When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 45 - Fourty Five

"When the lion is hungry, he does not ask permission to hunt."

— African proverb

...

’Hey, Zero, don’t you think this arc has gone on for too long?’ Zeke mused, eyes trailing across the strange, shimmering horizon of The Expanse.

{It’s been seven days, ya know,} Zero’s voice replied in his head.

’Seven days makes a week, and seven days makes me weak.’

{Hehe. I see what you did there.}

’Can’t believe it’s almost over. I can go back to sleeping without a care in the world.’

{That would be true—but the next arc is the Tower.}

’Can’t I push it back?’

{The boys have gotten too strong to stay here. There’s nothing left to stimulate them. And don’t play nonchalant with me. You need to find the so-called relative.}

’I don’t want to acknowledge a relative I have no recollection of.’

{Shut up, bitch. You have no recollection of anyone. That’s the whole point. Going to the Tower means meeting them, so let’s get on with it.}

’Argh. I hate my life—and it’s entirely the fault of that stupid regressor who can’t keep his mouth shut.’

{Funny how I always knew Jude was MC material.}

’I wonder what happened to Kai and Aaron in that other timeline...’

"Hey, scaredy-cat," Zeke called out to Anton, who was perched on a nearby boulder with his arms folded, gaze fixed on the horizon.

"It’s started," Anton said, without turning.

"Ooh, I feel it too." Zeke rocked back on his heels. "Let’s let it simmer a little. Heroes arrive late, after all."

"So. What do you want?" Anton finally glanced down.

"What happened to Kai and Aaron in your past life?"

"You should have guessed already. Every hero needs a tragic backstory to fuel his drive."

"That may be—but you’re not telling the full story."

"For a mad dog, you’re quite sensible."

"For a four-thousand-year-old man, you’re quite the coward."

"Ahem. It was a strategic retreat."

"A retreat that kept you away until you were S-Rank just to come find me?" Zeke smirked.

"Do you want the answer or not?"

"Aww, did I hurt your feelings? I can’t really relate—I’m immortal, it just heals over. You had to run back in time to when you were less scarred."

A muscle ticked in Anton’s jaw. He looked away.

"Tsk. The White Fang Guild could not hold against Avalon. They got absorbed. Kai’s parents were killed. Yeon came back from the Tower to find out what had happened, but she was too weak to do anything—she could only leverage her talent to keep Kai safe. Later, Jude went into the Tower. Kai and Aaron couldn’t keep up, so they stayed behind. Aaron became vice-leader of what remained of White Fang under Avalon’s banner. Kai took the guild leader seat, as expected."

A heavy silence settled between them, filled only by the faint, ever-present hum of the dungeon.

"Yeon eventually destroyed the Avalon Guild, right?" Zeke asked.

"She could not. Avalon has Zeldris and other talents shoring them up. And she later... stopped caring about mundane things like revenge, or matters concerning Earth."

"Well, they did help us this time around—so I’ll let the sins of that timeline slide." Zeke’s tone stayed light, but his grey eyes went flinty. "Zeldris, though. He’ll need to have a conversation with my fist."

A beat of quiet.

"You’ve lived four thousand years, made connections across every rank and faction. Just how strong did you get?"

Anton laughed—a dry, hollow sound. "Strength doesn’t mean much in the Tower. A stray ant from the upper floors could level continents down here. But if you need a number—I reached SSS-Rank. A rank that carries little weight in the Tower itself, but still counts for something in personal matters." He stood, dusting imaginary grit from his pants. "One word of advice: curb that adventurous spirit before you step inside. Immortality is not the backbone you think it is."

"Appreciated," Zeke said, rising alongside him. "But I’ve got an unknown relative who’s apparently a powerhouse, so I think I’ll manage."

"Fool."

"Hey, guys!" Zeke called across to the trio, who were training a short distance away. After their talk earlier, Anton had taken it upon himself to torture—train—them, and Kai in particular looked like he was regretting every life choice, sweat-soaked and scowling.

"Take the truck. We’ll run. It’s hero time."

"It’s begun?" Kai straightened immediately, exercises abandoned.

"Move it, old head," Zeke said, already rolling his shoulders and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Way ahead of you," Anton shot back, dropping into a low stance.

Boom.

In twin bursts of displaced air and churning dust, the two of them launched forward, blurring into the shimmering distance before the echo had even faded.

Kai stared after them, hands on his knees. "Hey. They didn’t answer me."

"It’s obviously begun," Jude said, delivering a light smack to the back of Kai’s head. "Why else would they run?"

"My turn to drive," Aaron declared, already striding toward the truck.

...

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

A blond boy stood with a sword at his side, posture regal and unhurried, as though the six opponents surrounding him were a minor inconvenience at best. The six—a mix of young men and women, each radiating power and the particular arrogance of people who had never truly lost—faced him across the crystalline floor of a vast, bowl-shaped depression. Behind them, the assembled entourages, independent hunters, and opportunistic onlookers had packed the space into something tense and crackling.

The blond boy was Enel. He was encircled by the young masters and mistresses of the major powers, and he looked utterly unbothered by it.

"We’re not trying to stop you," an Asian young man said, his voice measured, carrying the precision of someone used to being listened to. "We’re protecting our interests. You cannot simply decide to raid this place alone and claim all the loot."

"You should end that with ’namaste’ or ’amitabha’ so I know which religion you represent." Enel’s gaze was flat and cold. "I found this place first. You have no say in the raiding team."

"Ahh." The Asian youth’s mouth curved slightly. "I did hear you got beaten by the Mad Dog. Is that why you’ve picked up this new, prickly edge? It won’t make you stronger, Enel."

"Having a mouth doesn’t mean you’re required to use it," Enel said, his knuckles whitening around Eve’s hilt.

He turned, sweeping a cool gaze across the other young masters. "Are you all letting him speak for you?"

"I’ve gotten stronger. This won’t be a close fight." He brought Eve forward, thumb resting on the tsuba, the blade a breath from being drawn. The air around him seemed to contract, as if charged with invisible edges.

"Hmph." A tall, broad-shouldered man with a blond beard and twin axes rolled his shoulders, something savage and eager flickering in his eyes. "I’ve always hated this diplomatic nonsense. Let’s fight—I want to pay back a debt from a while ago." He surged forward, muscles coiling, the ground cracking faintly beneath the sudden weight of his presence.

Enel’s smirk was sharp with anticipation. His grip tightened.

BOOM.

ROAR.

Before the clash could land, the earth heaved—violent, seismic, cracking the crystalline ground in jagged lines that spread in every direction. A bestial roar tore through the air, raw and thunderous, the kind of sound that hit the chest before the ears processed it. A colossal silhouette erupted from the center of the depression, blotting out the light for a half-second, then swallowed itself back into the billowing column of dust and mana-charged debris.

The argument died instantly. The young masters fell into sharp, wordless readiness, arrogance replaced by the clean-edged wariness of people who had survived long enough to know what genuine danger felt like.

"What was that?" The young mistress of House Silvanus spoke first, her earlier composure fractured at the edges.

"How would I know?" The Nigerian Prince rolled his eyes, though his hand had drifted toward his weapon.

"Whatever it is, we’ll know once the smoke clears. Stay alert," the Asian youth said, all mockery gone, his voice carrying the flat authority of a field commander.

"So he really is your leader," Enel said, though his attention had already moved past the group to the settling cloud ahead.

He drew Eve in one clean motion, the blade catching what light remained, and stepped forward into the smoke without hesitation—determined, as always, to be first.

WHAM.

He was thrown back out just as fast, skidding hard across the crystal floor, Eve shrieking against the ground as he dug the blade in to kill his momentum. A stunned silence swept through the assembled hunters.

"...I’m hungry."

The voice that rolled out of the smoke was deep and unhurried, smooth in the way of something that had never needed to rush. A hand rose—casual, almost bored—and swept outward. The remaining dust and debris scattered as if obeying a quiet command, clearing in a slow, deliberate reveal.

A purple-haired man stood at the center. Bare-chested, dressed in simple pants, built with the kind of lean, dense physicality that made armour look redundant. He wore a wide, predatory grin that showed the points of pronounced fangs, and his amethyst eyes moved across the assembled crowd with the unhurried interest of someone choosing between dishes.

"Well," he said, dragging his tongue slowly across his lower lip. "My meal is ready."

...

(Status Window)

Name: Nil

Age: 200

Race: Demon

Rank: SSS-Rank

...

STATS

Strength: 2000 (SSS-Rank)

Agility: 2000 (SSS-Rank)

Endurance: 2000 (SSS-Rank)

Perception: 2000 (SSS-Rank)

Magic Power: 2000 (SSS-Rank)

...

INNATE ABILITY

Gluttony (A-Rank)

You possess the innate ability to consume and convert—flesh into power, death into strength. Unlike passive traits that work automatically, Gluttony requires conscious activation and deliberate feeding to manifest its effects.

- Devouring Feast (Active): When you kill an opponent and actively consume part of their body (minimum: a fist-sized portion of flesh, blood, or core), you permanently absorb a fraction of their strength. You gain 10% of their total stats, distributed across your own. These permanent increases cannot raise any individual stat above your innate racial cap of 2000. You are also able to devour and permanently acquire innate abilities and skills ranked B and below. Consuming too much at once requires significant time for your body and essence to fully process and integrate the new power.

...

TRAIT

Demon (S-Rank)

You carry the bloodline of Hell’s most favored creature. You possess 50% resistance to damage—physical and magical—from creatures your equal; 25% resistance against those weaker; and 10% against those stronger.

Regeneration (A-Rank)

You possess an extraordinary healing factor. As long as an attack does not kill you outright, you will survive it—provided you have the energy to sustain recovery. Additional energy expenditure can accelerate the process further.