Chapter 146: Two Million Divine Points Per Day

“Now, let’s deal with the final problem.”

Numbers scrolled rapidly across the secondary monitor. With eighty vassal pantheons and nearly five million mortals operating under his banner, the daily resource generation shattered every previous metric.

The vassal network alone funneled roughly seven hundred thousand units of Faith upward into his reserves. Combined with the direct worship from his own three hundred thousand followers, the total daily harvest hovered right at two million Faith.

For any standard deity on the server, a two million Faith harvest was an impossible dream that would still only convert to a meager twenty thousand Divine Points through the system’s brutal exchange rate.

However, for Red, with the help of his 100x multiplier SSS rank trait, he could get two million DP per day without doing anything.

He leaned back against the cold stone of the throne. Queuing up facility upgrades, deploying automated terraforming engines, and occasionally shifting resources would be enough to sustain his empire.

He could simply sit in the dark for the next decade as the passive income guaranteed an endless stream of capital without requiring him to lift a single weapon or step onto a battlefield.

A flashing border on the extreme eastern edge of the holographic globe caught his attention.

Red leaned forward and expanded the sector. A massive cluster of ancient forest remained completely dark on the map. He triggered the Spore of the Omni-Web, pulsing a seismic scan through the continent’s subterranean root network.

The glowing green lines of the scan raced across the digital bedrock, lighting up every vassal territory, before slamming into an invisible wall around the dark forest and fizzling out.

The root network could not penetrate the canopy. The sector belonged to Sylara, the Mycelium Queen.

Sitting at Rank 17, she held the highest raw power scaling on the entire Seventeenth Continent. She controlled the eastern fungal hive-minds, possessing the ability to compost entire mountain ranges into rot in a matter of seconds.

Yet, the translucent entity composed of glowing spores and a dress of living silk-moths completely avoided the server’s territorial wars. She suffered from crippling social anxiety, preferring the deep shade and actively shunning any form of public leadership.

Red traced the dark outline of her domain on the glass monitor. She had favored him after he humiliated Aurelius the Golden King during the Pantheon Conclave, gifting him the very Omni-Web spore he now used to scan the earth.

When he sent her a diplomatic offering of pure sap and star-iron weeks later, she accepted it, secretly providing him with a highly detailed subterranean map to help him expand his roots. And the highly beneficial Aegis spore.

Her only requested payment was total isolation. She simply wanted her canopy left in peace.

The pulsing magma and starlight core within Red’s chest cast a faint glow over the console. He commanded eighty gods. Five million mortals prayed to his banner. The entire landmass technically answered to his throne. But looking at the impenetrable fungal domain on his screen, the reality of the map remained undeniable.

The Seventeenth Continent did not fully belong to him yet.

Red traced the system’s ranking chart projected on the secondary monitor, his glowing violet eyes lingering on the double digits beside Sylara’s name.

Rank 17.

The math simply refused to align with reality. To break past Rank 12, the summit warlords had required tens of millions of followers and centuries of hoarding. Ascending to Rank 13 had just cost Red half a billion Divine Points. Based on the system’s exponential scaling, reaching the seventeenth tier demanded a treasury numbering in the tens of billions.

He had spent the last year triggering apocalypse-tier achievements, annihilating rival pantheons, and looting entire treasuries just to climb the ladder with a hundred-fold multiplier trait.

Yet, the Mycelium Queen actively avoided the server’s mechanics. She skipped conclaves, hid beneath veils of living silk-moths, and shied away from the slightest loud noise. Not once had her banner crossed into enemy territory. She claimed no war spoils and conquered no new populations.

Tapping a cloud-formed finger against the obsidian armrest, Red factored in the system’s ascension rewards. Crossing that high of a threshold guaranteed at least four distinct special traits.

A month ago, he had dispatched Moss-eye and Swift-tail to scout the edges of her canopy. The two apex predators usually returned from the deadlands dragging the severed heads of corrupted beasts. That time, they barely made it back to the Bastion.

Moss-eye had collapsed at the fortress gates, his thick scales bleached completely pale. The massive beast spent a full week hacking up glowing blue spores, violently trembling every time the temperature dropped. Swift-tail refused to leave the inner courtyard after the expedition, her ears flattening against her skull whenever the wind blew in from the east.

They had not even encountered Sylara. Just breathing the ambient air near the perimeter of her fungal hive-mind had nearly composted two high-tier anomalies from the inside out.

Leaning forward, Red expanded the dark, impenetrable sector on the map. The absolute silence emanating from the eastern forest suddenly felt significantly heavier than the war cries of the four deleted warlords combined.

Red dragged his cursor over the dark expanse of the eastern forest. “Is she going to become a hindrance to me?”

“Should I just get rid of her?” Red rested his elbows on the console and interlaced his fingers.

Even a Rank 17 deity possessed physical limits. A unified assault utilizing the entire continent could overwhelm her hive-mind. Sending every vanguard, elementalist, and sky god to drop ordnance directly into the canopy simultaneously might actually break her domain.

’If I mobilize the entire continent against her, I win,’ he thought, tracing the invisible border on the monitor. ’And once her banner falls, the map is complete.’

The game engine operated on absolute thresholds. Erasing the Mycelium Queen meant achieving one-hundred-percent territorial synchronization. The moment the system recognized him as the undisputed ruler of the Seventeenth Continent, it would inevitably trigger a series of server-wide alerts.

“The ascension rewards for claiming a whole continent…” Red leaned closer to the projected numbers. “The unique perks and payouts would easily dwarf the prophecy wager.”

All that stood between him and absolute system recognition was a single, highly reclusive entity hiding in the dark.

“What should I do?” he asked himself.

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