The Void.

  A realm where every loathsome creature is born from its endless, suffocating darkness. In its cold embrace, entire worlds are consumed by an eternal night—a creeping infection that spreads like a vile plague. Those touched by its shadow are warped, their minds unraveling into madness, twisting them into grotesque aberrations. These creatures are shaped by their deepest, most corrupted desires, taking on forms as varied as the darkness that birthed them.

  The guide says not all monsters are created equal. Most are bred to serve as cannon fodder—mindless, grotesque swarms to overwhelm the unwary. Some rise above, demonstrating a savage battle prowess that can cleave through armies. And a rare few… they become disasters in their own right—terrifying singularities of destruction, each capable of ravaging entire civilizations, a one-man army of annihilation.

  The guide attempts to map the monstrous hierarchy, though it cautions that what is known is merely a rough sketch, an inkling of the horrors out there. There are six known Void rankings, each marked by unimaginable terror and unrelenting hunger:

  [Pawns]

  These are the first rank of devolved monsters. Mindless creatures, their minds shattered, driven only by an insatiable urge to kill and consume. They are the weakest, yet the most dangerous in their numbers—spawning in hordes with a mere thought, surging forth like an uncontrollable tide. Their existence is dictated by a single driving force: the Touch of Gokgok—a maddening trait that turns them into relentless, shrieking horrors. Anyone unprepared will find themselves overrun in seconds, lost to the Void’s insidious touch.

  [Rooks]

  Brute force incarnate. These towering monstrosities possess nothing more than raw, unfathomable strength, their minds a hollow void beneath their immense, muscled bodies. They are the shock troops of the Void—wielding their power like a sledgehammer. With their bodies covered in skin tougher than steel, they are practically unstoppable. Tanks might as well be paper in their path. Though lacking in intellect, they are driven by a single, primal purpose: to destroy and crush anything in their way. Their presence brings with it the deafening sound of earth-shaking steps, the air thick with the weight of impending doom.

  [Knights]

  The elite of the elite. These monsters are cunning, their minds sharp enough to understand self-preservation. They exhibit the frightening resilience of a Rook, but with the added skill and agility of a true warrior. Humanoid in form, their movements are purposeful, each strike a calculated assault. They lead the charge in battle, commanding swarms of lesser creatures, their every decision a masterstroke of battle tactics. Their eyes gleam with intelligence—cold, calculating, and merciless.

  [Bishops]

  The embodiment of speed and agility. Thin and lanky but no less deadly than the Knights, these creatures are the storm upon which the battlefield hinges. Their speed is legendary—so quick that their movements blur, too fast to track with the naked eye. They strike like a flash of lightning, their sharp claws and fangs raking through flesh in an instant. With the endurance of a Knight, they are an unstoppable force, weaving through combat with an elegance that belies their deadly intent. Their very presence disrupts the air, an unsettling wind that signals their approach.

  [Queens]

  Massive, hulking beasts, Queens are the cruel architects of the Void’s army. They are summoners—gargantuan creatures that regurgitate spawn with a horrifying ease. Their thick, impenetrable skin shields them from most attacks, yet they move with surprising swiftness, outpacing even the average human. Though their monstrous size would suggest sluggishness, they are anything but. Protected by Bishops and Knights, the Queens summon void spawn by the hundreds, their voices a guttural incantation that calls forth destruction. If they feel threatened, a swarm of horrors erupts from their throats, a tide of madness that is impossible to halt.

  [Kings]

  The ultimate beings of the Void. These creatures transcend the limits of mere monsters. They are natural disasters—wielding unimaginable power, vitality, and stamina. Their bodies are colossal, their strength unparalleled. Some even retain the ability to speak, though their words are filled with venom and malice. While they are capable of rational thought, their motives are as twisted as the darkness that birthed them. Kings devour their own kind without hesitation, feeding on the very essence of the Void. No creature, human or monster, dares approach their territories, for to cross their path is to invite oblivion.

  Though these rankings exist, not all creatures adhere to them. Some aberrants surpass their station—beasts that defy categorization. As time wears on and these creatures grow more attuned to the Void, they evolve, changing in ways both horrific and unpredictable. The rate of this devolution is tied to their rank, but for those at the top, it is slow and agonizing. Yet there is a way to expedite this process…

  By feeding.

  The taste of flesh, the hunger for souls—this is how the Void-born grow stronger. By devouring the living, they inherit the traits and attributes of their victims. The more they consume, the more they evolve. But there’s a catch. Their own kind is poison. The meat of fellow Void creatures carries madness within it, an infection that seeps into the mind, unraveling sanity. To feast on another of their own kind is to plunge deeper into the Void, accelerating their descent into madness.

  The aberrants vary in their resistance to the madness. Some break swiftly, their minds snapping like brittle twigs. Others fight it longer, but in the end, all succumb. No being can escape the Void’s corruption. No creature is immune to the slow rot that devours them from within. Sooner or later, all will be consumed, body and soul, until they are nothing more than another twisted part of the Void.

  I took my time gearing up mentally—because clearly, charging headfirst into doom needs the right attitude. With each step southward, I hunted and grinded, slicing through whatever dared cross my path, all while the ever-hungry exp bar remained stubbornly unimpressed.

  Leveling up? Nah. My evolved traits were pulling more weight than any measly stat point could offer.

  That’s why I kept min-maxing the hell out of them, milking every opportunity to rack up passive points. [Void Cloak] was half-activated—an eerie veil draped over my shoulders, flickering with shadows like a living shroud. It did wonders hiding my modesty, considering all I had left was a pair of shorts clinging for dear life. On top of that, it kept the chill off my bones as the night air howled through the trees, the kind of cold that felt like ghost fingers brushing your spine.

  It didn’t even drain mana unless I wanted it to morph into something else. Still, no regen unless I napped—which wasn’t exactly on my to-do list while surrounded by walking teeth and tentacles.

  Jumping to another world crossed my mind, rinse and repeat the power climb. But after absorbing that memory shell, I realized something worse than my current fashion crisis.

  Aberrants were gathering.

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  And not just anywhere—they were orbiting Earth-zer0, the origin. The closer I got, the worse it became. So unless I wanted to spawn into a monster rave, I had to get stupidly strong, stupidly fast.

  “How long do you think it’ll take to reach the origin?” I muttered, stepping beyond the last tree, the eternal forest finally coughing me out like a hairball.

  Darkness hung thick over the land, deeper than night. No stars. No moon. Just endless black above a cursed world. And ahead?

  A wasteland.

  The ground cracked and broken, dead trees twisted like screaming corpses frozen in agony. Scattered bones—human, monster, or both—littered the terrain like sprinkles of condiments. This wasn’t a battlefield.

  It was a buffet for death.

  “Charming place. Real fixer-upper.” I muttered, kicking aside a cracked skull that rattled like an empty gacha roll.

  "[Oh, lovely! The ambiance really screams ‘romantic getaway,’ my Lord.]" Hunter chirped from my palm, its mouth curled up like a tiny inky gremlin.

  “Let me guess—this is where you Void freaks come to snack and crap?”

  "[Not entirely, my Lord. Based on the bone distribution and acidic soil damage, I’d estimate 40% snacking, 30% fighting, 20% dying, and 10% interpretive screaming.]"

  I snorted. “Efficient ecosystem.”

  We trudged on, black mist curling around our feet like it was trying to whisper secrets we didn’t want to hear. Far on the horizon, rising like a monument to all things terrible, the black spire loomed—silent and unmoving, piercing through the cloudless void above. Even from this distance, it towered like some ancient deity’s middle finger pointed right at the universe.

  It felt... alive. Like it was watching. Judging.

  Daring me to come closer.

  And I would. Eventually.

  “Think that thing’s compensating for something?” I asked.

  "[Definitely. Big spire energy. Possibly insecure about its entrance size.]"

  The path ahead wasn’t going to be easy. The air was heavy, and even this far out, I could feel the pressure dripping from the distant tower like oil in water.

  “I’m getting the sense that this whole eternal darkness thing isn’t just a fashion statement.”

  "[It’s quite trendy right now among apocalyptic parallel dimensions, my Lord.]"

  I exhaled slowly, adjusting my grip.

  “Alright, buddy. Let’s prep. We’ve got a long walk and a lot of things to murder.”

  "[Yay! Murder bonding time!]"

  The ground rumbled faintly in the distance. Shadows moved in the dark. Something had noticed us.

  "Guess they’ve rolled out the welcome mat..."

  I smirked as Hunter twitched eagerly in my hand.

  "...Time to stomp on it."

  [Trait activated: Void Cloak]!

  With fists moving faster than thought and space itself warping in protest, I let loose a flurry of blurry jabs so fast and fierce they punched literal dents into reality.

  Each strike cracked the air like divine whiplash, sonic booms rolling outward in an endless storm—cleaving through wave after wave of these mindless freaks like they were made of wet cardboard.

  The frontliners were all kinds of wrong.

  Humanoids with skin like wax and eyes missing, yet their ears perked like bats on crack. Others galloped like rabid apes but had carnivorous worms for heads—pure nightmare fuel. A rabbit with two heads gave me a double dose of judgement before it popped like an overcooked dumpling. Then came a bull with a single horn as long as a lamppost, charging at me like it had something to prove.

  It exploded into chunky salsa the moment it brushed against the ripple of my punches.

  “Hahahahahahahaha! Come on then, keep it coming! Don’t make me die of boredom before you kill me!” I howled, my laughter echoing louder than the thunderclaps born from my fists. Blood pounded in my ears, my veins thrumming with a feverish ecstasy—the raw joy of controlled carnage.

  Chunks of meat, shattered bones, and severed limbs piled around me like I was hosting an all-you-can-die buffet. Still, they kept coming—mindless, relentless, eager to become fertilizer in the name of stopping me. Pawns, dumb as moldy bricks, throwing themselves at me like unpaid interns into a corporate shredder.

  They weren’t here to win.

  They were here to stall.

  “Hah! I see your game, you cowardly slimebag. Hiding behind your meat curtain like a shy prom date!” I growled, eyes flashing as I scanned the battlefield.

  [Truthseeker]!

  A surge of clarity slammed into my vision like someone cleaned a foggy window with divine Windex.

  There they were.

  A dozen pale humanoids stitched together like someone played Frankenstein with leather scraps. They stood motionless—watching. Behind them loomed something worse: a figure oozing malice, draped in obsidian armor so shiny it almost looked holy, if holy meant “hell-bent on killing you.”

  And it was sitting on a horse. No, not just a horse—a six-legged nightmare stallion with smoke snorting from its nostrils and hooves that cracked the earth.

  "Oh wow," I muttered. "It’s a cosplay boss. Complete with the evil overlord starter kit."

  But the real eyesore?

  Ten dozen bloated abominations wobbling around nearby like they’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner three times in a row and still wanted dessert. Their mouths were unhinged portals, vomiting up monsters like a cursed Pez dispenser on full auto.

  [Gluttonous Pinguis Mulier - Level 12]

  Queen-rank Aberrant

  HP: 250 | MP: 500

  STR: 5 | INT: 30

  AGI: 10 | VIT: 8

  DEF: 300 | MOR: -56

  “Gluttonous Pinguis Mulier? What, did someone lose a bet naming you?!” I scoffed, eyes narrowing as I cracked my knuckles with a sound that echoed like snapping tree trunks. “You and your regurgitating K-Pop fan club back there are about to get a knuckle sandwich deluxe. Let’s see how fast you can puke when I’m shoving my entire arm down your throat!”

  With that, I charged—faster than any of their pathetic spawnlings could blink. The ground shattered beneath me, wind screaming around my sprinting form as I locked eyes with the nearest overfed abomination.

  I wasn't just going to shut their mouths.

  I was going to collapse the entire buffet.

  “[Void Cloak]—warp into my will!” I roared, my voice splitting the darkness like a whip crack.

  My cloak pulsed once again in midair—then snapped. In the blink of an eye, it reshaped into a second set of arms, perfectly mirroring mine—muscle for muscle, madness for madness. A surge of raw power detonated inside me. My veins bulged like overstuffed power cables, blood gushing out of my nose, ears, and even a little from the corners of my damn eyes.

  “Twice the hands, twice the pain. Let’s dance, ugly!” I bellowed, already breaking the invisible pressure that tried to pin me down like a divine timeout. That weight?

  Gone. I snapped the leash.

  In one fluid motion, I barreled forward like a demonic train, fists blurring, wind screaming in my wake. Each punch was a mini-apocalypse—shattering the unlucky bloated bastards in front of me like human meat balloons. Fat, viscera, and half-digested nightmares went flying like confetti from hell’s worst birthday party.

  They stared at me. Stared. The bloated spitters, eyes bulging with disbelief—as if they hadn’t expected me to punch through their buffet line.

  With the path wide open, I blitzed forward. The world behind me warped in heatwaves and afterimages, my feet slamming the earth with thunderous cracks, kicking up dust like I’d just declared war on the ground itself.

  The tower was still miles off in the distance, but now I felt it.

  I was no longer just human.

  Landing like a meteor in front of one massive abomination, I cocked my arm back and launched a fist straight into its jiggly gut. Its belly rippled like a waterbed in a hurricane, my fist plunging deep until its eyes rolled back and its whole body burst like an overripe tomato.

  [Ting!]

  [You earned 250 experience]

  "One down, a buffet to go."

  Sure, these tubby freaks had defense stats thicker than their cholesterol count—but lucky for me, I punch blunt. The moment my Attack stat outweighs their defense, it’s game over. Like punching rotten pumpkins. Explosive, messy, and oddly satisfying.

  “Alright, next build note: more strength, more speed. Less ‘get covered in monster bile."

  Without missing a beat, I lunged again—gauntlets cocked like cannons, fists swinging in a blazing storm of destruction.

  “Oho~ So you lot can’t puke and sprint at the same time, huh?” I noted, watching the chubby sprinters huff and wobble like overworked Roombas.

  The ones spitting out stronger aberrants were rooted in place, vomiting nonstop like cursed gacha machines, while the runners kept their mouths clenched like constipated toddlers at a veggie buffet.

  “They're fast for oversized pudding cups... but not fast enough.”

  “Hunter! Stretch those claws—let’s give 'em the slap they’ll never forget!” I barked, already bracing for the pain.

  “[My Lord... I’d like to file a complaint about the current length of our fingernails...]” Hunter quipped, deadpan, even as our fingers grotesquely elongated into writhing whips of death.

  “Request denied!”

  With a flick, the claws lashed out.

  Crack!

  Snap!

  Schlup!

  The screams that followed were wet, brief, and full of fleeting regret. Each strike shredded through flesh like a blender on steroids—turning aberrants into grotesque, meaty ribbons in a single swing.

  [Ting!]

  [You level up +1]

  [Ting!]

  [You level up +1]

  “Hah! Two levels in a single meat massacre. But of course,” I grinned, blood-slicked and proud. “Though seriously... 600,000 EXP for the next one? Who coded this cursed game, Satan’s accountant?!”

  But celebration had to wait.

  Newly spawned aberrants thundered toward me—big, bulky, and clearly juiced up on Void Whey Protein. They looked like the upgraded cousins of the freak I fought back in the forest. Stiffer, stronger, and somehow even uglier.

  I retracted the claws, fists ready.

  The meat party wasn’t over.

  Already thinned down to six Queen aberrants, the survivors started waddling away, trying to regroup with the others beyond the corpse-choked clearing.

  “Nuh-uh-uhhh.” I growled, sending a warning punch that split two of them like rotten coconuts.

  The rest froze mid-flee, horror finally dawning in their gelatinous brains. I tensed all four arms, rage spiraling, and launched my entire body into a finale of pain.

  BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

  Four queens detonated at once like grotesque fireworks—splatters of meat and entrails raining from the skies like a meteorological mistake.

  Silence.

  My red eyes locked onto the still-unmoving group of monsters standing behind the carnage, eyes narrowing.

  A knight stepped forward. Its face didn’t change—but then the corners of its lipless mouth twitched... stretched... until it formed a grotesque, teeth-filled grin that dripped with oily madness.

  And me?

  I just smiled back.

  Matching madness for madness.

  Outer Celestials,

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  [Ting!]

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