Absolute Cheater

Floor 1351.

The gate opened into a realm of howling white wind.

The arena was a jagged mountain ridge, floating in the sky above a shattered world. The wind here wasn't air—it was a sharpened, sentient current of Severing Wind Law, a domain where even thoughts could be sliced apart.

At the far end stood the first challenger.

A swordswoman clad in shorn silk and frost-cut armor, her blade thinner than breath. Her hair floated like threads of light, and her eyes burned with clarity.

"I am Ilyra of the Cutting Gale," she said.

"I have slain dragons with a single whisper. My blade does not miss. Nor does it forgive."

She raised her sword.

The wind screamed.

Even before the Hollow Knight moved, his armor cracked.

Asher, standing at the edge of the cliff with the wind slicing harmlessly around his form, gave a soft nod.

"...You may use your Laws now."

The Knight stepped forward.

For the first time since Floor 1000, his aura ignited—not in blood, not in shadow, but in pure Conceptual Silence, twined now with a new Law he had tempered quietly all this time.

"Annihilated Frame."

Each swing of his blade deleted motion.

Ilyra moved with precision, blades of Severing Wind carving apart space itself. Her swordplay bent light, her slashes turned the Hollow Knight's armor translucent with every pass.

But then—his sword fell once.

And her wind stilled.

Her heart stopped a beat too early.

Her sword snapped in silence.

And Ilyra, Cutmaster of the Shattered Skies, fell backward into oblivion, never knowing when she was struck.

Floor 1352 brought a Void Genesis Beast, wrapped in embryonic galaxies and Law Wombs. A creature birthed from a failed universe, clawing to be born anew.

It attacked with Uncreation—ripping Reaper threads out of the battlefield, undoing soul-link code with the force of cosmic rejection.

The Dread Dragon King flared his wings wide.

He opened his jaws.

And for the first time, he unleashed his true Law:

Breath of Absolute Eclipse.

Soul, Time, Fire, and Void fused into a singularity burst.

It didn't destroy.

It overwrote.

The beast screamed as its newborn world unraveled.

The Dragon King closed his jaws, chuckling deeply.

"Been saving that."

Floors 1353 to 1360 unfolded in escalating intensity.

A World Glass Monarch who fought by distorting the observer's perception, causing Reapers to see false timelines.

A Dancer of Fate Veins, who used future-thread Law to dodge all strikes… until the Empress, now with her six Soul Thrones fully awakened, froze probability itself with Eternal Rhythm and severed her with a storm of soul thorns.

A Twin Body Champion split between Fire Law and Ice Law, fighting at double speeds. He was burned and frozen simultaneously—by the Empress's dual-pulse dominion fields.

And Asher?

He did not move.

He stood at the threshold of each new floor, watching calmly, coat unwrinkled, eyes only narrowing when something mildly interesting occurred.

Even as titanic attacks lit the sky and dozens of Laws warped across the air, he was still.

Untouched.

Floor 1370.

The Tower now no longer attempted distractions or philosophical trials. These were purity duels, drawn from the Tower's peak archives—true world-slayers, elite summon-masters, and pure Lawborn who could fight Reapers evenly.

This time, the enemy was Symon, a long-dead Law Weapon incarnate—shaped from a sword so powerful it became sentient, granted form by its last wielder's desperate prayer.

He attacked the Dread Dragon King with Blade Law: Path Absolute.

Every strike he delivered hit what it was meant to hit—no misdirection, no block, no dodge.

But the Dragon King, now fully awakened, activated Wyrm Sovereign Protocol.

"You're a weapon."

"I eat weapons."

He bit once.

And the Law Weapon shattered, screaming as it was devoured.

Floor 1375 was the most dangerous thus far.

A sorcerer born from Eclipse Time—the moment a sun dies, and time warps around its funeral. This being wielded clocks made from dying stars, casting magic that made cause and effect swap places.

He erased the Empress's six Soul Thrones in one breath.

But she rose again.

From her body bloomed twelve.

"I didn't need to hold back anymore," she whispered.

"So I didn't."

Twelve Thrones of Deathsong bloomed, rotating independently, each one now a distinct Law Domain—Soul Burn, Chain of Return, Delirium Bloom, Paradox Root, Grave of All Bonds…

They consumed the sorcerer slowly.

Mercilessly.

Even the Hollow Knight watched in silence that time.

By Floor 1380, Asher's Reapers weren't just winning.

They were learning.

Fighting without restriction had elevated them—each clash against a Lawborn or combat-type Soul Sovereign refined their attacks, polished their movement.

They no longer required commands.

They no longer looked to Asher for signals.

They simply fought, like instincts honed to perfection.

And still, Asher did nothing but watch.

Floor 1390.

The battlefield was a collapsing realm.

The enemy: Maedra the Origin Binder, a woman whose Laws fused the concept of bloodlines and soul-cycles. She summoned dozens of past versions of herself, all wielding different Laws.

An army of herself.

Even for the Reapers, it was difficult. They were surrounded on all sides.

The Dread Dragon King fell to one knee.

The Empress was wounded.

The Hollow Knight was buried beneath the collapsing fusion storm.

Seeing this, Asher exhaled softly—and in the next instant, he was behind her.

His sword gleamed once.

A single slice landed—not on her neck alone, but across her existence: past, present, and all possible futures. Every version of her defenses shattered in unison, broken across all timelines and layers of Law.

He had used it.

His Supreme Law of Death.

She didn't scream. She didn't fall.

She simply ceased.

Asher slowly sheathed his sword, stepping past the fading remnants of her body as though brushing aside a broken illusion. He ignored the next gate as it formed.

Instead, he extended his hand toward the cooling remains.

The three Reapers stood—Blood, Soul, and Shadow.

But they were not separate beings.

They were aspects. Shaped from the same origin. From the fallen boss's corpse, Asher had carved out her power using the authority of his Soul Reaper Monarch ability.

One Reaper was born from her blood, a crimson knight wielding a molten glaive, clad in armor forged from vampiric dominion and blazing with the Laws of Consumption and Immortality.

One emerged from her soul, a glass-helmed specter whose lantern throbbed with the memory of unfulfilled oaths, pulsing with the Laws of Memory, Decay, and Binding.

The third stepped from her shadow—a ghost-blade assassin, flickering between realms, whose movements defied time itself. Her limbs were forged from her former body's hardened instincts, and she exhaled pure Severance and Null.

Each of them held a complete share of her original power—not fragments, but perfect reflections carved from Blood, Soul, and Body.

Asher watched them—his expression still unreadable.

Then, he raised one hand.

"Infinite Fusion," Asher said calmly.

The space around the fused corpse began to ripple. The three new Reapers—Blood Knight, Soul Lantern, and Shadow Blade—began to glow with synchronized energy. They stopped moving. Each of them looked at Asher, then at each other.

Without saying a word, they began to merge.

Not as if falling apart—but coming together perfectly.

Crimson mist flowed from the Blood Knight's armor. Pale soullight drifted from the Soul Lantern's helm. The Shadow Blade's body turned into smoke, drawn upward like fog.

The three forms twisted and fused into one, changing shape with purpose, not chaos. They didn't just become one—they became complete.

A new figure stood tall.

She was slender and armored in black and silver, built from shadowglass and bloodmetal. Her hair flowed behind her like two streams—one black, one silver. Her eyes had three glowing rings: red for blood, white for soul, and black for shadow.

She didn't carry a weapon—she was the weapon. A shifting polearm floated on her back, changing between a glaive, a lantern staff, and a scythe. Around her, nine energy chains circled slowly, glowing with the Laws she now controlled.

She stepped forward.

As Asher looked at her and nodded.

[Fourth Reaper Registered: Maedra Reforged – Sovereign of the Triad Grave]

She knelt before Asher.

Not out of weakness.

But out of loyalty.

Asher looked at her silently. The wind stirred his silvery-white hair.

"From now on, you're my fourth Reaper," he said.

She nodded once, quietly accepting her place.

Asher turned slightly and looked toward the other three Reapers who stood nearby—his oldest and most loyal. The Hollow Knight. The Dread Dragon King. The Six-Eternal Empress.

He gestured toward them and spoke calmly to the newcomer.

"Those three standing beside me... are your seniors. Go meet them."

He wasn't in a rush. Each floor granted thirty minutes of rest after being cleared, and Asher had no reason to push forward just yet.

So while his Reapers approached each other and began exchanging nods and silent greetings—communicating in the quiet, wordless way only summoned spirits could—Asher walked off to the side.

He found a large boulder sitting at the edge of the platform.

Without stopping, he raised a single hand and sliced cleanly across it with a finger.

The massive stone split in half with a perfect mirror-like cut.

Asher sat down on the flat surface calmly, folding one leg over the other.

Now that they had some breathing room, he decided it was a good time to review his gains.

Every 50 floors offered a unique reward tailored to his path as a Summoner—and by now, he had passed many of those milestones.

So he began to check them one by one.