CHAPTER 182: TIME FLIES

Ethan reappeared just outside the walls of his territory in a blink. His wings folded behind his back, still glimmering faintly with residual energy from the Tower. His boots landed softly on the earth, and for a brief moment, he simply stood there, observing.

Everything felt... distant.

It wasn’t the same place he had left behind. Not entirely.

His city, his people, had grown.

The walls were reinforced, not with stone but with a glimmering alloy. Magic runes pulsed faintly beneath the outer layers. Guard posts had doubled in number. Mana lamps illuminated watch towers that didn’t exist before.

Suddenly, there were shouts.

The guards at the gates froze for a moment before one dropped his spear entirely. "LORD ETHAN!" he cried, his voice cracking with disbelief.

Within seconds, a commotion broke through the gates like a wave crashing onto a cliff. People came pouring out. Familiar faces. Loyal ones.

Vance, one of his strongest warriors, now stood taller than ever, his armour glistening with enchantments. His aura had shifted, sharper and denser. A Diamond-tier warrior now.

Elena, who once hesitated to speak around him, now wore the robes of a high-ranking mage. Power radiated from her in subtle pulses.

They gathered around him, stunned, awed, emotional.

"My Lord..." Vance said, falling to one knee. "You’ve returned."

Elena stepped forward. "It’s been a year, my Lord. We feared the worst."

So much had changed.

And yet, he hadn’t.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He walked through the streets of his territory with the three of them beside him, his eyes skimming every detail. The bustling markets, the expanded training fields, the quiet reverence on the faces of every citizen who caught a glimpse of him.

They had waited for him. Grown without him. Adapted.

And he had ascended.

The territory itself had grown to Level 9, an impressive feat. It was no longer a city of survival. It was a beacon of strength in the region. A place others sought out. Envoys from nearby lands now had embassies here. The economy thrived. The people were healthy, proud, and loyal.

He sat in the grand hall that night, surrounded by warmth and conversation, listening to their reports and updates. For once, he was not fighting, not bleeding, not killing.

And it felt... hollow.

The next day, he stood atop the citadel’s high balcony. Snow drifted in from distant peaks. A soft breeze brushed through his cloak. Vance stood beside him, having just delivered another briefing.

"You’ve done well," Ethan said quietly.

Vance bowed slightly. "We only carried your will forward."

But Ethan didn’t respond. His eyes were on the horizon.

Nothing here could push him further.

The thought clung to him like a shadow.

The growth, the structure, the loyalty — it was remarkable. They had outdone themselves. But there was nothing in this place that could move him forward now. No enemy. No threat. No challenge.

And his instincts knew it.

So after a brief rest, no more than a day, he gathered everyone in the central plaza.

Hundreds stood there. Citizens, soldiers, mages. Children who looked at him with stars in their eyes. They all expected words, something profound.

He simply said, "I’m leaving."

There was a collective stir. Shock. Concern. Sadness.

"How long?" Marcus asked.

Ethan looked up at the sky. "I don’t know."

No one tried to stop him. They knew better.

They trusted him.

And just like that, he was gone again.

Six Months Later

Snow drifted around him in slow spirals as he sat on the peak of a craggy mountain.

The wind howled softly, carving lines across the white-covered ridges. The sky was pale gray, and the world below was silent. He could see for miles, valleys and forests painted with snow. In his lap rested the fur of a diamond-ranked monster. Around the base of the mountain lay dozens more.

He’d killed tens of thousands since leaving the territory. Diamond-ranked beasts. Aberrant creatures.

And yet... nothing had changed.

His status hadn’t moved. His rank hadn’t progressed. His numbers remained the same. He could feel it. He had reached the limits of what the world could offer him.

For now.

He let out a slow breath. His breath turned to mist in the cold air, but he didn’t feel it. Not the cold. Not the wind. Not the weight.

He stared at his hand.

It didn’t tremble.

Didn’t feel.

How long had he been like this?

He used to feel something after battle. Anger. Relief. Triumph. Even fatigue.

Now?

He killed. Moved. Killed again.

Only when he stood still, in places like this, surrounded by silence, did he remember that the world was still moving even when he wasn’t.

He had stopped smiling. He hadn’t laughed in months. He hadn’t dreamed.

He tilted his head to the sky, watching a single snowflake land on his palm.

I’ve become a weapon.Not a man. A weapon waiting for something to sharpen it further.

Something about that should’ve concerned him.

But it didn’t.

Not much did anymore.

The only thought that repeated itself in his mind, over and over like a drumbeat, was simple.

I need stronger enemies.

There was a calm to that realisation. But also, danger.

His fingers curled slightly.

He remembered the Monarch.

That beast — its pressure had been so absolute, so final. It had made him feel mortal again, even for a second. It had humbled him.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long time.

He missed it.

He wanted it again.

Somewhere, buried deep, that need twisted slightly. Not hunger, not ambition.

Something more dangerous.

Obsession.

The snow continued falling around him, the world untouched.

And Ethan sat unmoving at the mountain’s peak, a storm contained within a man.

Not dead.

But not alive either.

Just waiting.

For something, anything, strong enough to make him feel human again.

...

The wind howled at the summit of the world.

Ethan stood motionless at the edge of a frost-bitten cliff, snow whirling around him in long, patient spirals. The cold touched everything here, stone, sky, silence, but not him. The temperature didn’t matter anymore. It hadn’t in a long time.

Rambo sat perched on his shoulder, his blood-colored scales catching the fading sunlight like shattered rubies. The dragon’s eyes didn’t blink. His gaze was fixed on Ethan, as if sensing the storm that was no longer outside, but inside.

It had been a year.

A year of walking through endless forests, deserts, and cities. Of hunting down ancient beasts that once terrified entire continents. He had killed the kings of mountains, rulers of skies, and titans beneath oceans. All had fallen. None had been enough.

Not one creature he encountered had pushed him past the Peak-Saint rank. He had leveled entire regions, consumed power from every soul he deemed worthy, and it still wasn’t enough.

He had come so far, and still... the world felt too small now.

A breath left his lips, misting the cold air. He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching the horizon stretch endlessly before him.

Rambo finally broke the silence, his low voice a rasp in the wind. "You’ve changed."

Ethan didn’t respond.

"You’re colder now. To others."

Still, silence.

Rambo shifted slightly, talons gripping tighter. "And you don’t care."

"I don’t," Ethan said, finally. "Not anymore."

The dragon didn’t reply. There was no need to. Both of them knew it was true.

It hadn’t happened all at once. The change was slow, like a candle burning down to the last inch. It began in the tower, yes, but outside of it, when the silence came and the battles stopped, it deepened. Without war, there was only the passage of time. Without worthy enemies, there was only reflection.

Reflection turned to resentment, then to purpose.

He had seen too much. Done too much. For what? Power? Survival?

Now, there was only one reason left.

Transcendence.

"I’ve been everywhere," Ethan said quietly. "North. South. Oceans. Frozen peaks. Temples older than memory. I’ve hunted every beast with teeth and titles. And what do I have to show for it?"

He flexed his fingers. The strength was there. More than anyone had ever possessed at this rank. More than anyone had ever dreamed of.

But it wasn’t enough.

"It’s time," Ethan murmured. "Monsters... they aren’t the path anymore."

Rambo’s pupils narrowed. "You’re thinking of the other option."

"I don’t have a choice."

The dragon nodded his head. He had always known this moment would come. That there would be a point when monsters no longer sufficed. When Ethan’s hunger for power would outgrow even the cruelty of the wild.

He had devoured too many beasts. Killed too many creatures. Not out of anger. Not out of need. But because he had to. Because the only thing more terrifying than the chaos of the world... was the stillness of powerlessness.

But now, even chaos had become dull.

Rambo didn’t speak again. He simply spread his wings and rose into the wind, giving Ethan space.

Ethan stared across the snowy ridgeline. His thoughts wandered not to his victories, but to the quiet. The loneliness. The silence after the fight. The emptiness when there were no more enemies to kill.

He recalled the faces of his people—Vance, Elena, Marcus. They had worked hard. Grown strong. But they were behind him now. The gap between them was no longer a crack. It was a canyon.

And it wasn’t just strength that set him apart.

It was will.

The will to do what others feared. To step into the void. To break every limit.

He had lost the warmth of companionship long ago. What remained was purpose; he wanted to return to his old world. But to do that...he had to kill that dragon.

"I’m not done," he whispered to himself. "Not even close."

He looked up at the sky—gray, shifting, unending. A canvas with no shape.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad. He was ready.

This world had given him all it could. Now it was time to carve out the next.

Whether by blade, by will, or by blood.

One way or another, he would break through.

He took a step forward into the snow, and the mountain trembled beneath his boots.

Human: Ethan Brandon

Rank: Peak-Saint

Talents: Super Body (SS), Elemental Manipulation (S), Yin-yang (S+), Archery(S-), Undead (S-), Sonic(S-), Regeneration (B+), Dagger Wield (F-),

Transformations: Night Monarch(High-saint), Minotaur(High-Saint), Elven Princess(High-Saint), Sky Luminary(Low-Saint), Balor(Low-Saint) ,Minotaur(Low-Saint), Dark Crocodile(Peak-Diamond),Imp(High-Diamond),Basilisk(Mid-Diamond), Hydrant(Mid-Diamond)

Level 15

Health Points: 300,000 Mana Points: 219,000

Strength: 30,000 (+1000) Agility:20,850 (+2450)

Intelligence: 21,900 (+510) Vitality: 30,000 (+500)

Free Attributes: 53

Skills: Advanced Stone Heart(Perfection), Advanced Blood Steal(Perfection), Mid Fast Steps (Perfection), Basic Swordsmanship (Perfection), Basic Mana control (Perfection)