My Invincible Defense: Traversing the Endless Worlds

Finn stood by the dance floor, staring in disbelief as Jimmy danced.

Jimmy was performing the Hopak/Cossack-dance, one of Ukraine’s traditional dances.

He spun and leaped with his eyes closed, his limbs snapping and swinging through wide, forceful arcs—fierce, powerful, and explosive.

One moment he was crouched low, kicking his legs out from side to side. The next, he sprang into the air and split them wide. Then he dropped to one knee and hopped sideways, or leaped up and twisted through three full rotations in midair.

The guy moved like a hyper-flexible helicopter. Finn wouldn’t have been surprised if he actually took off and flew.

Wait—Jimmy really was flying! Legs tucked tight, arms stretched straight out, his whole body spun so fast he blurred into a shadow. His arms sliced through the air like propeller blades, whipping up churning waves of wind.

Then he hovered there, suspended a full five seconds in midair, before spiraling back down inside a swirling vortex.

The instant he landed, his legs bounced off the floor as if springs had been built into his soles. He spun once more, arms thrown high like a celestial maiden scattering blossoms.

“Wow!!” The crowd of men and women erupted in thunderous applause, cheering wildly for the breathtaking performance.

“Bro!” Jimmy spotted Finn at the edge of the dance floor and rushed over, bursting with excitement. “I unlocked a new gene lock! I’ve got a new ability now! Hahahahaha!”

What the hell is even locked inside your genes? Maybe it’d be better if they stayed locked. Finn was too drained to even roast him.

After finishing the Cossack dance, Jimmy looked completely wiped out. His body wasn’t built for this—every time he activated his ability, it felt like he had been hollowed clean out.

He staggered over to the bar and dropped onto a stool. Along the way, plenty of people high-fived him and greeted him with admiring shouts of “Brother!”

Looked like Jimmy was thriving here, conquering quite a few men with nothing but his dance moves.

Finn and Olivia grabbed seats at the bar as well. After chatting with Jimmy for a bit, they finally learned that Finn’s name as a Tier 5 Vanguard had already spread across all of Black Mountain. Word was he’d killed five hundred people single-handedly and wiped out the Demon Gang, carving out a fearsome reputation for himself.

As Finn’s sidekick, Jimmy had started strutting around on borrowed authority. People stepped aside the moment they saw him coming. Even though ninety-nine percent of the crowd in this bar could’ve pinned Jimmy down and mopped the floor with him, not a single person dared make a move.

Olivia ordered a glass of sherry and traded easy, off-and-on conversation with Finn.

Jimmy swung his legs back and forth on his stool, then suddenly got an idea. 

Finn could understand his mother tongue, so he said in his own mother tongue: “Bro, you’re chatting up the hottest girl in the whole bar, and not a single punk has come over to start trouble? What a waste. If one showed up, you could really show off!”

“There aren’t that many punks in the world,” Finn said helplessly.

“Look, everyone’s heard your name, but not everyone knows your face yet,” Jimmy said, completely serious. “Isn’t that how it always goes in novels? Some punk rolls up to start trouble, and boom—you show off and slap faces right in front of Olivia.”

Finn had no idea what kind of trash web novels this guy had been binge-reading. He was speechless.

Still, when it came to showing off and face-slapping, Finn did know one absolute legend—Chen-Awelon. Chen-Awelon was a member of the Spacetime Destruction Bureau. He possessed the Strongest Flex-and-Face-Slap System and had inherited the Flex God’s Legacy.

Two flexes stacked on flex, flex piled on flex—the ultimate flex king: Chen-Awelon.

Chen-Awelon’s way of flexing was impossible to describe in a few words. His teammates in the Spacetime Destruction Bureau had suffered more than enough because of it. Once they located the World Nucleus this time and returned to the bureau’s main base, they would probably run straight into the guy.

“Hey! Bro, look—no little punk, but an old punk just showed up!” Jimmy pointed excitedly at the bar entrance.

A burly, muscular old man strode into the bar. His temples were gray, his hair snow-white, and deep wrinkles carved across his aged face. His eyes were a little cloudy from age, but he still gave off a commanding presence without even trying.

The man reminded Finn of an old movie star—Schwarzenegger in his later years.

Jimmy had called him an old punk because the guy crossed the dance floor, pushed through the noisy crowd, locked eyes on Finn, and walked straight toward him. Clearly looking for trouble.

Maybe it was the sheer force of his aura, but the whole bar went quiet. Even the blaring electric guitar stopped its roar.

Jimmy nudged Finn. “Bro, this is it. Time to show off in front of Olivia. I’ll be your wingman!”

Before Finn could react, Olivia hopped down from her barstool, rushed over, and threw her arms around the old man in a tight hug. “Daddy!” she called out warmly.

Jimmy: “……”

…

In Black Mountain’s administrative center, Finn sat across from the burly old man. The old man’s name was Darius Smith. He was Olivia’s father—more accurately, her adoptive father.

Olivia was a mutant girl he had picked up when he founded the orphanage. She wasn’t his biological daughter.

Black Mountain’s orphanage housed plenty of abandoned children. Some were the result of unreliable parents’ one-night stands, while others had lost their parents to violent deaths.

Twenty years ago, Darius Smith had opened the orphanage. No one else wanted to look after a rowdy bunch of kids, so he took on the job of caregiver himself. That was why the young people from that generation all called him Father.

Besides being Olivia’s father, Darius Smith had another identity that caught Finn off guard—he was the City Lord of Black Mountain!

He was also the only Tier 5 Vanguard in the entire city.

“After all these years, the sixth Tier 5 Vanguard has finally shown up.” A flicker of nostalgia crossed Darius’s cloudy eyes as he looked at Finn. “Being young really is something.”

“How old are you?” Finn asked.

He figured a respected elder like this deserved some courtesy.

Besides, Finn had heard the stories about the old man. In his younger days, he had dominated the wasteland and built a fearsome reputation. In middle age, he had unified Black Mountain, crushed every military faction in the surrounding area, and poured everything he had into developing the city—turning it into the largest grain-producing hub in the desert.

Celestial Sojourners had always shown respect for people who actually built things.

Most of Celestial Sojourners were the kill-and-run type anyway. They would tear a world apart, stir up absolute chaos, then brush off their hands and vanish without a trace.

“Getting old,” Darius Smith sighed quietly. “I might be in my seventies now. Or maybe my eighties. I’ve lost track myself.”

All at once his body tensed, every muscle standing out as his eyes sharpened like an aging lion king who still had plenty of bite left. “But if I had to kill ten Tier 4 Vanguards—or go head-to-head with a Tier 5—I could still do it without any trouble!”

Finn gave a small smile. He could clearly sense the wariness Darius Smith felt toward him.

He understood why. He was an outsider with a weird accent and zero history in the wasteland. Then he’d rolled into Black Mountain out of nowhere and shot straight to fame as a Tier 5 Vanguard. Anyone in Darius’s position would have questions about his real motives.

“I’m just a traveler,” Finn said easily, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Darius Smith looked surprised. “Where are you headed?”

“Ironatom.”

“Ironatom…” Darius nodded slowly, thinking it over. “I actually know the City Lord there. I can write you a personal letter. Take it with you and you’ll be treated very well in Ironatom.”