I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse

Chapter 1854: Let Me Go!

Hye hadnʼt been exaggerating. Without his express authorisation, this world was a tomb. She tried to activate her emergency beacons; they were dead. She tried to ping her familyʼs private servers; there was no signal.

She couldnʼt even access the universal channel or the standard features of her own system interface. For the first time in her life, Olana was truly alone.

Her gaze drifted across the landscape. She saw the massive training camps stretching toward the mountains, the endless streams of monsters being channelled into kill-zones where Hyeʼs warriors harvested them for experience and materials. It was an industrial-scale war machine.

Aside from the obsidian palace ahead, there wasnʼt a single trace of ”civilisation” in the traditional sense.

No markets, no residential districts, no art. Everything here was built for the singular purpose of violence and growth. Habitually, she tried to open the World Channel, hoping to find some local chatter she could exploit.

The interface opened to a void. It was empty. Not a single person in this world, despite the thousands she saw training in the distance, was speaking in the public channel.

The discipline was absolute, or perhaps the isolation was so complete that they no longer saw the need for words.

In her eyes, this world defied every law of logic she had been taught. She wanted to scream questions at Hye—to demand to know where they were and what he was—but a cold knot of dread in her stomach told her he wouldnʼt answer.

Looking at his retreating back, she felt a bitter irony. Her curiosity had been her undoing. She had heard the rumours about the human who controlled fleets of battleships and had grown intrigued.

She had assumed the reports were the usual propaganda, that he was merely a lucky scavenger who had traded for a few outdated ships.

Even when she saw the Toranks—one of the universeʼs most arrogant races—treating him like a precious asset, and the Hescos shifting their entire military stance to accommodate him, she hadnʼt taken him seriously. She had viewed him as a curiosity, a temporary anomaly in the cosmic order.

Now, as the shadow of his palace fell over her, Olana realised the truth. He wasnʼt a curiosity. He was the storm, and she was currently trapped in the eye of it.

Olanaʼs mind was a frantic mess of calculations, none of which added up. The primary question that gnawed at her was how he had bypassed the space-lock.

Her family had spent generations perfecting the absolute spatial restrictions surrounding their resort; it was a legendary feat of magi-tech that even the mighty Hescos military wouldnʼt dare try to breach with a conventional portal.

To open a rift there required either a betrayal from within or a level of crude, world-crushing strength that should have alerted every defensive relay her family owned.

Yet, here she was. Hye hadnʼt just bypassed the lock; he had done so with a surgical precision that left the alarms silent.

He had stayed in the resort for hours, unbothered and undetected, and when he finally emerged back on his home soil, he looked exactly as he had when he left—calm, refreshed, and entirely unburdened by the ”deadly fights” one would expect when tearing through universal spatial barriers.

She couldnʼt have guessed the most terrifying secret of the Second Earth: the Time Dilation. In the ”Singular World” controlled by Hye, time flowed according to a different rhythm than the rest of the cosmos.

What felt like weeks of arduous existence to those inside was merely a single day in the outside universe. It was an ultimate training ground and an inescapable prison.

Olana looked at Hyeʼs back, a desperate urge rising within her to pry open his mind and see the blueprints of his schemes. But she stayed silent.

She was a merchant princess; she knew how to read a market, and right now, her value was at an all-time low. Hye was the absolute ruler of this domain, the sole architect of her reality, and the only individual who held the keys to her cage.

Following him into the palace was like walking into a temple of cold efficiency. The reception hall was vast and decorated with a grim, martial elegance.

Hye didnʼt wait for her; he walked straight to the throne at the far end of the hall and sat down. He immediately fell into a profound silence, his eyes glazed over as he accessed his system interface.

He didnʼt spare her a single glance. To him, she was currently as significant as a piece of furniture.

”I see your meeting with the Hescos Moth went well,” she finally said, her voice echoing in the hollow hall. She couldnʼt stand the silence; it made her feel as though she were already disappearing.

”What?” Hye blinked, the light of his interface fading as he looked toward her. He looked genuinely surprised to see her standing there. ”Oh. Youʼre still here.”

”Let me leave,” she said, stepping forward. She carefully softened her voice, reaching back for the seductive, playful tone that had served her so well in the past. She tilted her head, letting a strand of hair fall just right.

”Let me go, and you wonʼt ever have to see my face again. We can both pretend this little misunderstanding never happened.”

She didnʼt realise that Hye had only played along with her games at the resort for his own amusement. Now that the business was concluded, the mask of the playful human was gone.

He gave her a single, warning glare—a look so heavy with latent power and killing intent that she froze mid-stride, her blood running cold. She retreated several steps, the ”seductress” act shattering instantly.

”Listen,” Hye said, rubbing his temples. He was currently navigating the logistics of tens of thousands of artificial planets and billions of warrior tokens; he didnʼt have the mental bandwidth for her drama.

He realised that as long as she was idle, she would be a constant, nagging distraction. ”How about we find you something to contribute while youʼre here?”