The bone-chilling shrieks vibrated through the void, causing the very fabric of space to tremble violently. Raya Kincaid’s face drained of all color the moment she heard them.
"This is bad... this is their nest! It’s the Void-kin stronghold humanity hasn't been able to find for a thousand years! Run!"
Utterly terrified, she grabbed Lance’s arm and tried to lunge toward the starship.
Vroom!
But the Void-kin powerhouses had already sensed their presence. They weren't about to let their prey escape. An immense wave of psionic pressure descended like a physical weight, instantly locking Lance and Raya in place.
A Planetary Class (Rank 3) boss... plus over three thousand Great Grandmaster level subordinates. This is definitely a problem.
Lance narrowed his eyes as he scanned the energy signatures emerging from the rift. Even for him, this was a grim situation.
SCREECH!
With a roar that seemed to split the heavens, a gargantuan shadow—millions of meters tall—slowly drifted out of the spatial rift. Behind it, thousands of smaller but equally menacing silhouettes swarmed out like a cloud of locusts.
The sheer weight of their collective aura was enough to make Raya gasp for air.
"It’s over... there are too many of them. And our distress signal can't get through the interference. I can't believe I’m going to die on my first mission... I haven't even been in a relationship yet! That damn Central Intellect set us up!"
Pinned in the vacuum of space, Raya had fallen into a pit of total despair. Her usual tomboyish bravado had vanished, replaced by a look of utter misery.
Lance glanced at her, speechless. We’re facing a world-ending threat, and she’s worried about her dating life? Talk about a strange set of priorities.
"We’re not dead yet," Lance said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He knew he couldn't hide his strength any longer. Raya blinked, looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, and then her face crumpled further into hopelessness.
"How? Look at that thing in the front—that’s a Phantom Emperor. It’s a Planetary Class monster! Even a Sovereign-tier human warrior might not be its match. You’re not seriously expecting a rescue, are you?" She sighed, seemingly resigned to her fate.
"I’m not expecting anyone. If you want something done right, you do it yourself," Lance replied calmly. He gave her a steady look. "By the way, whatever happens next... keep it a secret for me, okay?"
Under Raya’s disbelieving gaze, Lance began to move. Slowly at first, then with increasing fluidity.
Crack! Crack!
The psionic bonds around him began to shudder and warp. This particular layer of pressure wasn't from the Rank 3 boss; it was merely the work of a Rank 7 Great Grandmaster lackey.
BOOM!
With a surge of raw, physical power, Lance shattered the mental shackles. Raya’s jaw dropped. She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and confusion.
"Stop gaping. Get back to the ship. I’ll handle the rest," Lance said. He reached out and gently nudged her chin up to close her mouth, his expression turning deadly serious.
Vroom!
Before Raya could get a word out, a Tractor Beam from the Tier 6 ship locked onto her and yanked her back into the boarding bay. The ship’s heavy-duty shields flared to maximum intensity the moment she was inside.
SCREECH!
SCREECH!
Lance’s display of power had finally drawn the full attention of the Void-kin. The Rank 3 Phantom Emperor roared, and ten Great Grandmaster (Rank 9) subordinates broke formation, hurtling toward Lance like black streaks of lightning.
"Only ten? You’re underestimating me," Lance sneered.
He wound up and threw a punch into the void. A gargantuan fist shadow, thousands of kilometers in diameter, tore through space.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In the blink of an eye, the ten Great Grandmaster Void-kin were pulverized.
The sight was so staggering that Raya, watching from the ship’s viewport, had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming. Even the remaining Void-kin froze in mid-air, momentarily stunned by the sheer violence of the counterattack.
"Raya, leave! Now! I’ll find you when I’m done here!" Lance shouted without looking back.
"No! You can't face a Phantom Emperor alone!" Raya’s voice crackled over the comms, frantic. "I’ll use the ship’s main cannons to support you!"
"It’s useless! The Void-kin are immune to physical energy! Only Soul-based attacks or high-tier supernatural traits can kill them! Just go! These things are nothing but small fry!"
Lance gave a disdainful laugh. He knew that while the boss was a Rank 3 Planetary Class, its primary mode of attack was still psionic—which translated to a form of physical force in this dimension. Killing him would be easier said than done.
Vroom!
The ship’s engines roared as it prepared to jump to warp.
SCREECH!
But the Rank 3 Phantom Emperor wasn't having it. It unleashed a tidal wave of Psionic Telekinesis, wrapping around the starship like a titan’s hand. The vessel’s departure was halted instantly.
Creeeeak!
The Tier 6 shields began to groan and splinter under the astronomical pressure. They wouldn't hold for long.
"Hmph."
Lance let out a cold snort.
Clang!
The Black Flame Spear appeared in his hand, wreathed in dark, swirling embers. Simultaneously, the silver brilliance of the Nine Heavens Starfire erupted from his body. For billions of kilometers, the surrounding dead stars seemed to resonate with him, their latent stellar energy pouring into Lance in massive, glowing rivers.
As the infinite stellar energy converged, the power of the Nine Heavens Starfire surged to a terrifying new level. Lance’s body began to rhythmically rupture and repair itself, a crimson aura of blood and mana energy exploding outward, shaking the very stars.
"Falling Star Spear Art!"
Lance lunged, thrusting the spear into the heart of the void.
CLANG!
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A piercing, metallic ring echoed through space as a beam of concentrated silver light tore through the darkness. The spear-light hurtled toward the Phantom Emperor with such force that space itself warped and twisted in its wake.
SCREECH!
Feeling the lethal threat of the starfire-infused strike, the Phantom Emperor shrieked. It didn't dare take the hit directly. It instantly withdrew its grip on the starship, redirecting its psionic power into a massive, shimmering shield to protect itself and its kin.
BOOM!
The spear-light detonated against the barrier with the force of a supernova. Silver flames splashed across the void like molten metal.
CRACK!
A jagged fissure appeared on the Phantom Emperor's psionic shield. The strike had been powerful enough to potentially kill a Rank 1 Planetary Class expert outright.
If the Phantom Emperor hadn't redirected so much energy into protecting its entire tribe, Lance's attack might not have shattered the shield so easily.
"Looks like my current output is still a bit short," Lance muttered, his eyes narrowing.
That strike had been his most powerful move outside of a full-scale Solar Flare Blast.
SCREECH!
Realizing that Lance was no pushover and possessed a lethal supernatural flame, the Phantom Emperor’s expression turned grim. With a sharp howl, it ordered all its subordinates to retreat into the spatial rift behind them. Out in the open, they weren't just useless—they were liabilities.
"I’m curious," Lance said, watching the underlings scramble away without lifting a finger to stop them. "What kind of race are you? Why have you invaded human territory?"
"Hu-mans... food..." the creature rasped. It spoke haltingly, but it clearly recognized Lance's strength enough to offer a response.
Lance's face instantly went cold. He had expected some complex geopolitical motive or ancient grudge; instead, they viewed humanity as nothing more than cattle. Based on the corpses he'd seen, their "food" was human souls.
"Based on that sentence alone," Lance said softly, his voice devoid of emotion, "The Void-kin must be exterminated."
He kicked off from the void.
BOOM!
Lance transformed into a streak of silver light, hurtling toward the gargantuan shadow.
SCREECH!
The Phantom Emperor unleashed a tidal wave of Psionic Telekinesis. It had no intention of letting Lance get close, knowing his flames could actually injure its energy-based form. The mental force condensed into a massive Psionic Handprint, slamming down toward Lance with the weight of a mountain.
To the Emperor's surprise, Lance didn't even attempt to dodge. He accelerated, crashing headlong into the massive palm.
BOOM!
The impact was cataclysmic. Lance’s body instantly detonated upon contact, dissolving into a massive cloud of blood mist.
The Phantom Emperor actually froze, momentarily stunned. Is... is he dead? That easily?
It couldn't believe it. It had seen Lance use high-tier techniques, yet he had seemingly committed suicide. It could clearly sense that the human's flesh and bone had been utterly pulverized into atoms.
But was Lance really that easy to kill? Obviously not.
Vroom!
A split second later, the floating blood mist surged together, knitting itself back into Lance’s perfect, uninjured form.
[System Alert: User has recovered from the brink of a near-death state. CON +20,000!]
Lance smirked.
Restoring a near-death injury granted twenty thousand CON points. Back when he was performing his "sacrifices," he was only destroying 99% of his form—which counted as a "major injury" and granted five thousand. The forty thousand he gained per minute earlier was the result of his 8x accelerated training multiplier.
But this? Having his body physically obliterated and then instantly reconstructed by the system? This was "grinding" at a whole different level. The rate of growth was several times faster than his training speed because the severity of the injury dictated the magnitude of the reward.
"That move wasn't bad," Lance said, mocking the creature. "But if you want to kill me, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. Again!"
SCREECH!
The Phantom Emperor was enraged. It didn't believe Lance could keep resurrecting forever.
Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!
Hundreds of concentrated psionic bolts erupted from the Emperor, screaming through the void toward Lance.
"Is this a gift?"
Lance’s eyes lit up. He activated his Tier 8 Starry Lightning Wings to protect a microscopic fraction of his flesh—the core required for his regeneration—then discarded his other gear and dove headfirst into the barrage.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Lance was engulfed in the onslaught. Every single bolt carried enough power to vaporize a Rank 0 Planetary Class warrior. The Emperor was an S-Rank Psion; in a standard fight, even a Rank 4 or 5 Planetary Class expert would struggle against him.
Under this level of concentrated fire, Lance’s body didn't just turn into blood mist—it was practically erased from existence. But every single time, the Undying God-Body pulled him back.
[System Alert: User recovered from near-death state. CON +20,000!]
[System Alert: User recovered from near-death state. CON +20,000!]
[System Alert: User recovered from near-death state. CON +20,000!]
The notifications hammered in his mind like a drumbeat.
[System Alert: CON reached 5.12 Million! Level Up: Grandmaster (Rank 10)!]
In less than three minutes, Lance had jumped an entire rank. And he was still climbing.
SCREECH!
The Phantom Emperor’s rage turned into a frenzied desperation. It doubled down, its Psionic Telekinesis crushing down on Lance with even more violence. It had no idea that every time it "killed" Lance, it was making him stronger.
In the vast cosmos, there were other races capable of regeneration—certain elemental kin could reform as long as their soul wasn't extinguished. The logic was always the same: exhaust their energy reserves, and they stay dead.
The Emperor was trying to drain Lance dry. It specialized in physical-type psionic force, and while it tried a few Soul strikes, Lance’s Rank 8 spirit and innate regeneration shrugged them off.
It was a war of attrition, but the Emperor didn't realize Lance was an anomaly. Lance had millions of CON points in reserve from his previous intake of blood essence; he had only burned through five million so far.
At this rate, the Emperor would need an hour to truly empty Lance’s "tank." By that time, Lance would have ascended to the Great Grandmaster rank—and likely hit the second or third tier of that stage.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The bombardment continued. Lance’s power swelled at an unprecedented speed.
[System Alert: CON reached 10 Million! Level Up: Great Grandmaster (Rank 1)!]
[Warning: CON energy reserves are down to 60 Million. Please monitor intake.]
A few more minutes had passed, and Lance’s physical body had officially broken into the Great Grandmaster realm. The system issued a warning—without energy reserves, he wouldn't be able to regenerate instantly.
But did he care?
"Sixty million left? That’s enough to jump two more minor ranks," Lance thought, a cold light dancing in his eyes. "Let's see how this bird likes it when I hit Great Grandmaster (Rank 3)!"
"Opportunities for free labor like this don't come often!"
Lance’s lips curled into a smirk even as he began another seemingly desperate charge toward the enemy. A split second later, he was pulverized yet again.
This was exactly the effect he was aiming for. He needed the monster to believe that he was so desperate to close the distance that he was willing to be reduced to blood mist a thousand times over. He banked on the fact that to keep him at bay, the Emperor would continue to pour its power into the barrage, hoping to eventually drain him of the energy required to resurrect and kill him for good.
SCREECH!
Sure enough, seeing Lance’s relentless, suicidal advance, the Phantom Emperor grew flustered. It unleashed an even more frenzied assault. Now, Lance was being vaporized almost the instant he reformed. If it weren't for the protection of his Starry Lightning Wings, he wouldn't have had a single scrap of flesh left to regenerate from—which would have meant certain death.
The intensity of the attack forced Lance to stay sharp.
The Undying God-Body has its limits, at least until I master it, Lance realized. In a fight between true powerhouses, a single lapse in judgment could lead to both the physical body and the Soul being wiped into non-existence.
He made a mental note to bolster his physical defense and find more survival trump cards. While his Tier 8 Starry Lightning Wings could shield him now, they wouldn't hold up against a Galactic Realm powerhouse or higher. If his physical form was truly erased, it would be game over.
Furthermore, the wings only mitigated physical and kinetic force; they did nothing against Soul damage. Fortunately, at this level of power, very few possessed the ability to completely shred a Soul. Most soul-based arts were designed to injure the spirit, weakening the target so they could be finished off with a physical strike. Since Lance could regenerate as long as a remnant of his Soul remained, he wasn't particularly worried.
While the Emperor was busy "slaying" him, Lance didn't let the time go to waste. He projected his consciousness into the Holographic Simulation Space to grind his war art proficiency. Simultaneously, he kept Berserk Absorption running at full throttle to pull in Soul energy.
Ten minutes passed in this rhythmic cycle of death and rebirth.
[System Alert: CON reached 20 Million! Level Up: Great Grandmaster (Rank 2)!]
[System Alert: Soul reached 2.56 Million! Level Up: Grandmaster (Rank 9)!]
The dual notifications echoed in his mind. Both his physical and spiritual realms had ascended. His Soul had been cultivating at maximum speed for well over an hour, finally hitting the breakthrough threshold.
"Alright, that’s enough of that. Time to stop," Lance thought, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. This Void-kin boss was remarkably patient; it had been bombing him for quite some time, still convinced it could kill him through brute force.
SCREECH!
Finally, the Phantom Emperor began to waver. It was becoming genuinely terrified. No creature—no matter the race—should be able to reconstruct itself this many times. By its count, Lance had revived over a thousand times. Such a terrifying recovery would have drained the energy reserves of even a Stellar Class powerhouse to the dregs.
Vroom! Vroom!
Suddenly, several silhouettes emerged from the spatial rift behind the boss. Their auras were at the very limit of the Great Grandmaster rank.
Lance paused, intrigued. What’s the plan? A coordinated strike? Is the Phantom Emperor finally out of juice?
The Phantom Emperor, seeing its elite Great Grandmaster MAX subordinates arrive, let out a sigh of relief and issued a command through a high-pitched shriek.
System Notification: A massive stockpile has been detected!
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