Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 416

Chapter 416: Fear of Gods: Ascension of Shadows
Inside the vault, reality itself seemed to tremble with anticipation. It was a sanctum of wealth—a cathedral carved from steel, lit by icy fluorescence and filled with towers of gold bars stacked like holy relics, neatly bound stacks of cash, and precious secrets locked in polished metal safes.

Yet, in this fortress of earthly power, the Street Rat stood utterly at ease, a silent deity whose very presence defied physics and laughed at gravity.

With a wave of his hand, shadows poured forth from his fingertips like black silk spun from oblivion itself.

The darkness swallowed every piece of wealth with insatiable hunger, pulling gold bars, jewelry, stacks of bills, and sealed documents into a limitless void. The shadows didn’t merely consume—they absorbed greedily, silently, passionately, devouring the entirety of the vault without so much as a whisper of effort.

Each wave of shadows hummed softly with cosmic authority, bending the air and space around them, leaving reality to shudder like a leaf caught in a cold wind.

But the riches were merely the appetizer—the true feast lay outside, where the Street Rat’s consciousness pulsed, intricately connected to every shadow clone.

He felt each kill viscerally, intimately, each dismemberment a euphoric jolt racing through his veins like electricity dipped in velvet.

With every soul extinguished, every body broken, the shadows grew denser, more potent, funneling strength directly back to him in raw, intoxicating waves. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back briefly, savoring the intoxicating rush of cosmic vitality, a crescendo of power rising like a storm tide within him.

He flexed his fingers, shadows dripping from them like dark honey, reveling in the symphony of chaos outside.

Every scream, every shadow clone’s ruthless execution was a note in his dark melody, an anthem to his godhood like being. He smiled darkly, eyes shimmering with gold-tinted satisfaction. This wasn’t robbery; this was worship—pure, primal, ruthless.

And the Street Rat?

He had never felt more alive.

****

Far above mortal chaos, Olympus stirred. Within its marbled halls, clouds swirled lazily beneath golden pillars as if unaware—or perhaps indifferent—to the mortal blood spilling across distant streets. Here, where the air shimmered with eternal grandeur, the gods watched the unfolding carnage with eyes that glittered not with pity, but with dark amusement.

Ares reclined in his throne, eyes alight with a savage thrill, laughing thunderously as he pointed down at the scene below.

“Now this—this is true artistry!” he bellowed with delight, his voice echoing like distant drums of war. “By the Styx, can you imagine the look on Parker’s face? Ha! I’d pay good ambrosia to see that headache unfold!”

Aphrodite scoffed sharply from her crystal seat, rolling her radiant eyes skyward, arms crossed in barely concealed irritation. But she said nothing, her silence laced with a tension she dared not voice.

Zeus exchanged a heavy glance with his brothers—Poseidon’s brow furrowed deep as the ocean’s trenches, Hades’ expression stoic as a gravestone.

With a brief, knowing nod, an unspoken agreement passed silently between them.

As one, they vanished from the hall in a ripple of divine energy, their departure hardly noticed amidst the gods’ ongoing revelry.

Nyx, however, did not share the others’ amusement. Her midnight-black eyes narrowed sharply, reflecting galaxies and starless voids.

“This creature,” she murmured darkly, her voice a whisper laced with cosmic dread, “he feeds too deeply. He’s becoming something none of us can allow—something ancient, tainted…a Bearer.”

Aphrodite’s eyes caught hers from across the chamber. Without words, she offered a tight, solemn nod. Understanding passed silently between them, and Nyx melted into shadows without another sound, leaving only an uneasy chill in her wake.

Yet oblivious or simply indifferent to the brewing dread, Apollo leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling like suns, a grin stretched lazily across his lips.

“Can’t lie—this is truly the finest entertainment we’ve had in ages. Absolutely spectacular chaos.”

Ares laughed again, deep and unrestrained, slamming a fist on the marble armrest. “Forget entertainment! If only mortals were this thrilling more often—I might visit their silly little realm personally!”

The hall erupted into amused murmurs and dark chuckles as the gods watched on, captivated by the Street Rat’s ruthless rampage, a macabre performance that made even Olympus pause in twisted admiration.

****

In a distant, secluded chamber of Olympus—far from the prying eyes and whispered intrigues of lesser gods—the three brothers stood in solemn conference, bathed in the faint glow of eternal torchlight.

Zeus paced restlessly, his presence heavy with storm clouds barely contained, lightning subtly flickering beneath his clenched fists. His voice was sharp and tense, resonating like distant thunder.

“We must act now. Allowing this mortal to grow unchecked is folly. Each passing moment strengthens him beyond reason, tipping the balance into chaos.”

Hades leaned quietly against a carved marble column, his expression calm, almost indifferent. Yet a subtle amusement danced behind his cold, shadowed eyes.

“Brother,” he spoke smoothly, his tone edged with gentle mockery, “you grow fearful at the slightest ripple of power. Have you truly become so insecure as to see threats in every mortal gifted with our favor?”

Poseidon stood between them, his demeanor weary, burdened by endless arguments that felt older than time itself.

“Zeus,” he sighed deeply, his voice measured but tinged with mild impatience, “this power is our doing, after all. We bestowed it, and even if THEY have amplified its effect, it remains bound by our original blessings. What harm could truly arise? What scenario could possibly spiral beyond our control?”

Zeus stopped pacing abruptly, glaring at both brothers with eyes smoldering with barely restrained fury.

“Your blindness astounds me, dear brothers. This mortal feeds upon shadows, grows from carnage and death. Do you truly fail to grasp what he is becoming?”

Hades gave a soft, humorless laugh. “And yet again, you tremble at shadows, Zeus. You have always distrusted power that rivals your own. Perhaps your throne has grown uncomfortable of late?”

Zeus glared at his brothers, a flicker of lightning sparking in his eyes, making them glow ominously. “You two morons always underestimate shit until it’s literally setting our asses on fire. And every damn time, who’s stuck cleaning up the mess? Me! Siempre yo, cabrones.”

Poseidon rolled his eyes dramatically, grinning despite the tension. “And here we go again—another Zeus pity party. Someone fetch the world’s tiniest violin.”

Hades smirked, shaking his head and throwing up his hands theatrically. “Fine, brother. Watch him closely if it makes you sleep easier at night. But honestly? I think this paranoia of yours is getting pretty damn embarrassing.”

Poseidon raised a hand to calm the brewing storm. “Enough of this,” he said sternly. “Zeus, your caution is understandable, but premature. Let us watch carefully. If he indeed grows too dangerous, we can intervene swiftly. Until then, there is no cause for alarm.”

Zeus regarded them silently for a moment, electricity crackling softly along his knuckles.

Finally, he turned away, shoulders tense, his voice low and grim. “Very well. But remember this conversation clearly, brothers. When the storm you underestimate breaks upon our heads, do not say I did not warn you.”

With that, Hades turned, melting into the shadows, leaving behind only a lingering chuckle. Poseidon shrugged, turning away as well, a wave of seawater swallowing him whole, disappearing with an exaggerated flourish. Zeus stood alone, fists clenched, sparks crackling around him in agitation.

He glared at the empty space left behind, muttering darkly, “Idiots, the both of you. When shit hits the fan—and it always fucking does—don’t come running to me.”