Awakening a 10,000x Skill Proficiency Multiplier in the Apocalypse

The silence that followed the crash was absolute. The howling blizzards of the Northern Continent seemed to hold their breath. They were shocked into submission by the sheer apocalyptic violence that had just rearranged the local geography.

In the center of the newly formed crater, a mountain of shattered blue crystal and steaming pulverized meat lay entirely motionless.

A pile of snow shifted near the edge of the impact zone.

”Ugh. God damn it,” Sebastian grunted.

He pushed himself up out of the drift and his joints popped loudly. His black leather coat was completely torn and his white half-mask was cracked down the middle.

He was covered head-to-toe in a disgusting sticky mixture of freezing blue dragon blood and grey gelatinous brain matter.

He smelled like an open freezer full of rotting fish.

He shook his head to try and clear the ringing from his ears. He pulled his system interface up.

His health bar was sitting at a miserable twelve percent. The shockwave had nearly deleted him.

”Remind me never to play rodeo with a World Boss again,” Sebastian muttered as he wiped a thick glob of blue viscera off his shoulder.

He turned his attention to the massive ruined corpse of Velkhana.

The loot rules of the Ethereal Plane were simple. The player who dealt the most damage and landed the killing blow secured the primary drops. There was no dice rolling. There was no sharing.

He walked over the slippery blood-soaked ice and stepped carefully over jagged shards of broken ribs.

He approached the center of the chest cavity which had been completely blasted open by the impact.

Sitting in the center of the ruin perfectly untouched by the crash and protected by the game’s loot preservation code was a massive glowing blue organ.

It was the Heart of the Frost Monarch. It was the size of a small car and pulsed with a slow heavy rhythm that radiated an intense freezing aura.

[Item Acquired: Heart of a Dragon (Mythic Tier)]

[Description: A massive elemental battery. Capable of powering Tier 2 City Cores and localized weather manipulation grids.]

”Bingo,” Sebastian said softly. He touched the massive organ and immediately sent it into his bottomless digital inventory.

With the primary objective secured, he began sifting through the rest of the gore. He hoovered up stacks of Pristine Frost Scales, legendary gold pouches, and high-tier crafting bones for Galleon’s psychotic engineering projects.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound of heavy boots stepping on frozen snow made Sebastian pause.

He did not reach for his dagger. He just slowly turned around.

Standing at the edge of the crater was General Iron.

The Guild Master of the Iron Covenant looked like he had just survived the end of the world. His utilitarian plate armor was heavily dented and covered in the red slush of his own fallen guildmates.

He had managed to survive the avalanche using his ultimate invulnerability bubble. But the sheer psychological toll of watching five hundred of his best men get crushed to death was clearly etched into his weathered face.

Iron was not holding his broadsword. It was sheathed on his back.

He looked at the massive decimated corpse of the Level 50 World Boss. Then he looked at the ragged blood-soaked Drifter standing in the center of the gore.

The General’s dark eyes were wide. The rigid military discipline he usually projected had completely fractured.

”You...” Iron started. His voice was a hoarse dry rasp. He swallowed hard. ”You dropped it out of the sky. You broke the physics engine to increase your mass and you broke its spine.”

”I told you I do not need a tank rotation General,” Sebastian replied flatly. He wiped his bloody hands on his coat. ”I told you the math was on my side.”

Iron slowly shook his head. He took a hesitant step forward and stopped just at the edge of the blue blood pool.

”You are a monster,” Iron stated.

It was not an insult. It was a cold factual observation from a man who understood the reality of power.

Sebastian did not argue. He just stared back with his deadpan uncaring eyes.

”But,” Iron continued with his jaw tightening. ”In the world that is coming, humanity needs monsters.”

The General unclasped a heavy steel-bound journal from his belt and tossed it into the snow halfway between them.

”What is that?” Sebastian asked. He did not move to pick it up.

”Intel,” Iron said grimly. ”A peace offering. You wiped my guild today Drifter. But the Iron Covenant recognizes a superior force when we see one.”

Iron paused for a second before continuing.

”We do not want a war with you. We have bigger problems in the real world.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow beneath his cracked mask. ”Bigger than the sky turning red and monsters eating the suburbs?”

”Much bigger,” Iron nodded. ”My real-world unit operates out of the Beijing quarantine zone. Two days ago we intercepted encrypted comms on the dark web.”

He gazed at Sebastian and his face turned serious.

”There is a faction forming. They are not players trying to survive. They are zealots. They call themselves the Church of the Void.”

Sebastian’s posture instantly stiffened. The cold apathy vanished. ”The Church?”

”You know them?” Iron asked in surprise.

”I know what they do,” Sebastian said. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. ”They let the digital parasites fully hijack their brains. They trade their humanity for admin privileges.”

”Then you know they are insane,” Iron said and pointed at the journal.

”They are organizing a massive coordinated blood ritual in the physical world. They are trying to forcefully open a permanent Abyssal Gate before the servers even fully merge.”

Iron took a deep breath.

”If they succeed, they will not just summon monsters. They will summon the Void Titans.”

Sebastian closed his eyes. A sharp spike of genuine dread hit his stomach.

In his past life, the Church of the Void had operated in the shadows for months before revealing themselves. If they were already organizing blood rituals on Day Zero, the timeline was completely messed up.

The Void Gods were accelerating the apocalypse.

”Where is the ritual taking place?” Sebastian asked. His eyes snapped open.

”We do not know the exact coordinates,” Iron admitted and his shoulders slumped slightly. ”But the data traffic points toward the North American server. Somewhere near the old industrial hubs.”

Iron looked up. ”They are looking for a massive power source to anchor the gate.”

Sebastian’s blood ran cold.

A massive power source. Like a newly minted Tier 5 Guild Citadel sitting on top of a pristine Leyline Node in the middle of a ruined megacity.

”They are coming for Sanctuary,” Sebastian realized aloud.

General Iron offered a grim nod. ”You painted a massive target on your back today Drifter. The whole world knows you have a City Core. The Church will want it.”

”Let them come,” Sebastian growled. His hands balled into fists. ”I will turn them into fertilizer.”

”Good luck monster,” Iron said softly.

He offered a crisp perfectly executed military salute, turned on his heel, and began the long miserable trek back down the snowy mountain.

Sebastian watched him go. He did not have time to celebrate his victory.

He tapped his comm-link. ”Valerie. Wraith. Galleon. Pack it up. We are logging out right now. We have a base to upgrade and we have guests coming.”