"WHOOSH!"

The moment Arthur’s boots left the physical boundary of the Ebon Citadel, reality ceased to function. There was no gravity. There was no temperature. There was only the suffocating pressure of infinite possibilities pressing against his skull.

He did not fall. He drifted and remained suspended in the absolute vacuum. He stared up at the colossal sleeping face of the Prime Creator.

The entity’s features were composed of shifting galaxies and rivers of starlight. Every slow and rhythmic breath the Creator took sent ripples through the fabric of the void. It birthed and destroyed microscopic dimensions in the space between them.

Arthur’s Dimensional Breaker Physique roared to life. His muscles bulged as his pseudo-ascended core fought desperately to maintain his physical boundaries. The Origin Point was actively trying to unravel him. It attempted to pull his mass into the sleeping God’s dream.

[WARNING]

↳ Critical Ego Degradation.

↳ Host’s consciousness is being forcibly assimilated.

Arthur’s vision blurred. For a terrifying microsecond, he forgot his name. He forgot the Ebon Citadel. He saw a flash of a sterile glass-walled penthouse on Earth. He felt the phantom pain of a heart attack.

"Ghhh!" Arthur gritted his teeth. His grip tightened on the hilt of the Ebonheart Sword until his knuckles turned white.

Instantly, a surge of five distinct fiercely loyal energies flooded his meridians. He felt the pristine absolute cold of Sylvia’s ice. He felt the chaotic protective rage of Morwenna’s abyss. He felt the sharp calculating rogue instincts of Lyra. He felt the unyielding military discipline of Aurelia and the highly structured reality-weaving of Kaelith.

Back on the bow of the Ark, the five Queens were busy. Their hands were pressed to the deck as they channeled every single ounce of their divine power through the system’s Soul-Anchor. They were acting as the tether keeping his human mind from dissolving into the cosmic ocean.

Arthur’s vision cleared. His dark eyes hardened with absolute resolve.

"Nice try," Arthur snarled at the sleeping face. "But my board of directors does not want me to quit."

He raised the Ebonheart Sword and prepared to channel his Transcendent Spatial Velocity to close the distance.

But the Prime Creator’s defense mechanisms were entirely automated.

The void between Arthur and the sleeping face suddenly rippled. The darkness condensed and folded in on itself. It finally formed three distinct humanoid silhouettes.

They were not Angels. They were not Outer Gods.

Arthur stared in profound irritated silence as the shadows solidified.

They looked exactly like him.

Three flawless clones of Arthur Sterling dressed in immaculate dark corporate suits.

Their pitch-black eyes lacked the Primordial Flame. Instead, they were hollow dead voids of absolute apathy. They held shadow-forged replicas of the Ebonheart Sword.

The Nightmares of the Creator. They were manifestations of his own mortal doubts and weaknesses. They were generated by the Origin Point to break his will.

"Look at you," the first clone sneered. Its voice was a perfect echo of Arthur’s own cynical baritone. "Playing God in a borrowed universe. You think you earned this power? You are just a starving rat who got lucky in an alleyway."

"You built an empire on a cheat code," the second clone mocked and raised its blade.

"Without the system, you are nothing. A dead corporate liquidator who died alone."

Arthur did not flinch. He did not scream in denial. He just let out a slow exhausted sigh.

"Is this the best psychological warfare the Creator has?" Arthur muttered. He rested his sword on his shoulder. "I had junior executives on Earth throw better insults at me during board meetings."

"Die, anomaly!" the third clone roared. It blurred forward with terrifying speed.

"SQUELCH!" 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Arthur did not even enter a stance. He casually sidestepped the thrust. He brought the Ebonheart Sword around in a brutal decapitating horizontal arc. The Primordial Flame easily sheared through the clone’s neck. The shadow construct dissolved into harmless grey smoke before its head even hit the void.

"I know exactly what I am," Arthur snarled. His eyes locked onto the remaining two Nightmares. "I am a ruthless parasitic bastard. I exploit loopholes. I steal assets.

And I win."

"BOOM!"

Arthur detonated the space beneath his boots and launched himself directly at the clones. He did not use reality manipulation. He used pure hyper-violent street fighting mixed with God-tier martial arts.

He parried a strike from the second clone. He twisted his wrist and drove his heavy boot directly into the shadow’s knee with a sickening sound!

"CRACK!"

As the construct crumpled, Arthur drove the pommel of his sword into its face. The attack shattered its form into dust.

The final clone hesitated. Its automated logic faltered in the face of Arthur’s absolute confidence.

"You cannot use my doubts against me," Arthur whispered. He appeared directly inside the clone’s guard. "Because I do not have any."

He plunged the blazing blade directly through the final Nightmare’s chest. It instantly incinerated it.

Arthur ripped his sword free. The path to the Creator was entirely clear.

He floated upward and stopped mere inches from the colossal sleeping face of galaxies. Right at the center of the entity’s forehead was a massive glowing tether of pure blinding white light. It was the umbilical cord connecting the Creator’s mind to the eternal dream of the multiverse.

As Arthur raised his sword, the system interface in his vision suddenly shifted. The text did not read like a standard prompt. It read like a personal message.

[System Message]

↳ You made it.

Arthur paused. His brow furrowed.

[System Remark]

↳ The Creator was dying. The system was not a random drop. It was a perfectly calculated investment.

↳ I sent it back. To the exact moment our heart gave out on Earth. To the exact alleyway in the Mortal Domain. To ensure we survived long enough to reach this point.

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly. The sheer absurd magnitude of the truth hit him.

There was no benevolent higher power. There was no lucky lottery. The 10,000x Return System was his own creation. His future omnipotent self had reached back through time and space. He had handed his past self the exact tool needed to orchestrate the ultimate multiversal takeover.

It was the perfect closed-loop corporate strategy.

But then how did he get it on the first place?

Authur asked himself but the madness of the multiverse couldn’t be comprehended.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. It was a dark booming sound of pure triumph that echoed across the Origin Point.

He couldn’t care less about the logic

"Fvcking brilliant," Arthur grinned. His pitch-black eyes burned with absolute certainty.

He gripped the Ebonheart Sword with both hands. He did not swing with anger. He swung with the precision of an executive signing a final contract.

"Rest," Arthur whispered to the sleeping God. "I will take it from here."

"SHAAAAANK!"

The blade severed the glowing tether.

"KRAA-THOOM!"

The multiverse shattered. The sleeping face of the Prime Creator violently dissolved. It exploded into a massive ocean of pure blinding white light. The foundational energy of all existence rushed forward. Every timeline, every dimension, and every physical law slammed directly into Arthur Sterling’s chest.

He did not scream. He did not break.

The system interface in his mind permanently shattered. It dissolved into his very consciousness. He no longer had a system. He was the system.

Arthur felt the physical boundaries of his body vanish. He felt the Ebon Citadel behind him. He felt the desperate loving grip of his five Queens. He felt the trillions of mortals living in the lower realms. He felt the infinite churning expanse of the Chaos Sea.

He felt everything.

The blinding light faded.

Arthur Sterling floated in the center of existence. His pitch-black eyes held the absolute terrifying stillness of complete control.

The hostile takeover was complete. The CEO had claimed the ultimate throne.