Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 219

Chapter 219: …Of Prince’s Cosmic Beasts 2
The changes had done even stopped, in fact…the mansion wasn’t just changing—it was becoming.

Every corner, every shadow-drenched nook, every inch of space was alive with this unholy, jaw-dropping magic flex. Statues clawed their way into existence from the the ground, from the core of existence itself—massive, terrifyingly real sculptures of mythical creatures that looked like they could move at any second if you blinked wrong.

A dragon coiled around one balcony, scales sharp and shimmering like obsidian dipped in oil slicks, its eyes glowing faintly with a pulse that said, “Yeah, I see you.” A chimera stood proud in the garden, muscles rippling under stone skin that somehow looked too damn alive for comfort.

But that was just the start of the madness.

Twin phoenixes flared into form along the grand staircase, wings spread wide as if mid-flight, white and black flames frozen in time but so vivid they almost burned to look at. Their eyes were molten white and black for each, locked on the horizon with that eternal rebirth and annihilation vibe like they knew they were untouchable.

Then came something eerily familiar—an enormous, sleek cat perched high above the front entrance. It wasn’t just any cat—it looked too much like Ere.

Those sharp, intelligent golden eyes carved deep into the stone seemed to watch in a way that felt way too real, tail curled around its paws like it knew secrets nobody else did. The air around it practically whispered, “Yeah, I know things, and no—you’re not ready.”

At one corner of the mansion’s shadowed expanse birthed something different—something that oozed both raw power and unsettling beauty. From the cold stone, a figure clawed its way into reality, not just any beast, but a werewolf.

But this wasn’t the typical nightmare-fuel monster. No, this statue had elegance. It stood tall, lean but strong, with muscle rippling beneath sleek, stone-carved fur that caught every glimmer of light like it was alive.

Her figure was slim, almost graceful, like a predator that knew exactly when to strike. And her eyes—damn, those eyes—were carved with such precision they seemed to shimmer with a haunting, unnatural intelligence.

Beautiful and deadly all at once, they stared down with a frozen ferocity that felt personal, like she knew every secret you were too scared to admit.

Her claws, sharp and poised, looked ready to tear through reality itself, but her posture was something else entirely—regal. As if she wasn’t just some savage creature but royalty of the night, standing proud, dangerous, and impossibly captivating.

Even frozen in stone, she wasn’t just a beast. She was a warning. She looked like the void wolf that had once attacked the infant Parker but only that she seemed deeper and more powerful even being a lifeless statue.

On the other end, a shadow loomed over the far side of the garden—a monstrous bat, its wings folded like a cloak of living darkness. Crimson eyes gleamed through the night, burning with an unnatural hunger. Its talons curled into the earth, not just resting but claiming it, as if daring the world itself to defy its reign. And it wasn’t alone in the vicinity…

In the center of the estate, a giant-ass fountain dominated the space, and right in the middle of it, like she owned the damn place, was a drop-dead gorgeous mermaid statue. Water cascaded around her like she was chilling in a personal waterfall, her tail arched dramatically as if caught mid-flick, scales glistening under the sun.

Her curves were sculpted to absolute perfection, and her face? That half-smirk, half-mysterious gaze practically screamed, “Yeah, I know I’m stunning. Bow, peasants.”

And those breasts? Absolutely gigantic, sculpted with such ridiculous precision that whoever carved this clearly had an obsession. They were the kind of big that made you question physics, defying gravity in the most elegant way possible, looking soft despite being literal stone.

Her waistline was a dangerous curve, narrow enough to make the rest of her figure look even more insanely exaggerated, flowing seamlessly into her wide, sculpted hips before her tail took over. The statue didn’t just look good—it was a damn statement.

Instead of holding some elegant seashell or mystical trident, one hand rested on her hip, the other lazily stretched out, spitting a thin stream of water right at the guests below—because, of course, the estate had to remind people that even a damn statue had attitude.

Honestly, it was hard to tell if she would welcome visitors or judging their entire life choices.

Either way, the fountain was massive, over-the-top, and dripping with unnecessary luxury—because if you’re gonna have a mermaid in your estate, might as well make her the queen of the damn compound that everyone lay their eyes on the moment they enter.

And the pièce de résistance? A massive leviathan-like serpent snaking along the outer wall, scales glimmering with deep blues and greens—an ocean beast forever caught mid-surge, jaws parted wide like it was ready to swallow the whole damn mansion if it felt like it.

It wasn’t just statues anymore—it was like the entire mansion had become some ancient beast’s twisted dreamscape, every inch whispering power with the kind of authority that didn’t ask for respect—it demanded it.

And the kicker? These weren’t just statues for decoration—oh no. They breathed. Not in the literal huff-and-puff way, but their presence? Yeah, it pressed against reality, heavy and undeniable, like they knew they weren’t just there to look pretty.

It was like the mansion itself was screaming, “Come at me, bro. I dare you.”

But then—boom. The ground didn’t just shake—it thrummed. A gigantic magical circle, wide enough to swallow the entire estate, flared to life across the land like someone had drawn a cosmic rune and slapped it down for the gods to see. Lines burned bright under the grass, twisting symbols older than human memory carved into the earth with terrifying precision.

It wasn’t just magic—it was power incarnate, like the universe itself decided this was important and hell yeah, everyone should pay attention.

And above the freshly transformed, no-longer-mortal-looking gate? Letters carved themselves into reality. Not painted, not written—formed. Each letter shone like liquid night, shimmering in shades too deep for human eyes to understand.

PRINCE NYXILITH ESTATE.

Elegant. Monstrous. Final. Like the place had just announced itself as royalty and dared anyone to say otherwise.

Meanwhile, across town…

Parker’s mansion? Yeah, it was having a bad day.

Forget magical glow-ups—this was straight-up annihilation.

The walls groaned first, like they knew something bad was coming. Then? It started getting eaten away. Not by fire, not by wind—nope, by something wrong. Like reality itself was hungry and decided, “Eh, let’s snack on this place for fun.” Bit by bit, the structure dissolved into nothingness, chunks of the building vanishing with soft little poofs—as if the mansion was nothing more than a sad little magic trick unraveling itself.

Furniture? Gone. Paintings? Poof. Hell, even the random-ass spoons in the kitchen drawer weren’t safe—snap, gone. Everything of value didn’t just vanish—it was erased by dimension to somewhere.

The mansion was getting wiped off the board by something way bigger than anyone could handle.

And then—bam!—there it was again. The same magical circle, only this time? It wasn’t flexing. It wasn’t shimmering with power. No, this bad boy was reversed—twisting inward like a cosmic drain sucking everything in. Symbols contorted in ways that should’ve broken the laws of physics. If the circle at the Nyxilith Estate was creation? This was obliteration. It was the same magical circle with reversed roles like tails and heads of a coin. One brought life the other brought annihilation. The runes were the same but reversed. From life or destruction! But if one were to look into these runes, one who understood them, they would see the Copy Runes too etched into destruction.

The energy didn’t spread out—it caved in, folding space in on itself like reality just said, “Nope, not today.”

Then came the bodies.

Tessa. Naomi. Elena. Unconscious, fragile—gone. They didn’t vanish in fear or violence; they just… blinked out. One moment, there—next, nothing. Like someone had dragged them off the board before anyone could say, “Wait, hold up!”

And Parker? Yeah, his exit wasn’t some grand, cinematic slow-mo moment with swelling music and dramatic lighting. Nope. It was quiet—too quiet. One second, he was there, lying in the chaos of what used to be his mansion. The next? Poof. Gone. No flash, no bang, no last-second gasp—just a silent slip into nothingness, like someone hit delete on his existence.

And then the mansion followed.

No epic collapse. No flames licking the sky. Just gone. Wiped off the face of reality like it had never even been there. One second, it was standing—this towering beast of wealth and power—and the next? An empty, gaping void that didn’t even bother leaving behind ashes or dust for dramatic effect.

It was just nothing.

The kind of nothing that screams louder than any explosion ever could. The kind that makes the air feel too heavy, like the universe itself just whispered, “Yeah… shit just got real.”