The silence that gripped the Grand Arena of the Vanguard at this moment was no ordinary silence. It was an absolute stillness, the kind of vocal vacuum created when the intellect and logic of hundreds of high-caste humans are dismantled simultaneously in less than a single second. Crystal glasses filled with expensive wine were still gripped rigidly in the spectator stands, but their contents sloshed gently alongside the wildly racing heartbeats of their owners. The sulfurous vapor from the residual explosion of Jaxon Cross’s mechanical arm drifted slowly toward the concrete domed ceiling. Within the shattered crater of the boundary wall, the body of the Cross clan heir lay slumped like a broken ragdoll, completely motionless save for the fragments of hot metal that occasionally threw off small sparks. "T-That’s impossible..." a trembling whisper from a Vanguard faction regiment commander finally broke the suffocating quiet. "What... what was that just now? Where

SHIIING—BOOM! The flash of blue-gold spatial light faded with a heavy impact that vibrated through their internal organs. The next second, a suffocating, blood-colored atmosphere instantly assaulted their senses. The flow of Floor 3 Capital's pure oxygen vanished, replaced by an exceptionally dense air smelling of rusted old iron and sulfur. Floor 5: The Crimson Catacombs. The world at this caste had no sky. As far as the eye could see, there was only the ceiling of a titanic ancient cave shaped like a labyrinth of arches hanging hundreds of meters overhead, continuously dripping blood-colored toxic water. A thick red fog—a soul-corrosion gas known as the Crimson Miasma—crept slowly across the ground's surface, hissing softly whenever it made contact with solid material. "Argh! Cough... Damn it, this toxic gas is penetrating my armor's mana filters!" an elite combat faction student instantly dropped to his knees, clutch

Haaaah... Austin Carter’s breathing was steady and rhythmic, standing in stark contrast to the thick plumes of toxic smoke that filled the death hall. His head rested at a comfortable forty-five-degree angle against his plush, backup grey sleeping pillow. His eyelids were tightly shut, completely escaping the chaotic frenzy of human screams and the bloodthirsty howls of the Blood Gargoyles. To Austin, when the world became too noisy and exhausting, the absolute best solution was simply to let his consciousness sink into the peaceful darkness of sleep. However, right as Austin entered the phase of deep sleep, a gargantuan digital interface of a brilliant purple cosmic hue stretched across his subconscious mind, which was linked directly to the system core. Golden text flickered at an exceptionally rapid frequency, processing the battle data unfolding in the outside world in real-time. [System: Host's heart rate is stable. Brainwaves are in the

Hoammmm... Austin Carter stretched both his arms exceptionally slowly. His drowsy eyes opened halfway, blinking a few times to dismiss the remaining fog of sleep that still hung heavily over his consciousness. His left hand moved reflexively, patting the surface of his beloved grey sleeping pillow, which fortunately was completely untouched by any splashes of toxic fluid or stone dust. The moment Austin fully opened his eyes, the view inside the titanic square hall had already transformed into a deathly silent mass grave. More than four thousand flying creatures of the Elite B-Rank Blood Gargoyles caste that had filled the cave ceiling minutes ago had completely vanished without leaving behind even a single shard of flesh. Sreeek... As Austin's full consciousness returned, his colossal shadow army lines—the eight-meter-tall Zombie King, the five giant heads of the Mirror Swamp Hydra, as well as hundreds of phantom soldiers clad in ancient zira

CRACK... KRAAAAK! The sound of spatial tearing creaked loudly inside the completely obliterated primary control room. The God-Tier Aura Pressure unleashed by the partial incarnation of The Underworld God continued to surge boundlessly, condensing into dark gravitational waves that physically crushed the surrounding structures. The anti-magic metal floor beneath the creature's feet had completely melted, turning into a wildly boiling pool of pitch-black, ink-like lava that released sulfurous vapor capable of burning human lungs in a single breath. Atop the ruined floor, Selena Vance remained rigidly on her knees. Both her palms pressed against the scorching marble to support her violently trembling body. Her mana was completely, deathly pale; every time she attempted to circulate her ice magic energy, the blood-red aura from the Underworld God instantly severed and brutally purified her energy circulation, leaving behind an extraordinarily burning pain along the pathways of her sou