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

Thick, oily streams of black digital blood wept from the empty eye sockets of his cracked porcelain mask. The jagged red runes carved across his chest and arms flared with a blinding, aggressive light, practically hissing as they burned through his localized reality.

He was losing his grip.

Every second that passed, a piece of his physical rendering dissolved into the dark purple smog. His left boot vanished, turning into a swarm of disorganized green numbers that floated away into the void. A massive chunk of his right shoulder simply ceased to exist, leaving behind a smoking, pixelated crater.

”System!” Sebastian gasped, his voice barely a skipping, robotic whisper. ”Run diagnostic! Execute auto-repair!”

There was no cheerful blue UI. There was no helpful prompt. The system was entirely unresponsive, overwhelmed by the localized crash he was experiencing.

Sebastian closed his void-eyes, trying to forcefully apply his [Code Compiler] to stitch his own files back together. But he couldn’t concentrate. The pain was absolute. It felt like someone had shoved a live, high-voltage power cable directly into his brainstem while simultaneously pouring battery acid over his thoughts.

He felt his ego beginning to fray at the edges.

The human mind was a fragile, biological thing. It wasn’t meant to handle the processing power of a literal god. As the rendering feedback loop chewed through his base files, Sebastian started to forget things.

He forgot the feeling of the rough, concrete floor of his old apartment in 2077. He forgot the smell of the cheap, synthetic coffee he used to drink before the Great Merge. He forgot the exact shade of the rusty dagger he had used to survive the tutorial zone.

”Who cares?” a dark, apathetic thought echoed in the vast emptiness of his fading consciousness.

The Juncture was so quiet. It was so peaceful. Why was he fighting so hard to hold onto a tiny, insignificant human shape? He had ten million units of Source Code inside him. He was an Anomaly. He could just let go. He could stop fighting the Error and let his data expand.

He could become a cosmic storm of absolute nothingness. A mindless, eternal phenomenon floating in the void. Moons didn’t feel pain. Nebulas didn’t have to pay rent. Space dust didn’t have to worry about the apocalypse.

”Just... let go,” Sebastian murmured, his chin dropping to his chest. ”I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”

His legs completely dissolved into static. The lower half of his tattered shadow-cloak drifted away, absorbed by the hungry vacuum of space. He was nothing but a floating, glitching torso and a cracked porcelain mask, slowly giving in to the absolute zero of the void.

He was seconds away from completely detonating, his consciousness permanently scattering across the Ethereal Plane.

And then, a sound pierced the dark.

ZRRRZT... KRZZZ...

It was faint at first. A tiny, insignificant ripple of audio interference cutting through the heavy, oppressive silence of the Juncture.

Sebastian didn’t move. He barely registered it. His brain was too busy turning into a puddle of scrambled data.

But the sound grew louder. It was a frequency. A highly concentrated, directed beam of raw, unadulterated astral light shooting straight out from the distant, golden sphere of Earth. The beam tore through the dark purple smog, ignoring the ambient radiation of the dead servers, and struck Sebastian squarely in the center of his chest.

FWASH!

A warm, brilliant blue light washed over his glitching form. It didn’t burn like the holy fire of the Saints. It didn’t sting like the acid of the Void. It felt incredibly, profoundly human. It felt like a warm blanket being thrown over a freezing man.

”Sebastian?”

The voice crackled through his internal comms. It was heavily distorted, fighting through layers of cosmic static and multiversal interference. But the tone was absolute. It was sharp, authoritative, and completely unyielding.

Sebastian’s head snapped up. The oily black tears stopped flowing from his mask.

”Valerie?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

”Sebastian? Can you hear me?” The connection stabilized for a fraction of a second, her voice ringing clear in his mind. ”You stupid, stubborn bastard. If you die out there, I’ll kill you myself.”

Sebastian stared out into the endless dark, following the beam of blue light back to his home planet.

He remembered.

He remembered the corporate heiress who had dropped her magic shield to take a dragon’s tail to the ribs just so he could land a hit. He remembered the woman who had managed the messy, human logistics of Sanctuary while he played the cold, apathetic butcher. He remembered the reason he had ripped the universe apart in the first place.

The cold, creeping apathy of the void instantly shattered.

A sudden, violent burst of genuine, unfiltered human emotion flooded his chest. It was absurd. It was completely illogical. He was a terrifying, moon-sized glitch stuffed into a six-foot frame, bleeding error codes in the middle of a cosmic graveyard, and his girlfriend was currently threatening to murder him if he didn’t come home.

Sebastian threw his head back.

”Hah... Hahaha!”

He started to laugh. It was a horrific, glitching sound. The audio tore through the vacuum, a mix of grinding gears, screaming static, and deep, resonant booms. But beneath the terrifying distortion, the laugh was entirely, genuinely human. It was the sound of a man who had just realized he had something worth surviving for.

”You’re unbelievable, Princess,” Sebastian laughed, the sheer absurdity of the situation forcibly overriding his existential dread. ”You really are.”

The moment the human emotion registered in his core, the catastrophic rendering feedback loop violently stuttered.

The System didn’t understand love. It didn’t understand stubbornness. But it understood the mathematical anchor that Valerie’s voice provided. The raw, desperate Earth-mana she was channeling through the Astral Spire acted as a localized firewall, forcefully wrapping around his decaying base files and holding them together.

The red error runes carved into his chest stopped flashing their blinding, critical warnings. They settled into a slow, steady, rhythmic pulse. The jagged green polygons tearing away from his shoulders violently snapped back into place, re-rendering into solid, biological steel.

His [Error Accumulation] meter, which had been screaming at 100 percent, slowly began to tick downward.

[Entity Cohesion Stabilizing.] [Feedback Loop Arrested.]

Sebastian let out a long, heavy sigh, feeling the sheer, mind-breaking agony slowly recede into a dull, manageable ache. He looked down at his hands. The static was gone. He flexed his fingers, the sleek black leather of his gloves perfectly rendered once again.

He was solid. He was anchored.

He tapped the side of his cracked porcelain mask, opening a direct, two-way audio feed through the brilliant blue beam of light connecting them.

”I’m here, Valerie,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping the metallic distortion, returning to his normal, slightly raspy tone. ”I’m still here. I haven’t un-rendered yet.”

”Thank God,” her voice rushed through the earpiece, thick with absolute relief. She sounded exhausted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. ”I thought... the scanners showed a massive spatial collapse. I thought the Void got you.”

”They tried,” Sebastian smirked, looking at the empty space where a billion Locusts used to be. ”But I’m pretty good at pest control. I took out the trash.”

He could hear the heavy, industrial thrumming of a massive machine in the background of her audio feed. He could hear Galleon shouting frantic orders about cooling vents and mana pressure.

Sebastian’s smile vanished. His highly optimized brain quickly did the math on how she was managing to broadcast a signal through a completely isolated, localized firewall.

”Valerie,” Sebastian said, his voice turning deadly serious. ”What exactly are you doing right now? Because it sounds like you’re standing inside a reactor core.”

”I’m keeping the lights on, Seattle,” Valerie replied, a weak, defiant chuckle echoing through the static. ”Just like you promised.”

Sebastian’s pitch-black eyes widened beneath his mask. He realized exactly what was happening. And he knew the cost of that kind of magic.

The Sovereign of Laws had just stabilized, but a brand new, entirely different kind of panic gripped his chest.

”Valerie, shut it down right fucking now,” Sebastian demanded, his voice entirely stripped of its usual deadpan sarcasm. It was a raw, terrified command.

He hovered in the pitch-black Juncture, his silver-tinged void-eyes locked onto the brilliant beam of blue astral light connecting him to Earth. The light felt warm against his glitched, rune-scarred chest, but the implications of its existence were absolutely horrifying.

”I’m fine, Sebastian,” Valerie’s voice crackled through his audio receptors. She sounded incredibly strained. Every word was accompanied by a wet, heavy wheeze. ”The Astral Spire is holding. The signal is stable.”

”Don’t lie to me! I know how the math works!” Sebastian yelled, his hands balling into tight fists. ”You’re trapped in an isolated server! To punch a frequency through the golden barrier I just coded, you have to be forcefully bypassing the planetary limiters.

You’re using yourself as a raw conduit for the leyline, aren’t you?!”