CHAPTER 75: START OF THE CATASTROPHE

"This is insane!" he shouted, his voice raw in anger and frustration as he shouted on the top of his lungs. "We’re not your playthings! You can’t just do this to us!"

A ripple of agreement passed through a handful of survivors. Some raised their fists, while the others muttered curses openly. The horned man only arched an eyebrow, as though mildly entertained.

"Oh?"

The hunter spat at the ground. "We didn’t agree to this! We’re not going to be part of your damn game!"

The horned man’s smile sharpened as he snapped his fingers.

The protesting hunter screamed as the ground beneath him fractured into glowing sigils. A yawning black hole tore open, sucking the man in before anyone could move. Gasps and shrieks filled the square as others stumbled back, too terrified to intervene.

"In that case, let us make an example," the horned man said, voice silken and cruel.

The holographic screen shifted, showing the hunter’s body tumbling through a void before slamming into the depths of a jagged, alien cavern. Strange howls echoed from the shadows, accompanied by the glimmer of countless red eyes.

[Warning: High-Rank Dungeon – Abyssal Devourer’s Nest]

The survivors’ eyes widened in horror as massive creatures emerged from the darkness, grotesque monsters with gaping maws, dripping fangs, and chitinous claws. They swarmed around him instantly, their screeches shaking the cavern walls.

The hunter’s cries of terror were short-lived. In less than a minute, his screams were replaced by wet, tearing sounds. Blood splattered across the dungeon floor. His life bar on the interface plummeted to zero.

The image froze, the man’s mangled remains lying motionless.

Then the horned man spoke again, his tone as calm and polite as if he were delivering a lecture.

"This is what happens to those who do not know their place."

He snapped his fingers again, and several more of the vocal protesters were dragged forward by invisible force, shrieking and flailing as they were tossed into the abyssal dungeon one after another. The survivors could do nothing but watch as each of them met the same grisly fate, their final screams echoing through the square before being cut off in the most brutal of ways.

The horned man gestured at the screens, his voice a velvet blade.

"Let this demonstration be clear: the System has no tolerance for disobedience. Protest if you like, but know that your cries will not reach anyone but the jaws of monsters waiting to devour you."

The crowd fell silent. Every shred of defiance bled away, leaving only pale, trembling faces. Some covered their mouths to muffle sobs, others lowered their heads in submission. None dared to challenge him again.

The horned man’s smile widened into something cold and triumphant.

"That’s better."

The horned man adjusted his cufflinks, as though bored now that his little speech was nearly done.

"Remember: every choice you make is being recorded. Every victory, every failure, and every betrayal. There are no secrets in this world anymore. The System sees all."

He leaned closer into the hologram, his crimson eyes filling the screen until it seemed as though they were staring directly into each survivor’s soul.

"And remember this most of all: survival is no longer your right. It is a privilege. One you must earn."

The holographic monument pulsed once, then slowly dimmed. The gentleman gave one last bow, mockingly polite, before his image dissolved into static and vanished.

But the survivors in this ruined square were not the only ones forced to endure this revelation.

All across the empire, similar obelisks rose from the ground, be it in the bustling capital where nobles huddled in shattered palaces, or in villages that were already burning from the monster attacks, in the frozen north and the scorched deserts. Everywhere, the same holographic monument appeared, projecting the same horned figure with his predatory smile.

The speech, the rules, the rewards, and the penalties, it was all broadcast simultaneously, synchronized across the continent. The sight of rebels being dragged into a dungeon and shredded alive was not confined to one small group. It was witnessed by millions.

In the western territories, farmers wept as their fields burned, watching the hologram declare the end of their peaceful lives. In the southern jungles, beast tamers and tribal warriors clutched their weapons, their pride crumbling under the horned man’s oppressive aura. In the imperial capital, nobles screamed in denial, but their protests were silenced in exactly the same way, by watching their fellows cast into high-rank dungeons where their deaths were broadcast for all to see.

The chaos was not contained in just one place. It was spread across the entire world.

Far across the seas, in the kingdoms that had never before heard of this empire, the same monuments appeared. Nations that had thought themselves as untouchable found their cities attacked by monsters. Remote villages that were far removed from politics and war, discovered themselves dragged into the same nightmare.

Everywhere, people watched as those who resisted were dragged into dungeons beyond imagination, their deaths broadcast across the world like a grotesque theater.

The message was clear, absolute, and merciless:

No one was exempt.

No corner of the world was safe.

This catastrophe belonged to all of them.

When the final holograms faded, only the monuments remained that looked like dark, silent, and ominous. They pulsed faintly with energy, as though waiting to awaken again when the next wave arrived.

In the ruined square, the survivors sat in stunned silence. Some cried openly, with all their hope trampled and shattered. While the others clenched their fists, swearing vengeance under their breath. But no one dared to speak against the System again.

Ru Feifei closed her eyes tightly, struggling to steady her trembling hands. She had faced monsters, she had killed and bled. But nothing had unsettled her like watching her fellow survivors being butchered before her eyes, not by the monsters, but by the rules themselves.

He Xun, though exhausted, forced himself to sit straighter. His jaw tightened as he replayed the horned man’s words in his head.

Sponsors. Streams. Dungeons.