Chapter 12: The Meat Grinder
The asphalt screamed under the weight of thirty charging beasts.
To the civilians pressed against the cold iron bars of the apartment complex, the sudden plunge into the middle of the horde looked like a suicide run. A single human figure clad in black, disappearing into a rolling wall of gray dust, snarling jaws, and heavy iron-spiked clubs. But Leon Graves didn’t see a horde; his Perception stat had already mapped out the entire geometry of the incoming strike. He could feel the precise rhythm of their heavy footsteps, the erratic pulsing of their primitive mana cores, and the exact gaps in their clumsy vanguard line.
He didn’t wait for them to encircle him. With an Agility stat hovering past forty-five, his body moved before the front line of orc scouts could even adjust their grip on their wooden weapons.
He slid beneath the horizontal swing of an orc’s spiked club, the crude iron spikes missing his hood by a mere inch. As he moved, the thirty-foot circle of absolute, starlight-swallowing darkness expanded from his boots, dropping the ambient temperature to an icy freeze.
The moment the Wither domain blanketed the front line, the environment changed. The heavy wooden clubs held by the orcs grew brittle, the organic fibers of the wood rotting and splitting under the sudden acceleration of localized time. The thick, green hide of the monsters turned a sickly, ash-gray color, their heavy muscles losing twenty percent of their kinetic power in a fraction of a second.
Leon didn’t give them time to understand why their bodies had suddenly grown so heavy. He whipped the Ashen Dagger out of his sleeve, the matte-black steel flashing like a dark line through the dust.
Puch.
The blade sank smoothly into the first orc’s throat, piercing right through the thick vocal cords into the spine. Thanks to the internal decay damage of the weapon scroll, the monster didn’t even manage to choke out a warning. Its entire seven-foot frame stiffened, its flesh turning into a mountain of dry, black sand that scattered into the wind before its knees could even touch the pavement.
[Target destroyed. You have restored 1% of your maximum Mana.]
[Absolute Extraction Activated.]
Strength +1
Agility +1
A cool, liquid stream of blue energy poured from the sand pile straight back into the silver ring on his finger, completely refilling the drop of mana he had spent to activate his skill. The infinite loop of his build was now locked in. As long as there was flesh to rot, he would never run dry.
Two more orcs lunged from his left, their massive wooden shields raised to crush him into the dirt. Leon didn’t retreat. He stood his ground, activating his defensive skill as he brought his left forearm up to block the incoming wood-and-iron shield bash.
[Activating Skill: Chitinous Plating (Rank: D)]
[Your skin density has increased to the level of reinforced steel.]
BANG.
The heavy wooden shield slammed into his bare arm with the sound of a sledgehammer hitting an anvil. The shockwave of the impact cracked the concrete beneath his boots, but his arm didn’t bend an inch. The wood of the orc’s shield actually splintered against his gray-sheened skin, turning into a shower of sharp toothpicks.
The orc’s yellow eyes widened in sheer, primitive horror. It had expected to crush a fragile human insect, not slam its weapon against an immovable block of solid iron.
"My turn," he whispered beneath his hood.
He grabbed the top rim of the broken shield with his bare hand, using his enhanced Strength stat to rip the heavy wood clean out of the orc’s grip, tearing the monster’s shoulder joint out of its socket with a loud, wet pop. Before the beast could scream, the matte-black blade drove straight through its open mouth, piercing the brain stem.
Another pile of ash. Another drop of mana restored.
[Target destroyed. You have restored 1% of your maximum Mana.]
[Absolute Extraction Activated.]
Constitution +1
The battle turned into a systematic, cold-blooded meat grinder. To the civilians watching from behind the safety of the iron gate, it didn’t look like a fight for survival—it looked like an execution. The dark figure in the cloak moved through the snarling pack like a reaper cutting through a field of dry wheat. Every step he took left a trail of gray sand. Every flick of his wrist turned a level 5 elite monster into nothing more than a bad memory.
The feral direwolves tried to use their numbers, leaping at him from three different angles simultaneously. But his Perception allowed him to track their trajectory in mid-air. He spun on his heel, his dark duster coat billowing like a shadow as he slipped through the narrow gap between the lunging beasts.
He caught the second wolf by its thick fur mid-leap, using its own forward momentum to slam its heavy skull straight into the concrete road. The bone shattered with a wet crunch, and the Wither domain took care of the rest, dissolving the carcass before the blood could even stain the floor.
The remaining ten monsters—a mix of three orc scouts and seven lower-level goblins—suddenly stopped their advance. Their primitive, bloodthirsty minds were completely broken by the sheer, unadulterated terror of the entity standing in front of them. They looked at the empty street, then at the massive mounds of gray sand covering the crossroads, realizing that twenty of their pack brothers had been completely erased from existence in less than three minutes.
The lead orc let out a low, trembling grunt, dropping its heavy mace and taking a slow step backward. It wanted to run back to the violet rift in the sky. It wanted to go back to the dungeon.
"I didn’t give you permission to leave," Leon said, his voice flat, carrying an abyssal depth that seemed to echo off the brick walls of the apartment complex.
He raised both hands, fingers splayed wide as he unleashed the hidden evolution potential of his core.
"[Sovereign’s Domain: Wither — Overdrive]"
The dark purple circle violently expanded, ripping across the asphalt until its radius reached a massive fifty feet. The remaining ten monsters were instantly swallowed by the tide of absolute blackness.
The low-level goblins didn’t even have the health pools to withstand the passive erosion of the evolved domain. The moment the darkness touched their green skin, their bodies dried up like leaves in autumn. Their eyes withered into black powder, their lungs collapsing as the air inside the domain turned into pure, suffocating decay. One by one, they fell forward, turning into sand before their bodies could even hit the ground.
The three remaining orcs fell to their knees, their heavy arms clawing at their own throats as their strength stats were systematically stripped away down to zero. He walked past them slowly, his footsteps silent, driving the matte-black blade into their skulls with effortless precision.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The last stream of blue mana surged through the air, pouring into his silver ring until his energy bar was completely topped off, glowing with a vibrant, volatile light.
Silence returned to the crossroads. The entire avenue was covered in a thick layer of gray ash, looking as if a massive winter blizzard had dropped a foot of dark snow over New York. But it wasn’t snow—it was the life essence of an entire dungeon vanguard detachment.
[The Vanguard Wave of the First Siege has been completely annihilated.]
[Total Experience Points gained: 2,400 EXP.]
[Calculating Level Cap breakthrough...][Congratulations! You have reached Level 10.]
Leon Graves stood in the middle of the ash-covered road, his duster coat slowly settling around his legs. A sudden, deep vibration echoed from the center of his chest, right where his mana core was located. The blue bar in his vision suddenly grayed out, replaced by a violent, flashing golden font that made his heart rate spike.
[Attention Candidate Leon Graves.]
[You have reached the maximum level cap for the Tier-1 Testing Grounds.]
[The conditions for your First Class Advancement have been fulfilled.][Analyzing your unique class authority ’Sovereign of Finality’...]
[Three evolutionary paths have been generated based on your combat history. Please select your path within 60 seconds.]
His eyes narrowed beneath his hood as he studied the translucent black panel that manifested before him. He knew this moment would decide the entire trajectory of his future regression. In the original timeline, a hunter’s first class advancement at level 10 merely upgraded their basic skills—a warrior would become a heavy knight, a mage would become an elementalist. But an SSS-rank class operated on a completely different level of cosmic logic.
The three options unrolled themselves before his eyes like sheets of dark parchment:
===================================
[CLASS ADVANCEMENT PATHS]
1. CALAMITY INCARNATE (MONARCH PATH)
Focus: Expansion of the Sovereign’s Domain. Increases passive decay radius to 200 feet. Allows the user to instantly dissolve any structural defense or low-level armor within their territory. Grants the skill: .
2. REAPER OF THE VOID (ASSASSIN PATH)
Focus: Extreme physical lethality and speed. Integrates the decay attribute directly into the user’s physical strikes. Allows the user to slip into the shadow dimension for 5 seconds to bypass physical defenses. Grants the skill: .
3. ABYSSAL NECROMANCER (COMMANDER PATH)
Focus: Army building. Allows the permanent extraction of defeated monster souls to create an undead army of Ashen Sentinels that carry the decay attribute. No limit to the army size as long as mana is maintained. Grants the skill: .
===================================
He studied the choices, his brain operating at lightning speed as the digital timer at the top of the screen began to tick down. 55 seconds... 54 seconds...
A normal hunter would be tempted by the third option—the Abyssal Necromancer. An infinite army of decay-infused monsters was an incredibly powerful tool for clearing high-level dungeons later in the game. It was essentially the same power set that made the future Shadow Kings so terrifying.
But he knew the hidden trap of the commander path. An army required resource management. It required dividing your attention to maintain the loyalty and structural integrity of hundreds of summons. If an enemy possessed a high-tier conceptual counter-spell that could banish undead entities, a commander would instantly become a defenseless target.
Leon didn’t want an army to fight his battles. He wanted to be the weapon himself. He wanted a power that was absolute, self-sustaining, and completely uncounterable by the logic of the gods.
His eyes locked onto the first option: Calamity Incarnate.
"System," he commanded silently, his voice firm and devoid of hesitation. "Select Path 1: Calamity Incarnate."
[Path Selected: Calamity Incarnate.]
[Class Advancement initiated. Restructuring your mana core to adapt to the concept of a walking localized disaster...]
[Warning: The process will cause extreme internal strain.]
A sudden, catastrophic surge of dark purple lightning erupted from the center of his chest, ripping through his veins like molten glass. His knees didn’t buckle, but he had to drive the Ashen Dagger straight into the asphalt to keep his balance as his entire internal energy framework was torn down and rebuilt from scratch.
His teeth ground together so hard they clicked, a low, guttural grunt escaping his throat. The raw, primal concept of Finality was expanding inside his soul, burning away the last remnants of his mortal limitations. His skin grew paler, his hair shifting from an ordinary dark brown to a sleek, matte charcoal-black that seemed to absorb the light around him. His pupils dissolved entirely, leaving behind two rings of deep, abyssal violet that glowed like dying stars in the shadow of his hood.
The physical heat lasted for thirty seconds before suddenly snapping into a freezing, majestic calm.
He stood up slowly, pulling his dagger out of the cracked asphalt. The air around him was no longer just heavy; it was dead. The dust particles floating in the afternoon sun instantly froze and dissolved into nothingness whenever they got within five feet of his body.
[Class Advancement Successful!]
[Your Class has evolved from ’Sovereign of Finality’ to ’Sovereign of Finality: Calamity Incarnate’.]
[All base attributes have received a permanent +15 promotion reward.]
[Your primary skill has evolved into a Passive Continental Trait: .]
Leon Graves checked his new status screen, his breath hitching slightly as he saw the absurd numbers flashing across the black crystal panel.
[STATUS MENU]
Name: Leon Graves
Class: Sovereign of Finality: Calamity Incarnate (Rank: SSS)
Level: 10 (Max for Sector 1)
Health: 980 / 980
Mana: 850 / 850
[ATTRIBUTES]
Strength: 54
Agility: 60 (+15 from Cloak)
Constitution: 58
Mana: 58 (+8 from Ring)
Perception: 37
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED]
— Level 1: The user can release the stored decay energy from their domain in a massive, single directional wave of necrotic fire. The tide travels for 200 yards, destroying all physical structures, barriers, and biological tissue in its path. Costs 150 Mana. Cooldown: 5 minutes.
He slowly flexed his hands, watching the faint tendrils of violet mist dance across his knuckles. He felt light, yet heavy enough to crush the planet beneath his feet. At Level 10, his raw physical stats were already comparable to a mid-tier B-rank Hunter who had been raiding dungeons for five years in his past life. And the apocalypse had only been live for three days.
He turned his head slowly, his deep violet eyes locking onto the iron gates of the apartment complex fifty yards away.
The twenty civilians were still frozen against the bars, their faces completely white. They had watched him slaughter thirty monsters without taking a single scratch, and then they had witnessed the terrifying transformation that followed. The dark aura radiating from his new Calamity Domain was so thick that even from fifty yards away, they could feel their skin tingling, their lungs struggling to pull oxygen from the dead air.
To them, Leon Graves was no longer a human survivor who happened to be strong. He was a walking disaster. A living dungeon boss dressed in the clothes of a mortal clerk.
He walked back toward the gate, his boots crunching softly against the gray sand covering the avenue. Miller and Davies were shaking so hard their hands couldn’t even find the deadbolts on the pedestrian door, their eyes glued to the dark violet rings glowing beneath the hood.
"Open the gate," he commanded, his voice carrying a subtle, crushing vibration that made the iron bars rattle.
"Y-Yes, boss! Right away!" Miller stammered, his fingers slick with sweat as he frantically threw the heavy locking pins back, slamming the small iron door open.
Leon stepped back into the brick courtyard, his dark cloak brushing past the terrified civilians who instinctively threw themselves onto the ground, not daring to let their clothes touch the fabric of his duster coat. They kept their heads pressed against the brick floor, weeping quietly, waiting for the dark god to decide their fate.
He stopped at the bottom step of the lobby, looking down at the crowd of kneeling humans. He didn’t feel pity, nor did he feel anger. To him, they were resources—the initial labor force he needed to build his fortress before the true cosmic invasions began in the coming months.
"Miller," Leon said, not looking back.
"S-Sir!" the former thug ran forward, keeping his head bowed low.
"Check their inventories. Take half their food and any weapons they brought," Leon ordered, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Assign them to the back rooms of the second building. Tomorrow morning, they start clearing the rubble from the northern barricade. If anyone refuses to work, throw them outside the circle immediately."
"Understood, boss! It’ll be done exactly like you said!"
He turned and walked up the concrete stairs, disappearing into the dark, quiet interior of his private sanctuary. The first hour of the siege was over, and his path to the top of the Tower was already carved in stone.