Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 336: COLLECTIVE GAIN

Nemesis

Title: God of Dragons and Sea Creatures

Job: Devourer

Level: 119 (26,872,187 / 27,000,000 EXP)

Health: 450,000

Strength: 4,372 (+962)

Speed: 4,637 (+913)

Stamina: 4,267

Intelligence: 10,782

Constitution: 4,892

Divinity: -793

Free Attribute Points: 0

Created Race: Copy Cats (19,000 / 19,000)

Talents:

[S-rank Talent – Talent Share]

[SSS Rank – Observer]

[EX Rank – God of Wealth]

Concepts:

[ABSOLUTE RESOLUTION (Absolute Concept)]

[DEATH] (Absolute Concept)

[DARKNESS] (Absolute Concept)

Bloodline:

Abyssborn Primordial Dragon Bloodline

Law of Darkness Assimilation: 75.00%

Absolute Concept of Corruption Assimilation: 29%

Greg stared at the glowing status window floating before him, eyes half-lidded with boredom.

The numbers were obscene, higher than ever.

He could feel the raw power thrumming under his skin like a second heartbeat.

The remaining Demon Lord? Nothing more than a chore now. He could crush it without breaking a sweat.

But none of that mattered at the moment.

Daniel.

The name sat heavy in his chest like cold lead. Whoever, or whatever, was backing him carried a threat far darker and deeper than any demon lord could dream of posing.

"Hmm?"

Greg tilted his head and lifted his right hand.

Faint silver-black lines had etched themselves across his palm and the back of his knuckles.

A perfect circle sat dead center, intricate runes spiraling inward like veins feeding a hungry heart.

The markings pulsed once, soft, almost curious, then settled.

He turned his left hand over. Same pattern.

His gaze drifted downward.

The inscriptions had crawled onto the tops of his feet as well, curling around his ankles like living shackles that hadn’t yet decided whether to tighten.

They didn’t hurt. They didn’t burn.

They simply... waited.

A strange certainty settled in his gut: whatever this was, it wasn’t finished growing.

Greg flexed his fingers, watching the lines shift faintly with the movement, then shoved the thought aside.

No point obsessing over something he couldn’t control yet.

"Brother. You’re safe."

Annabelle’s voice cut through the smoky air.

She hurried toward him, the rest of the group trailing behind.

The moment her eyes locked onto his intact form, the tension in her shoulders melted away.

A long, shaky breath escaped her lips.

"Well, that was almost disappointingly easy," Aaron said, wiping demon ichor from his blade with casual flicks of his wrist. "But looks like only one of us walked away with a souvenir."

He nodded toward Greg’s hands.

"Pretty cool tattoo, Brian—wait." Aaron squinted, stepping closer. "Hold up. That pattern... it feels eerily similar to Greg’s."

Greg glanced over.

Aaron rolled up one sleeve. Starting at his shoulder, identical silver-black runes traced a jagged path down his bicep, stopping just above the elbow.

The lines shimmered with the same subdued hunger.

After the battle ended, Aaron had felt it, a sudden, violent surge.

His concept had broken through to the absolute rank.

And these markings appeared right after, like the system itself had branded him.

They looked like two halves of something much larger.

"That doesn’t look normal," Cain muttered under his breath.

He stared at the runes for a long moment, brow furrowed, then shook his head and looked away.

No one pressed the issue.

"Well... let’s just count our blessings," Cain said, forcing a grin. One of the few genuinely pleased expressions he’d worn in weeks.

Thousands of undead demons now answered to him.

Their hollow eyes and jagged claws swelled his army to grotesque proportions.

Greg watched the necromancer’s satisfied smirk and felt another quiet confirmation: bringing Cain into the fold had been the right call.

Cain’s talent had ranked up too, sharper, hungrier.

Lilith stood a little apart, flexing her fingers.

Crimson light flickered between them like distant lightning.

Her new bloodline thrummed stronger now; the hell realm she carried inside her had expanded, its borders pushing outward with every breath she took.

Her talent had climbed a rank as well.

Annabelle smiled softly to herself.

The Queen of Wealth talent she’d clung to for so long had finally shattered its ceiling and evolved into a full concept.

She could feel wealth itself bending toward her now, subtle, inevitable.

The more Greg listened, the stranger the pattern became.

Every single one of them had pushed their talent to the next immediate rank.

"I don’t know why," Will said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, "but right before the system announced our victory... my blood started racing. Like something reached inside and shook it awake on purpose. An external force. Anyone else feel that?"

He looked around the group.

Heads nodded, slow at first, then more certain.

"Now that you mention it..." Aaron trailed off.

Everyone’s gaze shifted to Greg.

He met their eyes one by one, expression unreadable.

"I can’t say for sure," he said after a long pause.

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

A ripple of understanding passed through the group.

"Never a bad thing," Greg continued, voice low and steady.

"We need every edge we can get. Go figure out exactly what your upgrades can do, test the limits. We continue the war tomorrow. For now, we make camp here."

He turned and walked away without another word, boots crunching over charred bone and blackened stone as he headed straight for the Envy Clan’s lord chamber.

He had gains of his own to tally.

---

Far away, in a throne room drowned in crimson gloom, the Demon God sat slouched on his obsidian seat.

His eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing. Thoughts drifted lazily behind them, dark, slow-moving currents.

The air smelled of sulfur and old blood.

"My lord," a royal guard said, bowing low. "You have a visitor."

The Demon God didn’t move at first.

Then, almost lazily, he spoke.

"Let him in."

He already knew who it was.

"I see you are under siege," the voice said, calm and resonant, carrying an almost tangible serenity that seemed to push back the sulfur-heavy air. "Quite the rare sight, someone daring to challenge the Demon God himself."

The words drifted into the throne room like cool mist over boiling lava.

They held no mockery, only a serene observation laced with holy weight. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

The crimson gloom flickered as though recoiling slightly from the intruder’s presence.

The Demon God remained slouched on his obsidian throne, one clawed hand draped lazily over the armrest.

His unfocused gaze sharpened just enough to acknowledge the speaker.

"It’s just a rat," he replied, voice low and gravelly, dripping with casual disdain.

"One the Supreme forced me to tolerate for now, let him play at being important. Sooner or later, he’ll be crushed like the rest."

He waved a hand through the air as though swatting away an insignificant fly. The motion sent faint ripples through the pooling shadows at his feet.

"Still as confident as ever," the guest said, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "I expect nothing less from you."

He paused, letting the throne room’s oppressive silence stretch between them.

"But you should be careful nonetheless." His tone shifted, lower, more serious, the holy calm giving way to something edged with warning. "His growth rate... it’s nothing short of monstrous."