Myriad Heavens: Rise of the Rune God

Chapter 325: Chapter 326: Runar’s Understanding

The void outside the Multiversal Center was quiet.

Runar stood alone in the starless expanse, hands loosely behind his back, expression calm. The sealed membrane of the Center glowed faintly behind him like a distant jewel, still unaware that its most carefully guarded room had been visited and left without a single lasting scar. Residual traces of the thin pressure he had released still clung to the edge of his senses, already fading into nothing.

He did not leave immediately.

Absolute Comprehension remained fully open.

Everything he had seen inside the concealed dimension—every principle radiating from the thrones, every floating screen, every carefully maintained secret buried beneath layers of karma camouflage and Paragon authority—unfolded in his mind with perfect, layered clarity. Origin Weave sorted the flood of information without effort, arranging it into a single continuous understanding that no amount of time or discussion among the Paragons themselves could have achieved.

So that was the true purpose of the Multiversal Center.

It was not benevolence.

It had never been benevolence.

The Paragons did not manage reincarnation out of some grand, selfless desire to help the Multiverse evolve for its own sake. They used reincarnators as living experiments. Carefully selected souls were torn from one universe and dropped into another—preferably one whose foundational power system was fundamentally different from their origin. A pure martial cultivator who had spent a lifetime tempering flesh and will might wake up in a world of pure magic, forced to rebuild everything from the ground up. A mage whose understanding of elemental law was near-perfect might be reborn into a realm of sword intent and bloodline supremacy. A system user from a high-technology universe might open their eyes in a land where strength came only from ancient bloodlines and brutal combat.

Each forced collision created friction. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Friction created hybrid understandings.

A martial artist forced to learn magic would eventually discover ways to fuse qi and mana that neither original system had ever considered. A mage trapped in a sword world would refine blade laws through the lens of spell structures, birthing techniques that should not have existed. Over trillions of reincarnations, across countless eras and sectors, those hybrids refined themselves into unique and powerful new systems—paths that had never existed before in the Multiverse. The watching Paragons then studied those new systems in real time, absorbed the insights the moment they matured, and strengthened their own principles with knowledge that no single lifetime or single power system could have provided.

Every successful hybrid was another quiet step on a long, patient road toward something higher: the Omniverse.

Runar’s gaze remained distant as the full picture settled into place with absolute clarity.

The reason the current generation of Paragons was so certain the method worked was simple and pragmatic. A few of their own members had already used it to ascend. They had walked the same path, harvested the same novelty across countless cycles, and eventually stepped beyond the Multiverse using the accumulated hybrid knowledge as their foundation. The Multiversal Center was not merely an administrative hub or a neutral meeting ground. It was a cultivation tool on a scale most beings could not even imagine—an engine designed to generate the very insights its creators needed to climb higher.

Absolute Comprehension had opened every secret the moment he scanned them.

He saw the true history of the place as if he had lived through it himself.

The Multiversal Center had been established a long time ago—shortly after the Multiverse itself came into existence. In those earliest eras, when the laws were still raw and the first true Paragons were only beginning to understand the limits of their power, a Paragon of the pure mage power system had attempted something radical. He had reached a bottleneck so absolute that no further progress seemed possible within a single existence. In desperation—or perhaps in cold calculation—he split his own soul into trillions of fragments and scattered them across different universes. Each fragment lived a full life, died, learned, suffered, and grew. When those reincarnated pieces eventually perished, the knowledge they had gained flowed back to the original soul like rivers returning to the sea. Piece by piece, lifetime by lifetime, that ancient mage elevated his understanding far beyond what any single path or any single power system could have provided. The method worked. The other Paragons of that era observed the results with growing interest, refined the process, and eventually institutionalized it.

What began as one desperate experiment became the foundation of the Multiversal Center.

The ”golden finger” that so many reincarnators carried—the system, the glowing interface, the calm or mocking voice that guided them, rewarded them, issued quests, and pushed them forward at critical moments—was never a gift. It was a link. A carefully designed observation and recording tool that allowed the Paragons to watch an entire life in real time, extract every moment of comprehension, every breakthrough, every hybrid insight, and harvest the results when the reincarnator eventually died or ascended far enough to become useful. Every quest notification, every sudden reward, every ”hidden achievement” unlocked at the perfect emotional peak was both a push toward growth and a quiet, continuous siphon of data. The reincarnator believed they were the protagonist of their own story. In truth, they were a carefully monitored experiment whose entire existence fed the understanding of beings they would never meet.

And the trucks?

Runar almost smiled.

The Truck-kuns were merely the messengers. Efficient, reliable, and absurdly specialized delivery tools whose only purpose was to create the cleanest possible moment of death and soul detachment so the reincarnation process could begin without unnecessary complications. All the elaborate training at the Truck Reincarnation Academy, the optimal smash angles, the emotional impact calculations, the precise velocity required to produce the purest soul separation—it was simply logistics. The trucks did not care about destiny, justice, or narrative satisfaction. They were the postal service of forced rebirth, carrying out the will of the Paragons with mechanical precision and occasional theatrical flair.

Runar stood in the void for a long time, letting the full understanding settle layer by layer.

The system was fascinating.

There was a certain elegance to its ruthlessness. Over trillions of years it had generated an ocean of hybrid knowledge that no single cultivator could have gathered alone. The Paragons had grown strong on the backs of countless reincarnators who never knew they were being watched, measured, and harvested. Universes flourished or stagnated according to carefully adjusted quotas. Novelty was cultivated like a crop. Insights were collected like tribute. The entire Multiversal Center—from the solemn halls of the Universal Will Academy to the absurd precision of the Truck Reincarnation Academy to the corporate efficiency of the Unique System Company—was one vast, self-sustaining machine dedicated to the slow, patient accumulation of understanding.

It was also, for someone like him, profoundly inefficient.

With Absolute Comprehension, Runar had no need for such a roundabout method.

He did not require trillions of reincarnations, carefully managed deaths, or surveillance systems disguised as golden fingers. He could directly observe, read, and comprehend every power system, every principle, and every variation that currently existed across the entire Multiverse. Martial paths, magical systems, bloodline hierarchies, technological frameworks, hybrid abominations born from forced collisions—none of it was hidden from him. Absolute Comprehension did not need a reincarnator to live a full life and die before the insight became available. It simply looked, understood, and took.

Where the Paragons waited eras for a promising hybrid to mature, Runar could reach across the Multiverse in a single breath and extract the same understanding in its purest form. Where they relied on trucks and systems and quotas, he needed only his own perception. The collective knowledge of the Multiverse—the sum of every path that had ever been walked, every principle that had ever been refined, every hybrid that had ever been born—was already open to him.

He began formulating his own plan.

It would be far more efficient.

No reincarnators required. No slow accumulation across trillions of lives. No need to maintain an entire administrative civilization just to generate novelty. Absolute Comprehension would serve as the primary tool—scanning, reading, and dissecting every power system in existence. Origin Weave would then refine and restructure the extracted knowledge, weaving the most valuable insights into forms that suited him perfectly. What the Paragons achieved over endless cycles of death and rebirth, he would accomplish in a fraction of the time, with perfect clarity and zero waste.

A faint, dry amusement touched the edge of his thoughts. The Paragons inside that concealed hall were still trying to put a name to him—Transcendent, ancient secluded existence, something beyond normal Transcendents. None of their theories would ever reach the truth. Absolute Comprehension had left no traces they could follow. Origin Weave had erased every residual signature the moment he departed. The only things that remained for them were the exact coordinates he had provided, the clear demand, and the lingering memory of a pressure that still made several of them reluctant to fully unclench their principles.

Runar’s expression remained calm, almost thoughtful. There was no anger in him toward the system. It had existed long before he arrived and would likely continue long after he left. William and Willith would receive their additional reincarnators. Their universes would grow denser with novelty and hybrid potential. The promise was fulfilled. Everything else was simply information—useful, complete, and already filed away.

He turned away from the Multiversal Center.

One step carried him across the void. Space folded without resistance. The luminous jewel of the Center shrank behind him and then vanished entirely as he crossed the final threshold back into the private pocket dimension.

Warm light and the soft scent of spiritual grass greeted him.

Celestia still sat cross-legged on the bed of cloud, the silver-violet storm lattice of her inheritance circulating in perfect, controlled cycles. Soft currents of wind and violet lightning drifted around her without ever disturbing the silk. Nyla remained sprawled nearby, the gold-and-crimson curiosity engine flickering under her skin like a restless second heart. Both women looked up as he appeared, sensing his return the same way they always did—quietly, completely, without needing words.

Runar’s understanding of the Multiversal Center was complete.

His own far more efficient path to mastering the collective knowledge of the Multiverse had already begun to take shape in his mind.

And the vacation, for whatever time remained of it, was still not over.