Chapter 459 — I Am The End
8 min read ·
Inside the chamber, Lysander’s eyes had narrowed further, his body language shifting fractionally.
The boredom had vanished completely, replaced by something sharper.
Level 21
BOOM!
The mental pressure multiplied into S- rank territory, weight that should only be used on awakeners who’d already broken past all limitations.
Damian’s body slammed back to the ground, the impact creating new cracks in the already fractured stone.
His hands clawed at the floor immediately, refusing to stay down.
He pushed himself up again, and the strain of lifting his own body weight against the mental pressure caused something to give.
CRACK
His left arm bent wrong as the radius fractured from the force he was exerting to rise.
SNAP SNAP SNAP
His ribs cracked one by one as he forced his torso upright, the bones breaking under the tension of muscles fighting against impossible mental weight.
But he kept laughing.
"YES! THIS IS IT! MORE! MORE! MORE!"
His voice came out mangled, blood flooding his mouth and making words barely comprehensible.
[WILL: 471 → 474]
Level 22
BOOM!
He tried to plant his right leg beneath him for leverage.
CRACK
The femur snapped like dry wood, unable to support the force he was channeling through it to stand against the crushing mental assault.
"HAHAHAHA! KEEP GOING!"
[WILL: 474 → 477]
Level 23
BOOM!
His spine fractured in three places as he wrenched his torso upward, vertebrae cracking from the sheer muscular force required to move under this weight.
Blood poured from his eyes like tears, vessels bursting from the strain.
"DON’T STOP! I CAN TAKE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE!"
[WILL: 477 → 479]
Level 24
BOOM!
His entire skeletal structure began collapsing as he continued forcing movement, bones fragmenting under the stress of muscles contracting with enough force to overcome the mental pressure.
But his laughter never stopped, never even faltered.
"MORE! GIVE ME EVERYTHING! CRUSH ME HARDER!"
[WILL: 479 → 480]
Outside the chamber, Icarus’s hand hesitated over the control mechanism.
His voice came through carrying a warning.
"Marshal, Level 25 is the absolute maximum this chamber can produce. And this might not be something candidate Damian Valcor can–"
"Do it."
Lysander’s voice cut through the explanation.
Level 25
BOOM!
The final level activated, the chamber reaching its absolute peak capacity.
Mental pressure equivalent to what only newly ranked S- rank humans could withstand with no exceptions, exploded outward.
BAM
Damian’s body slammed flat against the ground, every bone fractured from his attempts to rise against impossible weight.
Blood spread across the chamber floor in an expanding pool, so much crimson that the stone beneath was no longer visible.
"..."
For three seconds, he lay motionless, then his fingers twitched.
’Get up.’
The thought came clear despite the pain flooding every nerve.
’This raw mental pressure is nothing for you... You’ve endured worse.’
His fingers dug into stone, nails tearing as he found purchase.
His arms pushed, broken bones grinding together as he forced his upper body off the ground through pure willpower.
’Move... Break... Heal... Repeat. That’s all life has ever been for you, hasn’t it?’
The strain of lifting himself caused more fractures, but he didn’t stop.
One knee came forward, the shattered femur somehow bearing weight as he dragged it beneath him.
Then the other knee, bones grinding and muscles tearing.
’A man who keeps moving forward, a man who keeps on rising and getting up until there’s no one left standing over him–’
His torso straightened, broken spine realigning through sheer refusal to stay down.
’–Is the one whose fate can never be controlled by someone else! So... GET THE FUCK UP!’
He rose.
Inch by agonizing inch, Damian Valcor stood upright under Level 25 mental pressure.
[WILL: 480 → 488]
Blood covered every visible surface of his body, making him appear more crimson than human.
His broken legs couldn’t support his weight properly, bones grinding with each attempted step.
So he stopped trying to walk.
His Telekinesis flared to life, invisible force wrapping around his shattered body.
He lifted himself off the ground, hovering inches above the blood-soaked stone as he floated forward.
Slowly, he closed the distance between himself and Lysander.
’I don’t know who this man is, but...’
His voice emerged, ragged and broken but carrying absolute certainty.
"Genius?"
Images flashed through his mind unbidden.
A dark alley where two children fought rats for scraps of food.
A rich man’s knife, slowly dismembering his older brother while he watched helplessly.
Standing over mountains of corpses he’d created to build an empire from nothing.
Falling from a building with a smile, choosing death over capture.
Then newer memories surfaced, sharper and clearer.
A rocking chair beside a tranquil lake, a lazy sloth speaking words that had haunted him since.
"My nature wasn’t the problem... Fighting it was. The moment I accepted what I am, I became free. So... just embrace yourself."
Damian’s smile returned, wider and more genuine than before.
"That’s right... I was never a genius."
His voice dropped, becoming quieter but carrying more weight than any of his earlier screams.
"I’m just a man who’s... hungry."
[WILL: 488 → 489]
The words settled into the silent chamber with weight.
His smile became something predatory, blood-stained teeth showing fully.
"And hunger is the strongest driving force in existence... Not talent, not genius, not destiny or fate or bloodline or blessing."
He leaned forward, his bloodied face inches from Lysander’s.
"Just hunger... The kind that never stops, never sleeps and never gets satisfied."
[WILL: 489 → 490]
Then his body began rising higher, telekinesis lifting him until he floated above the Marshal.
Looking down on one of the Federation’s Nine Marshals from above, Damian’s crimson eyes blazed with intensity.
"You talked about the geniuses of other races?"
His voice became a whisper that somehow carried more weight than thunder.
"The day I opened my eyes in this world, their fate was already decided."
[WILL: 490 → 495]
"Standing before me will be the greatest achievement they ever accomplish."
His teeth showed fully now, the grin feral and absolute.
"And all of them will fall beneath my foot and be devoured."
He looked down at Lysander with eyes that promised apocalypse.
"I’m not competing with them... I am the end they’re all walking towards."
The chamber fell silent.
Outside, dozens of the Federation’s strongest A rank awakeners stood frozen, unable to process what they were witnessing.
A seventeen-year-old boy, body broken and held together by willpower alone, floating above a Marshal and declaring himself the doom of all races.
Lysander stood motionless, his eyes locked on the blood-soaked boy floating above him.
Then something shifted in his expression.
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his skin.
And a memory surfaced in his mind, dragging him backward through time.
****
[Years ago - Unknown Location]
A place where humanity’s greatest gathered.
Lysander Eckhart stood among them, already ranked among the strongest of his generation.
He’d left the Eckhart Imperial Family to carve his own path, to prove that merit mattered more than bloodline.
And he’d succeeded, crushing every opponent, winning every battle.
Until ’He’ appeared.
A man floated above the ground, suspended by some invisible force.
Crimson hair fell past his shoulders, and crimson eyes looked down at the gathered awakeners with absolute disinterest.
His voice carried across the silent space, casual and unhurried.
"The elves have their prodigies blessed by the World Tree... The demons have their princes bathed in ancient blood... The dragons have their hatchlings born with power in their veins."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the humans below.
"And humanity? Humanity has... you."
His lips curved into a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
"How... disappointing."
He tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming.
"I suppose I should thank you all, though. Standing on your backs will make reaching the other races much easier."
His grin became feral, showing teeth.
"They call their strongest ’chosen ones.’ They speak of destiny and divine right."
He laughed, the sound carrying genuine amusement.
"But none of them have ever stood where I’m standing. And none of them ever will."
His voice dropped, becoming quieter but carrying absolute certainty.
"There is no chosen one, there is no divine right, there is no destiny..."
He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the entire world.
"In this entire universe, under all heavens, across every world that has ever existed or ever will exist..." He paused, his crimson eyes blazing with certainty.
"There is only one man who will stand at the peak." He pointed at himself. "Me."
Lysander had challenged him that day.
And lost.
He challenged him again later.
Lost again.
And again, and again, and again over the years that followed.
Never once did he manage to defeat the crimson-haired monster.
The man who eventually became known throughout the universe as the greatest genius humanity had ever produced.
Darius Bloodworth.
****
The memory released its grip, snapping Lysander back to the present.
To where a seventeen-year-old boy with crimson hair and crimson eyes floated above him, speaking with the exact same arrogance, the exact same certainty and the exact same goddamn grin...
Lysander’s hand rose slowly, his fingers extending toward Damian’s bloodied face.
His voice came out quiet, carrying venom that made the air itself seem to freeze.
"I... have spent every single second of the last seventeen years trying to forget those cursed crimson eyes and those damned hair!"
His hand moved faster, reaching toward Damian’s throat.
And just when his fingers were inches from grabbing it–
A hand materialized out of thin air, catching Lysander’s wrist and stopping it completely.
A man stood beside them now, having appeared without sound or warning.
His grip on Lysander’s wrist was casual, but the Marshal’s arm couldn’t move even a millimeter.
The newcomer’s voice carried across the silent chamber.
"That’s enough, Marshal Eckhart."