Chapter 264: Before The Flood Of Night (2)
After Harlan’s words, the trio soared into the skies without a moment’s hesitation.
As the world of Kalpa slowly began to blur and fade beneath them, the once-overwhelming surge of divinity was finally starting to settle into a steady, calming ebb.
And at the source of it all...
Perched cross-legged atop an icy mound overlooking a cocoon of frost as it cracked open, Number One watched intently as another emergence reached its final moments.
Melvin’s cocoon, which had held him captive for the past year, split apart with the slow, whispering breath of winter.
"Oh... this is interesting," Number One murmured, noting with just one glance that the young man before him had changed dramatically.
In that instant, as the shell of ice and silk gave way, Melvin neither seemed nor felt entirely human.
It was as though the very concept of a sword had been forced into human form, draped in flesh and breathing in the cold air.
HUMMMM!!!
As Melvin slowly unfurled from a fetal position, the winter answered almost instinctively, gathering white robes around his frame until the cloth settled as if it had always belonged to him.
His black hair had grown longer, cascading smoothly down his back.
His skin had taken on a paler hue, lending him an almost ethereal quality.
Altogether, he possessed a godlike handsomeness, the kind of striking, severe beauty that made the surrounding peak feel like its rightful domain.
As his eyes opened, black irises gleamed with white swords within them, sharp and unyielding.
Number One’s smile was evident even beneath the Anbu mask.
"Welcome back, young Melvin."
Melvin looked at him with those sharp, cold eyes and said nothing for a stretch of heartbeats.
Then a faint smile touched his own mouth, thin and precise as a drawn line.
"Number One," he answered. "It seems I have kept you waiting."
In the next moment, he brought up his status screen.
---
[Melvin Blackwood
Age: 26 Years Old
Rank: Cosmic Union (Tier 22)
Race: Conceptual Human (Bloodline: Supreme Swordsman Human (Divine)
Star: God Star of Eternal Winters (Above Origin)
Divinity: 100,870,000
Affinity: Sword, Winter, Battle
Divine Cosmic Physique: Physique of the Final Season (20/9999) (Tier 21/21)
Aura(s): Sword (Tier 21/21)
Intent(s): Sword (Tier 7/21)
Decrees: Decree of Absolute Winter (Celestial (3/3)), Decree of Final Stillness (Stellar (2/3))
Innate Powers: Absolute Zero (Above Origin), Devouring Stillness (Above Origin), Winter’s Irrevocable Mark (Above Origin), Last Season’s Embodiment (Above Origin)]
----
[You’ve obtained the #20 ranked physique in all of existence.]
[Divine Cosmic Physiques are extremely overpowered, reigning supreme over all other physiques across existence.
Granted by the ***** Records, they’re awarded only through the hard work and accomplishments of cultivators.
There are 9,999 Divine Cosmic Physiques in total, each one coming with its own set of Cosmic Abilities.
Cosmic Abilities work much like Divine Powers—once activated, they can’t be countered unless the opponent wields a Divine Power or another Cosmic Ability, or if their strength surpasses the ability’s limit.
The closer a physique is to #1, the more cosmic abilities it has, with the maximum being four.]
----
[Divine Cosmic Physique: Physique of the Final Season – This form doesn’t necessarily make its bearer a better swordsman, but instead rewrites the very relationship between the blade and reality itself.
Cosmic Abilities:
Reality Cut – When you swing your blade, the attack doesn’t travel in the usual way.
It moves by severing the very permission for the target to remain whole.
Anything to which the concept of "cutting" or "being cut" applies will inevitably be forced into that state by the physique.
Frozen Continuity – Every successful strike permanently reduces your target’s ability to heal, regenerate, or restore what has been severed.
Sword of the Final Season – You can designate one strike as the "last winter" of the exchange. In that single motion, all surrounding possibilities collapse.
Your opponent’s strongest defenses, counters, and escape routes are treated as though they have already failed. ]
[Conceptual Human - Conceptual Humans are beings that transcend mere flesh, existing as living embodiments of pure concepts.
Traits:
Conceptual Resilience - They possess near-total immunity to any form of damage that would otherwise destroy their physical body.
Idea-Body Harmony - Conceptual Humans can temporarily take on the true essence of their concept (Sword).
The deeper their understanding of the authority behind their concept, the longer they can sustain this form. (Currently limited to 2 minutes)
Rejection of the Ordinary - Any powers or abilities ranked below Divine do not affect Conceptual Humans.
Only forces of equal or greater rank can influence them.
Conceptual Anchor - Even if a Conceptual Human is "killed," they can never truly perish so long as their concept endures. (Sword)]
----
Melvin descended until his bare feet touched the ice.
"A Divine Cosmic Physique?" he muttered to himself, feeling more than a little surprised.
He had never witnessed anything like this before, nor had Akasha ever spoken of it.
Yet here he was, not only seeing what a physique ranked twentieth in all of existence could offer, but also experiencing the sheer force of it firsthand.
It granted him a staggering thirty tiers of battle power beyond what his rank should have allowed, along with absolute abilities that didn’t just enhance a strike. Still, it altered the very idea of what could and could not be cut throughout reality.
True to the person Melvin had become over the years, the shock didn’t linger.
Instead, it slowly settled, cooling into that familiar cold resolve that had always taken root in him whenever life revealed some new, hard truth.
Number One stayed seated on the icy mound, his gaze unwavering as Melvin took his time adjusting to the new weight that had settled within him.
"Well," he eventually said, "are you finally going to head off to Dream Land, or do you have something else in mind right now?"
At that, Melvin’s eyes drifted upward toward the sky, black irises and pale, blade-like pupils seeming to pierce both cloud and emptiness.
A year ago, when he first began his journey of transformation, he never could have imagined emerging far stronger than when he started.
He knew there would be gains, of course, but how could he have foreseen becoming one of the Supreme Swordsmen in all of Pantheos?
And all without ever setting foot inside that place.
Deep down, he understood that every bit of his newfound strength and skill traced back to the influence of a single person.
"Where is Master at this moment?"
Number One chuckled behind the mask.
"Hmm... Lord Dream is currently undergoing an evolution... and has been for the last eight months."
Melvin gave a small shake of his head, a faint smile flickering across his face before disappearing as quickly as it came.
"Maybe I should have guessed that," he said, as it always felt like he and Akasha were living on different timelines.
Ever since he was a boy ten years ago, it had been rare for the two of them to spend any meaningful time together, truly.
"But... that’s just like him," he added with a faint shrug as he started to move.
He stretched once, his shoulders rolling under the white robes gifted by winter, and the frost at his feet responded with a soft crackle.
"Since Master isn’t around right now... I’ll head to Dream Land later," he continued.
"For now... I think I’m finally strong enough to end the Loria."
Number One nodded, already expecting such a response from the start.
"Before you go straight to the world of Loreua, you might want to stop at the Hub of Knowledge."
"And... what is that?" Melvin asked, raising a curious brow.
"A world Lord Dream created for the members of the Pantheon," Number One replied. "There you will be able to learn whatever you require. It should come in handy during your travels."
Melvin sat quietly with the information, letting it settle in his mind for a moment.
’The Hub of Knowledge, huh?’ he mused inwardly, giving Number One a slight nod.
Then, without any grand gesture, he raised one hand and conjured a black-and-white Dreamer’s Rift.
The tear in space appeared smoothly, without any hint of spectacle.
He stepped through, and the Lucid Winter Peak was left with only Number One, the settling frost, and the fading echo of a sword that had learned how to end seasons.