The entire press conference had erupted into chaos as gasps and whispers filled the hall. The director, overwhelmed, abruptly dismissed the reporters and hurried straight back to his office. He slammed the door shut, turned on his computer, and quickly logged into the Network. His hands trembled as he searched for the Immortal Warrior account.
"Impossible… His activity is already at 7 million?!" The chief's face paled in disbelief. This wasn't just impressive, it was frightening. No ordinary prodigy could reach such heights. If the Network weren't trusted across the Federation, he would have thought it a hoax.
"And he's only 8!" One of the staff exclaimed earlier.
"Can someone use the hemlet at that age? If this child succeeds, doesn't that mean the entire capture process could be accelerated for everyone?"
The implications were staggering as the director paced back and forth, his mind spinning. Then, snapping to focus, he barked at his assistant: "Call in the expert team immediately. With 7 million activity points, his past-life memories could be of enormous historical value! We might even fill a major gap in recorded history. And contact the child, convince him not to rush into the capture! The risks are far too great!"
The assistant dashed off without hesitation.
The chief exhaled heavily, his worry etched deep. Capturing a past life at only 8 years old, the danger was immense. If the boy failed, the Federation would lose a once-in-a-century genius. A tragedy of that scale would be unbearable for the Administration.
Inside his room, Tanner stared at the screen in awe, "10 million activity? That's insane!"
Could it be because of his strange crossing? The fusion of two souls must have amplified his spiritual resonance. Yet, the Federation had long explained that activity was determined by the number of past lives and the influence those lives had on history. By that standard, his results shouldn't be possible.
He shook his head, abandoning the puzzle. High numbers were never bad.
"It's just… too outrageous. I've shattered the record, haven't I?" Checking the leaderboard, Tanner confirmed it: the previous record-holder sat at barely over 3 million. His surge continued climbing, though the rate had finally begun to slow. It wouldn't be long before it stopped altogether.
On the Forum's activity zone, madness reigned. Chats, threads, and messages shot across the network like wildfire.
An unknown name had just stormed into first place, unseating a record that had stood for two centuries. Number one on the daily list, Number one on the weekly list, Number one on the monthly list, and Number one in real time. Even Elenora's legendary rise was overshadowed instantly.
"10 million activity?! Has he been a god in his past life?"
"One day and he broke years of records!"
"Kneel before him!"
"8 years old! When I was 8, I was still drinking milk!"
The forum boiled over the news, and posts multiplied faster than moderators could count, as the entire Federation was watching.
Buckingham Palace Hotel.
Elenora lounged half-reclined on a bed, and a frown crossed her face as the news reached her.
"Ten million activity?" She muttered, then scoffed. "So what? Activity alone means nothing."
She sneered, his eyes glinting with disdain. "An 8-year-old capturing past-life memories? That's su*cide."
Not even with a hundred million activity points could one bypass the backlash, so attempting it at such a young age meant certain death.
"My two million activity was enough to awaken real abilities," Elenora whispered, a flash of green light flickering briefly in her pupils.
When she had captured her past lives, she had glimpsed three in total, dozens of scenes, powers, and inheritances. From them, she had awakened three abilities. That was the true value of past-life capture: not the number, but the quality of what was reclaimed. That was why tens of millions of activities didn't impress her.
She tossed her phone aside and pulled the companion in her arms closer, a cruel smile tugging at her lips.
By the time the system stabilized, the account was locked at 12.19 million. Across the Federation, a collective sigh of relief was heard. If it had climbed any higher, people feared the system itself might collapse.
Now, all eyes turned to one burning question: At 8 years old, could Tanner succeed in capturing a past life? If he did, what kind of past life could explain such unprecedented activity?
Many doubted he would even attempt it. The danger was legendary, and surely his parents would stop him. Yet excitement gnawed at the crowd like claws. Curiosity became unbearable. Then came the shout in the forums: "He's going to stream the capture process!"
The announcement detonated like a bomb.
"He's insane!"
"An 8-year-old doing this live? What kind of parents allow this?!"
"Stop talking! I'm watching, I need to see who he was before!"
The Federation erupted.
"Utter nonsense!" The chief slammed his desk, and his face darkened with fury, "What kind of parents let an eight-year-old risk death like this?! Have you reached him?"
The assistant shook his head helplessly. "I sent multiple messages. No reply."
The chief clenched his fists. On the Network, unless the user willingly revealed their information, not even the Administration could trace their real identity. That anonymity was why billions trusted it, but it left him powerless now.
"A genius… what a pity," He muttered.
The assistant's voice broke in. "Director, the experts are online. Ready for remote conference."
"Fine. Connect them to the stream. Everyone needs to witness this." Within seconds, the office lit up with holographic feeds of scholars, their faces equally grim.
In Tanner's view, the numbers shrank to the corner of the screen as the stream page opened. The system only showed visions of the past life; it wouldn't reveal the present surroundings. Still, the chat skyrocketed.
Tanner smirked faintly. "The more people, the bigger the rewards. The bigger the rewards, the greater the bonuses."
His mind sharpened to a single thought: money. Publicizing a past-life capture meant guaranteed payouts. Every donation, multiplied his commission.
Onscreen, the light swelled until it roared like a beast. A colossal shadow emerged, a leviathan of metal, a whale-shaped machine drifting through the air. From its sides, strange figures flew forth on mechanical wings.
Tanner's eyes widened, his breath caught. Could it be... His past life… Was in the Marvel Universe?!