avatar narrowed its glowing eyes, no doubt communicating with its main soul all the while thinking of a rousing speech that might raise the quickly plummeting morale.

It was at this moment that the followers truly understood the gravity of the situation. Despite being told of the mark from their almighty god below, they felt that the situation was still under control. For people to have reached this height they would have had to face all manner of obstacles, curses being one of them.

Though they were unable to detect this particular curse, which resulted in them, in their mind, evaluating their enemy highly, they had faith in their comrades and, most of all, faith in their god.

As allies and rivals whose complex dealings spanned centuries, they each knew all too well the power those among this group have. This, all the while having never met a truly insurmountable foe - the days of the Calamity being far, far in the past - led to the thinking that though this fight will be difficult, it will still very much be a possible one. The idea of failure never even crossed any of their minds.

A part of this was due to complacency. Their growth had become stagnant, and their lack of progress led to earthly indulgence, sinking deeper until they truly believed the words of the sycophants that surrounded them. If progress for them was so difficult, should it not be so for others as well?

Furthermore, their god was far away, his stance one of uncaring silence so long as faith was maintained. This meant they were the ones who truly lord over the mortals of the earth. As such, with their status untouchable for so long, the idea of being marked for death didn’t even phase them.

If nothing else, their almighty god was already addressing the issue. Due to the dual assurance provided by their own individual strength and their god, they did not take the current situation with the caution it warranted.

In their mind was the misconception that even if they themselves were not the strongest here, they at least had the ability to run away. The shade provided by their deity can afford them that much, they believed.

The blame for this sentiment could ultimately be traced back to their dear leader. To say nothing of how he fostered such an outlook among his followers to maintain power, the current situation was not relayed appropriately at all.

The deity did not speak of how he himself was affected, nor of the magnitude of the problem at hand - a spell of global proportions. For one, it would damage the prestige his dependents held for him, and two, it would also greatly damage morale. Perhaps they would give in and try to curry favor, as unlikely to succeed as it might be.

Therefore, these Myths and Demi-Gods all thought that their group alone was targeted. That they were the victim of a desperate and frenzied mage on his last legs. Told to mobilize on such short notice, their ability to gather intelligence was limited, so what other conclusion could they make?

They only knew that the enemy they set out to destroy was the often ignored and pacifistic Turtle of the North, an objective that did not match the strength arrayed. All otherworlders were tracked and profiled, and this individual otherworlder, though strong, had famously few incidents to speak of. Furthermore, this one was old, too, so perhaps senility got the better of him.

Some among them were a little suspicious, but that was all. To get to this position one needed faith and trust above all. Though they might not be as devout as they were when they first joined, none of them were so socially inept that they would commit heresy by questioning the orders passed down directly to them through a direct oracle. Especially since it was a case that likely involved them as well.

Not to mention their god had coalesced an avatar to fight alongside them. Even the oldest among them only had the privilege of experiencing such an occasion once. With this kind of foundation it was impossible to fail.

Regardless, the reality of the situation was that these people were all merely fodder, and fodder could not be allowed to realize they were fodder until there was no path of retreat. The true situation wasn’t divulged because Parasmus didn’t have much hope for this party in the first place. He didn’t have much from the onset and had even less now.

With how things were looking now the most they can achieve would be maybe drawing a moment’s attention, giving him a chance to land a fatal blow. But even that depended a lot on luck and poor planning on the opponent’s part, which is to say, a near-impossible result.

However, it is still necessary to hold out hope. As a veteran of countless battles, he knew that fights among those at his level were generally decided either in an instant or over centuries, though the latter would surely spell his defeat.

Though this subsidiary soul only had a moderate thread of contact with the main body, the data that was transmitted over did not paint a promising picture. He just needed to pray he wasn’t completely outmatched in every aspect.

However, even if it were the case it was not completely without hope. There was a power in his repertoire that far surpassed his normal capabilities, one that he doubted even his highest estimation of the invader could predict. He didn’t think this attack could be defended against even if they knew about it, either.

By taking advantage of a principle he didn’t quite have a proper grasp on, he was able to explode with immense strength. Unfortunately, that explosion was literal, not some skill able to break his limits and the like. He still possessed those abilities, a vestige of his path to power, but they have since become completely outpaced as he grew, none usable in his current situation.

In the end, this ability had a very high chance of killing him, and he would only use it as a last resort to die with the enemy. A means unthinkable before was being considered now, that was how much the situation had deteriorated.

Though they had yet to make a proper encounter, the burning hatred Parasmus had towards that now all-but-confirmed enemy knew no bounds.

He felt that though he may die, with his sacrifice the world will still live on, preserving his legacy. It was a thought he had never humored before since he was never driven to a dead end like this before, but he felt something within himself telling him to keep the fire burning.

It was rather uncharacteristic of him, though he felt it was a natural consequence of staring death in the face. So many of his followers also pursued leaving a legacy during their twilight years. Now was not the time to dwell on things. He didn’t have the time for introspection, as he needed to adjust his plan to the changes.

As they began to approach their destination, the more perceptive individuals among them noticed things trailing behind them. It was ethereal and wispy at first, but became more and more concrete as they approached, until their presence was undeniable.

They were approaching fast, far faster than the moderate cruising speed the party moved at, causing them to go on high alert. Pausing to ensure they were not caught off guard, they were met with a sight that was equal parts enraging and demoralizing.

Behind them were waves upon waves of souls, most silent, though some raged uselessly against the wind. It was a veritable sea of people, dragged towards and quickly overtaking them. The scene gave Parasmus a touch of familiarity, but he quickly set that thought aside.

Those among them with compassionate hearts filled with justice, a minority, all told, wept bitter tears as they saw the souls approach. Their expressions twisted violently as they vowed to end this evil as quickly as they could before these souls were used up for whatever profane purpose they were intended. In silence, the group prayed for the ones that they will be unable to save.

Harried by the lost souls that surrounded them on all sides, they eventually closed in on their target. It was the conflux of souls from all directions that made this location obvious.

Though they had arrived, the question of how they were going to deal with it remained. Even the dimmest among the group could tell that such a thing was far beyond their abilities to deal with. Anyone who still held the hope that the spell wasn’t as large a scale as they’d feared felt that hope die here.

The lost souls crowded together, forming a massive raging tempest swirling around the frozen wastes. Their presence disrupted the ambient mana, decreasing the temperature substantially.

Though the Northern Everfrost was a cold and desolate environment filled with ice caps floating at sea, those descriptions became much more pronounced now. All the water was completely frozen over, becoming a pure white sheet of ice. Though perhaps a “sheet” would not be an apt description, as the ice creeped down an undetectable depth.

The storm raged with feverish speed and intensity, swirling and siphoning souls inward as they passed the point of no return. This would be where they had to go.

Gathering their strength, they landed on the ice and pushed their way past the “storm”, all the while preparing themselves for what awaited them within.

The path forward so far had been strangely unimpeded, though they all still watched vigilantly for an ambush, not letting down the slightest guard. The visibility was extremely poor, as they waded through a dense crowd of souls.

The more they approached the slower they advanced, careful of any traps that might have been placed. There were none. However, some weaker individuals were finding it harder and harder to hold on, with a few being ripped from their bodies, joining the crowd of restless spirits surrounding them.

Steadily, they reached the heart of this tempest. Here, the souls were much less dense, and they could see clearly in most directions. A few wished they weren’t able to, however.

Surrounded by a maelstrom of wailing souls, atop a massive tower of glistening gold that hummed with arcane might, stood a pale blue giant of crystal and mana. It was still focused on weaving magic as they entered, paying the intruders no mind, and funneled souls toward a small object in the palms of its hand. Occasionally, they could see a soul enter the giant as well. They never saw any exit.

Though they could see thousands being sucked in with each passing second, the crowd surrounding them did not lessen in the least. In fact, it only grew with time. It seemed they were not too late. The ceremony had not yet reached its zenith.

However, to stop it would be a herculean task. The path forward was blocked by all manner of magitech automatons and condensed elementals, no doubt also under the blessing of the Mage Tower. None here were unable even to discern the strength of the ones arrayed before them. This alone spoke of the difficulty of disrupting the ceremony. I seemed that every trap not placed on the road here was saved for this fight.

No one in the party, save for one god, recognized what the object in the giant’s hands was, but they all had enough experience dealing with spellcasters that they understood that it was likely an integral part of the spell. Destroying that small, seemingly fragile metallic orb would likely end things immediately.

The only one that understood what was going on, however, did not have such naive thoughts in his mind. Parasmus recognized it to be a World Core almost immediately.

This particular World Core was modified to the point of being almost unrecognizable, but the intimate contact he had with the one he dominated made him familiar enough to identify it as one immediately. Though he never tested how durable it was, as it was incomparably precious, he knew it was extremely durable.

He didn’t speak out to remind his followers of this, as they were unlikely to make it that far.

Gazing at this monstrous entity, which had no resemblance to the weak old human he lazily watched cross the broken world barrier all those years ago, he made up his mind to use it. He did not want to see his own world core falling into the hands of this demon that made a joke out of him.

He could see now, with renewed clarity, that he was hopelessly outmatched. The monster’s heart-palpitating strength was no longer hidden under the guise of a weak and dying man traveling here to live out the rest of his life peacefully in isolation.

Was this the demon’s true form? It was no wonder he failed to recognize it for what it was. Even now, all of his identification abilities failed when applied to it.

Nothing could be gleaned other than some surface-level observations. The creature’s body had obviously gone through magical augmentation, that much was obvious at a glance.

There was another trait the monster had that frightened Parasmus to no end, one that he hoped he had misidentified. He observed that ambient mana was being pulled into it under the density of the creature’s own mana. It didn’t seem to be a conscious action.

He was only able to recognize this phenomenon as it occurred at the world's heart as well, but even that did not even reach a fraction of the intensity he felt here.

Here, he had a foreboding feeling that even without the spell the creature cast there was a point where his mana-rich soul had no hope of returning once crossed. It appeared his earlier guess, and the situation he had dreaded, was correct. Something that could rival the Bringer of Calamity had descended.

Though he didn’t know why such a monster would deign to plot for several centuries rather than just taking what they wanted directly, intentions mattered little when the battle drew so near. This wasn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts.

With confrontation imminent, however, he knew deep down that, from the moment the mark was successfully planted, his fate was sealed. Despite this, though the fact that his death was certain, he wanted to choose how he went out.

This life of his might as well go out with a bang, saving the world while also killing an indescribable monster. Not a bad conclusion to his story at all. Though he would have much preferred a story without an end, the circumstances were ultimately stronger than the people.

To destroy an entity that went against nature he would be bringing out an ability that flaunted the very laws of nature. It was a power that turned against the idea that energy was impossible to create or destroy.

This, among many laws, was known instinctively from birth, as a keen understanding of the world’s natural laws was the birthright of all dragons.

He became fixated on this particular law early on, judging that mana seemed to go against this notion. Mana was essentially just an extremely mutable form of energy. However, everyone seemed to be able to regenerate it constantly without limit.

Through repeated experiments, he noted that mana regenerated even in a void bereft of mana, meaning it wasn’t coming from the environment, nor was it coming from the world itself, as the world’s ambient mana had been completely corrupted during the height of the Calamity.

As a result, before his ascension, he hypothesized that it came from the soul. His utilization of the Calamity’s powers led to him confirming this fact, though it did not solve the underlying issue. Where was the soul getting that mana?

He had guessed that this contradiction only existed due to his lack of vision and that it would be made clear once his view was higher, but to his excitement, it was not revealed even after his ascension. Rather, it became even more mysterious.

The soul truly was an infinite wellspring of mana. From the inheritance of the world will, he knew that a person’s mana was condensed from their soul core, the inner soul that greatly affects a person’s personality and does not disappear after death.

As the being with purview over reincarnation in this world, he was able to sate his fascination with the inner soul. In a way, though it doesn’t hold much information, as it lacks memories and habits, it preserves part of the self for the next life.

While dying will reduce the size and strength of the inner soul, there seems to be a lower limit, after which it becomes extremely difficult to reduce.

Mana comes from this place. It could be influenced by external sources, but its origin would always be the individual’s soul core.

This was why a thriving population was integral to the continued existence and growth of a world. As people used mana, whether for fighting or development, it gets deposited into the world, serving as its sustenance.

The stronger the individual the more mana that was produced. This was true for all classes, not just mages, though their mana took on different forms.

And this was not all. Also through the world’s inheritance, he discovered a way to artificially strengthen his followers. It would become the foundation for building a group of loyal individuals fully under his thumb. They would become the [Blessed] that surround him today.

Granted, at first, he lacked control and caused their souls to directly collapse. For only a few seconds, he was able to create a being with Demi-God levels of strength. It was done solely by following detailed instructions step by step. But his control grew with time, and he learned to not do it too quickly, while also choosing only those that he felt could handle it.

The collapsed souls, on the other hand, might have been useless, but it proved a point. This was because it only required one substance to complete - mana. It was a curious thing, then. Mana begets the soul and souls beget mana. It was through this process that the soul elevate itself. This was the principle behind the use of natural treasures and potions in strengthening the soul.

The discovery of this infinite feedback loop both astounded and frightened him. It became a way for him to become infinitely stronger than he was currently. However, it wasn’t something he was able to fully control.

The tentative successful experiments known as the [Blessed] were only an oversaturation of an already large vessel, not a comprehensive strengthening of the vessel directly. This would likely not be something he would be able to control for close to an eternity to come.

Through continuous meditation over tens of thousands of years, he was able to finally sense his own soul core. It was much more difficult for him to find his own than for his to see those of his followers, but he was grateful for this. All those failed experiments spoke volumes of what hasty attempts at increasing power would result in.

However, those failures were interesting in their own right, and with those results in mind he came up with a theory that then was tested multiple times. It only succeeded once.

It involved the use of devout, though weak, believers. He gave visions to countless people over the years, urging them to feel their inner souls. He knew that it was a nigh impossible task, but by some miracle, one actually succeeded.

The mortal that succeeded was fortunate beyond belief, accomplishing it in but a few decades. It was lightning fast compared to himself, and drew his envy, though only quelled after considering the ones that failed before them.

Then, through his careful guidance, the man was led to strengthening himself, cultivating their inner soul. This quickly triggered an irreversible feedback loop, forcibly elevating their power.

This time, it was not an external influence that led to their strength. An external influence that would be able to withdraw its influence and end the reaction. An external force had a rudimentary understanding of how to operate such a process.

Rather, it was due to their own unremitting effort. The person’s conviction was laudable, though as the saying went, “no good deeds can go unpunished”. It all went horribly wrong, and the believer eventually ended up detonating his soul. The explosion wiped their village off the map, even leveling the mountain beside it. The area today is still a mess, chaotic mana storms abound.

To date, no one else has succeeded, but he knew he could do something similar. That was because the hardest part, sensing the inner soul, was already complete.

Due to the fact that it was impossible to test, he didn’t know how strong the impact generated from his soul will be. But the ensuing blast will undoubtedly be much, much deadlier. After all, he was no civilian.

However, he couldn’t do this immediately. As much as he would have liked to just blast the damn invader directly, Parasmus needed time to forcibly move his true soul over. Since he was doing this with the determination to die, it didn’t matter if doing so would cripple him beyond repair.

Nothing else was needed, his soul was all that was required. It was fortunate, then, that this enemy likely also wanted his main soul to come. They wouldn’t have marked him otherwise. As such, he will need to still play out this song and dance, humor his opponent, and extinguish them with him.

With that in mind, Parasmus mustered up his courage and he ordered his minions to charge, “I will make way and clear the chaff. Get rid of the minions that survive my wake. Ensure that my duel is not disturbed. I will handle that monster myself.” And with a thunderous leap, the avatar rushed forward, hurtling towards the tower. Not taking any heed of the damage it sustained, it made a mad dash towards the

“You would challenge me with a puppet? Ridiculous. Even your real body wouldn’t be a match for me, but I’ll humor this pitiful attempt at a duel. Come, then. Fight me. Let this be the rehearsal for the true play. Do not think that by sending this fodder to me I will let you run. Your fate, and the fate of everyone in this world, had already been written.”

The monster seemed to take humor in his words, but he was unsure. It was difficult to discern. Their voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard, the only beings that came close to this degree of unpleasantness were the Calamity Spawn, and their cries carried with them mental pollution.

Perhaps the true body of the Calamity might have been worse, but he wasn’t there to see it. He wouldn’t be here if he was. This fight, perhaps, is the reward for missing out on such an occasion. The universe truly didn’t want him to die without having experienced such a “blessed” scene.

By the time the avatar finally reached the foot of the tower, it had already been a day. Its divine essence had completely depleted. The fight had developed this way because neither side wanted to end it quickly. He knew for a fact that had the thing just thrown a spell, any spell, his avatar would not have been able to hold on. Did it seem… apprehensive? For a moment then he thought that his plan was seen through, but nothing other than that indicated it.

As such, constructs assailing him in all directions weren’t making any lethal blows. It was strange, fighting against someone with all his might without being met with the same ferocity in return. They were testing him, as much or even more than he was testing them.

And most of all, they were stalling. Waiting for his true soul down below to succumb, but that was what he wanted as well. The more he understood the mage the likelier he was to succeed in this decapitating strike.

This avatar was his strongest one, capable of fighting with nearly 80% of his strength when outside his domain, yet even it fell without even qualifying for the duel.

It should also be no surprise that his followers had fallen long ago, faltering soon after leaving his presence. It seemed he expected too much of them, though it wasn’t really their fault. These minions that blocked the path heavily outnumbered them while possessing similar or higher strength.

“Is this the extent of your conviction? Where is the drive to break through these limits and strike me down? Make me understand why the world chose you to keep the light shining. Your actions thus far have shown me precious little, O’ Champion.”

The monster rambled on and on, as though in love with its voice. That made one of them, at least.

“Should you not be shouting, passionately decrying my name? A character such as yourself, with the archetype of a Long Aotian, should not suffer an injustice such as this silently.”

“Your comrades lie dead behind you, yet you do not even spare them a fleeting glance. Rest assured, though you failed to nurture them they will be joining your faithful believers within my blessed Core.”

“The direction of this play is not one befitting the protagonist of a world. But worry not. With me, they shall be bathed in eternal glory, their purpose far more sublime than if they toiled under your thumb.”

“You can feel it now, can’t you? The iron grip I now hold over your soul. This confrontation has been lost on all fronts. Cease this dying struggle and give in.”

As expected of a monster. Even one that possesses the ability to think is still a raving lunatic.

Those words meant little to him. In fact, much of what was said didn’t fully register in his mind. Throughout the fight, the thing had been taunting him, but it seemed to do it more so for its own self-satisfaction than to get on his nerves.

Nevertheless, that cacophony was unceasing, constantly weathering his spirit. Though he made it this far, the feet of the tower would be his limit. But that was fine. He believed he gathered enough information on the personality of this madman that his next move will be a critical blow.

He just needed to lower its guard.

Only, with his avatar on its last reserves of divinity, he knew that after this he would never have a chance to speak again. Wishing to die without regrets, he asked the one thing he had been holding in his chest this entire time. It was the one, simple thing he wanted to ask -

“Why?”

“Your world was the easiest mark. I’ve read your record. You should understand this principle very well, I imagine. If you wished to know what would happen had your world never existed, then I would simply say that I would be doing the same thing somewhere else. This advancement of mine has a price to pay, you know.”

“If that’s all, let’s move on to the final act. Hush now, close your eyes. It’ll all be over soon. After this, you’ll become a part of something greater than you could ever hope to imagine.”

“A part of me.”

With those words, spoken in a tone as gentle a being like it could be, a bolt of arcane magic descended upon his avatar. Before this attack, every ability the avatar possessed failed. It seemed, in the end, he satisfied the monster enough for it to make the final blow.

“Now that the stage has been cleared, let the finale begin! O’ dragon. Observe closely, for with good fortune you might be able to draw some inspiration for the next life.”

Immediately after his avatar was extinguished, his consciousness in Purgatory felt that his soul was imprisoned. The cage bound all of his conventional abilities, but his consciousness was still intact. That would be enough.

The die had been cast, now the only thing left to do now is to wait. He couldn’t be too eager to move, lest the creature get suspicious. Only when they let down their guard can he make his move.

The only feeling he had now was numbness. Both a consequence of his current situation and of what he saw while stalling out. While he never cared much for his people, they were still his devout followers. It still pained him inside to hear them cry out while unable to do anything.

It would all end here, though. Their lives could not be restored, but at least he could let them rest in peace.

The ordeal was nearing its conclusion. However, while everything was settling down on the outside, the inside of the core was anything but. Within it, the collected souls were transmuted into a condensed Soulium and Haliatman amalgam.

It was a truly magical material that was self-replicating and held the properties of all states of matter. Its malleable properties made it the perfect base for an omnitool. The only fault the material had was the difficulty it took to create. It was a compound he synthesized after referencing the corruptive abilities of many indescribable beings.

Naturally, it was the best amorphous material that he knew of, and Eldrige would not make his future form rigid, as that might cut off a path he took a fancy to in the future. It would be too late to regret it then, so leaving as many doors open as possible was one of his core principles.

If his stubborn attachment to his human form was anything to go off of it was that he was content with taking the middle road even if it meant being weaker than his peers. Choices were what make getting out of dead ends possible.

With his long-term project completed, Eldrige stepped into the core of the spell matrix, beginning to merge with the artifact core. His outer soul, the part that encodes his abilities and where the System operates, is loaded into it while his inner soul merges completely with the core, finalizing the creation.

The dragon, while not really necessary for the creation of the body, would jumpstart his abilities once he finished merging. He was going to become a new life form, after all, and it will result in him losing a lot of progress. As a newly forged artifact, many of the abilities he used before would not function properly, and his more profound abilities could not be utilized.

His soul archive was still operational, so he’d be able to properly study his new form and get back on track quickly, but the less time spent vulnerable the better. A soul as strong as the dragon’s would likely allow him to skip much of that period altogether. Only after he’d thoroughly studied the being first, of course. However, as he finalized the sublimation and pull in the next batch of souls along with the dragon, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest.

It was strange because, for one, he had no chest, and two, there shouldn’t be anything around that could threaten him. Eldrige felt that the situation wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on that feeling before a thick, suffocating pillar of mana descended upon him.

“Ah, fu------”

And then everything went dark.

Within the chaotic void between worlds, floating around a mess of ruins and debris, an incomplete being finalized the repairs needed to restore his senses. Though the attack was unexpected and knocked out everything outside the core, which included every system he build to perceive the outside world, everything within was still intact.

Preparing to take everything back online, the sphere gave everything another check. Though he wanted to get everything ready quickly and rid himself of this limbo, he knew that haste was not conducive to his current situation. That being said, the less time spent blind the better. It was both unnerving and unsafe.

As the artifact core was fashioned from the Core of a World the cold, corruptive influence of the void became bearable. Few can survive here, and all those that do are among the higher tiers of predators in the multiverse.

Immediately following its plunge into darkness, the artifact went to work, repairing everything that needed repairs while minimizing its presence. During this time it had not yet realized that the world it once inhabited was utterly destroyed.

It was only after everything was stable that the being surveyed its surroundings.

What the hell? Where’d the world go? That dragon would rather destroy his own world, his own body than see me succeed? Maybe I was too obsessed with wringing them dry, but there was no way to predict that something like this would happen. It would be laughable to even begin to assume a creature as weak as that can unleash such terrible power.

But that light… What was that? That kind of all-consuming, blindingly bright light. I felt it even without eyes, without touch. It truly was a thing of beauty. Was it the inner soul? It could only be that. That dragon was insane enough to mess with that kind of thing? Doesn’t he know that damage to it means no shot at ever coming back? Like even reincarnation or possession was off the table.

I’d only ever used it to retain information. Could it be wired to make an instantaneous explosion of strength? This warrants further study. I wasn’t able to touch upon the inner souls of others before, but I may be able to in this form. Yes. That'll be the first avenue I tread in my rise.

Now, I just need to get out of here before some void spawn or abomination takes a fancy to these ruins. I can’t compete for the World Core here in my current state. In all likelihood, they’ll probably compete for me as well if I go.

I suppose this is where I cash in some points from the System to get me out of here.

Being able to modify his connection with the System as well as make deals with it was the result of thousands of years of back and forth. It needed him to expand its influence and he needed a hands-off backer. It was a match made in heaven.

It looked like he was going to need to cash in a lot of credit here if he wanted to stay independent, though. He didn’t want to make deals so early, as the terms always changed based on his level

Now, he was kinda curious to see how the system identified him. After all, he had gone through a, quite literally, earth-shattering change. While a part of him wanted to try going about it completely alone, he also knew the benefits of having an immeasurably tall giant at your back, even if it liked to dig holes for him to fall into all the time.

He was already familiar with it, so there was no need to change everything so drastically.

After he reestablished a connection with the System, he’d then trade in the credits he’d saved to get out of this place before something dangerous arrives. This would be rather simple. The System, being a [Detached] powerhouse, was a truly omnipresent being, not a fake one the dragon styled himself to be.

Those that knew the steps could make the connection anywhere, provided they weren’t in the domain of another [Detached]. Even with his current state without a brain to think or a mouth to talk he was still able to trigger his status.

Status

Status

Name: Apollyon

Title: The Living Weapon

Equip Requirement: LVL 1

Core Durability: N/A

Body Durability: 4000/4000

Race: ∎∎∎∎

Skills:

[Z+][Binding Covenant]:

[Z]Establish a binding contract with another party.

[+][Due to prior status as a Quasi-Administrator, [Appolyon] is allowed to borrow partial system authority to uphold the deal]

[EX][Soul Binding]:

[EX]Bond with another entity, sharing with them your stats. Degree of trust and details of the initial pact determines the amount shared and control over the entity’s soul.

Age: 0

Total Level: 1

Attributes:

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5

Constitution: 5

Intelligence: 5

Wisdom: 5

Charisma: 5

Luck: -25

Main Class: Locus of Misfortune

Skills:

[S][Curse of Misfortune]:

Expand?

[S][Eldritch Reconstitution]:

Expand?

[A][Perceive Luck]:

Expand?

[E][Possession]:

Expand?

General Skills:

[EX][Transcendent Camouflage]

Expand?

[EX][Soul Mastery]

Expand?

[S][Levitate]

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[EX]World Core

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[U] Soul Archive

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Condition: Eldritch Taint[0.1%]

Fewer abilities than I’d hoped. It seems my soul was used as a larger portion of the fuel, but this is enough.

But Locus of Misfortune? That dragon was so hateful that he even forcefully changed my class? A class was the System’s way of synthesizing and making more clear one’s path of ascension. Locus of Misfortune is like one of those classes the System likes to goad unsuspecting newcomers into taking. Its only hobby, as stated by itself, was gathering knowledge of unique things, after all.

Did the System screw me over? That’s impossible. It would never make changes without my consent. But…

He had intended to become a freeloader leeching off of others and rising as they rose. This is likely impossible now that his class had become all crooked. What was he supposed to do now?

I guess I’ll have to make do with what I have. I have to look on the bright side. It’s given me a chance to touch upon the law of causality with this luck attribute. It was impossible for me before no matter how many resources I smashed into deciphering it. Yes. This gives me another thing to study after figuring out what that dragon hit me with.

System. Bring up a list of warpable worlds. Let's get to work.