He loomed amidst the storm of ruin, his figure unmoving—shrouded in a cloak the color of dried blood, His skin had gone pale, ashen, every trace of radiance gone—light siphoned clean from his body.
He did not move. He did not speak. He simply clenched his fists so tightly the veins burst against his wrists. And in that silence, his face lit with an unnatural gleam, as if even he hadn’t expected these children, playing hero, to make it this far through the abyss.
Dark energy swirled around him, a hurricane churning that bent the world’s edges.
Trinity sneered, lips curling into a jagged smile. “…So, you think you are? The saviors of the universe?”
Zoe stepped forward, her gaze the fire forged from scars. “What did you do to Gaia?!” she spat.
Trinity’s laugh ripped across the field. “You’re just a little girl who still dreams about saving the world… when you can’t even pick out matching clothes.”
Skyler didn’t wait for the insults to stretch longer. His hand twitched, his pulse hammering—then his form shattered into the spectrum of the Fifth Dimension. Lines of glowing code surged around him, It poured from his body in violet streams—the raw surge of a program rewriting itself, smashing through its own limits.
[Hacker of the Fifth Dimension]
Title appeared above his head.
- Mobility: MAX
- Attack Speed: MAX
- Evasion: SSS
His form vanished into streaks of raw force—each punch, each kick shredding the air apart, so fast the HUD filling his mind screamed ‘Critical!’ and ‘Combo x9’ across the screen. Had any strike connected, damage numbers would have exploded in blood-red across reality itself.
Trinity vaulted backward, palms cloaked in seething black aura. He swung—and the clash detonated, dimensions grinding so violently the very air warped, swelling grotesque as the impact rattled the battlefield down to their bones.
Skyler grinned—mocking, reckless. Enjoying this more than surviving.
He warped again—the world jump-cutting to a fresh scene, digital glare birthing a new stat card at his side:
[Shadow Mode: Hyper Focus]
The smile that once carried warmth twisted. His lips curled, his eyes grew sharper, predatory—danger seeping into every flicker of his gaze.
For one instant, he lifted his hand, power surging recklessly forward before his mind could scream stop. Energy burst from his palm—too much, too wild to be called a mistake.
The shockwave hurled a small pink-haired body backwards—feet torn off the ground, Zoe flung helplessly into the air.
And then the echo in his skull screamed—
What the hell are you doing… that’s Zoe!
The thought detonated inside him, echoing—thunder, a thousand overlapping voices—until his inner world shattered. His breath caught; his chest burned. Power intoxication cracked apart, glass under a hammer. He lunged, snatching Zoe mid-air. Guilt hit—tidal wave, enough to choke.
Trinity didn’t waste the moment. His arm swung wide—black energy surged out, a tidal wave of shadow.
The battlefield quaked. The HUD flickered in everyone’s vision:
[Status: Overload!]
Roxy didn’t hesitate. She flicked her wrist, summoning the Mirror Dimension—a transparent barrier snapping around Skyler and Zoe.
[Shield +7000]
The numbers blinked in her mind as the black wave slammed into her wall of glass and light.
Emilia raised her weapons—gravity cannon and heavy machine gun. Her aim was a god-tier pro-gamer, flawless and merciless. Her finger squeezed the trigger. Blue gravitational waves shot out, colliding with the dark surge mid-field.
[Effect: Anti-Gravity Field | Debuff -50% DMG]
The notification blinked in her vision, her other hand already twitching to fire again.
Meanwhile, Len vanished—his body swallowed by stealth. The status line shimmered in every mind:
[Stealth: Invisibility – 12s]
An instant later—he was behind Trinity, dagger in hand. The blade struck, aimed with unerring precision for the jugular.
[Critical! -13,000 HP]
The numbers exploded in every HUD. Trinity twisted at the last second, the blade glancing past death’s line—but tearing a gash so deep blood erupted in a jet.
Roxy seized the opening.
[Charge Skill: Spear of Infinity]
Her spear whirled, slicing the air, lunging for his heart.
But Trinity snarled—
[Reverse! Weapon Snatch]
A black hole ripped open. The spear vanished into it—only to reappear in his hand. He gripped it, twisted, and hurled it back.
But mid-flight, the weapon flared—shattering into a storm of blades, icy daggers multiplying by the hundreds.
[Ultimate! Multi-Blade Barrage – Executed by: Len]
Daggers swarmed from every angle, tearing across the arena.
Trinity lashed out—
[Dark Veil – Immunity: 5s]
A cocoon of shadow wrapped around him.
Emilia gritted her teeth and fired—
[Gravity Break! – Dispel All Shields]
The black veil cracked apart. The explosion thundered, shaking every pillar.
[Attack Speed x3]
Len reappeared, relentless, blades striking in a blur. Each thrust landed, each slash dug deep.
Trinity’s movements faltered—slowed.
[Bleeding -1500 HP/sec]
The status blinked across their HUDs, bright and red.
The cloaked man staggered, knees hitting the stone. Sweat streamed down his temple, dripping off his jaw. His lips trembled, twitching as though fighting the weight of the world.
Then his hand darted beneath his cloak—clutching something cold, metallic.
A device.
A remote.
He pressed it.
Click.
A piercing zoom-whine shrieked through the void. From thin air, something white began to take shape—its form identical to a prototype cryo-capsule. Large enough to hold a full human body inside.
Black smoke bled out of Trinity’s frame, coiling upward—souls unbound, writhing vapors rising from the flames of hell. His body collapsed onto the ground, dignity shredded to nothing.
“…What the hell is that?” Emilia hissed under her breath, gravity rifle still trained on target, suspicion hardening every line of her presence.
Roxy edged closer, footsteps cautious, her expression slipping from confidence to guarded doubt.
That black smoke! It was the same as the one that had once poured out of Len that night—the night Zoe was brought back.
Everything overlapped in a rush of memory.
His thoughts tore past each other, but inside his head, everything went flat—unmoving, the black mirror of an underground lake.
The symbol etched at the capsule’s core: a trapezoid matrix, stacked together into sharp, metallic glyphs…
— FV —
He had seen it before. On the moon. On that giant machine.
And now… the memory slammed into him, crystal-clear, enough to shake his chest.
A boy, hair messy, shirt slightly wrinkled, oil smudges staining his hands—Skyler as a child, standing at the lab’s threshold with breathless anticipation.
A scanning ray swept across his eyes—Vzzzzip!—the lab door sliding open with the kind of cinematic hum you only hear in blockbuster sci-fi, though in truth industrial doors weren’t meant to make any sound at all.
The lab stank of bitter coffee mixed with the metallic tang of molten silicon.
In one corner, Professor Valentine was bent over a workbench, hands steady as he welded micro-circuits into a mechanical arm. Sparks spat against the glass shield. Beside him sat an odd contraption, something between a surgical tool and a nest of nano-probes.
The little boy dragged his own toolbox to the table, blinking fast as though searching for excuses.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Professor, my gloves are broken… again,” he muttered.
Valentine only lifted his head enough to flash sharp, calculating edge in his demeanor. No lecture, no sigh—just reached for a tablet, a customized model far ahead of its time.
Skyler leaned closer. On-screen, endless lines of digital circuits and incomprehensible schematics unfolded in shimmering holographic blueprints.
And in the corner, stamped—a signature of two letters, clean and sharp.
— FV —
“…What does that stand for?” the boy asked, pointing at the corner, brow raised in relentless curiosity that refused to be silenced.
The professor chuckled, rough and warm, before ruffling the kid’s already wild hair until it stood worse.
“That, kid, is the mark of me and my partner—someone as insane as I am. The only ones mad enough to start a project the rest of the world wouldn’t dare touch.”
Skyler squinted, tracing the letters with a fingertip. “V is for Valentine, right? But F… who’s F?”
The man leaned close, whisper edged with conspiracy, the bitter scent of coffee clinging to his words. “Listen carefully—this is top secret. F… is Fergo. The true president of NexaCorp.”
The boy’s features widened. His hand slapped over his mouth—UFO sighting level shock. Not from fear of leaking the secret, but because in that instant, the entire world flipped upside down.
NexaCorp—the megacorporation whose AI biodroids filled the airwaves every day. A faceless empire. Nobody had ever seen its true president. Fergo was a phantom, a myth whispered only among a handful of insiders.
And yet Skyler, the little boy with grease on his hands, had heard the name straight from one of Fergo’s closest collaborators.
That day, Valentine’s laughter boomed, drowning out the entire lab.
Skyler walked out, heart hammering, every beat the weight of launch codes to a hidden arsenal.
As he turned back, his gaze caught the logo again—FV etched across the blueprint’s corner.
Not just a mark.
But a doorway to the unseen machinery spinning the world’s fate.
“Fergo…”
The name slipped from Skyler’s lips, barely more than a whisper. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. His foot edged half a step back before he even realized it.
The capsule’s machinery hummed low, every groan hanging in the air before the hatch slid open. A flood of white vapor poured out, spilling into the air like morgue frost in midwinter. The chill slammed into their lungs, breath turning to thin mist.
From that veil of fog, a figure emerged—slow, deliberate.
A man in a pristine white suit, unwrinkled, unflawed.
Skin pale enough to reflect light. Not a wrinkle, not a blemish. Black hair slicked perfectly back, not a strand out of place. His jaw cut sharp, the precision of a master artisan’s blade. Lips sealed thin, tension drawn tight. His eyes—voids without end—fixed ahead, devouring every gaze, pulling them into the gravity well of a dying star.
The world froze in that instant. Every chest tightened, every breath caught. The aura radiating off him pressed down on their hearts, invisible chains coiled tight around them. They wanted to run. Their bodies refused to move.
Fergo’s lips twitched into a smile—an expression not worn in centuries. And with it, the air around them dropped ten degrees colder.
“You already know, don’t you…?” His voice was both corrosive and resounding, a funeral chant etched into stone. “…No matter how hard you fight, it’s pointless.”
Then the laugh came. A shrill, manic “Gahahaha!”—the exact same laugh from Skyler’s nightmares.
“Go on then… pick your death.”
“Who the hell are you?” Emilia stepped forward, jaw clenched tight enough to show the muscles straining across her face. Her face blazed, every line in her body ready to tear the truth from his throat.
The man in the suit smiled again, the edges of his mouth curling with equal parts contempt and menace. “Seems like you’re still… behind on the story.”
Skyler swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak past the weight crushing his chest. “He’s Fergo. The real president of NexaCorp. The one behind everything… the one who’s been pulling our strings from the start.”
No more words were needed.
Everyone felt it in their bones.
The true devil… stood before them.
Everything—the cataclysm, the losses, the cross-dimensional chaos—had its origin in one man.
A man colder than moonlight over a fresh grave.
Fergo.
President of NexaCorp.
A man who refused to be just a speck of dust in the universe.
He didn’t grow up in a home of laughter or warm bread at dawn. He grew up as the son of a woman who never yielded—Hanna—the warrior who was mother and diplomat in one, who bargained with death and won. She’d taken victory with bare hands, staged coups with a single blade, and once ripped an AI system apart—changing the course of human history.
“Don’t wait for the world to be kind to you. The world never had a heart. Change it—with your fists…and your mind.” That was not mere advice. It was a lesson she demonstrated every single day.
Fergo remembered his mother coming home with blood on her shoes and holding him without a word. He remembered the scent of gunpowder in her hair more vividly than any perfume. She was a superhero who never needed a mask—and he was sure nothing could touch her. Not even death.
He was wrong.
It did not come as war or a killer. It came quietly—an unnamed sickness. Her immune system failed strand by strand, as if something were plucking away the threads of her life.
Fergo sat by her bed without moving. Her fingers—cold as ice—kept trying to close around his until the very last second. She didn’t wail. She didn’t bargain. Only sadness, an unfamiliar softness crossed the face of that invincible woman.
“Mom… you’ll beat it, won’t you? Even God—Mom, you’ll beat God, right?”
The question slipped out of a boy’s mouth, helpless. Her body cooled, lava surrendering its fire.
That night a man the world only knew as the Professor appeared at the foot of the bed—skin unwrinkled, eyes the deep gray of star ash.
“Your mother was the only one I ever loved… and I let her die,” He said, a confession in tone—yet nothing in him carried guilt. Then he dropped the line that detonated Fergo’s world:
“I…am your father, Fergo.”
It pierced him, the silent bullet embedded deep. No screams. No argument. He simply stood there—alive, yet unmoving as a corpse.
After that night, the boy was locked in an underground lab for years, his brain melted and rewired with code and genetics from arcane research Javier had hoarded.
“You will never die… remember that, Fergo.” Those words became his curse.
He had to cut into his mother’s brain with his own hands, over and over—watching grotesque experiments repeat until sanity frayed. He swallowed fear as the man calling himself ‘Father’ covered his mouth and recorded his brainwaves.
“I am not human… and neither are you, Fergo. We were born to be more than that,” the man said.
“Fear is the language of the weak.” Cold hands clamped his jaw as the device ticked.
The boy cried until tears ran dry. In the end, only an empty stare remained as he looked at his mother’s corpse.
Slowly, Fergo understood: death, loss, endings—these aren’t divine code. They are evolution’s failure. A trick the world uses to make people accept that everything must end.
He could not—would not—be just a tiny point swallowed by that failure.
Fergo remembered everything. He remembered his mother’s voice about hope in humanity. He remembered that she chose to die a human, not to be kept alive by a hollow, heartless magic.
He chose a different path.
“Technology for a better world?” he sneered in his mind. “Nonsense. I built it to conquer death.”
Nexacore Corporation was more than a company—under Fergo it became a monument of vengeance the Professor left behind. And now Fergo would carry the work forward.
He didn’t merely want survival—he wanted immortality, the power to steer the world away from the stupidity of humans. In Fergo’s eyes, the real enemy wasn’t interdimensional demons or cosmic wars—it was death itself.
He did not want hope. He wanted control. That, to him, was protection.
So the lunar secret base was forged as a digital mausoleum—a place to house consciousness, to upload and copy souls, to stack fragments of himself again and again. The base had no life—only mainframes and algorithms copying the memories of a madman chasing his own shadow in the dark.
On the night Professor Valentine died, he left a digital blueprint. Fergo stared at it as if he saw the reflection of God. “One day… you’ll understand,” he whispered—cold as a prayer to a demon.
He hid the secret carefully—afraid others would steal the power of immortality.
“Quanigma” became the weapon for those bold enough to rewrite the world’s definition. While building the base, Fergo discovered Aether Ore—an energy source that offered more than life. It was the fuel of gods. The moon held only a trace, not enough to feed the hunger Fergo saw in his mind. He dug deeper—plumbing the rock, a man possessed, whispers driving him on:
If I cannot control life, the world will collapse…
Then he found a wormhole—a dimensional gate quantum physicists dared not believe. It led to another world—one rich in aether, guarded by Gaia. Fergo sent Rippers—an army of ants toward the hive. They burned and disintegrated before they reached the heart.
When ordinary tools failed, he rewrote the rules. Fergo uploaded his consciousness through the wormhole—planning to seize a new body in the other world. That life-force had to belong to him. Not merely to live above others, but because he believed himself the universe’s only true path forward. And—
For humanity to survive, a new god must be born.
Deep down he knew this gamble was monstrous. He hated what he did as much as he hated a universe of false creators.
“If killing millions is the price to change the world—then I’ll accept that sin myself.”
That twisted benevolence—this warped ‘good’ he told himself—stripped him of what makes one human. In the end, Fergo chose to destroy to save the multiverse, cloaked as merciful cruelty. He would march forward, even knowing the cost: shattered souls.
Roxy pieced it all together inside her head.
The final shard of the puzzle clicked into place. The unease she’d felt all this time—every instinct that had screamed something was off—pointed to the man before her.
Her presence hardened, bitter resolve igniting—the dying star flaring one last time. She raised her spear and hurled it across the void—air tearing apart as the point arrowed straight for Fergo’s face.
For a heartbeat, destiny itself seemed about to shift. He didn’t even blink. The spear disintegrated into dust before it reached him, as if no force left in this world could touch him anymore.
Fergo’s pale fingers rolled the grains of sand, a child’s cruelty—hope crushed between thumb and forefinger. He flicked once—
The sand burst outward in a shockwave beyond imagination. Roxy’s mirrored armor flared into being—then shattered instantly, her breath cut off. Her body skidded across the floor, blood spraying across Skyler’s frozen face.
“Help her!” Emilia’s voice was a whip, cracking through the silence.
Skyler’s palms pressed over Roxy’s wound, power flooding out even as his mind reeled. Sweat poured down his temple—unsure if he was healing her or just buying time.
The scream of Emilia’s weapon replaced what her throat couldn’t hold back. She squeezed the trigger; a storm of bullets tore toward Fergo.
Len seized the chance, phasing behind the enemy in a blink—
But it wasn’t that easy. Fergo’s hand shot back and clamped Len’s throat midair. The head of Squad Two was hurled straight into Emilia’s barrage, Convulsing. Test dummy under fire. Ground. Still.
“LEN!” Emilia’s shriek broke into tears at the edges.
Fergo extended his hand, and black energy erupted—coiling, crushing, the titan serpent made real, winding tight around her frame. Every inch of it dripped with loathing and dread.
“Shhh… told you, pretty one. You’re wasting your strength.”
Then he slammed her down. Again. And again. Bones and muscle cracked with each impact until Skyler—frozen—had to look away.
Fergo turned to him at last, expression blank, his look flat. He didn’t need a speech. One sentence cut sharper than a hundred blades:
“Now it’s just you.”
Skyler stepped in front of them all, lips trembling, hands cold as iron in ice water. His brain ran scenarios—every exit was already sealed. Fergo was stronger than anything his inner system could model.
Copying? Absorbing? Reversing? What the hell kind of power is this…?
The question pressed down on him, an entire mountain on his chest. One thing he knew: if he gambled with the Fifth Dimension now and it got swallowed, he’d have nothing left.
Fergo’s mouth curved—the victor’s smile. “Seems like you’re the only one who gets it. But… it’s already too late.”
He spread his palm. Air around Skyler compressed, invisible cages of folded space locking his body until even a fingertip couldn’t twitch.
Fergo raised his other hand. A black singularity opened beside the Tree of Life, siphoning Gaia’s energy as calmly as someone scooping water from a well.
The Tree began to wither. The balance of the multiverse unraveled thread by thread…
“You can’t stop me,” Fergo said it—a verdict cast in stone. “Fate didn’t write this… I did.”