Reincarnated With The Degenerate System-Chapter 254: The Offer

For a heartbeat, there was a vacuum of absolute silence. Then, the "Element" infusion within my spear exploded.

BOOOOOM!

A pillar of obsidian lightning and pressurized mana tore through the center of the mass, turning miles of rock into a halo of molten glass that rained down over the ruins.

I didn’t stop. I rode the momentum of the explosion, a streak of blackened gold scales, lunging through the smoke toward Hexor.

"DIE!" I screamed, my voice cracking from the strain.

The spear connected. The accumulated energy of my strike dumped entirely into the opponent’s torso.

The resulting blast dwarfed everything that came before.

I tumbled back through the air, my scale shattered, my wings tattered like old lace. I hit the ground hard, carving a trench through the cracked asphalt, coughing up blood that hissed from the high temperature.

Squinting through the dust, my eyes searched the sky.

Hexor was still there, suspended in the air. But he wasn’t the pristine "Messiah" anymore.

The entire left side of his body—from the shoulder down to the hip—was simply gone.

His left wing was a charred stump, and his ribcage was exposed, pulsing red light where his heart should have been.

"I got him," I wheezed, pushing myself up on trembling arms. "Nobody... nobody survives having half their body shredded like that."

Up in the sky, Hexor looked down at his missing parts. He didn’t scream. He didn’t even look angry. Instead, he let out a low chuckle that grew into a full-blown manic laugh.

"Exquisite attack," he declared.

Then, the air began to scream. Strands of raw, crimson mana lashed out from his remaining side like umbilical cords, weaving together in the open air.

Muscle fibers knit themselves out of nothingness; skin crawled over bone like a time-lapse of a growing tree.

In seconds, the grey, stone-like flesh was back—perfect, unscarred, and radiating a heat that turned the surrounding air into steam.

He stretched his newly formed hand, flexing the claws. The playful, mocking smile he had before was gone, replaced by a wide, jagged grin that showed far too many teeth.

"That felt... nostalgic." He wasn’t looking down at me as a bug anymore.

But I didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about it.

"You actually made me feel pain, little dragon. For that, I think I’ll stop holding back. Tell me... have you ever seen the sky bleed?"

Above us, the ash-choked clouds didn’t just part—they darkened. Violet spread across the sky, then slowly turned red. The sky looked like living flesh, and Hexor just sliced it open.

Then came the sound. A wet, heavy squelch that echoed from the clouds to the bedrock.

The first drop hit the ruined pavement with a sizzle. It wasn’t water. It was thick, viscous, and smelled of iron. Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a downpour of blood.

The shattered intersection flooded instantly, the red liquid filling the craters we carved.

"The sky is the limit of man’s ambition," Hexor announced, his voice vibrating through the very blood pooling beneath me. "But for me... the sky is just a vessel. And I am thirsty."

He reached up, and the falling blood began to coagulate in mid-air, forming thousands of jagged, crystalline needles.

I let out an exhausted sigh. I was already empty, so there was no reason to keep fighting.

The only chance to beat him was if Shadow was here, but even then the odds were not high.

"Are you giving up?"

"You can say that." I looked up at him. He didn’t seem aware that I was using a clone, which was the only silver lining.

I would pretend to die, then build power in secret until our next fight.

"Boy... I see you have potential. How about working for me?"

"Work for you?"

"That’s right. Our enemies are the Architects. They destroyed my world too. They tried to capture me, but I escaped and have been growing my power to one day strike back."

"The Architects," I repeated, tasting the iron in the air. "So you’re not just some god-complex maniac. You’re a survivor."

Hexor’s grin didn’t falter.

"Survivor? I am the exception. The Architects corrupt worlds like yours as farms. When a world outlives its utility, they ’recycle’ it. My world refused to be scrapped. I personally tore down the pillars so they couldn’t have them."

He descended slowly, the thousands of blood-needles hovering behind him like a halo of executioner’s blades.

"I’m not alone. There are others—the Irregulars—who’ve been growing their strength in secret. And... I have a feeling you’re also like me."

That word again. My pulse quickened.

"What exactly are Irregulars, and how did you come to the conclusion that I am one?"

"They call us that because we are glitches in their code. Variables they can’t predict. The only existence that could permanently kill them."

"And I assumed you were one because of the age of your soul. That can only mean a higher entity is helping you grow stronger. But you’re still a diamond in the rough."

"I think I’m doing fine. I did manage to rip half of you," I shot back.

He threw his head back, and a deep, resonant laugh tore through the sky, shaking the very air around me.

"You... you think that was everything I had?"

The blood-needles behind him shuddered as he shot one that flew so fast I didn’t even have time to react.

"I’m barely even using my true strength."

I hate to admit but that display was more than enough proof to convinced me.

"Okay, let’s say I’m willing to work for you. Then what?"

"Then I’ll let you live. In the meantime, I’ll use this world’s resources to fully regain my power. Once I have it, we can finally wage a direct war. My allies are waiting . Join us. Let’s destroy those bastards once and for all."

"Use this world’s resources?" I paused. "In other words, you plan to destroy it?"

"Of course. It would be broken by the Architects either way."

I forced a dry laugh. "You talk about the Architects being the villains because they ’recycle’ worlds, but your plan is to strip-mine this place until there’s nothing left ? How does that make you any different from them?"

"The difference is purpose, boy. The Architects destroy world for nothing. I destroy for the power to end them. A few billion lives is a small price to pay for the strength to tear down those bastards."

He hovered closer, the blood-tide parting effortlessly.

"Don’t get sentimental on me. You should know better than anyone that everything—people, cities, entire civilizations—is stepping stones. This world is a sinking ship. I’m just taking the fuel before it hits the bottom."

Damn it. I wasn’t a saint. I killed, I schemed, and I used the system to climb over the bodies of my enemies. But I got people here I cared about.

To him, they were just "resources." To me, they were the reason I wanted to grow stronger.