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

He was fast. He was lethal.

But he was still made of mass.

Sebastian didn’t dodge. He simply blinked, opening his green-and-blue Admin UI.

He bypassed the combat spells. He didn’t need to throw a fireball. He didn’t need to summon a magical shield to block the plasma blade. He already had the perfect trap active in the environment. He just needed to trigger the snare.

He pulled up the [Concept of Mass] module he had looted from the Juncture Scavenger.

He didn’t target himself this time. He locked his unfeeling, silver eyes directly onto the frantic, screaming Cyber-Monk flying through the air.

He didn’t target Jin’s cybernetic arm. He didn’t target the glowing flight ribbon. He targeted the foundational, biological code of Jin’s skeletal structure.

”Hey, Jin,” Sebastian whispered, his voice dropping into that terrifying, metallic hum of the Sovereign. ”You forgot to account for bone density.”

Sebastian mentally grabbed the slider for Jin’s internal mass.

And he cranked it up by a factor of ten thousand.

”Mass Edit,” Sebastian commanded the server. ”Execute.”

BING!

The server violently processed the command. It didn’t care that Jin was a Level 92 player. It didn’t care about his magical resistances. The Sovereign of Laws had dictated a change in reality, and the reality instantly complied.

In a fraction of a microsecond, the biological calcium and marrow inside Jin’s body became hyper-condensed. His skeleton suddenly weighed more than a fully loaded Vanguard Siege Mech. He instantly went from weighing a lean one hundred and eighty pounds to weighing over a million pounds.

The physical reaction was utterly catastrophic.

Jin was fifty feet away from Sebastian, mid-lunge, his plasma blade singing through the air.

Suddenly, he just stopped.

He didn’t hit an invisible wall. He didn’t bounce off a shield. The sheer, impossible weight of his own bones simply shattered his forward momentum.

”URK—!”

The scream died in Jin’s throat. The sudden, ungodly spike in his mass ripped the breath from his lungs.

The ethereal, glowing white ribbon wrapped around his torso—the magical artifact keeping him airborne—violently snapped. It sounded like a high-tension power line breaking. The delicate magical threads simply could not support the weight of a skyscraper suddenly manifesting inside a human body.

The ribbon dissolved into useless white sparks.

Jin’s eyes widened in absolute, unfiltered horror. His combat processors screamed with critical error warnings as they tried to calculate why his body was suddenly too heavy to move. He was completely paralyzed in mid-air, suspended by the sheer, glitching physics of his own impossible density.

He looked down at Sebastian.

Sebastian looked back, offering a polite, entirely lifeless smile.

”You see, Jin,” Sebastian said casually, watching the monk hover in the air. ”The Law of Rotting Gravity is a multiplier. Mass times entropy. You stripped down to survive the rot.

But I just made you the heaviest thing in this entire sector.”

Jin’s cybernetic jaw fell open. He tried to speak. He tried to curse the Anomaly.

But he didn’t have time.

The localized gravity field of Sebastian’s domain recognized the massive, million-pound object hovering in its airspace. And the Law of Rotting Gravity gleefully went to work.

The math was inescapable.

When you suddenly weigh a million pounds inside a localized field designed to aggressively age heavy objects, your timeline doesn’t just speed up. It completely skips to the end.

Sebastian stood on the rusted decking, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets, and watched the horrifying, instantaneous

breakdown of a Level 92 Cyber-Monk.

”Time catches up to all of us,” Sebastian murmured dryly. ”But for you, it’s in a bit of a rush.”

Jin didn’t fall immediately. For a terrifying, suspended second, the sheer density of his edited code caused him to hang frozen in the air, fifty feet above the dock.

And in that second, centuries passed across his flesh.

”N-NO!” Jin’s synthesized voice box shrieked, the sound warping into a deep, slow-motion groan as the chronological rot hit his vocal cords.

The biological mummification was gruesome.

The moisture in Jin’s body was violently forcefully evaporated. His pale skin instantly turned the color of old, stained parchment. It pulled incredibly tight against his hyper-dense skull, revealing the sharp, terrifying outline of the bone beneath.

His lips withered and retracted, exposing his teeth and his cybernetic gums in a permanent, horrific grimace.

The heavy, pulsing green data streams that had been flowing through his veins sputtered and died as the organic tissue they relied on turned to literal dust. His muscles didn’t just atrophy; they collapsed, turning into dry, brittle jerky that snapped under the microscopic movements of his panic.

”Help... me...” Jin’s jaw clicked, a dry, clicking sound like two stones tapping together.

His eyes were the worst part. The organic, human eye on the left side of his face instantly dried out. It turned a dull, milky white before cracking down the center like an old clay marble left out in the desert sun. It simply crumbled out of the socket, falling as a pinch of dust.

His right eye, a glowing cybernetic lens, frantically whirred and clicked. But without the biological nervous system to feed it power, the neon green light flickered rapidly before completely shorting out, plunging the lens into dead, lifeless black.

The entire process took less than two seconds.

Jin, the proud, arrogant Warlord of the Heavens, was reduced to a horrifying, desiccated mummy suspended in the void.

He was completely dead, his health bar having vanished the moment his internal organs turned to sand.

But gravity wasn’t done with him yet.

With his flight artifact broken and his body entirely deceased, the massive, million-pound weight of his edited skeleton finally took over.

Jin dropped like a stone.

He didn’t flutter down. He plummeted straight toward the rusted iron grating of the docking bay with the terrifying velocity of a falling meteor.

”Watch your step,” Sebastian noted casually, taking a single, unhurried step backward.

CRASH!

The impact was spectacular.

When a million pounds of hyper-dense, mummified bone hits solid iron, it doesn’t bounce. It shatters.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​