Monster Gacha System: Becoming The Final Boss

Her soft yet sharp voice echoed through the evergreen garden shaded by the darkness of the night. What followed was a peculiar sense of stillness, as though everything had been frozen in its place. The world lost its color as a pitch-black spherical microcosm imprinted itself upon reality.

It was over four hundred meters, veiling the entirety of the Winston Family's residence. In the middle of it all was a crimson-haired girl, who stood before a gargantuan clock whose hands ticked in reverse.

The shattered pavement recovered, the rubble faded and returned to their origin, and bloodstains dispersed into the healing bodies of those who lost their lives. Within the muted domain, causality didn't matter.

It was the power of what could be achieved in the summit of Blood Techniques. The moment when one imprints themselves on the world. They become gods of domains under their complete and utter control.

Such authority wasn't exclusive to the cryptids; even the pinnacle of Brands was capable of achieving such feats. The finest example of this facet was the strongest of humanity, Alastair Glass. Unlike a microcosm where one imprints itself upon reality, she stacks herself above it.

A macrocosm that stretched into infinity, capable of subduing the filament of reality, from everything to nothing. A mirror reflected itself to eternity, where the preconceived outcome becomes fantasy.

Regardless, Blood Technique: Severance was Hecate's personal power that rivaled the Brands of Jaegers. It was the reason why an ancient progenitor was sealed within her. The technique was capable of severing concepts, ensuring that those severed by it would become nonexistent.

Time, space, fabrics of atoms, physics, and even souls. Within her microcosm, all of them would be severed from their causality. For this reason, they would return to their previous state. But this was merely the first phase.

60 seconds... The clock behind Hecate was a reminder of how much time the ones trapped within her microcosm have before their inevitable end. It was an execution date; there was nothing they could do to resist it.

As the hands of the clock continued to tick backward, the Patriarch awakened from his death, dumbfounded. The cloaked mercenary and the ones before him also roused from their demised. Even the guards massacred at the entrance of the mansion were revived.

The infamous hooded mercenary emerged from the shadows and glanced at the revived Patriarch and the cloaked mercenary. They turned their attention towards the gargantuan clock behind the crimson-haired girl while observing the colorless space.

"A Blood Technique... I can't believe that someone like her is capable of using a Microcosm." They muttered to themselves and shouted towards their revived allies. "Our time here is limited. If we don't kill her, all of us will die within the imprinted domain!"

The ones brought to life realized the situation and didn't hesitate. All of them bolted towards the crimson-haired girl in the middle of the muted and achromatic space. Before any one of them could reach her, the edges of her lips curled up into a manic smile.

"Too late..." The ticking clock reached the halfway mark of its complete rotation. 30 seconds were left for those trapped within her microcosm. In every second, a segment of reality was severed. One was the concept of movement.

In the middle of their pointless charge, all of them froze as their bodies became unmoving. Their consciousness remained, but no matter what they did. They couldn't move a single strand of their muscle.

Dread oozed into their pounding heart as their instincts screamed at them. However, it was all for naught as their erasure was inevitable within the imprinted domain. As seconds ticked by, what followed was the concept of selves.

The order came to be as atoms were severed from their bonds. It prompted the entirety of everything within the microcosm to disintegrate into nothing. From the metahumans to the exquisite mansion and gardens, all reverted to zero.

Time was also severed, consuming the essence of motion. Finally, space was torn from its concept, fragmenting the captured reality of the imprinted domain into a singular and tiny point of non-conceptual energy.

Inside the microcosm was the void of nothingness. It was the result of severing everything and nothing from causality. Reality didn't become fantasy. It became nonexistent. In any case, the gargantuan clock completed its reversal revolution.

The duration of the Blood Technique has concluded. With everything inside consumed by Severance, the imprinted domain shattered, and what replaced it was an abyssal crater two hundred meters deep. The gust of wind surged inward, flooding the emptiness left behind by the microcosm.

The Winston Family of the western district has been annihilated. There was nothing left for the criminal syndicate other than a deep crater that seemed as though a god had carved something out of the earth.

For a moment, the entirety of the western district slightly trembled. Several civilians left the confines of their homes, crowding the once desolate streets as they veered towards the gaping crater, which drew a current of coiling wind.

All of them were astounded by the two-hundred-meter-deep cavity in the middle of the western district. Some noticed that the mansion of the Winston Family had vanished, replaced by an artificial caldera that was hollowed out by something or someone.

The broken law enforcement of New Janus barely controlled the perimeter, taping the entirety of the crater and ensuring that none would accidentally fall inside the abyss that stretched below it.

Ambulances and firefighters were parked at the broken roads that led to nowhere, intending to rescue the survivors of the catastrophe. However, one could question whether there were really people who had survived the disaster.

Even though New Janus was an almost lawless dump of a hellish city. The local authorities had not abandoned it yet despite the constant suppression of the criminal syndicates that inhabited the cardinal districts.

It was for this reason that rescue operations were immediately deployed, despite the lack of finances and overall budget from the greater federation.

Somewhere in an empty corner was a crimson-haired girl leaning on a concrete wall. An exhausted pant escaped her lips as cold sweat dripped from her forehead. The utilization of the Blood Technique wasn't without its price. It depleted all the energy inside her body.

Stamina and mental psyche were gone. Not only was her body completely burnt out, but her mind was barely maintaining her consciousness.

'My emotions have been spiking all over the place lately.' Hecate thought as she controlled her breathing to conserve energy. But no matter what she did, the crimson-haired girl was too drained. She felt her eyelids droop while she slowly collapsed to the ground.

'I-I am sorry, Master... I cannot hold it any longer.'

Such were her last thoughts before her mind blacked out. An eerie silence crept into the alleyway as her limbs twitched for a second. It didn't take long for her eyes to open. But instead of her usual velvet irises, they were replaced by a pair of golden eyes whose hypnotic rings rotated.

"That took much longer than expected... Manipulating the emotion of a young vampire is troublesome." A calm and monotone voice escaped her lips as she stretched her limbs upward. "I am finally free."

She observed her surroundings with an indifferent yet scrutinizing gaze. "Quite an intriguing world this is. The black towers seemed inactive, which means that the Horrors hadn't been called to cleanse this world."

"Hmm... What should I do? Now that I'm free, there are a lot of things I could explore." She placed her pale fingers over her lips and tilted her head. The hypnotic rings of her golden irises rotated, thoughts and emotions colliding together to form coherence.

"How about enslaving a few creatures first?" She turned her attention towards the crowd of people that appeared to be surrounding the gaping crater left behind by the microcosm.

But before she could proceed with her proposition, the crimson-haired lady felt a hand grasping her shoulder. She slowly turned her golden gaze towards the one she didn't sense and maintained a state of indifference.

It was then she saw a white-haired lady smirking at her with pearl-like eyes that seemed to penetrate the veil of existence. "I cannot let you take my apprentice without consent, old lady."

"Are you the master of this body?" The ancient progenitor squinted her golden eyes and intended to shackle the arrogant one into her command. But her power was soon obstructed and reflected back towards her. "How could a mortal be so strong?"

Alastair chuckled and grinned at the crimson-haired lady. "I am the strongest in this world, so how about it? Care to let my apprentice take the helm? After all, I wouldn't want to kill my own student."

"It would be too unfortunate." Her words didn't seem to reflect her expression. The white-haired lady kept her arrogant smile as though nothing in this world could defy her commands.

The ancient progenitor glanced at the smirking, gorgeous lady and shook her head. "You cannot protect her from everything this world has to offer. Sooner or later, I will return. Destiny requires it." Her golden irises lost their glimmer, returning to their usual velvet state.

Hecate was about to collapse to the ground, but Alastair promptly caught the crimson-haired girl and muttered with an unnatural calm. "I would have preferred a fight. It seems that this ancient progenitor is too smart for its own good."

The seventh Paragon was ignorant of what the progenitor truly was. Regardless, what her Aberrant feared had come. The seal wasn't as formidable as they had previously concluded.

"How troublesome..."