Reborn with Infinity Skill Points, I Enslaved All Universes

Even Daniel himself had not expected what came next.

In just a matter of minutes—barely a quarter of an hour—the humans had already consumed well over a hundred thousand of Fleshheart's hearts.

And not only that.

They had invented more than a hundred different ways of eating them.

It was almost absurd. But if there was one thing humanity had always been talented at, it was turning anything—no matter how strange, no matter how grotesque—into a form of food.

Of course, acquiring the hearts was not easy. Many of them were buried deep, or fiercely defended by swarms of tendrils.

But Daniel had planned ahead. Strategic deployment had been arranged before the battle began.

The fighting was bloody, yes. It was grueling. But the progress did not falter.

Moreover, Daniel had long ago used Psychic Perception to sense every hidden heart beneath the continent. He had marked their locations clearly.

All the awakeners had to do was follow the map he provided, and the hunt became methodical.

Even so, destroying every last heart remained a monumental task.

To slay Fleshheart completely, all of its hearts had to be eradicated. Every single one.

And each assault brought retaliation.

Every attack on a heart summoned a swarm of tendrils. Some lurked unseen, striking suddenly from the shadows to deliver fatal blows.

More than one awakener had lost their life through carelessness, a single lapse of attention leading to an impalement.

Thankfully, resurrection points stood nearby. Without the gift of endless revival, the cost of this campaign would have been catastrophic.

Meanwhile, Fleshheart itself had begun to understand.

It realized its danger.

If it continued as it had, doing nothing but lashing blindly, then Daniel and his endless tide of humans would bleed it dry.

The realization spurred it to act.

With a roar, its vast mass convulsed.

It drew itself inward, curling into a gigantic ball of flesh. Tendrils wrapped tightly around its body, layering into a shell.

And then—the Continent of Flesh shook.

The ground split. The air filled with the stench of blood.

From the depths rose waves of new tendrils, thicker and stronger than before. They surged upward in unison, covering the land in writhing red.

This was Fleshheart unveiling its hidden power, a defensive state it had reserved until now.

Its retaliation was merciless.

The tendrils seemed to grow eyes, for they struck with unerring precision, targeting the awakeners who were attacking its cores.

Cries of terror echoed across the battlefield.

Some squads were wiped out in an instant, skewered together like grotesque strings of human gourds.

The carnage intensified, the air thick with screams. Blood sprayed, painting the land a deeper red.

For a moment, it seemed as though the human forces might falter.

But they recovered quickly.

The awakeners steadied themselves, raised their weapons—or their bare fists—and struck back.

This was not the same human race of old.

Each of them was strong now, their base attributes heightened to levels surpassing even the once-glorious Angels of Gold and Silver.

Tendril after tendril was severed. Flesh fell in heaps across the ground.

The stench was unbearable. The dark-red blood soaked into the soil, spreading like rivers.

And yet, the tendrils did not stop.

They regrew.

Cut down a dozen, and a dozen more sprouted in their place.

They were weak in defense, easily severed. But their offensive power was terrible.

A single strike could kill a Demigod-rank fighter instantly.

Again, it was resurrection alone that allowed the humans to endure.

Without it, the battle would have been hopeless. Numbers meant little when the gap between Demigod and Fake God was so vast.

Even so, despite the swarming tendrils, squads continued to press forward. They broke through lines, reached the hearts, and destroyed them.

But then a new horror revealed itself.

Time passed, and the awakeners noticed something dreadful.

The hearts they had destroyed… were growing back.

That was the true terror of Fleshheart.

Even if a heart was shattered, unless all of them were destroyed within a set window of time, the broken ones would regenerate.

To kill Fleshheart meant eradicating every heart simultaneously.

It was an impossible task.

Not even Daniel himself, with all his strength, could accomplish such a feat alone.

This was why he had mobilized so many. Why every awakener had been called to arms.

And fortunately, humanity was no longer weak.

The number of Demigod-ranked fighters had swelled to staggering levels.

And they were not alone.

Prisoners from the Divine Realm had joined them. Stellar beings from the Primordial Plane were also arriving, flooding into the battlefield.

Reinforcements poured in.

The balance shifted once again.

The newcomers looked upon the humans with astonishment.

Only a short time ago, the human race had seemed fragile, weak.

And yet now?

Now they fielded an army of Demigods.

The speed of their growth was terrifying. Even the Angels of Gold and Silver at their peak could not compare.

Orders thundered across the ranks.

"All units, heed my command—destroy the hearts at full force!"

Daniel's voice rang through their minds, carried by psychic will.

The reinforcements moved immediately.

They were stronger than the humans, one rank above on average. Their blows tore through tendrils with ease.

Efficiency soared.

Heart after heart fell, destroyed utterly.

No matter how the tendrils lashed, no matter how the swarms of flesh-beasts defended, they could not stand against the combined might of humanity and its allies.

Especially now that Demigod-level beings filled the ranks.

Even Fleshheart itself, were it to strike directly, would have been forced to fight cautiously against them.

But it had no such luxury.

Daniel's assault never ceased.

He pressed Fleshheart with relentless pressure, giving it no chance to spare attention for the wider battlefield.

The war turned bloody. The continent drowned in gore.

…

And still, above it all, Daniel's creation grew.

The Void Pearl swelled larger and larger, like a bubble of nothingness, expanding until it nearly encompassed the entire space.

Fleshheart felt it.

For the first time, true fear coiled in its chest.

Even as the battle on the continent bled it dry, Daniel's weapon of void loomed, promising annihilation.

It was being cornered.

Weakened.

Step by step, dragged toward its inevitable end.