Re-Awakening: I Ascend with a Legendary class

Chapter 558: Ultimate Marksman, Endless Devourer

Silvester’s return did not stir applause.

It did not spark chatter.

It did something far worse.

It unsettled the arena.

The obsidian floor still bore the scars of his passage, thin gleaming seams etched into the surface like afterimages of violence. Even as the sigils began their slow work of restoration, they hesitated around those cuts, as if uncertain whether they were allowed to erase them.

On the Regalon platform, Silvester leaned his sword-arm against his shoulder, grinning, entirely pleased with himself.

"The Sword Sovereign," Big D muttered. "I’m never letting you forget that."

Silvester beamed.

Across the arena, Club Echelon Fang withdrew their remaining fighters without argument. Their leader’s jaw was tight, eyes sharp with reassessment. This was not how things were supposed to go. They had expected talent. They had expected growth.

They had not expected redefinition.

The next sigil ignited.

REGALON VS Zenith member

The air shifted instantly.

White Zenith’s presence was unlike Fang’s feral pressure or Broken Root’s ancient weight. It was clean. Sterile. The kind of power that made the world feel simpler merely by existing within it.

Their representative stepped forward.

She wore armor of matte white crystal, seamless, unmarred by ornament. Her hair was bound tight, her gaze steady and uncurious. The arena dimmed slightly around her, as if excess color was being filtered out.

She did not look at Arjun as an enemy.

She looked at him as an inconsistency.

Arjun stepped through the gate calmly, bow resting loosely in his grip. The string hummed faintly, sensing tension.

The barrier fell.

The Zenith member moved first.

The air rang.

Not sound, but clarity.

Technique: Absolute Clarion.

The world tightened.

Arjun felt it immediately. The arena floor lost its micro-variations. The distant walls aligned perfectly. Even his breath seemed to take on a rhythm not his own.

Choices narrowed.

Angles collapsed.

This was a domain that punished improvisation.

Arjun exhaled slowly and lifted his bow.

Linearity unfolded around him, not as a glow or aura, but as alignment. The world snapped into vectors. Every object revealed its most direct path through space.

He loosed.

The arrow streaked forward, true and perfect.

It vanished.

Erased mid-flight by a curtain of white light that closed like an eyelid.

Arjun loosed another.

Gone.

A third.

Gone.

The Zenith member advanced, her steps measured, her presence compressing reality further with each pace. Where she walked, space felt thinner, easier to overwrite.

"You rely on continuation," she said, voice level. "I deny it."

She struck.

A beam of pale force tore across the arena, not cutting, not burning, but declaring. The space it passed through ceased to have ever existed.

Arjun twisted aside, the edge of the beam grazing his shoulder. Cloth vanished. Skin screamed. The pain was sharp, precise, and contained.

He smiled faintly.

"So that’s your rule."

He stopped retreating.

Infinite Sunder stirred beneath his feet, not erupting, but waiting. The ground vibrated, sensing a definition approaching.

Arjun drew again.

But this time, he aimed down.

Technique: Zero-Origin Split.

The arrow struck the obsidian floor without sound.

Then the floor split.

Not cracked.

Not shattered.

The line Arjun had drawn extended downward into infinity, severing the concept of foundation itself. The arena plate beneath the Zenith member lost its claim to existence as a surface.

She dropped.

Instantly, white light flared around her boots as she stabilized, hovering, armor blazing.

But Arjun was already moving.

Linearity sharpened further, its edges biting into perception.

He saw not where she was, but where she must be.

Technique: Arrow of Necessary Arrival.

The arrow did not arc.

It appeared.

At her throat.

White armor flared violently, layers of conceptual defense unfolding to deny inevitability.

Arjun felt the resistance.

And for the first time, he did not push.

He understood.

Linearity was not straightness.

It was not a direction.

It was a refusal to deviate.

Something inside him settled.

True Concept actualized: Unbroken Line.

The arrow did not accelerate.

It did not glow.

It did not insist.

It simply arrived.

And then arrived a thousand more arrows, unblockable, unbroken, and irresistible.

The damage was inevitable, and so was death.

The armor split with a sound like glass exhaling.

The Zenith member froze, eyes widening by a fraction before her form dissolved into clean white motes.

[ CLUB REGALON +1 VICTORY ]

Arjun returned quietly, bow lowering, and a faint smile hanging on his face.

"I guess nothing can block or escape your arrows anymore." Silvester wryly smiled. "I checked, but my concepts can’t block or devour it."

"Yeah, he made the cause and effect of his attacks inevitable. And with his techniques, it’s also now hard to trace him if he decides to escape into the folds of space he creates."

"That’s what you call an Ultimate Marksman." Arjun chuckled.

The next sigil burned as a Regalon was transported to the ring.

Big D appeared in the arena.

Small. Compact. For the color of dusk-lit ash, tail swaying lazily behind him as if he had wandered into the wrong place by accident. His paws touched the obsidian floor without sound, claws sheathed, posture relaxed to the point of insult.

Across from him, another representative of a Zenith member emerged.

This one was different.

No pristine crystal armor. No immaculate symmetry.

Instead, a tall figure draped in layered white cloth, edges frayed as if chewed by time. Their face was partially obscured by a half-mask of polished bone, etched with thin geometric lines that pulsed faintly. Around them, light bent subtly, not erased, not filtered, but... sorted.

Everything near them felt categorized.

Ordered.

Placed.

Big D yawned.

The barrier fell.

The Zenith member moved without haste, lifting one hand as sigils bloomed in the air like translucent tiles sliding into place.

Technique: Causal Registry.

The world hiccupped.

Big D felt it instantly. Not pressure. Not danger. A sensation closer to being logged. His existence flickered as invisible frameworks wrapped around him, cataloging mass, momentum, probability, and intent.

A rule-set forming.

Big D sat down.

The Zenith member tilted their head slightly, as if confused.

The sigils brightened.

Technique: Priority Override.

The air thickened around Big D, gravity stacking in layers. Each layer carried a directive. Sit. Stay. Yield. Collapse.

The obsidian floor cracked beneath him.

Big D’s whiskers twitched.

"Rude," he muttered again.

The pressure intensified, compressing him flat against the arena. Bones creaked. Organs protested. The weight was not crushing him outright, but it was sorting him downward, forcing him into a lesser state.

Several Grim Students leaned forward.

Zenith member specialized in this. Not destruction. Reduction.

Big D’s breathing slowed.

Feaster Beyond Null stirred, but hesitated. The pressure was not an attack in the traditional sense. It was a system. A framework asserting dominance by defining what should remain.

Big D closed his eyes.

And for the first time since entering the arena, he stopped treating the world like food.

He treated it like a menu.

Something shifted.

Not outward.

Inward.

True Concept deepened.

Not manifested yet.

Refined.

The Zenith member extended their hand.

Technique: Existence Allocation.

A lattice of white lines snapped shut around Big D, pinning him to a single allowable state. A cat. Small. Weak. Contained.

Big D’s ribs cracked.

Blood seeped between his fur.

He smiled.

"Ah," he said softly. "That’s it."

The lattice trembled.

Feaster Beyond Null surged, but instead of devouring mass, energy, or space, it bit down on something subtler.

Permission. Authority. Influence. Of the enemy’s powers.

Big D’s eyes opened, glowing faintly gold.

True Concept actualized: Endless Table.

The right to put anything on the table, and with his other concept--Feaster Beyond Null, the right to eat anything. The latter had some restriction, but with Endless Table in the picture, there was no stopping his Feaster Beyond Null’s powers.

The lattice vanished.

Not shattered.

Not broken.

Gone.

The Zenith member staggered, registry sigils flickering wildly as their system attempted to reconcile missing data.

Big D stood.

Still a cat.

But the space around him felt... wider. As if reality had backed away to give him room.

The Zenith member reacted instantly, sweeping both hands forward.

Technique: Hierarchy Collapse.

A cascading failure rolled toward Big D, layers of causality folding inward, each designed to strip higher functions first. Movement. Perception. Will.

Big D took a step forward.

The collapse hit him.

And stopped.

Because there was nothing left to collapse.

Big D was not operating on a hierarchy anymore.

He padded closer, each step erasing more of the framework. The arena floor beneath him didn’t crack. It simply ceased to be claimed by anything else.

The Zenith member retreated, mask fracturing, light around them flickering as their systems unraveled.

"What are you?" they demanded, voice finally cracking.

Big D tilted his head.

"A picky eater."

He opened his mouth.

Technique: Feast Without Bottom.

It wasn’t a beam.

It wasn’t a wave.

It was an absence with appetite.

The space between Big D and the Zenith member vanished, folded into nothing as if swallowed by a mouth too large to perceive. The fighter screamed once as their constructs, their rules, their carefully curated existence were devoured layer by layer.

They fell to their knees, half-erased, systems collapsing inward.

Big D leapt.

Not fast.

Not violent.

Precise.

He landed on their chest.

The remaining light went out.

"The Regalons are winning more and more."

"This cat is more like a hungry ghost. Endless Devourer."

"These Regalons are only using True Concepts and their Geneline abilities, but they are so refined and potent."

"Everyone, no matter what you do, wins against Regalons, or they’ll snatch the first place."