My SSS-Rank Gluttony Talent: I Can Evolve Limitlessly

The weight of it struck him cold. His rebirth had given him certainty, had armed him with knowledge of events like this, but now the certainty was slipping away.

The demons… the interference…

Everything was beginning to shift.

And Riley's expression darkened into something grave and merciless as the thought sank deeper into his chest.

In his past life, the Forgotten Depths had never collapsed. It had remained standing like an immovable mountain, a trial that shaped countless fates and gave birth to some of the strongest early players. But here… in this life… it had fallen apart before his eyes.

The reality of it sank into him like a blade twisting inside his chest.

There was no winner now. Not him. Not Terry. Not anyone.

That fact alone dug into Riley more than he would ever admit. His teeth clenched as he forced the bitterness down, though the anger swelled with each passing second.

He had been planning meticulously—planning to strike down the final floor boss monster, to claim the Epic-ranked armour that he knew was fated to appear. That piece of equipment had belonged to Terry in his past life, an item that boosted him far beyond his peers in those crucial early months. Riley had intended to steal that future for himself, to carve a new path with that armour as his own.

But now… everything was different.

The dungeon was gone. The prize was gone. The opportunity he had been counting on—shattered into smoke.

His fists tightened, nails biting into his palms, but it wasn't pain he felt. It was frustration. Pure and overwhelming frustration.

'Damn it…' he thought, his chest heaving slowly.

This wasn't just a single missed opportunity. This was a fracture in the timeline itself. An unexpected collapse that would ripple outward like cracks in glass. With the dungeon gone, countless events tied to its existence would no longer play out the way he remembered.

That meant the future was sure to change. Greatly.

The advantage he had so carefully relied on since his rebirth… the one thing that had allowed him to move with certainty while others stumbled blindly…

It would shrink.

No—if things continued this way, it would become nonexistent.

Riley's jaw tightened as that realization dug deeper.

'If this continues… I won't be able to rely on my knowledge of the future anymore,' he thought grimly. 'Everything I knew from my past life… it won't matter. Not if the demons and their interference can shift events like this.'

The thought made his insides twist with both rage and unease.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to the side, scanning the crowd through narrowed eyes. In the distance, his focus landed on a blonde-haired man, tall and sharp-featured, standing with a presence that drew others to him instinctively.

The man was surrounded by a group of people, their battered forms circling him like he was an anchor holding them steady amidst the chaos. His sharp yet calm aura radiated outward, almost unnaturally steady compared to the confusion in the air. He was speaking softly, asking those around him how they were doing, whether they were injured, whether they had survived with their sanity intact.

The image made Riley's chest tighten for just a moment.

'Terry…' he thought, his gaze hardening.

Even here, even now, Terry's presence was undeniable.

But before Riley could linger on that bitter thought, the ground beneath him shifted again.

Strange markings began crawling across the city floor, like molten lines being etched into stone by invisible hands. Intricate shapes, spiraling symbols, and twisting formations spread outward, covering the cracked earth in glowing brilliance.

They pulsed once—twice—before radiance exploded from them.

Golden light, lined with streaks of pure white, shimmered upward in tall columns. The brightness cut through the chaos, forcing players and NPCs alike to shield their eyes as the runes burned with holy intensity.

And then, from within those circles of power, figures began to emerge.

Men and women in white and gold robes, their garments trimmed with elaborate sigils, their faces half-hidden by the glow of teleportation. Staffs, grimoires, and weapons of polished steel glinted in their hands as they stepped into the world one after another.

Their arrival was silent, but their presence was anything but.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier, humming with strange authority as the white-robed figures assembled within the glowing formations.

The chaos of the players quieted slightly, confusion shifting into alarm as the first whispers rippled through the crowd.

And Riley's gaze narrowed further, the grave expression on his face refusing to shift as his instincts screamed at him to pay attention.

His pupils contracted sharply. 'Members of the Church of Light?!'

It was impossible to mistake them. The flowing robes, the gilded hems, the aura of holiness that seemed to bleed from their very skin—all of it was iconic, unmistakable.

He remembered seeing many of their members in his past life, but that was all. They had never appeared here. Nothing like this had happened before.

His mind raced. 'This wasn't supposed to happen… this wasn't supposed to happen at all!'

For the first time since his rebirth, he felt the strange chill of uncertainty.

Until now, his memories of the future had always been his greatest weapon—an advantage sharper than any blade.

Yet in this moment, staring at the gathering congregation of holy warriors and priests, Riley realized with grim clarity that he was just like every other player here. He had no idea what was going to happen next.

The newcomers radiated serenity. Each one carried themselves with unshakable confidence, their movements measured and graceful, their expressions kind and welcoming.

Warm smiles graced their lips, and their very presence seemed to soften the chaos that had consumed the city square moments earlier.

The aura they gave off was nothing short of suffocating. It wasn't a heavy, oppressive force like the shadow of a demon.

Rather, it was something subtler, something that pressed on the spirit instead of the flesh.

Their robes seemed woven from light itself, the white fabric pristine and untouched by dirt or blood, while threads of gold shimmered faintly whenever the runes beneath their feet pulsed.

And around them… faint sparkles danced in the air, tiny motes of light that twinkled like stars caught in their orbit.

They stepped forward in unison, a flowing tide of radiance moving across the wounded battlefield.

Wherever they went, the light followed, illuminating every dark corner, chasing away the faint miasma of fear and confusion that still clung to the air.

The first players they reached instinctively flinched back, too stunned and wary to welcome strangers who had appeared from nowhere.

A few even raised weapons, their faces pale, sweat dripping from their brows. But the church members did not draw blades or speak harsh words. They lifted their hands, and light bloomed.

Gentle, golden energy streamed outward, forming a wave that washed over the wounded players and NPCs like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

The effects were instantaneous and miraculous. A man clutching his side, blood pooling beneath his armor, gasped as torn flesh knitted back together before his eyes.

A woman coughing violently, her lungs riddled with poison from the scorpion's lingering miasma, shuddered as pure air filled her chest and the toxins dissolved to nothing.

Even those with injuries that had seemed fatal only heartbeats ago—the ones lying limp, pale, and moments from death—were pulled back from the brink.

Their bodies glowed faintly under the caress of holy power, and in the span of seconds, they were whole again.

Gasps of disbelief spread across the square. The confusion that had dominated moments ago softened, replaced by awe and stunned silence.

"What… what the hell?" one player whispered, clutching his restored arm as tears welled in his eyes.

"My ribs… they're healed…" another muttered, pressing at his chest as if unable to accept the absence of pain.

The robed figures gave no arrogant remarks, no scolding tones. Their smiles only deepened, warm and almost motherly. Their words were soft, calming. "Fear not," one said gently. "The Light embraces all. Be at peace."

The players, though still disoriented, slowly began to relax. Suspicion dulled in their eyes, replaced by reluctant gratitude. The chaos ebbed into a fragile calm.

But Riley remained still, silent, his eyes narrowed as he watched. None of this sat right with him.

The miracle of healing continued to spread until even the gravely wounded stood tall once more.

Yet the holy congregation did not stop there. In the distance, Riley noticed one group break away, moving toward a particular cluster of players—toward a blonde man who seemed to stand taller than all others despite the exhaustion in his frame.

Terry.

The golden-haired figure was surrounded by his companions, all of them battered but alive.

He had been at the front while they were within the dungeon, taking risks and fighting head-on.

Now, he and his team found themselves the target of the holy group's attention.