Chapter 1: The Garbage of Sector 7 and The Giggling Anomaly
The sky over Sector 7 was a perpetual shade of rusted iron. Smog from the inner-ring factories choked the atmosphere, turning the sun into a hazy, blood-red smear. Here, in the Outer Rim Slums, life was cheap, and death was just another Tuesday.
Leo sat cross-legged on the roof of a crumbling, ten-story apartment complex. The concrete beneath him was cracked and stained with years of acidic rain. Around him, the chaotic symphony of the slums played out: the screeching of hover-trains, the distant echo of gang violence, and the low, rhythmic thumping of illegal energy refiners.
He was sixteen now. An adult by the slums' brutal standards.
He wore a tattered, dark grey tunic over black cargo pants, his boots scuffed and worn down at the heels. His messy, jet-black hair fell over his eyes, hiding the cold, calculating glint within them. Physically, he was lean—almost skinny—but his muscles were coiled like steel springs, tempered by years of surviving in the gutters.
He raised his right hand.
With a soft, almost imperceptible pop, a ball of soft, luminescent light materialized above his palm. It didn't crackle with lightning or burn with fire. It just hovered there, slowly taking the shape of a chubby, translucent baby.
The baby floated in the air, its body shifting between twenty-one vibrant, mesmerizing colors—from deep crimson to ethereal silver, from abyssal black to blinding gold. It looked like a living, breathing prism.
The baby rubbed its tiny eyes, looked at Leo, and let out a high-pitched, incredibly cute sound.
"Goo!"
It did a small backflip in the air and then gently landed on Leo's nose, trying to grab his hair with its tiny, incorporeal hands.
Leo sighed, a rare, faint smile touching his lips. He gently poked the baby's glowing belly with his index finger. The baby giggled, a sound like chiming crystal bells, and wrapped its tiny arms around his finger.
"You're supposed to be a terrifying Soul Weapon, you know?" Leo muttered, his voice quiet. "The Genesis Legion. Sounds apocalyptic. But right now, you look like a rejected mascot for a cereal brand."
The baby, oblivious to his words, just chewed on his finger, its colors shifting to a happy, warm yellow.
Leo closed his eyes, and instantly, a translucent blue interface appeared in his vision. It wasn't projected into the physical world; it was etched directly onto his retinas, a privilege granted only to him by the anomaly.
[Akashic Singularity System]
Host: Leo
Age: 16
Rank: 0 (Novice - 0 Star)
Physique: Mortal Refinement (Peak - Unawakened State)
Soul Capacity: Sealed (Currently at 0.001% operation)
[Soul Weapons - Displayed]
1. The Prismatic Nephilim (Genesis Legion)
• Category: Unclassified (Anomaly)
• Grade: Unknown
• Current Form: Seed (Gestation State)
• Abilities:
• [Passive] Absolute Cuteness: Decreases enemy hostility by 0.1% (Ineffective on targets above Rank 0).
• [Passive] Mana Siphon (Micro): Absorbs 1 drop of ambient spiritual energy per hour.
• Evolution Progress: 0/1000 Soul Essences.
[Soul Weapons - Hidden/Sealed]
• Warning: Host's physical vessel is too weak to withstand unsealing. Minimum requirement: Rank 7 (Lord Realm).
• 20 Mythical-Grade Conceptual Armaments (Sealed by Host's Willpower).
"A thousand Soul Essences just to evolve from a seed," Leo murmured, dismissing the screen with a thought.
Soul Essence. It was the currency of power in this universe. When an Awakened being or a mutant beast was killed, a fraction of their soul lingered. The Akashic System allowed Leo to harvest this essence to feed his 21-colored Anomaly.
To the rest of the world, Soul Weapons grew stronger by absorbing atmospheric Mana and practicing rigorous, repetitive combat techniques. It was a slow, grueling process that took decades.
Leo's path, however, was fundamentally different. His path was built on slaughter.
"I need to start hunting," Leo said, looking at the giggling baby. "If I stay at Rank 0, the local gangs will draft me as cannon fodder within the week."
Just as he thought this, the rusted metal door leading to the roof burst open with a loud clang.
Leo didn't flinch. He calmly closed his fist, and the 21-colored baby instantly vanished back into his soul space. He turned his head slowly.
Three figures stepped onto the roof.
The one in the front was a massive, scarred man with a cybernetic left eye that whirred and clicked. He wore a dirty leather vest over a bulging, tattooed chest. The tattoo was of a black serpent—the symbol of the Iron Viper Gang, the rulers of this particular slum block.
Behind him stood two lackeys. One was holding a thick metal pipe, and the other had a nasty-looking combat knife.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here," the scarred man sneered, his cybernetic eye glowing a sickly red as it scanned Leo. "The academy's biggest joke. The kid who awakened a glowing toy."
Leo stood up slowly, dusting off his pants. He didn't say a word, his grey eyes locked onto the leader.
"Name's Kael," the scarred man said, stepping closer, his heavy boots crunching on the loose gravel. "Rank 1, 2-Star Warrior. Soul Weapon: Iron Gauntlets."
To prove his point, Kael clenched his fists. A dull grey light enveloped his hands, materializing into heavy, spiked iron gauntlets that radiated a crude, oppressive aura.
To a normal Rank 0 unawakened civilian, the aura of a Rank 1 Warrior was terrifying. It was the difference between a predator and prey. The two lackeys behind Kael smirked, expecting Leo to fall to his knees and beg.
Leo just stood there, his expression utterly blank. "What do you want, Kael?"
Kael frowned, clearly displeased by Leo's lack of fear. "The Iron Vipers are collecting the monthly protection fee. Since you're sixteen now and 'officially' awakened, you owe us. Five hundred credits. Or..." Kael grinned, a feral showing of yellow teeth. "...you can join us. We always need meat shields for the territorial disputes."
"I don't have five hundred credits," Leo replied flatly. "And I have no interest in joining a street gang."
The lackey with the pipe laughed. "You hear this kid, boss? Thinks he's too good for us. Hey, trash, your 'weapon' is a glowing baby! Even a kitchen knife is more dangerous than you!"
Kael raised a gauntleted hand, silencing his men. He stepped right into Leo's personal space, towering over him. "Listen carefully, orphan. In Sector 7, you either pay, you serve, or you bleed. I'm giving you a chance because the boss thinks even a trash weapon might serve as a distraction. Don't push your luck."
Leo looked up into Kael's organic eye. For a split second, Kael felt a bizarre, icy chill run down his spine. It was as if he was staring into a bottomless abyss, not the eyes of a sixteen-year-old boy.
Hostile intent detected, a cold, mechanical voice whispered in Leo's mind.
System, Leo thought, Analyze targets.
[Analyzing...]
Target 1: Kael. Rank 1 (2-Star). Threat Level: Very Low.
Target 2 & 3: Unawakened thugs. Threat Level: Negligible.
Leo had spent ten years surviving in these slums without a Soul Weapon. He had learned the anatomy of humanoid species, the critical strike points, and the art of killing without making a sound. He had honed his body to the absolute peak of mortal limits.
He didn't need a Soul Weapon to deal with trash.
"I'll pass," Leo said softly.
Kael's face twisted in rage. "You little shit!" He pulled his right fist back, the heavy iron gauntlet whistling through the air, aiming straight for Leo's jaw.
It was a punch meant to shatter bone. A Rank 1 Warrior's strength could easily crush a normal human's skull.
But Kael's fist never connected.
Leo didn't block. He didn't try to overpower the strike. He simply shifted his weight.
With preternatural fluidity, Leo stepped perfectly inside Kael's guard, letting the heavy, gauntleted fist sail past his ear by mere millimeters. The wind from the punch rustled Leo's dark hair.
Before Kael could register that he had missed, Leo moved.
His right hand shot out like a viper. He didn't use a fist; he used a flat palm strike, driving the heel of his hand upwards, precisely under Kael's chin, right at the soft cartilage of the throat.
CRACK.
It was a sickening sound. Kael's eyes rolled back instantly. The iron gauntlets materialized into grey dust as his concentration shattered. The massive man didn't even have time to scream. He collapsed backward, hitting the concrete roof with a heavy, lifeless thud. He was out cold, choking on his own blood.
The two lackeys froze. Their jaws dropped.
The entire exchange had taken less than a second. One moment, their boss was throwing a lethal punch. The next, he was twitching on the ground.
"W-What did you do?!" the thug with the knife stammered, stepping back in terror. "He's a Rank 1 Warrior! You... you didn't even use your weapon!"
Leo slowly turned his gaze toward the two trembling thugs. His eyes were devoid of emotion.
"Take him and leave," Leo said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "If I see any of you near my building again, I won't aim for the chin."
The thugs didn't need to be told twice. Dropping their weapons, they grabbed Kael by his arms and dragged his massive unconscious body toward the roof door, scrambling away like frightened rats.
The roof fell silent again, save for the distant hum of the slums.
Leo let out a slow breath, shaking out his right hand. A Rank 1 is tough, he thought. My wrist hurts a little. If I want to survive what's coming, I need to start gathering Soul Essence immediately.
Suddenly, the familiar Ding! of the System echoed in his head.
[Host has engaged in combat and successfully subdued a Rank 1 entity.]
[Hidden condition met: 'The Overlord's First Step' (Defeating an Awakened while unranked and unassisted by a Soul Weapon).]
[Reward generated.]
Leo raised an eyebrow. "A reward? For beating up a street thug?"
A small, glowing orb of pure white light materialized in front of him. It wasn't an item; it was pure knowledge and energy.
[Reward: 'Basic Void-Step Technique' (Movement Skill) - Transferred to Host's consciousness.]
Instantly, a flood of information rushed into Leo's brain. It wasn't just theory; it was as if his muscles suddenly possessed the muscle memory of practicing this footwork for years. It was an assassination technique, designed to move silently and instantly across short distances.
Leo blinked, processing the information. He looked at his feet, then focused on a rusted exhaust pipe about twenty feet away.
He took a step.
Whoosh.
He didn't run. He seemingly glided, his body blurring for a fraction of a second. In the blink of an eye, he was standing next to the exhaust pipe, completely silent.
Leo's eyes widened slightly. "This... this system is broken."
He had trained for ten years just to learn how to punch correctly. The system had just downloaded a supernatural movement technique directly into his brain in a second.
He opened his right hand. The 21-colored baby materialized again, giggling and doing a happy little spin in the air.
"Goo! Goo!" it cheered, clapping its tiny hands, seemingly praising Leo for his fight.
Leo looked at the giggling anomaly, then out at the sprawling, smog-choked expanse of Sector 7. Beyond these slums were the inner rings, the noble districts, the planetary governors, and eventually, the cosmic void where the Mega-Factions waged their endless wars.
Right now, he was a nobody with a joke of a weapon.
But deep within his soul, twenty Mythical beasts slept, waiting for their chains to be broken. And in his hand, twenty-one future apocalyptic calamities giggled in the form of a rainbow-colored infant.
"Let's go hunting," Leo said to the baby, a dark, ambitious fire finally igniting in his grey eyes. "We have an Empire to build."
The baby giggled, its colors shifting to a blood-red hue.
The true awakening of the Omnisoul Monarch had begun.