SSS-Tier Extraction: From Outcast to Overgod!-Chapter 103: Shattering the Monolith

Ryan continued his slow, steady advance, each step a resounding declaration of his dominance. Malakor, the Prophet of Chaos, was in a full-blown panic.

He had thrown everything he had at this strange, calm man; rocks, fire, shadow creatures, even the very weight of the world and nothing had worked. It was like trying to punch the tide.

His opponent didn’t just resist his attacks; he seemed to calmly un-do them, as if correcting a child’s simple mistake.

The cultists, who had been chanting and swaying with feverish devotion, had fallen silent. Their wild, crazed energy was fading, replaced by a growing sense of confusion and fear.

Their all-powerful Prophet, the man who spoke with the voice of the glorious Schism, was losing. Badly.

"Impossible!" Malakor shrieked, stumbling backward as Ryan took another step. "The chaos is the ultimate power! It is the true nature of the universe! Order is a lie! A cage! Why won’t you break?!"

"Because you’re wrong," Ryan said, his voice simple and clear. He was now standing at the base of the rocky platform where Malakor stood. "Order isn’t a cage. It’s a foundation. It’s what allows things to grow. You don’t offer freedom. You offer a mess. And frankly, I don’t like messes."

This simple, almost fatherly, scolding was the final insult. Malakor completely lost control.

"IF YOU WILL NOT EMBRACE THE CHAOS," his mind-voice roared, so loudly that even Ryan winced, "THEN I WILL DROWN THIS ENTIRE VALLEY IN IT!"

He turned his back on Ryan, a desperate, final gambit in his eyes. He spun around and placed both of his hands on the pulsing, black surface of the Schism Monolith behind him. He was no longer trying to just channel its power. He was trying to open the floodgates.

"I will tear a new Schism into this pathetic world!" he screamed. "A permanent wound in reality! This whole sector will be blessed with unending, beautiful chaos!"

The Monolith responded to his call. The low, sickening hum it was emitting rose to a deafening, soul-shaking roar. The black crystal began to glow with a furious, internal red light. Cracks of pure, chaotic energy began to form in the air around it. The very fabric of space was starting to tear.

From her position with the rest of the team, Emma Thorne saw what was happening on her real-time sensor feed. "Ryan, get out of there!" her voice screamed over the comms, filled with genuine panic.

"He’s trying to overload the Monolith! The energy readings are going off the scale! If that thing blows, it won’t just level this valley; it will create a permanent Schism-Rift! It could destabilize the entire Sector!"

Ryan knew she was right. He could feel the reality around him becoming thin and brittle, like old glass ready to shatter. He didn’t have time to fight Malakor anymore. He had to stop the Monolith itself.

He took a deep breath. He had one last trump card to play, a power he had only used once before, in the heart of the Precursor Foundry. He reached deep inside himself, past his own energy reserves, and touched the small, warm, pulsating core of power that rested within his soul: the Heart of Creation.

He felt its immense, life-giving energy flood through him. This was not the chaotic, angry power of the Monolith. This was the power of a star being born, the power of a flower blooming, the power of a new beginning. It was the power of pure, undiluted hope.

He focused all of that incredible, beautiful energy into his Weaver’s Gauntlet. The gauntlet, which usually glowed silver or gold, now shone with a brilliant, pure white light, so bright it was impossible to look at directly. He was no longer just a warrior or a shaper. He was a vessel for the power of Genesis itself.

He aimed his glowing hand not at Malakor, but at the very center of the giant, black Monolith.

"You like chaos?" Ryan said, his voice now booming with a borrowed, ancient power. "Let’s see how it handles a little bit of creation."

He unleashed the energy.

It wasn’t a blast or a beam. It was a focused, concentrated ray of pure, ordered, creative energy. A spear of pure white Genesis light shot from his hand and slammed directly into the heart of the black Monolith.

The two opposing forces met, and the universe held its breath.

The Monolith was a monument to chaos, to entropy, to things falling apart. Ryan’s attack was the exact opposite. It was the energy of order, of life, of things coming together. It was a single drop of pure water falling into a vat of boiling oil.

The reaction was instantaneous and catastrophic for the Monolith.

The giant, black crystal screamed. It was a terrible, tearing sound, the sound of a fundamental law of nature being violated. The chaotic red light inside it flickered and sputtered as the pure white Genesis energy spread through it like a cleansing fire.

The black, ugly rock began to crack, not with chaotic energy, but with clean, straight fissures of brilliant white light.

Malakor, who still had his hands on the Monolith, was caught in the feedback loop. The pure, ordered energy surged into him. His body, which had adapted to thrive on chaos, couldn’t handle the sudden influx of perfect, structured reality.

"No... no!" he shrieked, his body beginning to glow with the same white light. "It’s too... perfect! Too... quiet!"

He dissolved. He didn’t explode or turn to dust. His physical form simply came apart, his being unraveling as it was overwhelmed by the very concept of order.

His final, agonized wail was not one of pain, but of confusion. "It’s... not... random..." he whispered, and then he was gone.

With its master gone and its chaotic heart being purified by the Genesis energy, the Schism Monolith finally gave up. With a final, deafening crack that echoed through the entire valley, the colossal black spire shattered. It didn’t explode outwards. It imploded, crumbling into a million pieces of inert, harmless black sand.

The oppressive, chaotic energy that had blanketed the valley vanished in an instant. The sickening hum stopped. The mad whispers fell silent. The bruised, grey sky began to clear, allowing a single, warm ray of actual sunlight to break through the clouds for the first time.

The battle was over.

As the dust settled, Ryan stood alone in the center of the now-peaceful valley. The ground was still scarred and ugly, but the creeping, corrupting black moss had already begun to wither and die. The land had been wounded, but now it could begin to heal.

His team ran to him, their faces a mixture of relief, awe, and utter disbelief.

"You... you did it," Zara said, staring at the pile of black sand where the giant tower had been. "You didn’t just destroy it. You healed it."

Scarlett just looked at him, her eyes shining with an emotion so deep and powerful it needed no words.

Ryan, exhausted but triumphant, gave them a tired smile. The day was won. The threat was over. And deep down, he had a funny feeling that his "landlord" duties for the Sector were going to involve a lot more cosmic pest control in the future.

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