The ascent from the Mount Crystalline Nexus marked the true beginning of the Mythic War. I had crushed the Blackout Echelon, purged the Final Variable, and secured every last piece of local Legendary essence. Solaria City and the entire Ilocos region were now nothing more than a well-stocked, terrified military base under the absolute command of Chief Logistical Officer Theron.
I had left the coordinates for my final destination with Theron: the massive, secretive floating citadel known only as The Ascendant City. It was the global headquarters of the Central Authority and the ultimate staging ground for the Mythic Enforcers. I needed to strike at the heart of the System itself.
I used the combined force of the Chronos Essence and my fully integrated Mythic-grade components to execute a singular, long-distance dimensional jump—a feat that burned through the ambient mana of half the continent. The jump was successful, depositing me exactly where I needed to be, thousands of miles from the familiar battlefields of the Flames of War arc.
---
The moment I stabilized, the environment slammed into me—a shock that momentarily eclipsed the intensity of the Crystalline Nexus.
I was in The Ascendant City, a technological and arcane marvel that dwarfed Solaria. It was a sprawling, tiered metropolis built atop an immense, continuously running Dimensional Engine, hanging silently above the clouds. Everything here was faster, richer, and exponentially more powerful.
And I was utterly insignificant.
I quickly suppressed the residual energy signature of my jump, forcing my power output to mimic that of a standard human hunter. As I took in the overwhelming scale of the city, my Hyper-Focus confirmed the terrifying truth: The Ascendant City operated on a completely different scale of power.
---
In the Ilocos Region, I was the unchallenged Apex Controller, functionally operating at a level that exceeded Rank S. My continuous mana output, even when suppressed, was an overwhelming force.
But here, the ambient power was suffocating. Every basic security guard I passed radiated the energy signature of a Rank B hunter. The low-level street patrols had the kinetic density of Rank A fighters. The true masters of this city, the ones who occupied the soaring central spires, registered as continuous Legendary-tier energy sources.
My Epic Gauntlet, sensing the dramatic shift in local power density, automatically throttled my visible output to match the lowest common denominator to avoid immediate detection. The result was horrifyingly simple: My effective combat rating in The Ascendant City was less than Rank F.
I was sixteen years old, the undisputed Controller of an entire sovereign region, with high authority over thousands of hunters. I possessed infinite knowledge and a Mythic-grade cheating core.
Yet, here in the slums of this new city, I was just another low-level amateur—a tiny fish in an ocean teeming with Apex Predators.
---
My initial instinct was the Controller's response: crush the resistance and assert dominance. But I quickly suppressed the urge. To fight here would be suicide. Uncorking even a fraction of my continuous output would instantly alert every Legendary and Mythic hunter in the city. I would be eliminated before the plasma faded.
The vastness of this world—its true power structure—had been completely obscured by the regional conflicts I had instigated. The Flames of War had been a minor skirmish in a hidden training ground.
I was no longer the Apex; I was an undercover operative with catastrophic power that had to remain entirely hidden.
I adjusted my plan instantly:
Stealth and Infiltration: My goal was now stealth. I needed to act like a low-level Rank F hunter—nervous, weak, and entirely focused on basic survival.
Information Gathering: I needed to understand the true hierarchy of this city and the core functions of the Central Authority before making a move.
The Climb: I would have to use my infinite knowledge to rapidly, secretly accelerate my power while maintaining my low-level façade.
I pulled my hood low, adjusted my gear to look worn and cheap, and adopted the slightly slouched, non-threatening posture of a Rank F scavenger.
The true war had begun. My Flames of War was over. The stage was set for the Mythic War, and I was starting at the bottom of the ladder, surrounded by giants I could not yet touch.