“Damn fool!"

The grizzly man erupted with rage. The anger of a predator losing its prey was not to be underestimated. The key to its future, to greener pastures, to happiness vanished before his very eyes. All due to this golden-haired vermin. To say he was fuming would be an understatement, and it showed.

The devouring effect moved from his eyes and hair to encompass a greater area around him. A miniature black-hole thus formed. Yet, instead of being weaker, its gravitational pull was much greater than normal.

Zhong Greg, who was standing too close, was nearly devoured by the sudden increase in intensity. “Unstable, and a liar to boot?” he thought while hastily moving in the opposite direction. “This thing is too powerful for me to handle. If I fuck up here, I’ll have to reincarnate without a backup. I’m also carrying too many valuables on me—no, I need to escape. Those old bastards can take care of him. Worst-case scenario, I’ll open the hidden passage.”

Without further ado, Greg crushed a bracelet on his right wrist. After turning it into fine dust, the particles began to congregate in a small disk-like shape, unaffected by the scary hole guy. With a snap of his fingers, a small spark emerged, lighting the dust on fire. In a blaze of light, the dust solidified into a hatch of sorts. Greg rapidly opened it, nearly fumbling with the handle.

However, someone did not want him to leave. N’hitan, the ever-skulking stalker, would never allow his transgressors to escape scot-free. “If Leumas has disappeared, then I’ll have to settle for this kid. There is something special and unique about him, but it's still incomparable. I’ll also have to inflict sufficient pain upon him for distracting me.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he yelled with force towards the hatch-man. Space quacked, planets trembled, people wept, and monsters awoke. This little scuffle affected so much, but it was merely in its inception.

A hand made of pure shadow lunged at the hatch, and consequently, Greg. Not suspecting such a fast attack, Greg was caught off guard. With a resounding “boom,” the attack connected with its targets. The hatch couldn’t tolerate the force and ceased to exist, while its creator was propelled away from the system’s star.

“Blegh!” Zhong Greg vomited copious amounts of blood. The shadow hand didn’t touch him directly, but the blunt force continued through the hatch, shattering his ribs and collapsing his lungs.

His body—and mind—were in shambles. The costly escape measure failed, he was injured and powerless, and his opponent was unrelenting; he was doomed.

Across the ever-increasing distance, N’hitan formed hand seals in quick succession, and the eternal darkness of the universe began to respond. Seething tendrils and appendages emerged from all around Greg, threatening to tangle him.

“Should I let him kill me to escape?”

Zhong Greg knew his end was near, and rather than waste time and effort on surviving—despite the loss he’d suffer—dying would be optimal. Everything he currently has, he can regain. But the pain will linger. The helplessness too. Rather than scarring himself for life, Greg opted for temporary discomfort.

Only short of physically opening his arms, Greg allowed the surging darkness to consume him. Instead of being pierced like he expected, however, the darkness restrained him.

Unsure of what the turn of events signified, Greg grew confused and fearful. “Does he want to torture me?” With that thought in mind, he threw caution to the wind and decided to utilize one of his forbidden techniques: the New Slumber. It was a very fancy, humane, and foolishly powerful suicide technique that would end his life in an instant.

As he began to circulate his Chosen’s Qi, though, he grew aghast. He was slowly losing control over his own energy. Something from the dark tendrils began to diffuse into his body. A prickling sensation consumed him while his mind and body continued their separation. Yet instead of growing weaker as the separation continued, it only became more prevalent.

“No—”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Did you really think escaping was a possibility? I do have to admit your techniques are high-tier, but all crumbles in the face of true power.” N’hitan emerged from the surrounding darkness with a menacing expression plastered on his face. His aura strangely more absent than before, yet his fear factor greater than ever. “You have crossed me, lost me my future, and forced me to antagonize this universe and their gods; you will suffer the consequences, boy!”

“Just kill me,” Greg uttered meekly, his fading consciousness barely allowing him to talk. He would allow this blatant disrespect and mockery for now and exact his revenge in due time.

“Do you think I'm ignorant? No person would use a suicide technique in a situation they might escape from, yet you did. That, combined with the heavy traces of reincarnation on you, tells me all I need to know. Such a fascinating talent, but alas...”

Not wanting to get surrounded by gods and men alike in his weakened state, N’hitan decided to leave the universe. His tests can be conducted wherever he pleases, and since Leumas disappeared and he knows of the universe's location, there is no reason to stay any longer. Despite thinking so, he still scoured the nearby space for any traces of Leumas, just in case tomfoolery was afoot. He was unable to discover anything but a slight discrepancy in space-time.

“Control over space-time, huh?”

With a sigh, the darkness in the entire universe parted into a tunnel shape, which N’hitan stepped into. With Greg in tow, of course. Upon his entry, the darkness began to reclaim its natural place, propelling them forward at unfathomable speeds. Within moments, they emerged in the Nothingness, where he did the exact same thing.

“We will meet again, Leumas.”

…

“Phew. I thought the entire planet would come down on me.”

A plague- and dirt-ridden beggar rose from his kneeling position. He was covered in debris from a nearby establishment that unfortunately collapsed in the ruckus. The person appeared sick and emancipated with graying hair. His robe, originally gray in color, was now brown.

Despite sticking out like a sore thumb, no one paid him any heed. The homeless were normalized in the city, and everyone had more important issues to deal with than some mortal being unscathed after a building fell on him.

“No one suspects a thing, and my stalker appears to have left. One can never be too sure, though, so I'll remain in character for a little longer.”

Obviously, this piece of shit was Samuel. Despite being responsible for almost killing a galaxy worth of people, he appeared unfaced and uncaring. He didn’t know the ramifications of his actions due to not using his powers, but he should be vaguely aware. Yet, he still did not care. Only his disguise mattered.

“Zhong Greg, I’ll never forget your sacrifice! I swear, I’ll avenge you in the future.”

…

Elsewhere on the planet, a furious and fear-ridden discussion was taking place.

“This is damn proof of the prophecy’s misjudgment. In no part of the scriptures were there mentions of such a calamity hitting before the demon realm’s opening. Just because a piece of text says something does not mean it's unconditionally correct. I’m telling you demons are roaming the city, and the demon realm’s energy is corrupting our world. We need to act now, before it’s too late!”

A furious middle-aged man shouted towards a table worth of people. He was graceful but dropped all cordiality when speaking to this crowd.

“Shut your mouth, old bastard. Don’t ever disrespect or discredit the holy prophecy again, or I’ll have your head. It doesn’t matter if you’re the king’s advisor or not; no one is allowed such blasphemy. Perhaps your position is threatening the kingdom. What would we do if your influence corrupts the king into mindless actions?”

A general of sorts, adorned in grand silver armor, responded to Millo. He was clearly his main opposition—a hardened warrior who rose through the ranks due to his astonishing prowess and luck: the Protector of Realms, the one who prophesied to save them from demons, Hart Barrow.

“You biased lunatic! Who cares about your ambitions and aspirations? This is not about you or me; it’s about the fate of the world. How can someone be so shameless as to ignore hard evidence?”

“You don’t have hard evidence. Show me some, and I, as a man of my word, will authorize military action.” Hart made a grandiose gesture of putting his fist to his chest.

“You heard the man, move out and scour the streets. Anyone this crystal reacts to will need to be apprehended and brought here immediately. Understood?” A third individual, an older woman, commanded the guards securing the room. Without wasting any time, they confirmed their understanding, retrieved the red crystal from her grasp, and exited.

“I hope you understand that when, not if, the guards fail to bring any demons, you will have to face consequences for your actions, Millo. Perhaps a public execution would be fitting.”

Instead of responding to Hart’s taunt, Millo merely closed his eyes. Only time will tell his future. For now, waiting was the sole option.

“Tch.”

After one final distasteful uttering, Hart also shut his mouth, awaiting his victory.