Lackey's Seducing Survival Odyssey

Chapter 1682: Mayan End of Days

When the concentrated energy from dozens of weapons locked onto him, Lackey knew he was fucked.

He knew he was going to die, but he didn’t care that much. Death had long since become an inconvenience rather than an ending.

He could always redo it again.

Yet something strange happened.

Just before the storm of energy reached him, Iteration No. 27’s black mist Armor suddenly flickered around his body.

The dark substance emerged from nowhere, wrapping itself around him like a living shadow. It lasted only a few seconds, barely a few heartbeats, but it was enough.

The concentrated barrage struck the armour instead of his flesh, and the attack that should have vaporised him was completely blocked.

Yet… The protection came at a cost.

The moment the black armour touched his skin, a searing pain tore through his body. His flesh scorched instantly as if millions of microscopic needles were drilling into every nerve and injecting molten lava!

When Lackey heard the details, he was stunned.

The damage had not been caused by the energy bullets.

It had been caused by the armour itself.

If he had worn that thing for even a few seconds longer, what exactly would have happened to him?

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

More importantly… why had No. 27’s armour suddenly attached itself to him?

It had never happened before.

He had died countless times. More times than he cared to remember. Yet throughout all those deaths, the armour had never once reacted.

So why now?

Even Log was acting strangely. The usually chatty and irritating companion had become distant and cold, responding only when necessary.

In fact, Lackey was pretty sure he had actually fucking died during that attack.

In the darkness between consciousness and oblivion, he remembered Log activating his Bloodline ability.

That meant only one thing.

He had died.

After all, his Bloodline ability only activated after death. That was how it had always worked.

Unless…

Does that mean No. 27 could control his Bloodline as well?

The possibility made his expression darken.

Just what was No. 27 planning?

Was he trying to take over his body?

Manipulate his Bloodline?

Or was there some other purpose hiding behind those actions?

What disturbed him even more was the state of his Null-Return point.

It had been updated.

Without permission or warning or… him doing anything!!

The update had occurred the exact moment those mech-suits blasted him apart.

Which meant No. 27 had somehow interfered with one of the most fundamental functions of his Bloodline.

But why?

What exactly did he want?

Lackey lowered his gaze toward his body.

Large sections of his skin remained blackened and cracked. The burns spread across his chest and arms like fractured obsidian. Despite consuming numerous healing potions, the recovery process was painfully slow.

Only small patches of damaged flesh had regenerated, and even Log couldn’t provide an estimate for a complete recovery.

Lackey uncorked another healing potion.

The liquid shimmered with tiny particles of light as he poured it over his wounds before swallowing the remainder. Instantly, a sharp hissing sound echoed from his body. Thin streams of steam rose from the scorched flesh while the potion battled whatever damage the black armour had inflicted.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

A few burns began to fade.

The changes appeared simultaneously within his reality illusion, the projected status of his physical condition updating in real time.

“Let’s allow this to heal naturally. I’m not wasting my precious darlings’ healing potions on every scratch and burn,” he muttered as he retrieved the spell scroll Nightfire had given him.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Who would’ve thought? Out of everyone, her gift ended up being the most useful.”

Now that Lackey had become one of the most wanted individuals in the city, he had no choice but to rely on Nightfire’s illusion magic.

Now that Lackey was on the wanted list throughout the entire city, he had no choice but to rely on Nightfire’s illusion to conceal himself.

At first, he worried that the disguise would be exposed by the countless surveillance drones and heavily armed mech-suits patrolling the streets.

The city possessed advanced scanning technology capable of analysing facial structures, body heat, movement patterns, and even biological signatures. Yet, to his surprise, Nightfire’s illusion held firm. After roaming around the city for hours, he discovered that none of the drones or patrol units had managed to identify him.

As for the Pawn Shop… well, after his escape from the drones and mech-suits, the entire city had entered a state of high alert almost instantly.

Security patrols increased, surveillance drones multiplied, and warning notifications flooded the public network.

After changing his clothes from his storage and altering his appearance, Lackey spent hours wandering through different places while carefully observing his surroundings.

He searched for anything suspicious, anything hidden beneath the city’s polished exterior. After all, no matter how advanced a world became, there would always be a shadow lurking beneath civilisation. Wherever laws existed, there would always be people willing to operate outside them, creating the perfect places for someone like him to disappear.

No matter the world.

No matter the era.

There was always a shadow market waiting somewhere beneath the glow of civilisation.

After hours of searching, Lackey finally found the pawn shop.

The place sat wedged between two ageing buildings that somehow had escaped the city’s endless modernisation projects. Flickering neon signs buzzed above the entrance while layers of dust coated the reinforced windows. Compared to the towering chrome and glassy structures outside, the shop looked like a relic that stubbornly refused to die.

As for money, well, Aevum was the Empire’s primary currency.

It handled everything from government transactions to everyday purchases.

Dollars, however, still survived among the population. Not as paper bills anymore, but as digital assets stored inside personal accounts and encrypted credit systems.

Unfortunately, Lackey possessed neither.

No Aevum.

No dollars.

No digital wallet.

Nothing.

As a result, the old shopkeeper had offered a rather simple solution.

Steal some precious metals.

Humanity had conquered genetic modification, artificial intelligence, anti-gravity transportation, and quantum communication, yet people still clung to gold, platinum, and rare metals whenever civilisation became unstable.

Some things never changed.

“And now I’m a thief,” Lackey muttered with a chuckle as he walked back toward the map, “Can’t say I dislike it. As long as the old man gets me an ID pass and I can get out of this place, it’ll all be worth it. Once I reach Epsilon City, I’ll find a way to contact Epsilon… somehow.”

His voice sounded tired.

The endless deaths, the constant running, and the uncertainty surrounding No. 27 had drained much of his energy.

His gaze wandered across the map.

Six massive cities formed the Empire, each governed by an individual Governor, while a single Supreme President ruled over all of them.

Lackey reached beneath the desk and grabbed an old history book he had purchased earlier.

The cover was worn and weathered.

The edges had darkened with age.

It looked as though nobody had touched it in years.

Opening it carefully, he began skimming through the pages again. His eyes moved rapidly across the text while his fingers flipped page after page. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what was written.

Rather…

He was trying to understand what exactly had happened.

Just as the captive had told him, it had been exactly fourteen years since the Monstrous Roots, known collectively as the Mother Roots, invaded the world once called Earth.

According to the records, the invasion had reshaped the planet’s geography entirely.

Continents shifted.

Oceans disappeared.

Entire nations vanished.

Even the Solar System itself had suffered catastrophic changes.

Then came the arrival of energy.

Then monsterization.

Then the collapse of human civilisation.

And finally…

The arrival of the Goddess known as Arcane and the emergence of new technology and powers.

“Mayan End of Days…” Lackey muttered while staring at the phrase printed across the page.

That was the name historians had given to the day the Mother Roots descended upon Earth.

The details matched almost perfectly with what the captive had told him.

Yet the deeper he searched, the more frustrated he became.

The records contained almost nothing about what happened afterwards.

There was no detailed information regarding the Goddess.

Nothing about who had established contact with her.

Nothing about the Chosen Ones.

Nothing!

Even information regarding the other Empires was scarce. Most records simply labelled them as enemies of humanity and moved on.

It felt intentional.

But one detail continued to bother him.

A single date.

A date burned into his memory.

“Mayan End of Days begins the exact day I died…” Lackey murmured.

His expression became distant.

He didn’t remember much about his previous life anymore. Time and countless deaths had eroded many of those memories.

Yet that day remained vivid.

Not because of death.

Because it was the day he threw away every fragment of dignity he possessed.

The day he lost himself.

The day he became someone else’s puppet.

And most importantly…

The day he heard his little brother’s words.

Becoming a watchman… humiliated… Blood pooled in the street… Killed.

Those words had carved themselves into his soul.

No matter how many times he died, he could never forget them.

“But when did all this happen?” Lackey wondered aloud. “After I died?”

As far as he could remember, nothing strange had appeared in the sky.

No planetary catastrophe.

No alien invasion.

No divine descent.

Nothing that should have marked the end of civilisation.

“Then if only fourteen years have passed since my death…”

His hand suddenly tightened into a fist.

Unwanted memories surged toward the surface.

Faces.

Voices.

Regrets.

Pain.

For a brief moment, his expression twisted.

Then he forcibly shook his head.

“No. Focus. Getting out comes first.”

Suddenly—

A red warning light flashed across the wall.

The entire room was instantly bathed in crimson.

Lackey’s eyes narrowed.

Without hesitation, he tore apart Nightfire’s spell scroll.

The parchment shattered into countless glowing particles. Streams of silver light spiralled around his body before sinking into his skin.

His transformation began immediately.

His height visibly decreased.

His shoulders narrowed.

Muscles shrank beneath his clothes.

Facial features shifted.

Within seconds, the Lackey disappeared completely.

Standing in his place was a handsome young man in his early twenties.

Young Aether.

Moving quickly, he stepped backwards and pressed the flush mechanism twice.

Mechanical gears activated beneath the floor.

The concealed chamber rotated smoothly, transforming back into an ordinary restroom.

Aether slowly cracked open the door and peeked outside.

The moment he saw the scene beyond, his expression darkened.

Several pink-striped mech-suits stood near the register.

Unlike ordinary units, these machines were bulkier and more heavily armoured.

And floating above one of the mech-suits’ palms…

Was a holographic projection.

A rotating three-dimensional image of… Young man wearing a big black hat that hides his face partially.

‘*Fuck.*’

Aether grimaced.

‘*Give me a break already.*’