The EX-Factors.
Their footsteps echoed through the vast hall, each step carrying a weight heavier than judgment. Some supreme beings trembled in fear; others groaned in pure disgust.
A suffocating pressure clung to the air as the four figures advanced toward the Starry Vortex of Genesis.
A disturbed expression crept across Mia's face as realization struck her like a blade—
the downfall of the EX-Factors was nigh.
Hailed as the four most powerful supreme beings, second only to the Overseer of Reality—since joining the ranks of the supreme beings two thousand five hundred years ago, this was their first time experiencing the Tournament of Supreme Beings, an event that accompanied an Index Core Reset.
"Am I really going to return to being a mere tree sapling?" Rin's voice distorted with dread.
Roshan could not answer her, lost in his own thoughts. The walk toward the vortex felt like marching to an execution.
"If only we had not been drunk on power…" Touma was filled with regret.
They could feel the stares of hatred and animosity piercing them like needles. For a group of supreme beings whose unindexed forms were the weakest, the Index Core Reset was nothing short of a nightmare.
They finally arrived at what felt like an execution ground—the Vortex of Genesis.
"You have two years to find your Index Cores." A voice struck like thunder, shaking the entirety of the vortex.
"The rules will be imprinted in a rulebook."
The Overseer of Reality's gaze fell upon the EX-Factors. A crushing weight descended upon their shoulders, threatening to break them.
The vortex rumbled as it spun. A blinding white light emerged from its center, growing brighter with each passing second. A voice echoed throughout the vortex as the light consumed the supreme beings one after another.
"Index Core Reset commencing…
1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10."
When Roshan opened his eyes, he was standing in a complete wasteland.
No nearby civilizations. No buildings. No trees.
Only an endless desert littered with corpses—bodies that had likely died from starvation or monster attacks.
There was no visible sun, only a vast, cloudless blue sky. The source of light was unknown, yet the heat was scorching.
"So this is my starting point."
He already knew what he would see if he checked his status. After all, it was a memory he had carried with him for two millennia.
Name: Roshan
Title: None Acquired
Age: 23
Class: Debuffer
Grade: F
HP: 50/50 MP: 180/180
SPD: 5 STR: 0 DEF: 12
Abilities:
• Slow Effect — Reduces the SPD of one target by 2%
MP Cost: 90
Duration: 2 minutes
Available Status Points: 0
Sweat dripped from his body, soaking his plain white shirt. The figures burned into his eyes as he stared at them in disgust.
"How could I ever forget this feeling?"
Placing a hand over his head, he grinned.
"The feeling… of being weak and pathetic."
He could not stay in one place forever. He did not have the luxury of self-pity.
He was a tyrant—an unstoppable force that had destroyed three multiverses with his own hands. But before Finality…
There was the pathetic F-grade weakling.
A truth he had only realized after years of being drunk on power.
With five hundred and ninety-six entities now hunting him, he had to find his Index Core before they found him.
Starting supplies—tools randomly prepared for each supreme being.
Roshan opened his pouch.
"This has to be a sick joke."
Inside were ten loaves of bread, a water can, a C-grade bow that consumed 200 MP to create a single arrow, and a rulebook.
Every single item was utterly useless to him.
He opened the rulebook. The very first rule pierced his heart like a dagger.
Rule No. 1:
There will be no penalty for killing a fellow supreme being within the allotted time of two years.
Even if he was killed, his killer would not be punished.
A dreadful smile spread across his face.
"So… I can kill without thinking twice."
Roshan walked through the desert with no idea where he was heading.
GARRRHHH!!
A massive desert worm erupted from beneath the sand, lunging at him with a mouth filled with more teeth than he could count in that instant.
He pushed his body with all his might, narrowly dodging the attack. His left arm twisted unnaturally—blood gushed out, staining his pale white skin.
The desert worm was not done.
It raised its massive head from the ground, steam billowing from its body as it growled in fury.
Roshan ran.
The physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological trauma tearing him apart.
"I destroyed arcane beasts with my breath… and now I'm running from a mere worm."
"…Pathetic. I'm so pathetic."
The worm only drew closer.
Out of desperation, Roshan cast Slow.
Half of his MP vanished instantly. Fatigue crashed over him like a wave. The speed reduction on the earth worm was visible—but it wasn't enough.
Left with no other option, he cast Slow again, completely depleting his MP.
He collapsed onto the sand in exhaustion.
Just as he thought he had escaped, the sand beneath him began to rumble.
His eyes widened.
He turned—
The worm was coming again, even faster than before.
Only then did he realize it.
Slow lasted only two minutes.
He lay still as the rumbling vibrations passed beneath his skin.
Regret.
Agony.
Disgust.
Rage.
All of it surged within him.
With the last of his strength, he tried to stand.
Blood poured from his arm, soaking the ground beneath him.
He fell.
But Roshan did not care.
Clutching his bleeding arm, he staggered again—
and rose to his feet.
His eyes burned with rage.
He reached into his pouch, pulled out the bow, and with the final fiber of his being, snapped it in two—holding the broken pieces like a pair of daggers.
The desert worm towered before him like a mountain.
He did not retreat.
The beast lunged downward with overwhelming force, swallowing him whole.
Or so it thought.
A jagged bow fragment pierced through its hide from within.
The worm shrieked, thrashing in agony.
Roshan clung to its head, bloodied, broken, and smiling.
"Let's see," he whispered,
"who gets consumed first."