They say that across the infinite expanse of parallel worlds, each person has an exact replica of themselves—identical in every way, yet living vastly different lives. As if the creator of the cosmos, bored or lazy, simply copy-pasted each soul into endless variations of reality.

  These parallel worlds typically coexist without incident, each one layered atop the other like sheets of transparent glass. Picture it this way: each world is a circle plotted on a Cartesian grid, endlessly duplicated across the X and Y axes. If confined to only those two dimensions, the overlapping would be catastrophic—worlds colliding like marbles in a jar, triggering a domino effect of cosmic collapse.

  But there’s a third dimension—depth, the Z axis. Introduce that, and the chaos dissipates. Worlds are no longer stacked on the same plane but scattered through layers of time and space, separated by invisible gaps.

  Those gaps?

  They’re called the Void.

  A realm of utter stillness, devoid of light, life, and even the concept of time. No heartbeat echoes there, no sun ever rose. But in that nothingness, entities that have unraveled into oblivion call it home. It's not life they possess—it’s something darker, something deeper.

  To cross from one world to another, you need more than science. You need power that defies the fundamental rules of reality—power that existed before creation. That power is cosmic energy.

  Emit enough of it, and you can tear a hole between worlds. But be warned: once the Void is breached, it acts like a black hole, drawing in everything nearby before vomiting it out into the next layer of space. A violent, jarring ride—survival is never guaranteed.

  “I still have an hour before I can tear open the Void again,” I muttered, my voice swallowed by the echoing quiet of the cavern.

  What I’d assumed was a shallow burrow turned out to be an immense network of underground tunnels—twisting, spiraling, far too symmetrical to be natural. The stone walls bore intricate carvings, worn by time but still eerily precise as if crafted by something... intelligent.

  I moved forward, boots scraping against the cold stone floor, guided by a faint breeze that smelled faintly of metal and moss. My mind wandered back—Mother... the people we were with… Were they still alive? Could they even survive this nightmarish menagerie of monsters?

  The guide had warned us—everything from Earth-3 Million was transported here, to this nexus known as Earth-Zer0, the heart of all reality. But to reach that shining core, we’d have to journey through countless dying worlds, each infested by Void-born aberrations.

  And I was still far too weak.

  My cosmic energy couldn’t punch through the fabric of reality all the way to Earth-Zer0—not yet.

  The guide's final words haunted me: Most worlds have already fallen to darkness. Only a handful remain untouched. And even they are fading.

  "I have to grow stronger..." I whispered, teeth clenched.

  Then I spotted it.

  A soft crimson glow pulsed ahead, near a wider stretch of the cavern. There, crawling lazily over a patch of strange, phosphorescent weeds, were cone-shaped snails—each the size of my foot. Their shells glistened dark red like molten glass. From beneath, slug-like bodies oozed forward, but the heads... the heads were bald, bird-like, twitching hungrily as they devoured the cave flora.

  They were grotesque hybrids—Vulture Snails.

  I activated Interwave.

  [Vulture Snail - Level 1]

  Pawn-Rank Aberrant

  HP: 5 | MP: 20

  Str: 2 | Int: 7

  Agi: 1 | Vit: 1

  Def: 15 | Mor: 0

  I scanned the cavern’s expanse. Thirty-seven of them, scattered across the area, each one busily munching weeds and entirely unaware of my presence.

  Perfect.

  They were spaced just far enough apart—two yards at least. If I playdate it right, I could eliminate them one by one without alerting the others.

  This was my chance.

  I steeled myself, doubts trying to claw their way back in—but I shoved them down, burying them beneath raw determination.

  Reaching into the depths of my body, I called forth my weapon. With a ripple of flesh and force, black tendrils surged across my arms, hardening into a pair of biomechanical gauntlets. The skin shifted and locked in place, metal-like, yet pulsing faintly like it was still alive.

  “Tiny Terror… don’t fail me now.”

  The hunt had begun.

  A single burst of speed was all it took. In the blink of an eye, I was upon my first target. The creature stiffened—perhaps some primal instinct warned it of the death barreling its way. It twitched, sluggishly turning its grotesque head, beady bird eyes widening in slow realization.

  Too late.

  My fist crashed into its smooth, bald skull—THWACK!

  The impact echoed like thunder across the cavern. Bone cracked. Its brain, a mess of gray and pink, burst from the seams and splattered across the stone like overripe fruit smashed on the pavement. The gauntlets absorbed the recoil with a satisfying pulse, leaving my arm completely numb to the blow’s ferocity.

  [Ting!]

  [You earned 3 experience]

  The others looked up, startled by the explosion of gore—but their slow, gelatinous bodies couldn’t react fast enough.

  I twisted on my heel, foot grinding into the rock, legs coiling with strength. A snap of motion sent me tearing across the chamber like a cannonball. My path left craters on the floor as I darted forward with merciless precision.

  “One, two, three, four, five...” I counted coldly, knuckles crashing into targets like thunderbolts. Every punch ruptured shells, shattered bones, and twisted bodies beyond recognition. My fists were coated in viscera and fragments of exoskeleton, painting a gruesome mural of power and rage.

  Their dying screams were wet and brief. Most couldn’t even react before I was already onto the next. I weaved between them like a phantom, swift and unrelenting.

  A strange euphoria crept in. The thrill of it. The raw, primal pleasure of being a predator. A twisted grin stretched across my face. Then I laughed—loudly, manically—as the one-sided massacre continued. Rational thought blurred, replaced by instinct and exhilaration.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  But I got careless.

  PFFFSSHH!

  Something hissed behind me. I felt a heavy splash on my back—and then the fire began.

  “Aghhhhhh!!!”

  My skin burned. Not just heat—corrosion. The stench of melting flesh filled my nostrils as pain flared from my shoulders to my waist, peeling me like a fruit in acid. My muscles screamed and my vision blurred.

  [Ting!]

  [You have been afflicted by a DOT effect: Decaying Acid. You will take 2 health damage per second.]

  [Remaining HP: 20]

  I had ten seconds before my body hit the floor like discarded meat.

  Another glob of spit hurtled toward me, sizzling mid-air. I lunged, just barely dodging, and rolled behind a thick stalagmite. Saliva splattered nearby, steaming where it hit.

  I gritted my teeth. No soul cores. No meat stored. No time. My eyes darted around the cavern, heart thundering, until I spotted them—remains of my earlier rampage.

  The corpses.

  The thought was revolting. But survival had no dignity.

  [You have taken 2 hp damage]

  I dove toward the nearest body, sunk my teeth into the torn flesh of the broken snail-bird, and ripped a chunk free. It was cold, rubbery, metallic-tasting. I chewed, gagged, swallowed.

  Chomp! Gulp!

  [You healed 2 hp]

  I was still bleeding.

  Still dying.

  More spit. More projectiles. I dashed again, circling the battlefield, ducking and weaving. Another corpse, another bite.

  [You have taken 2 hp damage]

  Chomp! Gulp!

  [You healed 2 hp]

  I was fighting and feasting in equal measure now—blood and slime smeared across my mouth, hands stained red and black. Every kill became a meal. Every blow, a desperate gasp for more time. I plucked entrails from broken torsos, shoving them into my mouth mid-sprint, chewing while punching.

  [You have taken 2 hp damage]

  Chomp! Gulp!

  [You healed 2 hp]

  Over and over.

  Bite. Bash. Dodge. Repeat.

  I was no longer just surviving.

  I was evolving into something far more terrifying.

  The final eight didn’t even try to fight. Perhaps they realized that their acidic salvos had lost their edge. Maybe some ancient survival instinct kicked in. Whatever it was, they turned, slithering and flopping away in a desperate scramble for escape.

  Too late.

  With a merciless lunge, I charged forward, fists clenched, muscles coiled tight like springs ready to snap. Both gauntlets rocketed out with a booming crack, like the roar of twin freight trains.

  BOOM. BOOM.

  Each strike split the air and shattered flesh, the impact so intense it launched their heads like grotesque projectiles—ironic that these flightless bird-headed snails now soared, if only in death. Their bodies exploded into chunks, rupturing with sickening splats against the stone.

  When the carnage settled, the once-untouched floor was cratered with deep gouges and fractures, as if the earth itself had flinched. Viscous green ichor bled into the cracks, pooling around lumps of mangled flesh. The cavern reeked of copper, rot, and chemical burn.

  My weapon slowly retracted, slipping back into my arms like a liquid shadow, folding beneath my skin until nothing but faint black lines remained along my veins.

  And then—a flicker.

  [Acid Mantle – Passive Skill Acquired]

  Whenever your skin is touched by an acid-based substance, you have a 100% chance to nullify its effects and avoid acid-related debuffs.

  A smirk tugged at my lips.

  “...Hah. Can’t believe I survived that,” I muttered breathlessly, slumping against the edge of a stone shelf. The cool trickle of water from above dripped over my face, washing away the crusted blood like a gentle blessing after a nightmare. My chest heaved with ragged, grateful breaths.

  Opening my status window, the screen flared with updates. My [Transcended One] and [Ungodly] traits had grown substantially—309 and 459 points respectively. My total experience now sat at 126. Still far from the 1000 needed to level up.

  “...Just as I expected. Progress will be slow. But it’ll be worth it.” I recalled the guide’s words—‘The wider the level gap, the fewer points you’ll earn. Nothing gained if the target is ten levels below.’

  In this world, gear and traits mattered far more than levels. No equipment restrictions. No arbitrary stat walls. Only evolution—and pain.

  After a much-needed breather, I got to work gathering the remnants of my massacre. Using [Truthseeker], I scanned the battlefield for soul cores. The skill let me see through the veil left behind by dying brains—every interwave emission, every soul imprint. When the mind still functioned, these emissions cloaked the core’s location. Now? They were just meat.

  Out of 37 snails, only 24 had intact shells with cores inside. The rest had been obliterated—gore and shattered armor scattered in unrecoverable heaps. But even the crushed pieces had value.

  [Soul Core (Vulture Snail)]

  Lowest Quality

  Qty: 24

  Grants +5 XP and +3 skill points upon consumption, restores 5 HP. Cannot be used as a main component but enhances equipment as supplementary material.

  “I’ll use a few to upgrade the gauntlets... and stash the rest in case I need them later.” I ran my fingers across the newly formed scars on my chest, the pain subsiding thanks to the nauseating buffet of snail meat and glowing weeds I had devoured.

  With resolve, I stepped toward the center of the wreckage, opening the [Bio-Forge] interface.

  “Let’s evolve you.”

  Raising both hands, I braced myself. The pain came like a tide. My arms unraveled again—flesh unraveling into serpentine strands of oily black tendrils. The weapon emerged, writhing and alive. The tentacles lashed out, seizing the corpses and shells, compressing them into a wriggling ball of biomass.

  Then—schloop!—the cores were pulled in, one by one, sucked down with a slurp like marrow from a bone.

  [Ting!]

  [Upgrade Complete]

  [Tiny Terror Pads – Level 2]

  Pawn-Rank Bio-Gauntlets

  Uncommon Quality

  ATK: +30 | VIT: +2

  INT: +3 | DEF: +10

  Added Effects:

  Acid-Spree - Each attack applies a slimy film that deals with -10 acid damage with a 15% chance of inflicting a DOT acid effect (2 HP/sec).

  The transformation was striking. Greenish plates now shimmered faintly across the surface of the gauntlets, their form sleeker, more elegant—less grotesque, more refined. Intricate ridges lined the knuckles and forearms like veins of emerald iron.

  I flexed my fingers and watched the glow ripple.

  Checking my stats, I grinned.

  “I’m getting stronger. Piece by piece.”

  Point Allocation: 0 Pts

  HP: 100 | MP: 50

  STR: 4 | INT: 2 (+3)

  AGI: 5 | VIT: 7 (+2)

  DEF: 1 (+10) | MOR: -5

  "...Taking on those three aberrants above won't be an issue anymore," I muttered, voice light and careless, stretching my arms until my joints popped, loosening the tension in my shoulders. "Maybe now... I could even go head-to-head with that six-armed freak."

  With a deep breath, I set off toward the only available path forward.

  The floor beneath me began to change gradually. Jagged, natural stone gave way to deliberate craftsmanship—pathways carved with eerie precision, as if shaped by hands long dead. The rough terrain smoothed out, becoming paved with slate-colored stones, their surfaces unnaturally clean.

  At the end of the path, a narrow staircase emerged—ornate, almost ceremonial. Intricate symbols traced along the sides, not decorative so much as ominous, like twisted prayers carved in bone.

  The stairs led to a colossal door forged from a thousand human skulls, each one fused together like grotesque masonry. My breath caught as it creaked open on its own, spilling out an invisible wave of malignant energy. The air turned syrupy, thick with dread. My pores erupted with cold sweat, soaking me instantly.

  And then—like a whisper carried on the wind—

  "Come, Jin..."

  A voice—gentle, familiar—flowed into my ears, wrapping around my heart like a childhood lullaby. My breath hitched. A storm of memory surged within me, overwhelming, blinding. Warmth, safety, home. I chased it like a starving animal chasing a mirage in the desert.

  I sprinted toward the voice, my heartbeat crashing in my chest like thunder. I needed to see her. I needed to believe something from the world I left behind still existed.

  The door resisted my push, its grotesque skulls cracking and groaning beneath my palms as I forced it open wider. The weight of my desperation made me stronger.

  And then I saw it.

  The room was vast—almost cathedral-like. The walls shimmered with pearl-white stone, polished and glowing faintly. Ornate carvings danced along the cornices like angelic filigree, a mockery of divinity. Above, the ceiling soared ten meters high, ending in a gaping circular hole that tunneled endlessly upward.

  The marble floor was a pale grey hue, smooth enough to mirror your reflection—except it reflected something wrong. Red roses in delicate porcelain pots were placed with surgical precision, adding a cruel contrast of life to the stillness of death.

  At the center, a bed—immense and cloudlike—rested beneath the hole. Around it, white candles glowed, their bases lodged within hollowed human skulls, flickering with a silent rhythm.

  And sitting at its center—sideways, waiting—was her.

  "...Mom?" My voice cracked, barely a whisper.

  She turned slightly, smiling with soft eyes. “Jin… it is you, isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you… for eternity.”

  Her voice—soothing, nostalgic—ripped through every defense I’d built in this wretched place. My doubts evaporated like mist under the sun. I ran, arms wide, desperate for her warmth.

  But then—something caught in my throat.

  A smell.

  A vile, rotting stench rolled off her in invisible waves. It wasn't just bad—it was unnatural. The odor of death pretending to be alive. As I got closer, it invaded my nostrils like acid fumes, burning its way into my brain. I gagged, stumbled forward, and vomited violently.

  I stopped. Eyes wide. Staring.

  “…Why did you stop?” Her voice was colder now. Hollow.

  “Mom… please,” I croaked. “Can you… come to me instead?”

  A long silence.

  Then—

  "Jin."

  "You."

  "YOU—"

  "USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!!!"

  The scream erupted like a bomb, reverberating through the room with deafening force. My ears burst. Blood poured from my nostrils and eardrums as a searing pain detonated behind my eyes.

  “You’re just like your FATHER!!!” she spat, rising with a jerking, inhuman motion. Her head twisted to face me—and my soul shuddered.

  Half her skull was exposed, the flesh peeled away, as though her face had been torn off and only partly stitched back.

  Mercy Asura

  [Mater Mala – Level 7]

  Rook-rank Aberrant (Unique)

  HP: 300 | MP: 120

  STR: 5 | INT: 10

  AGI: 14 | VIT: 14

  DEF: 28 | MOR: -50

  “You filthy brat!” she roared, each word warped and echoing with otherworldly venom. Crack. Crack. Crack. Her joints twisted grotesquely with each step, the sound of snapping cartilage echoing like breaking bones.

  “Mo… mom… no—” I stammered, stepping back. And then I saw it.

  The soft bed she once sat on… was no bed at all.

  It was a skirt—a curtain of illusion hiding what writhed beneath. Three pairs of stitched-together legs squirmed out from under the white blanket. Her arms had been severed, leaving jagged stumps, while a slick black slime coated her torso, glistening like oil. **Eyes—dozens of them—**swam within the muck, blinking in unison, all trained on me.

  The loving expression I remembered twisted into a feral, predatory glare.

  She wasn’t calling me for comfort.

  She was summoning her meal.

  Outer Celestials,

  Follow and add this novel to your Favorites.

  [Ting!]

  [A Review and Rating would be helpful too.]

  Today is my mom's birthday, so I want to share this chapter ahead of schedule to commemorate this important occasion.