Chapter 106: The Plight of the Lucky Unfortunate

Back in the Origin Realm...

In a region not so far from the Savage Oasis.

The night remained starless, the desert windless. Everything, as far as the eye could see, was a vast, eerily still sea of sand.

Countless Evolvers of myriad races avoided this area in particular. They dreaded crossing through this terrain.

Why? One might ask.

Because this was a terrifying plain of sinking sand. Step in the wrong place? And it’s bye bye Origin Realm.

But the truth they never glimpsed — one obscured by their fear of braving this region — was that deep within one of these sinking beds lay something of great fortune: an ancient legacy. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

It had remained silent and inert for eons...

Until a certain extremely lucky fool coincidentally managed to slip into its gates.

Deep beneath the stifling cold sea of sand...

BOOOOOOM!

An eruption of fire swallowed miles around Brandon in a furious rampage, greedily igniting every molecule of oxygen in the air.

The flames and fumes of combustion finally cleared, revealing Brandon’s figure clad in what seemed to be a high-tech exoskeletal armor, flickering with a soft hue of yellow from its seams.

Around him was scorched terrain, so vast no one would believe this was underground.

And the ceiling above him — at first glance like a night sky littered with shimmering bright stars — was actually a jagged rocky ceiling riddled with bright self-illuminating crystals.

Misty puffs of breath drifted out of the neatly designed futuristic visor of the genetic armament.

Beneath the shell of metal, Brandon’s face was contorted into an expression of vivid irritation as a flashing red screen bearing familiar text flickered in his retinas.

This place was called Urion’s Sand Bed, and apparently it was a small legacy ground meant to pass on the treasures of an extremely powerful figure called Urion.

These weren’t just gifts — they were items this genius figure had used and abandoned thousands of years back, right before ascending zones.

Brandon’s heart brimmed with glee at first when he arrived in this space.

But later, the sobering reality of the trial killed every trace of joy.

There was only one trial to get the treasures: defeat the guardian of Urion’s treasure.

Which sounded easy... until you realized this so-called guard was a late-stage Royal-grade undead knight!

Apparently created from the corpse of one of Urion’s foes.

Urion had hoped for a genius of great potential to enter his trial, defeat the guardian, and claim his cherished treasures.

And that was the problem. Because while indeed a genius did enter, this place just so happened to be their first spawn.

Brandon couldn’t even be called a proper early-grade Awakened. His stats were all in the low reaches of the double digits.

And though his gene skills were both Royal grade and Monarch grade, they amounted to little when fueled by essence with practically zero density or pressure.

In simple terms, this was a battle way beyond what Brandon could handle. In fact, the only reason he was alive was because he wasn’t facing the guardian directly.

After all, the guardian — an undead knight — had remained here for God knows how long. It had long regained spirituality.

Recognized by the Origin as a creature, it was able to summon its own army of undead.

And though Brandon had properly decimated a large majority of this army despite the odds, and with the help of the enhancement of his genetic armament, his growth remained inert.

[Error! Essence unmatched!!! You are unable to grow stronger by slaying the undead!]

Brandon’s fist tightened. How many times had the same fucking notification popped up?

His eyes scanned the plains. In the distance, more skeletal figures clattered as they barreled toward him, their eyes flickering with pulsing crimson orbs.

A wave of exhaustion poured over Brandon, dulling his senses. His vision went blurry for a moment.

He had spent hours trying to find a way out of this literal hellhole.

Honestly, this would have been the best farming spot for quick growth if not for the fact that his kills didn’t yield jack shit.

The genetic armament hummed in brilliant activation. Brandon’s figure took flight, his frame zipping through the wind.

He ignored the army of undead in the distance. Battling them was a high-risk, no-reward option.

So Brandon felt it best to resume his search for a way out...

’i wonder how the others are doing,’ thinking about this he gnashed his teeth in envy.

’i bet they’re thriving quite nicely, farming stats like there’s no tomorrow....’ Thinking about the cause of his predicament — also the same thing letting him keep his life — he cursed.

’Fuck you! Lucky suit my ass, I can’t believe I picked this faulty crap, I—’

His swears were suddenly cut short when a shadow zipped through the distance, cutting through the wind, appearing right above Brandon.

Brandon’s back chilled, his hair standing on end. Before he could even react—

A whip tore through the air, letting out a sinister crack as it peeled through layers of the genetic armament, reaching his skin and peeling layers off.

Leaving in its wake a stinging, bleeding line of red.

Brandon’s back arched from pain, his figure plummeting headfirst into the ground.

"Fuckkkkk!" He screamed in pain like a pig to be butchered.

It stung so badly, as though countless needles were constantly piercing his skin — not to mention the ironic burning pain that followed.

The shadow halted in the air, revealing its silhouette.

It was a half-rotting corpse of an unknown female foreign race member.

Her features had long decayed, making any form of recognition impossible — not that Brandon could anyway.

Around her arm coiled a whip, one that dripped with the fresh blood of its new prey.

Her bony hips swayed, her empty sockets flickering with a crimson flare. And then her figure vanished.

Brandon had barely crawled out of the crater and to his feet before he realized—

"Where the fuck did that undead cunt go?" Suddenly his eyes widened as a thick stench of rot stung his nose, riding the wind down into his lungs.

"Fuck, she clos—" His head swung sideways, his words cut short by the cracking whip that tore through his helm.

His figure was once more sent flying, skidding against the ground like a rock skipping in water.

His face burned — from his left cheek over the bridge of his nose to the right cheek.

He gathered himself, his eyes misting as a well of tears threatened to stream through.

His hands felt the deep gash, his heart palpitating, brewing with untold fury.

"Now you’ve crossed the line, you bitch! How dare you strike at my money maker!" Eyes smoldering with fury, he glared furiously. If looks could kill, this undead would be dead for sure.

But the undead lady just tilted her head. Her response to his outburst was a spinning whip that took the air again.

Brandon’s heart skipped a beat, a rattling chill sinking down his spine, his face and back burning from the reminder.

If he had a tail, it’d be tucked right between his balls for sure.

"Fuck this! I’m out!" Aggrieved bellows rang out.

As the light of the Origin Gate swallowed his figure whole.

The whip tore through the air, meeting nothing but wind.

The undead lady’s hollow sockets, illuminated by a crimson flare, flickered in confusion.

Where was her prey?

Well, out of despair, the poor guy had rage quit...