CHAPTER 93: The digital countdown clock suspended over the Grand Central Plaza of the Tyrant’s Imperial Core glowed in stark, unyielding crimson numbers.[TIME TO MIDNIGHT REMITTANCE: 00:03:42]Across the Andromeda galaxy, every major trade guild, stellar merchant cartel, and surviving military remnant had redirected their long-range sensor arrays toward Primordia. For ten thousand years, the Abyssal Outer Void had been the uncontested shadow-bank of the universe, extracting tithes from countless solar systems under the threat of total planetary erasure. Now, the tables were violently inverted. An Earth-born Beast Master had placed a high-stakes tax levy on the most terrifying pantheon of the cosmos, and the entire universe was waiting to see if the ancient gods would fight or fold.Inside the obsidian command chamber of the imperial palace, the atmosphere was as calm and still as absolute zero.Mark Shola stood before the panoramic glass deck, his hands bu

CHAPTER 95: ​Inside the obsidian war room of the Void Sanctum, the air tasted of ozone and absolute terror.​Void God Overlord Erebus stood before the grand central monitoring matrix, his dozens of vertical purple plasma eyes wide and blinking in erratic, uncontrollable spasms. On the massive holographic tactical grid floating above the obsidian table, the status indicator for Void Resource Outpost Alpha flickered once, twice, and then vanished completely into a blank grey void.​Not a single shot had been fired. No distress signal had breached the quantum relays. In less than ten minutes, a moon-sized refining citadel—the financial and industrial heartbeat of the Outer Void's southern sector—had been completely gutted, stripped of its dark-matter reserves, and converted into empty space dust.​“Gone...” Erebus’s voice echoed like a cracking glacier through the cavernous chamber, the 8,000 CP baseline of his primordial shadow aura violently destabilizing the room's

CHAPTER 97: ​The sprawling continental metropolis of Aethelgard floated majestically across the upper thermosphere of Sector-1, a breathtaking architectural marvel composed of millions of miles of glowing white-marble spires, floating crystal libraries, and stellar-forge shipyards that dwarfed entire solar systems. For over a hundred thousand years, Aethelgard had served as the administrative capital and banking hub for the Divine Arbiters Guild—one of the ruling factions of the Higher Multiverse. ​Right now, the entire metropolis was experiencing a catastrophic system panic. ​Inside the grand, gold-domed Council of Scales, the primary multi-planar currency matrix was flashing in a violent, unyielding crimson. Trillions of standardized multiverse credits were spontaneously draining from the treasury vaults at an incomprehensible velocity, routed through an unauthorized, un-cappable external account originating from the newly dissolved Sector-99 boundar

CHAPTER 98: ​The multi-planar winds of Sector-1 whipped across the crystalline exterior of flagship Valerion, howling with the raw thermodynamic force of a newborn galaxy. The infinite, blinding white expanse of the Higher Multiverse stretched outward in every direction, dotted by colossal, floating continental landmasses the size of entire solar systems. Each landmass was wrapped in shimmering, multi-colored elemental barriers that pulsed with ancient, god-tier frequencies.​Mark Shola stood unmoved on the apex command deck of his flagship, his fingers resting easily within his combat jacket pockets. His vertical green pupils tracked the massive, sun-sized silhouette of a Void-Drift Leviathan grazing lazily along the outer perimeter of the Aethelgard continental shelf. The creature’s Level 105 energy signature pulsed with a blinding 15,000 CP output, illuminating the white-hot void like a living beacon of unharvested wealth.​"Lord Mark," Fleet Admiral Tenebris reporte

CHAPTER 101: ​The heavy, high-grade star-core diamond doors of the [Myriad Faction Citadel] council chamber remained locked in their recessed frames, but the psychological barrier protecting the five Supreme Overlords had been completely vaporized. ​Silence hung heavy across the shattered quartz floor. Where frantic shouts of war and multi-elemental plasma crackles had filled the room moments before, there was now only the rhythmic, bone-rattling hum of fifty singularity cannons charging in the stratosphere above. ​Guild Master Vane remained on his knees, his massive Level 112 multi-elemental broadsword lying discarded in a pool of his own cold sweat. His 35,000 CP baseline—a power metric that had allowed him to govern the stellar currents of Sector-1 with absolute impunity for two centuries—felt like a child’s toy compared to the lingering gravitational suppression of Mark’s passing shadow. ​"Seventy percent..." the High Matriarch of th