Re-Overlord: I Can Acquire Anything!-Chapter 126: Mythical

From the Meeting Hall, Igaris quietly made his way back to his residence.

Unlike the quarters of ordinary disciples, his abode was spacious and lavishly designed, with flowing curtains, quiet courtyards, and a few well-trained servants at his disposal. Yet, he paid no mind to the luxury. Such things held little value in his eyes.

He entered his chamber and sat cross-legged atop a smooth stone floor in the center of the room. The air was calm, the space dimly lit by a few glowing spirit lanterns.

He exhaled slowly, clearing his thoughts, then reached into his spatial pouch and retrieved a large stack of beast cores. There were 500 in total, gleaming with spiritual energy. These had been granted to him by the sect treasury. It was a significant amount, not easily acquired by most.

With these beast cores, his goal was clear.

"I must break through to the Mythic Rank," he murmured.

Only after that would he attempt the impossible like reviving someone from death through the Yin-Yang Reversal Concept. Such a feat would no doubt demand an extraordinary amount of internal energy, and this was merely preparation. He needed strength, stability, and control. Only then could he even begin to test the power that defied the very balance of life and death.

He closed his eyes and began absorbing the energy, the first step toward both ascension and defiance.

The power of Infinite Acquisition stirred within him, vibrating softly like the hum of ancient engines. As Igaris absorbed the beast cores into his Acquisition Space, a surge of energy coursed through him, rich and untamed.

One by one, the cores vanished, transformed into pure essence and funneled deep into the foundation of his Inner World.

The expansion began.

13 kilometers.

15

20

27

With each breath, his world stretched farther, the sky above his soulscape cracking with starlight, the land beneath trembling with the strain of growth. Energy condensed into rivers, hills, and vast landscapes. It was not merely expansion, but evolution.

Then, slowly, it reached the 50 kilometer mark.

And there, it paused.

Igaris opened his eyes. His breath was ragged, his body glistening with sweat, but his spirit blazed. He could feel it clearly now, an invisible veil before him, vast and trembling with power.

This was the threshold.

The gateway to the Mythical Rank.

The realm of beings who towered above empires. Who could bring calamity to nations and challenge the fury of dragons.

He stood at its edge.

Ready to cross.

He picked the last batch of bigger beast cores, closed his eyes again, and began his attempt to break through.

Igaris sat motionless as the energy within his Inner World surged like a storm-bound sea.

The threshold loomed before him like vast ancient wall. His soul pressed against it, feeling the immense weight that separated mortals from legends.

He inhaled deeply.

Then, with resolve sharpened like a divine blade, he let go.

A flood of energy burst from his very core. It was not chaotic, but precise. It coursed through his meridians, scouring impurities, reshaping the pathways of power within him. His bones groaned as they reforged, his muscles coiled tighter, denser, more divine. His blood shimmered with light, a faint glow trailing through his veins.

In his Inner World, the sky split open.

A single pillar of light descended, piercing the center of the landscape like the spear of a god. It struck the heart of his world, sending tremors through the earth, and from that strike, a tree began to rise. Not just of wood or leaf, but of pure concept and will. Its roots burrowed into the foundation of his existence, and its branches reached for the stars.

A World Tree. A shimmering green tree that stretched in all directions, amazing Evernight and others.

They understood this was a sign of their Master’s growing power. He was slowly shedding his mortal shell.

"Rumble!"

Suddenly, golden lightning cracked across his soulscape. A primal roar echoed through his spirit, not from outside, but from within.

He had ascended.

He had shattered the wall.

[ Congratulations. You have advanced to: Mythical Rank - 1 ]

He Mythical Rank, which is almost equal to Martial King in this world

His eyes opened. They were no longer merely blue.

They gleamed like celestial mirrors, reflecting constellations that did not belong to this world.

The floor beneath him quaked softly. The walls around him groaned under the sheer pressure of his new aura. Outside his residence, birds scattered, and cultivators looked up in confusion, sensing the disturbance in the spiritual tides.

Igaris rose slowly to his feet.

His breath no longer clouded the air. The very space around him now bent subtly, as though reality itself bowed in recognition.

"Finally... I have reached Mythical Rank." he murmured, his voice like the silence before a storm.

---

After leaving his residence, Igaris strode quietly through the outer courtyards, watching as disciples and elders moved about in haste, training, practicing techniques, and rushing to fulfill daily duties.

He knew he needed to practice the World Destroying Finger soon. Yet before that, there was another matter demanding his attention.

A matter far older. And far more important.

He wished to recruit the dead.

Old men of legend, long buried beneath the soil of the Soaring Dragon Sect.

By avoiding crowded paths and masking his presence, Igaris slipped away from the eyes of watchful elders and nosy disciples. His destination was the Memorial Graveyard—sacred ground where the great figures of the sect’s thousand-year history were laid to rest.

The graveyard stretched endlessly before him. Rows upon rows of stone slabs stood solemnly, each one engraved with the name and title of a mighty warrior, a wise elder, or a noble ancestor. Time had worn many of the inscriptions, but the reverence of the land remained untouched.

Here lay five generations of legends. Some had lived for over two centuries. Some had once shaken the continent with their names. Now they rested, wrapped in silence.

Yet deep within this necropolis stood a sealed gate. Beyond it was the tomb of the founder himself—the First Master of the Soaring Dragon Sect. The gate was old, carved from spirit-infused jade, and engraved with archaic characters that shimmered with faint spiritual light.

A lone man stood guard before the door. Towering and broad-shouldered, he wore a simple robe stretched over thick muscles. His cultivation had surpassed the Martial Grandmaster realm, his senses keen and his posture firm. Yet there was a slight wavering in his gaze, as if his mind drifted between alertness and fatigue.

That wavering was all Igaris needed.

With a movement quicker than a whisper, he appeared behind the guard.

A single chop landed gently upon the man’s spine.

Thud.

The guard collapsed without a sound, unconscious before he even knew what had struck him.

The great jade door creaked open moments later.

Igaris stepped inside.

The air beyond was neither warm nor cold, neither bright nor dark. It was a place where the borders of light and shadow blurred. The very fabric of reality seemed thinner here, as if the world held its breath in reverence.

Before him lay the forgotten domain of the sect’s greatest ancestor.

He had come, not to pay homage, but to awaken.

To revive.

To build the future using the wisdom of the past.

He continued his descent, deeper into the tomb, where the legends of old awaited their summoner.

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