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

His black tactical suit flickered, shifting rapidly between solid leather and jagged, agonizing green static. Blood poured from his nose beneath the mask, sizzling instantly as it hit the superheated glass floor.

It felt like someone had driven a red-hot iron spike directly through his frontal lobe.

[Synthesis Complete.] [New Conceptual Law Authored: Law of Division.] [Effect: The user projects a two-dimensional, geometric plane of absolute separation. This plane possesses zero physical thickness. It does not deal damage; it mathematically defines the space as divided. Bypasses all forms of durability, shielding, and physical mass.]

Sebastian opened his eyes. The silver light burning in his empty eye sockets was terrifyingly brilliant.

He pushed himself up from behind the melting pillar.

”RRAAAAWWRR!”

Cerberus-00X unleashed its attack. A colossal, sweeping tidal wave of superheated blue plasma erupted from all three of its massive maws, washing over the obsidian platform like a nuclear flood.

Sebastian didn’t run. He didn’t cast a shield.

He simply stood his ground and raised his right hand. He didn’t form a fist. He didn’t make a slashing motion. He just extended his index and middle fingers, holding his hand perfectly flat and perfectly horizontal to the ground.

”Divide,” Sebastian whispered.

He didn’t aim a projectile. He simply projected the newly authored [Law of Division] outward, creating a massive, invisible, two-dimensional plane that stretched horizontally across the entire battlefield, hovering exactly fifty feet off the ground.

The invisible plane possessed no physical thickness. It was literally smaller than an atom. It was just a mathematical line drawn through reality itself.

The Cerberus, completely uncaring of the tiny human’s gesture, lunged forward to bite him in half, its massive body descending as it brought the full weight of its mountain-sized frame down for the kill.

The beast’s chest crossed the invisible, horizontal plane hovering in the air.

There was no sound of impact. There was no flashy explosion, no shattering of armor, and no spray of sparks.

The [Law of Division] didn’t care that the beast had infinite durability. It didn’t try to break the metal. It simply stated, with absolute, foundational authority, that whatever was above the invisible plane was no longer physically connected to whatever was below the invisible plane.

Sebastian stood perfectly still, his arm outstretched, watching the math take effect.

The massive, Level 100 apex predator of the Core OS froze in mid-lunge. The blinding blue plasma dying in its throats.

——

Sebastian stood perfectly still, his right arm outstretched, holding his index and middle fingers perfectly flat and horizontal to the obsidian floor. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He just stared through the cracked, weeping porcelain mask of his tactical suit.

”Divide,” he whispered.

The [Law of Division] was not a spell that traveled. It did not have a travel time, a projectile speed, or a glowing visual effect. It was just a cold, hard mathematical rule that suddenly existed. A two-dimensional, invisible plane stretching horizontally across the entire cavern, hovering exactly fifty feet off the ground.

Above him, the mountain-sized Cerberus-00X brought its colossal weight down. All three of its massive, biomechanical heads were unhinged, their mechanical throats glowing with blinding, superheated blue plasma. The Level 100 apex predator was fully committed to completely vaporizing the tiny, annoying glitch standing on its platform.

The beast’s massive chest crossed the invisible, fifty-foot mark.

There was no deafening explosion. There was no flashy shower of sparks, no blinding flash of light, and absolutely no sound of metal breaking.

The Cerberus simply froze in mid-lunge.

The blinding blue plasma building in its three throats instantly sputtered and died, turning into a dull, pathetic hiss of steam. The terrifying, glowing red visors that served as its eyes violently flickered, glitching between bright crimson and a dead, empty black.

It was completely stuck in the air.

Sebastian slowly lowered his hand, slipping it casually back into the pocket of his ruined leather coat. He let out a long, exhausted sigh.

”Math always wins,” Sebastian muttered, tilting his head to watch the show.

For two full seconds, the universe seemed to hold its breath. The physics engine of the Core OS was frantically, desperately trying to calculate what had just happened. The beast had infinite durability. It could not be scratched, dented, or broken. But the [Law of Division] hadn’t tried to break it. It simply stated that the top half of the monster was no longer physically attached to the bottom half.

The server finally accepted the math.

SKREEEEE-GROOOOAN!

The sound that followed was the most horrifying, metallic screech Sebastian had ever heard. It sounded like two massive tectonic plates violently scraping against each other.

The entire top half of Cerberus-00X—all three heads, its massive shoulders, and the upper half of its torso—began to slowly, perfectly slide off its lower half.

Because the invisible plane had zero physical thickness, the cut was atomic. It was so flawless that the friction between the severed halves was practically non-existent. The top half of the mountain-sized hound just slid sideways, carried entirely by the residual forward momentum of its own lunge.

THUD.

The bottom half of the beast, cut perfectly flat across the chest, crashed heavily onto the obsidian platform. The four massive, chrome-plated legs buckled slightly under the sudden weight displacement but remained standing, looking like a bizarre, headless table made of dark metal.

Then, the top half finished sliding off the edge of the cut.

KRA-DOOOOM!

The upper half of the colossal hound slammed into the obsidian floor about a hundred yards away from Sebastian. The impact was absolute devastation. The unbreakable black glass of the platform shattered, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and razor-sharp debris.

But the real nightmare was just starting.

”Oh, shit,” Sebastian’s eyes widened behind his visor.

Cerberus-00X was a biomechanical beast. It didn’t have lungs or a stomach, but it was filled with highly pressurized, glowing blue hydraulic fluid, thick black motor oil, and a staggering amount of raw, liquid digital blood.

Because the beast had been sliced perfectly at the atomic level, all of those highly pressurized fluids suddenly had no container holding them back.