Chapter 5: A Celestial Cataclysm of Fire and Stone

  Fascinating... Leveling up doesn’t consume my accumulated mana. Instead, after breaking through, I retain all the energy I’d gathered—plus an additional unit. This explains why capacity shatters only to reform, larger than before.

  Imagine a small container nested inside a larger one, which itself sits inside an even greater vessel. This pattern might stretch into infinity—who knows?

  When the smallest vessel fills to the brim, pressure builds until it fractures, spilling its contents into the next. That’s the cycle of core evolution.

  Days passed as I absorbed energy, converting it into mana. By the third week in this world, I’d reached capacity again and felt the familiar, invisible barrier.

  At first, I assumed higher levels would make the wall harder to break. But to my surprise, its resistance hadn’t changed. My theory? The container grows, but its walls don’t thicken. After hours of exertion, I shattered it once more.

  Ah… Ecstasy. I’m addicted to this feeling. More. I need more—

  Wait.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Is this how the system controls me? But… this sensation—I crave it. Not that I have anything better to do, right?

  Fine. This round goes to the system.

  Golden light engulfed me, that divine warmth returning. If I still had lips, I’d have grinned wide enough to blind the sun. Then—darkness. Sleep took me again.

  ***

  Eons later, I stirred awake. I would’ve yawned, stretched—had a shadow not loomed overhead, expanding rapidly. Bleary-eyed, I glanced up—and froze.

  What fresh hell is this?!

  A meteor—colossal, furious—plummeted like the warhammer of an angry god. I sprinted, but too late. Impact obliterated the ground where I’d lain moments prior.

  The shockwave shattered the earth like glass. Hurricane-force winds hurled me hundreds of meters. Cursing my rotten luck, I crashed into molten rock. A human body would’ve splintered into six hundred uneven pieces. Thankfully, my current form endured—though I doubt even this body could survive a direct meteor strike.

  If I had a mouth, I’d cough and groan. But the universe seemed to laugh at my struggle—because when I looked up, the sky was falling.

  Am I still dreaming?

  No. Pain confirmed this was real.

  A rain of fire and stone baptized the scorched earth, turning hell into Armageddon. The ground quaked; volcanoes shrieked. Lava bled from the planet’s wounds as if the world itself howled in agony. A sight to steal the breath I didn’t have.

  I ran, dodging celestial artillery. After an hour, the barrage ceased.

  What kind of catastrophe was that?! No atmosphere—that’s why meteors this size strike unimpeded!

  Exhausted, I surveyed the ruins. If this place was desolate before, now it was apocalyptic. Hell had leveled up. How absurd.

  Does it matter? No one cares what this planet looks like…