Prestige Grinding : I Can Reset My Level

Stepa's shredded remains had barely faded into particles before One Hundred-One's blade swept forward. Arcs of light burst from his sword, slicing through the air, each one infused with sword intent. The players who survived Sixty's lightning strikes now had to flee from One Hundred-One's attack. However, their attempts were futile. The arcs of light hunted them down.

Like snakes with a will of their own, they slithered through the air, locking onto their targets. A desperate player, who had activated a hidden teleportation ability, reappeared in a different part of South America—only for an arc to chase him and cut him down the instant he arrived.

Another player had tried to burrow underground, thinking the earth would be his shield. It wasn't. A blade of intent followed him through the ground, before bursting in his direction in a merciless strike.

One Hundred-One's eyes remained calm as he counted the remaining players.

"12 players remaining."

A figure in the sky disintegrated, leaving behind a cloud of blood.

"9."

A cloaked player ran to a hidden dimension. An arc of light followed, slipping through the closing gap like a shadow, killing the player before the door could close.

"8."

A werewolf, still clinging to hope, activated his strongest defensive skill, covering his body in golden fur. The sword intent shattered him instantly, leaving nothing behind.

"6."

His blade moved again. More arcs of sword intent flew, moving between obstacles, chasing down those who thought they had escaped.

"3."

A demon screamed as he was split in two.

"1."

The final player teleported three times, each jump taking him farther and farther away. He was fast. Too fast. The sword intent following him stopped as if contemplating pursuit, but then... the trail vanished. One Hundred-One exhaled, lowering his sword.

He had missed one.

A soft sigh left his lips as he muttered to himself, "This body of mine is still too weak…"

The words were meant for himself. A quiet lament at the limits of his new body. He had no idea how much of an uproar those words would cause all over the world.

-----------------------------------

Sora watched as the chat, which had already been overwhelmed by the massacre, erupted.

Sora smiled as he read the comments and selected an option to showcase messages based on location and read messages from the Brazilian region players.

Sora didn't acknowledge the flood of messages but instead addressed the chat.

"If you have any doubts, ask the people who saw it with their own eyes. Just sort the messages by region."

He let the words sink in before adding, "Or… step at the edge of your city. You might find a surprise waiting for you."

Without waiting for a response, Sora switched the stream's perspective. The scene changed from One Hundred-One returning to the [Void Tunnels] to something else. At first, the screen remained dark. Then, as the vision cleared, a lone figure came into view—a player standing with his back turned, his breathing uneven, his entire body trembling. Blood leaked from his shoulder, staining his armor. Before he could react, a short sword plunged into his back.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

One Hundred-Sixteen stood behind him, his grip firm, the expression on his face unknown. The player's turned around, his eyes widened in shock. His mouth moved, barely forming a single word.

"How—"

Before an answer could come, the scene shifted again. The viewers watched as another group, each with strange names, gathered in a similar empty void. Without hesitation, they stepped forward and the next moment, they appeared near another massive city. On the top right of the stream, the current POV displayed a short description: Twelve, New York City.

A hand entered the frame, raised high. A massive, unstable, orb of energy condensed at its center, crackling with a terrifying light. A level 245 Demon, stationed among the forces surrounding New York City, snapped his head toward the intruders. His instincts screamed of danger. His eyes widened, and without hesitation, he shouted to his allies.

"Scatter! MOVE!!"

Even as he shouted, he flew forward, moving at a terrifying speed, his body rushing toward Twelve in a attempt to stop the attack before it could be unleashed. But as he closed the distance, his momentum faltered. His face twisted in shock, then horror. He noticed four others massive energy fluctuations, each held by another figure on a side of the city. The power in their hands was suffocating. For the first time since he arrived in this world, fear gripped him.

His instincts screamed at him to flee. He abandoned his charge instantly. He turned his body, accelerated in the opposite direction, and tried to put as much distance between himself and the humans as possible.

Twelve murmured, "Escaping isn't possible."

Ninety locked onto him. Without a word, he flicked his wrist, sending the condensed orb of Soul Power straight toward him. Before any of the other players could process what was happening, the five orbs were shot.

Each moved at lightning speed, striking five locations.

The moment they touched down, the world turned white. For everyone watching, the screen flooded with blinding light. The world seemed to vanish into nothingness. And then, when the light faded… the expected destruction never came. The ground was untouched. The ocean remained undisturbed. The towering city barriers still stood, intact.

But all the enemies were missing. Every single presence that had surrounded New York had disappeared. Not a single corpse was left. Not a drop of blood. As if these players had never existed.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Twelve's voice echoed through the stream, almost amused.

"With pure Soul Power..." Twelve said, inspecting the Soul Power remnants in his hand, "It's almost too easy."

He glanced toward the South.

"Looks like Brother One Hundred-One finished his mission before us. We'll have to pick up the pace."

The screen flickered, switching back to Sora's face.

"Any friends from New York? Did anyone see that? Show yourselves in the chat!"

Sora scrolled through the messages.

The chat flooded with confirmations from players in New York, and soon, a different wave of messages followed.

Sora read the messages and responded.

"Relax."

He swiped his fingers across the interface, splitting the stream into four sections. The viewers watched as the perspectives changed, each screen showing a different city.

"Cairo." The first stream revealed a group of figures appearing near the city. In an instant, the night sky was lit up as the assault began.

"London." The second screen showed elemental attacks raining on the battlefield. The enemy elites barely had time to react before they were massacred.

"Lagos." The third feed captured figures moving extremely fast, cutting through Dark Elves, Demons and other enemies with their swords.

Sora's voice was calm.

"These cities are covered. And not just these."

He swiped again, expanding the stream to show most of the world's top cities. Each one had a few hundred high-level enemy players stationed outside, ensuring the trapped humans couldn't leave. Sora's eyes narrowed as he looked directly into the camera.

"Their plan was to keep us trapped in cages."

The battle across all screens intensified. Sora's Alter Egos tore through their enemies like a storm, breaking the sieges one by one. His words rang out across the stream.

"So let us take care of the dogs watching over us..."