"Current survival rate: 0.001%"
"System activated — You have taken control of the Earth's highest authority."
During the awakening ceremony in class, while the school beauty mockingly brushed away the F-rank badge from my palm, no one knew that my system was refining the entire New York black hole into an experience pool.
Do you think I level up too slowly?
Last night, in the folding space training ground, I just used ninety-nine bolts of heavenly lightning to temper my body and break through—your ten years of hard cultivation are enough for me to tear a piece of paper.
Saying I don’t have godly gear?
Ten minutes ago, I casually pulled out the SSS-level "Ragnarok," and it's currently roasting the eight-headed serpent of Sakura Kingdom into skewers for a midnight snack.
Laughing at my poor talent?
At this moment, your S-level ice ability is dancing in my palm, while my Annihilation Domain has already devoured seven Awakener Temples across North America.
When the coalition of the five major nations approaches, I sit on the Throne of Skulls, smiling lightly. Behind me, a million blood-born heirs howl to the sky, each one a death agent birthed from a disaster-level mother nest.
"Kneel."
"Or become the next stepping stone on my path of evolution."
This world always needs a few ants, to highlight the sharpness of those who slay gods.
