Awakening a 10,000x Skill Proficiency Multiplier in the Apocalypse-Chapter 22: [] : One Man Army, The Bare-Handed Catch
The Doom-Howl Wolf didn’t just lunge; it eclipsed the sky.
When a creature the size of a two-story house threw itself forward, it blotted out the ambient light of the Valley of Echoes. The beast moved with a terrifying, muscular fluidity that defied its massive polygon count. Its jaws unhinged, revealing rows of jagged, obsidian fangs dripping with a highly corrosive, glowing purple acid.
To the ten thousand players watching, the outcome was an absolute, mathematical certainty. The Level 10 Drifter in starter cloth was going to be instantly deleted. His health bar wouldn’t even have time to register the damage before the server categorized him as a fine, digital mist.
Sebastian stood perfectly still in the shadow of the descending maw. He didn’t bother drawing his Rusty Iron Dagger. He didn’t weave a complex spell. He didn’t even shift his feet into a defensive stance.
He just looked up with the dead, flat expression of a man watching a particularly annoying fly buzz around his kitchen.
"Sit down, dog," Sebastian whispered.
He casually raised his right hand.
He didn’t activate a skill. He just reached up, palm open, as if he were catching a tossed baseball.
CRACK!
The sound of the impact echoed like a thunderclap across the valley. A violent, visible shockwave of displaced air exploded outward from where Sebastian stood, flattening the tall grass for fifty yards in every direction and blowing the tattered edges of his Drifter cloak violently behind him.
The Doom-Howl Wolf stopped dead in mid-air.
Its colossal, downward momentum was instantly, impossibly arrested.
Sebastian’s bare hand was wrapped firmly around the tip of the beast’s largest canine. The jagged obsidian tooth was the size of his entire torso, yet his fingers gripped it with the casual strength of a hydraulic press.
The physics engine of The Ethereal Plane began to weep.
Translucent blue error codes flooded the corner of Sebastian’s vision. The server was desperately trying to calculate how a player with zero points in heavy armor, zero active defensive buffs, and the base strength of a Level 10 Drifter had just absorbed a kinetic impact equivalent to a freight train falling off a cliff.
According to the game’s internal logic, Sebastian’s arm should have been pulverized into a fine powder, followed immediately by his torso, and then his lower half.
But the game didn’t know about the real world. It didn’t know about the Synchronization.
Back in his miserable, cramped apartment in 2077, Sebastian’s physical body had already begun to change. The one percent bleed-through of his digital stats was rewriting his cellular density. His real muscles were hardening into biological steel. The VR helmet’s neural-link was reading the neurological outputs of his physical brain, and his physical brain was telling the game that his baseline strength was already off the charts.
The system tried to apply the damage, but the math broke. Sebastian’s feet were planted firmly in the digital dirt. He hadn’t even been pushed back an inch.
The Doom-Howl Wolf’s hellfire eyes widened. If an AI could feel genuine, existential confusion, this was the moment. It dangled there, suspended by its own tooth, its massive body completely immobilized by a man who looked like he belonged in the tutorial village’s poorhouse.
"You’ve got terrible breath," Sebastian noted, his voice barely carrying over the screeching of the game’s audio engine.
A pin-drop silence fell over the Valley of Echoes.
Ten thousand players. Two massive, warring guilds. Hundreds of heavily armored, elitist gamers. All of them stood perfectly paralyzed, their brains entirely failing to process the visual information being fed into their headsets.
Viper’s jaw was practically resting on his chest plate. Baron_K looked like he was having a minor stroke.
Even Valerie, standing far in the back with the Blue Rose guild, lowered her staff, her dark-blue eyes wide with absolute disbelief.
Sebastian didn’t give the crowd time to recover. He didn’t give the Wolf time to try a secondary attack.
While holding the massive beast suspended in the air with his left hand, he raised his right hand. He extended his index and middle fingers, pressing them together.
He didn’t shout the name of his attack. He didn’t need the theatrical wind-up that most Mages required to trigger their high-tier abilities.
He just tapped into his mana pool and activated the conceptual law he had unlocked in the Ironhold Arena.
[Dimensional Sever]
Sebastian casually swiped his two fingers horizontally through the empty air beneath the wolf’s jaw.
There was no explosion of elemental energy. There was no flashy, screen-shaking light show. There was only a terrifying, localized hum as the very fabric of the server’s spatial coordinates was unzipped.
A thin, perfectly black, two-dimensional line appeared in the air. It was a crack in reality that ignored all values of physical durability, magical resistance, and boss-tier damage mitigation.
The black line passed cleanly through the Doom-Howl Wolf’s thick, armored neck. It slid through the obsidian shards, through the digital muscle, and right through the massive spinal column without encountering a single ounce of resistance.
Sebastian let go of the fang and took a casual step backward.
For a fraction of a second, the Wolf remained whole. Then, the game’s logic caught up to the catastrophic spatial edit.
SHLUCK.
The Doom-Howl Wolf’s massive head smoothly detached from its neck.
It slid off the stump and crashed onto the grass with the weight of a collapsed building, causing the ground to violently tremble.
An absolute geyser of glowing, pixelated crimson blood erupted from the decapitated neck. It shot thirty feet into the air, a macabre fountain that painted the sky and rained down over the immediate vicinity, turning the green grass into a slick, horrifying shade of dark red.
The headless, twenty-foot-tall body of the World Boss stood there for two full, agonizing seconds. The AI was dead, but the server was lagging, struggling to process the instant deletion of its premier event monster.
Finally, the colossal corpse tipped over. It hit the ground with a resounding, muddy thud, sending a wave of blood-soaked dirt washing over the boots of the stunned Golden Lion vanguard.
[GLOBAL ANNOUNCEMENT: THE DOOM-HOWL WOLF HAS BEEN SLAIN!]
[FIRST WORLD BOSS CLEAR ACHIEVED!]
[PLAYER NAME: ***]
The massive, golden text hovered in the sky for everyone to see.
Sebastian stood over the bleeding, decapitated head of the World Boss. He casually wiped a single drop of digital blood off his cheek. He looked completely bored.
The silence in the valley stretched on. It was heavy, suffocating, and entirely unnatural. Ten thousand players were holding their breath, staring at the impossible anomaly in the ragged cloth tunic.
Then, the shock wore off.
And the absolute chaos began.
