Reborn with Infinity Skill Points, I Enslaved All Universes

"Brothers, forward!"

"Destroy those hearts—victory will be ours!"

The cries of the awakeners shook the battlefield. Their faces were lit with excitement and fervor.

All of them knew very well what this moment meant. They were fighting alongside Emperor Daniel himself against a Fake God-level existence.

If they could claim even a small part in bringing down such a terrifying being, then later—when they returned to their homelands, when they sat in taverns or at banquet tables—they would be able to boast for days, even weeks, of how they had helped slay a godlike monster.

There was no need to fear death.

If they fell, they would resurrect at the designated points. If their bodies were torn apart, they would rise again and return to the fight.

So why hesitate? Why hold back?

They charged forward without restraint.

On the other side, Fleshheart's confidence began to falter.

For the first time, panic crept into its twisted mind.

It was powerful, yes, but not without weakness.

Deep within the Continent of Flesh, buried and hidden away, beat countless true hearts. They were the source of its existence, the anchors of its life.

When Aurelia had nearly destroyed it long ago, the only reason it had survived was because she had struck at its body, not its hidden cores.

If those hearts were destroyed, then even Fleshheart would have no way to recover. Its endless rebirths would end.

"Damnable vermin!" it howled, thrashing in rage. "You dare to defile my essence? You dare touch my sacred hearts? I will slaughter you all—every last one of you!"

It flailed with madness, whipping its countless tendrils of flesh like a storm of whips.

At the same time, the awakener squads that had infiltrated the depths of the continent found themselves under siege.

From beneath the earth, tentacles burst forth, lashing wildly at them.

Their advance slowed, their steps hindered, but not broken.

"I'll hold off these tendrils!" one shouted. "The rest of you, keep striking the heart!"

Another laughed despite the blood at his lips. "So this is a Fake God-level creature? Hah! I wounded it with a single Demigod-rank strike. What garbage!"

But his bravado was mostly for show. Deep down, every one of them understood the truth.

What they were facing was only a fraction of Fleshheart's power. A tiny fragment of its will, a minuscule reflection of its real strength.

In truth, Fleshheart possessed one hundred million hearts scattered across the continent.

Only by destroying them all would the monster truly perish.

The scale of it was unimaginable.

Fake Gods truly were terrifying.

Even so, the awakeners pressed on.

Some squads succeeded. They smashed apart one pulsing heart, watched it collapse into nothingness, and then raced toward the next target without pause.

But they could not see the main battlefield where Daniel himself clashed with Fleshheart.

That place had long since vanished behind a shimmering aurora, a rainbow light that wrapped around the battle.

The radiance sealed the combat zone, isolating it from every gaze, severing all attempts at divination or scrying.

They could not see Daniel.

But they could hear him.

His voice, steady and commanding, reverberated through their minds, a clear order broadcast into every soldier's thoughts.

The order was simple.

Destroy the hearts. Every single one. Victory must be absolute.

This was the first time in the long history of the World of Myriad Races that every race, every clan, every ally had truly joined hands in a single action.

Their first united target: Fleshheart.

Not one of them flinched.

Even if they lost their lives, they rushed forward fearlessly. For they knew they would return. They knew this was their chance to carve their names into history.

For millennia, since the Apocalypse descended, Daniel alone had carried the weight of resistance. He had fought, bled, and stood against the darkness while the rest of them watched helplessly from the sidelines.

Now, finally, they had the chance to fight at his side.

They would not let it slip away.

Reports came one after another.

"Sector SB1307, heart destroyed!"

"Sector AD8712 cleared, the heart reduced to ash!"

"Our squad has eliminated two already—hurry, brothers, keep the pace!"

"Sector DF under heavy pressure—requesting support immediately!"

The war roared on.

It was not only Daniel's commands driving them.

The great institutions—Void Tower, the Infinity Divine Temple, the Star Upgrade Hall—had also issued their own missions.

Whether by coincidence or deliberate coordination, it hardly mattered. The result was the same: countless awakeners fought, and in the process they earned rewards, prestige, and treasures.

Every battle brought growth.

Every strike honed their teamwork.

Their squads grew more fluid, their cooperation more seamless.

Some summoned pets or contracted beasts to aid them, holding back the dangers of the continent while the others destroyed the hearts.

The tide turned steadily in their favor.

…

Elsewhere on the Continent of Flesh, Milla stood before a shimmering gate of light.

She had conjured a portal, intending to use it to stir mischief, perhaps to shift the battlefield in her own eccentric way.

But suddenly, flames surged around her.

They rose from nowhere, an inferno of consuming fire.

Milla's eyes narrowed.

Her body dissolved, replaced with one of her substitute dolls. The flames devoured the doll, while her true form reappeared far from the battlefield.

This was no ordinary attack. Something was wrong.

Her gaze snapped upward.

From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged, smiling faintly.

"Edward," Milla hissed, her voice cold. "You traitor."

Edward stepped into the light. His expression was calm, almost pleasant, but his eyes gleamed with hunger.

"Milla," he said softly, "it's been a long time."

"You call me a traitor, but that isn't quite true. I am simply walking the path that belongs to me."

"I am a devotee of the God of Elements. Everything I do, every betrayal you accuse me of, is simply a step toward my destiny."

Milla did not lower her guard.

She knew Edward well.

Yes, he had betrayed them. But that did not make him weak. On the contrary, he was among the strongest of their generation, standing at the peak of Demigod Rank.

Her own strength was comparable to his. But those who served the God of Elements always fought above their level. They had ways of forcing their abilities into overdrive, burning brighter and hotter than anyone else.

Overclocked powers meant devastating force.

Milla watched him carefully, then asked in a low voice, "Why are you here, Edward?"

His smile widened.

"For you," he said.

The next instant, his form vanished.

The air erupted into a swirling storm.

A blizzard engulfed the world.

Seal of the Blizzard!

Snow and ice fell in a deluge, blanketing Milla's position. In an instant she was buried beneath endless frost, as though she had been entombed in a white desert.

But Edward's true goal was not her.

The storm swept wider, and in its heart another figure was caught—Alice.

Edward's real purpose was Alice all along.

Alice struggled, thrashing against the snow, but the power of the blizzard wrapped tight around her. Escaping was nearly impossible.

Milla burst free from the frost at the last moment.

She lunged forward, seizing Alice by the arm, and dragged her out of the frozen trap.

"Go!" Milla shouted. "Get away from here, now!"

The battle against Fleshheart raged across the continent, and both Alice and Charlotte had joined the struggle.

But Edward's purpose was clear.

He had not come to fight Fleshheart.

He had not come to aid humanity.

He had come for Alice.

He needed her life, her death, to complete his ascension ritual—to step into the rank of Fake God.