The S+ Class Omega Takes Over Again [BL]-Chapter 36: Uneffective communication

Content Warning: Graphic gore. Viewer discretion advised.

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"Don’t tell anyone, unless you want me to live stream the details of your grand scheme."

Cheon Areum muttered, for most of the part he didn’t want Yoon Seoyul to find out about this for now; he’d tell him later someday, but telling that straight to this man would probably urge him more to do it, so he talked in a roundabout way.

"Just because you reawakened as an S+ Class doesn’t mean you can go ahead with your evil plans!"

Suddenly starting a lecture for the one and only captured awakener on ethics, he rambled on.

"Sure, it’s very tempting to use your abilities to the extreme, but have you thought about what you are going to do after conquering the world as the strongest? It would be utterly boring! No one would even want to befriend you; they’d just see you as someone they should be terrified of. Is that really how you want to live your life? That’s talking if you even succeed in your plan to become the strongest and take over the world. It’s not like you’ll become immortal; you’ll just die a pathetic death. I bet no one would want to hold a funeral for you."

As he listed out everything, there were really no good reasons to become a villain. While revenge can seem sweet, if you become inhumane, it’s worth nothing.

"Take this as life giving you a second chance and move on. If you want followers or attention, become a hunter. You will have a fan base of your own too."

As Cheon Areum concluded his speech, a thin filament of black energy uncoiled from somewhere deep in his core—inky, liquid shadow no thicker than a sewing thread. It slithered out from his fingertips, cool and serpentine, and began to weave across the gaping cut on his palm. The edges of the wound kissed together with wet, reluctant obedience; torn flesh puckered and sealed in a line of darkening crimson stitches that looked almost like barbed wire under skin. Blood vessels knit with microscopic snaps, the searing heat dulling to a deep, throbbing bruise.

The black thread lingered a second longer, tightening like a noose before dissolving into wisps of smoke that curled upward and vanished. The hand—now scarred, ridged, but no longer bleeding—settled palm-up on his knee, well away from his bowed head, as though even the sight of it annoyed him.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, breathing shallow, the only sound the low shrieks still leaking from the man he’d just blinded in his anger. Having calmed down a little bit, he freed the man from his control to finally hear him out too. The man’s body fell down at his feet, his arms restrained behind him, still writhing from pain. The man’s remaining eye glared at him.

"You can only say it because it’s all easy for you!"

"Easy for you to say, since you’re already the strongest!!"

Hearing the tone of this new awakener, it didn’t seem like he was very convincing just now.

"There must be awakeners stronger than me out there, or another person could awaken with even better skills than me. It would be delusional of me to think I’m the strongest awakener in the world."

"You think I haven’t done my search? No one can control the energy and control the dungeons or gate itself. Your skill, mind corruption, is unrivaled!"

"Stop shouting! Let’s talk like civilians here!"

Countering the shouting with more shouting, Cheon Areum was about to shut this man’s mouth again when he spoke out in a low voice.

"If you don’t surrender by yourself, I will have to kill your baby and you."

Cheon Areum froze mid-breath as the words sank in like barbed hooks. His jaw locked with an audible grind of enamel on enamel; teeth bared in a silent snarl as both hands curled into white-knuckled fists, nails biting crescents into his palms until fresh blood welled in tiny dark beads. A thick, suffocating shroud of energy erupted outward—inky black, veined with pulsing violet, dense as liquid obsidian.

It enveloped the man entirely in less than a second, enveloping his body in a second skin that clung too tight, too hungry. The layer rippled and contracted with mechanical cruelty, squeezing inward like a hydraulic press disguised as shadow. Bones creaked first—low, protesting pops from ribs and vertebrae as the pressure mounted. Flesh compressed beneath it, muscles bulging grotesquely before yielding with wet, muffled crunches. The man’s limbs jerked once in futile spasm, then locked rigid as the energy constricted further, twisting joints at unnatural angles with the slow, deliberate grind of meat being wrung dry.

It wasn’t mere restraint; it was vivisection by compression. The shroud churned inward like a living meat grinder—tendrils of black force burrowing between muscle fibers, coiling around tendons, grinding cartilage to paste. Air hissed from the man’s lungs in short, strangled wheezes as his chest cavity shrank, ribs folding inward millimeter by millimeter. Skin stretched taut over the collapsing form, veins bulging black beneath the surface before bursting in fine crimson sprays that the energy drank greedily, absorbing the red into its churning mass.

Cheon Areum’s eyes—flat, bottomless—never left the man’s face.

He wanted more than death. He wanted obliteration so complete the man would become an extension of his own fury: every shattered bone folded back into the architecture of Cheon Areum’s rage, every drop of blood remade into fuel for the storm raging inside his veins. The energy pulsed once, twice—testing the limits of flesh—then tightened again with the patient inevitability of a python digesting prey alive.

The man’s mouth stretched in a soundless scream, lips peeled back over teeth that rattled in loosening sockets.

Somewhere beneath the crush, a heart stuttered, fighting to beat against walls that no longer gave it room.

"The likes of you could never even touch my baby... I will kill you before that."

Cheon Areum stood over the mangled body, bearing a heartbeat as he spoke out.