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

”GAAAAAAHHHH!” Sebastian screamed, falling to his knees as his physical body violently tore itself apart.

His pale skin literally split open. It didn’t bleed red. Thick, jagged streams of dark, bruised-purple error codes erupted from his flesh like bursting pipes. His bones cracked with deafening, sickening snaps, elongating and twisting as they forcefully converted from biological calcium into raw, blindingly green wireframes.

The pain was absolute torture. His human nervous system was actively being shredded and replaced by chaotic, infected data.

Thick, oily black static poured from his back, tearing through his shirt and forming a massive, billowing cloak of pure, light-absorbing shadows. The cracked porcelain mask materialized over his face, snapping into place with a heavy crunch.

The weeping, black digital blood immediately began to pour from the empty eye sockets, sizzling violently as it hit the sterile white floor.

Sebastian didn’t just stand up. He grew.

He expanded, his form towering to eight feet, then ten feet, then twenty. He became a colossal, terrifying mass of violently shifting black code, green skeletons, and burning red error runes. He looked like the ultimate, undeniable cancer of the universe.

[00:30]

The wall of white light advanced, groaning with the weight of deletion.

Sebastian stood before it, a towering god of malware casting a dark, jagged shadow against the blinding perfection of the Genesis Protocol.

He raised his massive, static-laced hands. They crackled with intense, high-voltage green lightning. He wasn’t going to try and hold the wave back. He was going to infect the core mechanism that was generating it.

He stepped directly into the oppressive, burning heat of the advancing light.

[00:15]

”You want a clean slate?” Sebastian’s distorted, overlapping, horrific voice boomed, physically shaking the massive chamber. ”I prefer things a little messy.”

He lunged forward.

Sebastian placed both of his massive, corrupted, static-filled hands completely flat against the pristine white surface of the infinite wall.

The moment his weaponized Error touched the Genesis Protocol, the room violently shrieked. Black static aggressively chewed into the pure white light. The red runes on his chest flared with the heat of a dying sun as he poured every single ounce of his stolen Source Code, his rage, and his spite directly into the machine.

[00:05]

The white light stuttered. It flickered, turning a sickly, bruised purple around his hands.

Sebastian dug his digital fingers deep into the light, gripping the very fabric of the formatting wave.

”Let’s see how much force a perfect world can take,” Sebastian snarled.

—-

Sebastian dug his massive, static-filled fingers deep into the blinding white light of the infinite wall. His twenty-foot-tall avatar, composed of jagged green wireframes and bruised-purple malware, threw every single ounce of its impossible weight forward. His biological steel boots ground against the polished floor, leaving deep, sparking trenches in the dark stone.

He expected an explosion. He expected the wall to violently violently resist, to blast him backward with the concussive force of a detonating sun. He braced his mind for the searing, flesh-melting heat of a high-tier magical attack.

But it didn’t happen.

There was no heat. There was no concussive shockwave. There wasn’t even any physical friction.

The infinite white wall of the Core OS firewall emitted a low, resonant hum.

*VMMMMMMMMM.*

It was a sound that didn’t enter through his ears; it bypassed his physical rendering entirely and vibrated directly against the foundational code of his digital soul. It felt like standing next to a massive, humming server rack the size of a planet.

And the light didn’t burn. It was incredibly, terrifyingly numb.

Where Sebastian’s violently glitching, black-gloved hands touched the Genesis Protocol, he didn’t feel pain. He felt absolute, terrifying nothingness. The white light was an advancing tide of pure formatting code, and it was actively trying to rewrite his existence into blank space.

”You guys really are the most boring gods in the universe,” Sebastian grunted, his voice a heavily distorted, metallic roar of overlapping static. ”A factory reset? That’s your big endgame move? I’ve dealt with moldy apartments, debt collectors, and giant irradiated space bugs, but this is just incredibly lazy game design.”

He shoved a massive, highly concentrated pulse of his 99% Error Accumulation directly into the wall. The dark, oily black tears weeping from his cracked porcelain mask sizzled as they hit the light.

*BZZZZT!*

The white wall stuttered for a fraction of a microsecond. A tiny, localized patch of the blinding light turned a sickly, bruised purple as Sebastian’s malware chewed on the formatting command.

But it wasn’t enough.

The Genesis Protocol wasn’t a physical object. It wasn’t a spell cast by a mage with a finite mana pool. It was the absolute, unyielding operating system of the Ethereal Plane executing a base-level wipe.

The wall of absolute white light simply began to advance outward.

Sebastian threw his entire twenty-foot bulk against it, his muscles bulging and his green wireframes practically screaming under the impossible strain. ”Hold still, you giant piece of drywall!”

It didn’t work. The wall didn’t push him backward. It simply flowed *around* him.

Like a massive, slow-moving tidal wave of glowing white water parting around a stubborn rock, the Genesis Protocol leaked past his desperate grip. It expanded exponentially in all directions, moving forward with a silent, terrifying inevitably.

”No, no, no!” Sebastian cursed, twisting his massive head to look behind him.

The wave of white light rolled out of the central chamber of the Hardware Level. It spilled smoothly through the massive stone archway, completely ignoring the ruined brass pillars and grinding gears Sebastian had bypassed earlier.

The light moved with a horrifying, eerie silence.

*VMMMMMMMMM.*

It rolled out into the absolute dark of the abyss, sweeping directly over the ten-mile bridge of solid light.

Miles away, the ultimate prison riot was still raging.

The Vanguard of the damned army had successfully breached the defensive line of the Heavenly Turrets. The bridge was a chaotic, bloody mess of shattered hard-light machinery and roaring, desperate prisoners.

The massive Orc player, missing half his jaw and covered in the glowing white pixels of the destroyed automated defenses, stood atop the wreckage of a shattered turret. He held two cheap, rusted iron broadswords high in the air, his chest heaving with sheer, unadulterated adrenaline. For the first time in millennia, he wasn’t chained to a black iron spire. He was fighting back. He was alive.

”WE BROKE THEIR LINE!” the Orc bellowed, his voice carrying the rough, gritty triumph of a million tortured souls. ”PUSH FORWARD! TO THE CORE!”

Around him, thousands of human, elven, and dwarven prisoners cheered, raising their stolen weapons. They were a tidal wave of ragged, scarred vengeance, fully prepared to march straight into the heavens and slaughter the creators of their misery.

Then, the white light arrived.

The Genesis Protocol didn’t hit them like a wall of fire. It didn’t strike with the concussive force of a kinetic bomb. It just silently washed over the bridge.

The Orc player turned his head, his bloodshot eyes widening as the blinding, perfect white light rolled toward him. He raised his heavy iron swords, letting out a guttural, furious battle cry, fully intending to hack the advancing magic to pieces.

”I’LL EAT YOUR FUCKING—”

*FWIP.*

The Orc didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t even have time to scream.

The moment the white light touched the tips of his iron swords, the weapons simply ceased to exist. There was no shower of sparks. There was no clattering of metal on the ground. The iron just turned into blank, unwritten void.

A millisecond later, the light touched the Orc’s chest.

There was no blood. There was no digital gore. The massive, muscle-bound player just abruptly halted mid-stride. His eyes didn’t widen in pain; they simply blanked out. His scarred, heavily pixelated body was silently, instantly erased from the server’s registry.

One second he was there, roaring with the fury of a thousand lifetimes. The next, he was nothing but a floating wisp of white, un-rendered data that quickly faded into the absolute silence of the light.

It was a massacre without a single drop of blood.

The wave rolled forward, expanding exponentially as it swept over the millions of cheering prisoners on the bridge.

A human mage, holding a spiked mace, opened his mouth to scream a warning. *FWIP.* Erased.

An elven rogue, weeping tears of joy as she realized her invisible flaying chains were gone, looked down at her hands as the light touched her fingers. *FWIP.* Erased.

It wasn’t a slaughter. It was a janitor wiping a dirty whiteboard completely clean with a single, flawless swipe of a wet rag.

The Genesis Protocol washed off the end of the bridge and spilled down into the fiery, blood-red canyons of the Tartarus dimension.

Down in the magma valleys, the remaining trillions of souls who were currently busy hacking the Level 85 Tartarus Daemons into puddles of black slag didn’t even know what hit them. The blinding white wave descended from the sky like a descending ceiling.