Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 389: The Moment the World Forgot to Breathe

Ere sat comfortably above it all, coiled in her own shadow, untouched by the pressure ravaging the hall below. To anyone else she looked relaxed—tail twitching, eyes half-lidded—but inside, her mind was locked on a memory that hadn’t aged a day.

That day. That one fucked-up morning at the Blackwood estate when Parker returned from the abyss—tired, beaten, glowing faintly with a power even he didn’t understand yet. He was just trying to exist again. And Robert?

Robert had tried to erase him.

Not scare. Not silence. Kill.

With her affinity to shadow and space, Ere hadn’t just sensed it—she’d felt it like a blade being drawn inches from her neck. Robert’s killing intent wasn’t born of fear. It was clean. Calculated. Cold. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t flinch. He moved like he’d rehearsed murdering Parker a thousand times and had finally found the stage.

Ere didn’t know why then. It didn’t matter.

But now?

Now she knew everything. Who Parker was. What he was. The weight of that divine thread that tied all their souls to his breath. And Robert had dared—dared—to try and slaughter their own creator before his name was even awakened?

The realization hit the room like a second detonation.

The Origin Families gasped, loud and ragged. Their fear turned sour in the back of their throats. Annabelle’s expression twisted, not with guilt—but fury. She had mocked him, sure. But this? This was something else. Her father had crossed a line she didn’t even know existed.

Maya took a step forward, eyes wide, tears rising—but her body wouldn’t move. Like the authority pressing on the room had rooted her to the floor out of sheer emotional weight. Helena said nothing. Just sighed. Quiet and long and tired.

Tessa?

She didn’t even try to emote. She’d known. She’d known long before this meeting when Parker told her everything and she knew that something in Robert had gone too far. That the Blackwoods hadn’t just broken Parker—they’d tried to delete him.

And now?

Now Parker stood in the wreckage of the platform like an ancient god discovering wrath for the first time.

Robert was still breathing—barely. Not from mercy. Just neglect.

And Parker looked down at him like he was something unworthy of air.

Then he said it again.

"You dare!"

And Robert was lifted again.

No arms. No aura. No chants. Just Parker’s will as their creator, gripping him like the air itself was sick of letting him exist.

"You dare!"

The second time, it echoed.

"You dare!"

The third time shook the hall.

And then Parker moved.

Not physically.

But reality moved on his behalf.

Robert was smashed into the air, then slammed into the floor again, then whipped sideways into a wall that shattered on impact. He bounced back midair like a ragdoll before slamming chest-first into the stairs of the dais.

There was no touch.

No hand raised.

No flex of magic.

Just authority.

Each smash was a command. And each time Parker whispered it again, Robert’s body obeyed.

"You dare!"

Crash.

"You dare!"

Smash.

"You fucking dare!"

The floor cracked. The ceiling groaned. Even the very light in the hall flickered, as if Parker’s rage had rewritten what illumination meant.

Robert couldn’t scream. His throat was still held tight by invisible force, his soul thrashing inside his body like a candle trapped inside shattered glass.

And deep within that soul—beneath layers of guilt and bloodline and eternal signature—something began to crack.

A membrane.

Black. Slick. Wrong.

Parker didn’t know it. Not consciously. He was too focused on erasure. But the soul knew.

Each hit didn’t just hurt the body—it cracked that shell.

And through those fractures, dark golden light began to seep. Pure. Untainted. Like a sun trapped in tar, burning its way out. Something was fighting back. Not Robert. Not his will. But something inside him, like a truth nobody wanted exposed.

Still, Parker didn’t stop.

He wouldn’t.

Not until nothing was left.

Vivian—silent on her throne, what little was left of it—watched Parker with her usual unreadable calm. But even she wasn’t entirely detached.

Because she remembered too.

Not just the estate.

Not just the pain.

She remembered the day Parker climbed into that Lamborghini running, not from exhausted and desperate but from fear after finding out the layares of mysteries—and Robert tried again.

She had seen it.

That flash of intent.

And now, watching her little brother level everything with the force of his voice alone, she felt it stir again.

Anger.

Not for the past.

But because Robert had the audacity to try and snuff out divinity before it ever bloomed.

No one knew the whole truth about that day—not the families who sat pretending they’d forgotten it, and certainly not Robert, who believed his clean kill had only failed by sheer chance.

But chance had nothing to do with it.

Vivian hadn’t been allowed to interfere. The message from their mother had been clear. She’d had been clear. Parker was untouchable but not to be helped—not because she didn’t love him, but because it would make the whole thing irrelevant. A mistake that would eventually disappear on its own.

And Vivian, the cold queen of indifference, had watched it happen with a look that said nothing and meant everything. freewebnøvel.com

But she hadn’t stayed idle.

She couldn’t.

She was his sister.

And when the moment came—when Robert had pressed that Eternal-level pressure into the marrow of Parker’s bones, when Ere had reached the limit of her shadows and her trembling little paws couldn’t hold him any longer—Vivian had stepped in.

Not visibly. Not loud.

Just enough.

Just once.

The portal Ere opened that in the courtyard below the car and had shimmered like glass trying not to break. But with Vivian’s hand beneath it—calm, invisible, divine—it held. And Parker escaped.

The truth?

Ere was dying that day just to save him.

Robert’s pressure wasn’t something she could walk through. He was Eternal. Not just in name—in weight. His intent alone distorted the air. Ere could barely breathe, let alone think. If she had tried to open that portal alone, it would’ve collapsed and taken her with it. Shadow manipulation was a beautiful thing so was Dimension manipulation—until it collided with an Eternal will.

And Robert’s will, that day, had been one thing.

Kill Parker.

Erase him before he bloomed.

Before he remembered who he was.

Before he woke up and made them pay.

Vivian hadn’t interfered directly. She wasn’t allowed. But she had been close enough to feel it—to taste it. That edge-of-the-blade moment where her little brother, quiet and barely stitched together, was about to die in the very place they were supposed to call home.

So she stepped in the only way she could.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t speak.

She just lent Ere her weight.

And that was enough.

Together, they escaped. No one ever knew.

But now?

Now there was no portal.

Now there was no escape for Robert!

Robert lay on the floor, bloodied, shredded from the inside out. His flesh—untouched. His bones—unbroken. His regeneration? Unaffected.

But his soul?

It was rubble. A slow-cracking sculpture of divinity being shattered under the weight of Parker’s authority. Every time Parker whispered "you dare," it splintered more. Every time he moved, Robert’s essence screamed. Because this wasn’t power being used on him—it was truth. Parker’s truth, carved into the marrow of creation itself.

And Robert was helpless.

Until he wasn’t.

It started with a twitch. Then a shiver. Then—

Tears.

They rolled down his face like oil through dust. No sobbing. No sound. Just streaks of grief from a man who hadn’t cried in centuries. No one could tell what they meant. Not even Parker. Were they regret? Rage? Or something deeper, something buried so far in the soul that not even Robert knew what was waking up?

And then he moved.

Fast.

So fast even reality blinked.

Something shifted in the room. No one saw the origin point. No one saw the sword until it was there—ripping through the air like it had been waiting in another dimension, buried inside his ribcage, forged in secrecy.

And he lunged.

The throne room exploded into instinct. Helena rose halfway, teeth bared, power already flaring around her. The other leaders twitched violently, senses screaming. Ere’s pupils contracted into slits, and even she, tied to dimensional flow, couldn’t track what was happening.

Because Robert didn’t just move fast.

He moved wrong.

Faster than Omnipotents.

Faster even than Parker’s infinity stats.

Parker’s mind—his stats, his perfect calculations, his ability to dissect an attack down to the subatomic frame—lagged for half a second.

And in that half second?

It happened.

The sword plunged straight through his chest.

Parker’s body scrambled. As if the code of his being had been forcibly rewritten. The skin around the blade didn’t tear—it disassembled. Light scattered. Blood didn’t fall. Just absence. As if he had never existed in that space.

The sound wasn’t metal piercing flesh.

It was silence shattering.

And then—

The time around them paused.

Not slowed. Not hesitated.

Paused.

Time broke its neck. Energy stilled. Thought went mute. Every sound, every movement, every heartbeat halted. As if the universe itself had just watched something that made it forget what came next.

Parker Black—creator of the Origin Bloodlines, wielder of supreme authority, monster, myth, architect of vengeance—

Was gone.

And for one unbearable second, nobody knew what that meant.