Myriad Heavens: Rise of the Rune God

Chapter 293: Chapter 294: Runic Disintegration

The two-hour countdown hit zero.

There was no sound when the safety zone collapsed. No crack, no ripple, no warning flare, no shimmer of light fading from the edges of the void. The invisible barrier that had kept the monsters at bay simply ceased to exist. One moment it pressed against the boundary of the layer like a held breath. The next it was gone, as if it had never been more than a polite suggestion.

Across the empty void, every surviving participant felt the change at the same time. The pressure that had kept the outside monsters away vanished. The layer opened. The rules changed.

Runar opened his eyes fully.

He had been waiting for this.

Not just for the hunt. Not just for the cores. For the past ten days his main focus had been runes. He had studied the Rune Sovereign’s notes, read the hidden structures of the Reliquary, observed the other survivors and dissected the way they used runic structures to express their own principles. Vark’s annihilation method had been especially useful. Sylphy’s bloodline conversion had offered another angle. Even Soren’s calm, orderly aura had given him a few ideas.

All of it had led to one new application.

Runes could simulate other principles.

Not copy them perfectly. Not replace true comprehension. But if the runic structure was precise enough, and if the user’s understanding of the Principle of Runes was deep enough, runes could temporarily express a different law. Fire. Space. Annihilation. Disintegration. Anything that could be translated into structure and meaning.

Runar had chosen one for his first large-scale test.

The Principle of Disintegration.

He had not mastered it as a true principle. He did not carry it as part of his foundation. But he had built a runic model that could simulate its core effect: break structure, unravel law, and return complex existence to nothing.

The incoming monsters would be perfect test subjects.

Finally, Runar thought. A live test.

Beside him, Wukong’s grip tightened on his staff. His golden eyes sharpened as dozens of distant signatures surged toward them.

”Here they come,” Wukong said. ”Big first wave. You want me to take the left side or the right side?”

Runar’s voice stayed calm. ”Wait one moment.”

Wukong glanced at him. ”Wait?”

”I need to test something.”

Wukong’s eyes narrowed slightly. ”What exactly do you mean by—”

Space tore open before he could finish.

The moment the safety zone vanished, every monster across the layer detected them. Detection was instantaneous. Reaction was faster.

Space ripped open in dozens of places at once. Galaxy-level beasts charged out of dimensional tears, bodies covered in scales that bent light. Universal-level horrors unfolded from compressed space, shapes too large and too wrong for normal reality. A few Multiversal signatures pressed through as well, their mere presence making the void tremble.

Claws that could shear dimensions swept forward. Mouths that swallowed light opened wide. Bodies woven from living principle crashed toward the two figures floating in the empty void.

Dozens of them. Maybe more. All converging on the same point. All arriving at the same instant.

For a split second—less than a heartbeat—the absence of matter confused them.

The jungle was gone. The soil was gone. The trees, the roots, the rocks, the air, the moisture—all of it had been consumed during the past ten days. Where there should have been terrain to land on, territory to claim, prey to chase through cover, there was only clean, empty void.

The monsters’ instincts stuttered. Their spatial coordinates registered nothing to anchor to. Nothing to push against. Nothing to hunt through.

Shouldn’t there be a forest here?

That was all the opening Runar needed.

He raised one hand.

His expression did not change. His breathing did not shift. Behind his eyes the Eye of Myriad Truths flashed with quiet intensity. A massive runic structure activated inside his awareness. Millions of tiny rune lines connected in a single instant, forming a lattice so dense and so precise that it looked like a second skeleton overlaid on reality.

The principle he chose to simulate was simple in purpose.

Disintegrate.

Runar snapped his fingers.

The sound was small. Almost insignificant. A tiny click of bone against bone in the middle of a void filled with roaring monsters and tearing space.

But the wave that followed was not small.

A pulse of pure runic disintegration erupted outward from the point of the snap. It did not travel through space. It did not move from one point to another. It rewrote space. It rewrote the rules that allowed points to exist as separate locations. The wave expanded in every direction and every dimension simultaneously—not outward, not inward, everywhere, all at once.

A cascading lattice of the Principle of Runes unfolded across the void. Chaos-colored light spread through the emptiness. Gold. White. Void-black. Shades that had no name. Colors that should not have been visible painted themselves across the fabric of reality.

The wave moved like a sentence being written across a blank page. Each stroke carried meaning. Each meaning carried law. And the law it carried was simple.

Unmake.

The monsters never understood what killed them.

One moment they were lunging, roaring, already forming killing techniques, already tasting the prey. The next moment their bodies began to come apart. Not explode. Not shatter. Not burn. Come apart. Like a word being erased letter by letter.

Their principles unraveled first. The fundamental laws that held their existence together frayed at the edges. Then their bodies followed. Space-time peeled away from them in visible threads. Colors that should not exist bled across their forms. Their roars cut off mid-sound. Their techniques collapsed before completion.

Then they were simply gone.

Not dead. Not destroyed. Gone. Erased so completely that not even residual energy remained. Not a wisp of soul. Not a fragment of principle. Not a single atom of matter.

The entire incoming wave—every Galaxy-level beast, every Universal-level horror, every Multiversal signature, and every monster still in transit between dimensions—vanished in that single snap.

Silence returned to the void.

Complete silence. The kind that felt heavy. The kind that pressed against the ears because it was so total, so unexpected, so wrong.

Wukong stared at the empty space where dozens of god-like existences had been a moment earlier. His staff was still half-raised. He had not even had time to swing. He had not even had time to blink.

He stood there for three full seconds.

Then he exhaled through his teeth.

”Save some points for me next time, will you?” His voice carried a mix of exasperation and reluctant admiration. ”And you could have left them alive. We could’ve used the energy inside their bodies to cultivate. Do you know how much fuel a Multiversal-level monster carries? We could’ve eaten for a week. You wiped the whole board before I could even move.”

Runar tapped the side of his head with one finger. His expression was mild.

”Oh. True. I totally forgot about that. Next time I’ll be careful.”

Wukong stared at him. ”You forgot?”

”I was testing something.”

Wukong’s eyes narrowed. ”Testing something?”

Runar looked at the empty void where the monsters had been. His golden-white eyes reflected the fading traces of the runic wave. He was already reviewing the feedback—the activation speed, the energy cost, the structural stability, the way the simulated principle had interacted with living principles, the way the cores had survived while the bodies had not.

It had worked better than expected.

”The new runic application,” Runar said. ”Using runes to simulate other principles. This time I simulated the Principle of Disintegration.”

Wukong was silent for a moment.

Then he pointed his staff at the empty space. ”You used a monster apocalypse as a lab experiment?”

Runar considered the wording. ”They were convenient test subjects.”

”Convenient test subjects,” Wukong repeated slowly. ”Runar, those things could have eaten planets.”

”Yes.”

”And you looked at them and thought, ’Perfect chance to try my new rune trick.’”

”It was a good opportunity.”

Wukong laughed once. Short. Disbelieving. ”You are absolutely insane. I respect it. But you are insane.”

Runar did not argue. He looked out across the void instead. The disintegration wave had expanded the empty space even further. Where the jungle had once stretched for thousands of miles, there was now an even larger gap. The wave had not just erased the monsters. It had erased the residual spatial coordinates they had occupied, the dimensional tears they had torn, and the pressure their presence had left on the local void.

It had cleaned the slate.

And floating in that cleaned slate, where the monsters had briefly existed, cores hung motionless in the emptiness.

They glowed with dense, layered light. Some were small and sharp, no larger than a fist, spinning slowly with contained Galaxy-level energy. Others were heavier and more complex, their surfaces covered in shifting patterns that marked them as Universal-level. And a few—only a handful—pulsed with a pressure that made the surrounding void feel thin. Multiversal cores. Dense. Heavy. Absolute.

They did not spin. They did not shift. They simply existed with a weight that made the space around them feel less real.

Runar extended his hand and made a casual ”come” gesture with his fingers.

The cores drifted toward him in a smooth, obedient stream. They moved without resistance, without hesitation, as if gravity itself had decided to obey the motion. Galaxy cores first, light and quick. Universal cores next, heavier but still compliant. Multiversal cores last, slow and deliberate, carrying their weight with them.

They settled into a loose orbit around his palm.

Runar examined one of the denser Multiversal cores. He turned it slowly in front of his eyes, rotating it, letting the light catch its surface from different angles. The core was perfectly smooth. Perfectly dense. Its internal structure was layered in ways that defied simple analysis. Each layer referenced the others. Each pattern reinforced the whole.

Runar applied a focused thread of runic pressure against its surface.

Nothing happened. No crack. No deformation. No yield.

He increased the pressure.

Still nothing.