”Current survival rate: 0.001%" "System activated — You have taken control of the Earth's highest authority." During the awakening ceremony in class, while the school beauty mockingly brushed away the F-rank badge from my palm, no one knew that my system was refining the entire New York black hole into an experience pool. Do you think I level up too slowly? Last night, in the folding space training ground, I just used ninety-nine bolts of heavenly lightning to temper my body and break through—your ten years of hard cultivation are enough for me to tear a piece of paper. Saying I don’t have godly gear? Ten minutes ago, I casually pulled out the SSS-level "Ragnarok," and it's currently roasting the eight-headed serpent of Sakura Kingdom into skewers for a midnight snack. Laughing at my poor talent? At this moment, your S-level ice ability is dancing in my palm, while my Annihilation Domain has already devoured seven Awakener Temples across North America. When the coalition of the five major nations approaches, I sit on the Throne of Skulls, smiling lightly. Behind me, a million blood-born heirs howl to the sky, each one a death agent birthed from a disaster-level mother nest. "Kneel." "Or become the next stepping stone on my path of evolution." This world always needs a few ants, to highlight the sharpness of those who slay gods.