Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 324: CONQUERING LUST CLAN II

Nemesis

Title: God of Dragons and Sea Creatures

Job: Devourer

Level: 113 (23,576,927 / 24,000,000 EXP)

Health: 390,000

Strength: 2,682 (+962)

Speed: 2,356 (+913)

Stamina: 3,598

Intelligence: 8,543

Constitution: 3,124

Divinity: -1,378

Free Attribute Points: 0

Created Race: Copy Cats (11,240 / 11,300)

Talents:

[S-rank Talent – Talent Share]

[SSS Rank – Observer]

[EX Rank – God of Wealth]

Concepts:

[ABSOLUTE RESOLUTION 70%]

[DEATH] (Absolute Concept)

[DARKNESS] (Absolute Concept)

Law of Darkness Assimilation: 75.00%

Absolute Concept of Corruption Assimilation: 28%

---

Greg sat alone in the aftermath of the slaughter, the distant crackle of dying flames and the low groans of settling corpses the only sounds breaking the heavy silence.

He opened his status window once more, eyes narrowing as he distributed the fresh points with deliberate care.

When the numbers settled, his gaze locked onto the one line that mattered most right now.

[ABSOLUTE RESOLUTION 70%]

Seventy percent.

So damn close.

The percentage glowed faintly in his vision, taunting him with how near completion lay.

One more decisive push, just one and the concept would hit 100%.

When that threshold broke, the restrictions that still bound even him would shatter.

He could already feel the anticipation curling in his gut like dark smoke.

At full resolution, he would stop being merely dangerous.

He would become the kind of walking catastrophe that entire pantheons whispered warnings about.

His attention drifted lower to the Created Race counter.

Copy Cats (11,240 / 11,300)

The growth was obscene.

Exponential.

Almost obscene in how smoothly the numbers climbed.

Every time he looked away for even a few minutes, another hundred, sometimes more, appeared in the tally.

Their reproduction rate defied logic, faster than any natural species, faster than most engineered plagues.

Greg allowed himself a small, satisfied exhale.

No other race he had encountered, demonic or otherwise, could multiply and strengthen at this pace.

It was an unfair advantage wrapped in perfect utility.

But he wasn't naive enough to think the system would let such power run wild forever.

He had anticipated a hard cap from the beginning.

The universe loved balance, even when it pretended otherwise.

And sure enough, the ceiling had arrived faster than he'd even braced for, 11, 300.

A cruelly precise number.

Once that final slot filled, the faucet would turn off.

No more unchecked swarms.

He accepted it without bitterness; limits were just another rule to exploit later.

No point lingering on what was already decided.

But he knew that the cap was likely connected to his level.

That gave him enough comfort for the meantime.

Greg closed the window with a mental flick and rose to his feet.

The battlefield still reeked of charred flesh, coppery blood, and the faint ozone tang of spent demonic energy.

He inhaled once, deeply, letting the scent ground him, then turned his mind toward the next target.

The Lust Clan had been a warm-up.

A buffet.

The Envy Clan would be different, sharper opposition, higher levels, actual strategy instead of blind desperation.

He welcomed it.

Easy wins were boring; real fights sharpened the edge.

From everything Drakonix had leaked to him, carefully filtered truths wrapped in half-lies, only the Demon King himself wielded a true Absolute Concept among the upper echelons.

The Demon Lords were monsters in their own right, levels towering far above the fodder he had just carved through, but they were still mortal enough.

No instant-kill absolutes.

No untouchable authorities.

Just raw stats, deep wells of mana, ancient techniques, and centuries of arrogance.

That meant they could be worn down.

Chip by chip.

Blow by blow.

Drain the health bar the old-fashioned way until it hit zero.

Greg had done it before against stronger foes. He would do it again1.

A new notification shimmered into existence before him.

[Select the Envy Clan?]

The prompt hung there, patient and impersonal.

Greg's lips curved, just the faintest hint of a smile.

He accepted without pause.

Calm settled over him like cool water. His breathing evened.

Muscles loosened in preparation.

The war wasn't over.

It was only entering its next phase.

---

Somewhere far removed from the blood-drenched fields, in a space where light bent strangely and shadows held weight, Rebecca regarded Number One with glacial composure.

"In the end, you deliberately went against my explicit order and moved against Nemesis, didn't you?" Her voice sliced the air, low, controlled, yet carrying the unmistakable chill of barely restrained fury.

Number One met her gaze without flinching, posture straight, expression serene as still water.

"I had to act, my Queen," he answered evenly.

"To quiet the unease in my core. I could not permit an unknown variable, an anomaly capable of threatening you, to continue moving freely."

"And the result?" Rebecca asked, each word precise.

"I was proven correct to exercise caution," he replied.

"He is dangerous. Far more than I wished to acknowledge. A genuine existential threat to your person. Yet even as I moved, the Universe itself intervened, restrictions locked my hand before I could finish what needed finishing."

A shadow of thought passed across his features.

For the briefest instant regret flickered in his eyes, faint as a candle in daylight, then vanished.

"That is the last time you act outside my command," Rebecca stated. The temperature in the space dropped perceptibly. "I will not warn you twice."

She had halted the painstaking reconstruction of her fractured soul, a process that demanded absolute focus, just to deliver this rebuke in person.

Number One inclined his head. "As you command, my Queen. Still… I will have no choice but to dispatch additional digits to monitor and contain the situation."

"Do not," she cut in.

Her aura rose, subtle, almost imperceptible to lesser beings, yet heavy enough to press against the skin like deep water.

"Make. No. Move. Against. Him. Are you actively seeking to defy me now?"

"I would never dare oppose you," he answered swiftly, voice steady.

"I will obey. But if my Queen would permit one question… why allow him to walk free after everything?"

Rebecca considered him for a long moment.

When she spoke again, it was not out of obligation or vulnerability. She spoke because she chose to.

"Because he serves my purpose," she said. "First: my other half currently rests under his protection. At this moment, no one else can guarantee her safety as effectively as he does. Second, and perhaps more importantly, as we speak, Nemesis is carving his way through the demon race. He is dismantling their provinces one by one, weakening a mutual enemy without me lifting a finger."

I want to believe he has😂