# CHAPTER 26: The Global Blindspot
The central headquarters of the Global Hunter Association in Geneva did not operate on human time; it operated on panic.
Within forty minutes of the synchronized cosmic alignment, the Grand Assembly Hall—a subterranean amphitheater fortified with twelve layers of S-Rank anti-magic plating—was packed with the holographic projections of the world's top powerhouses. Prime ministers, military generals, and regional S-Rank guild leaders materialized in pillars of blue light, their faces universally grim.
At the center of the room, a massive, three-dimensional holographic projection of Earth rotated slowly.
Six massive, angry crimson beacons pierced through the planet's atmosphere like jagged stakes.
"This is not a standard gate manifestation sequence!" the European Director shouted, slamming his hand onto his console. "The spatial friction indexes in the Atlantic Trench, the Siberian permafrost, and the Sahara have all breached the Calamity threshold simultaneously. Our orbital satellites are registering zero mana decay. These aren't doors opening—the fabric of our macro-shielding is being torn away from the outside!"
"Resources are already stretched to the breaking point from the Sector 4 incident," the North American Commander growled, his projection flickering slightly. "We can deploy two S-Rank squads to the Atlantic, and maybe three to the African rift. But that leaves the Siberian and Asian sectors completely dark. If those three remaining rifts hit critical mass, the regional tectonic plates will liquefy within forty-eight hours."
Sitting in the lower eastern quadrant of the assembly, Veer Jena sat in absolute silence, his heavy tactical coat draped over his shoulders. His holographic projection was tied directly to his private bunker back at the coastal estate, where Ama was continuously feeding him raw, unverified data.
He looked at the six red beacons. His eyes, honed by a decade of front-line combat against Abyssal beasts, didn't focus on the projected monster counts or the estimated arrival times.
He was looking at the math.
*The spatial compression index is identical across all six coordinates,* Veer realized, his heart dropping into his stomach. *It's a net. Someone isn't trying to invade us... they're trying to draw something out. They're fishing.*
He remembered the encrypted sensor logs he had smuggled from Sector 4. *The sovereign told the dirt to remember.* The mysterious entity that had effortlessly squeezed a Tier-5 beast into dust was the true target of this global encirclement. The outer void was laying down a multi-continental pressure grid just to force that singular, terrifying guardian to show its hand.
"Guild Leader Veer!" the Global Chairman's voice cut through the shouting. "Your sector stabilized miraculously three days ago. Your regional magitech arrays are the only ones operating at one hundred percent efficiency. Can the Jena Clan mobilize to reinforce the Asian continental anchor?"
Veer stood up, his jaw set. "My vanguard is already priming the engines, Chairman. But I will be blunt—if the entity that closed Sector 4 does not intervene on a global scale, our conventional forces are simply choosing which graveyard we want to fill first."
The room fell into a tense, uneasy silence. None of them had an answer for the truth.
Forty miles away, back on the quiet northern veranda of the coastal estate, the wind had completely died down. The atmosphere felt unnaturally thick, like breathing through wet silk.
Krishak stood perfectly still, his small leather coat unbuttoned, his eyes closed.
To the naked eye, he was just a child listening to the distant, faint rumble of thunder. But within his consciousness, his **Divine Sense (Level 4)** had expanded far beyond the atmosphere of Earth, bypassing the panicked human satellites entirely.
He could feel the six spatial anchors digging into the planet's Ley lines. Each anchor was pumping a dense, localized gravity-drain into the core of the earth, trying to create an artificial equilibrium that would drag his specific Void-Iron signature into the light.
*A simple, brute-force trap,* Krishak analyzed, his inner mind completely detached and cold. *The Myriad Beast Sect is using the planet's own mass as a lever. If I use the Absolute Horizontal Domain to crush one anchor, the remaining five will experience a kinetic rebound, instantly detonating the regional crust.*
It was a clever calculation for outer rim scavengers. They knew a high-tier cultivator operating within a fragile mortal vessel would be limited by the biological constraints of their flesh. They assumed he would have to choose between letting his vessel's meridians tear under the weight of a six-fold simultaneous domain, or letting the planet fracture.
But they didn't understand the *Universe Origin Body Art*.
They thought his power was an external technique—a standard manipulation of spatial laws that required channeling energy *through* the body. They didn't realize that his three **Obsidian Cores** hadn't just modified his meridians; they had turned his actual physical mass into a micro-singularity.
He didn't need to extend his domain to six continents. He just needed to make the planet core sync with his own pulse.
"Krishak?"
He opened his eyes. Ama was standing at the glass doors of the veranda, her face pale, her hands trembling as she held a portable tactical communicator.
"Your father... your father just left with the main vanguard for the Asian continental anchor," she whispered, walking out and kneeling beside him, her psychic sensitivity picking up the heavy, suffocating pressure in the air. "The Association is declaring a global extinction event, son. The sky... it feels like it's falling everywhere at once."
Krishak looked at his mother, his expression softening just enough to mirror the innocent gaze of a six-year-old child. He reached out, his small, cool fingers brushing against her trembling hand.
"Father is very brave, Mother," Krishak said softly, his voice carrying an unnatural, resonant warmth that instantly quieted the frantic psychic static buzzing in Ama's mind. "But the sky isn't falling. It's just getting heavy."
He stepped away from the railing, his small boots making no sound against the stone.
"I am going to take a nap now, Mother," he said, giving her a sweet, reassuring smile. "Please make sure Luna doesn't wake me up until the sun comes back out."
Before Ama could even process the strange stillness that had suddenly settled over her heart, Krishak turned and walked calmly back into his room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
Inside the quiet room, the shadows immediately lengthened.
Krishak sat cross-legged on the center of his small bed. He didn't close his eyes. Instead, his dark pupils dissolved completely, replaced by two flawless, spinning rings of brilliant blue fire that illuminated the dark walls.
Inside his lower *Dantian*, his chest, and his forehead, the three **Obsidian Cores** stopped their passive siphoning. They locked into a straight vertical alignment, their liquid-black surfaces vibrating at a frequency that matched the resonant frequency of the Earth's iron core.
*Universe Origin Body Art: Radial Deep-Core Lock.*
"Let the dirt remember," the Sovereign whispered.
He brought his small palm down, pressing it flat against the mattress.
The physical impact didn't break the bed. Instead, a microscopic, pitch-black needle of pure gravitational force shot straight down, bypassing the floor, the bunker, and the tectonic plates, driving thousands of miles deep into the exact center of the planet's molten core.