Chapter 17: Hell Was…. Shocked

Chapter 17

Calculating achievement…

Achievement: ????

Rank: SSSSSSSSSSSS

Vastro stared at the words.

Even hell itself hesitated.

There was no name. No title. Just question marks and an absurd rank that kept stretching, as if the system announcing it had run out of language. Hell had no word for what he had done. That alone said enough.

If he cared, he might have wondered what exactly caused it. Maybe it was the speed. Maybe it was how he cleared the hell trial like it was nothing, like it was beneath him. Maybe he had surprised hell itself.

But Vastro did not care.

Achievements were noise. He wanted his reward.

The voice returned, sliding straight into his ears, calm and absolute.

“Are you ready to receive your reward?”

“Yes,” Vastro said.

No hesitation. No blinking.

The space around him shifted.

Not violently. Not dramatically. Subtle. Too subtle. Reality peeled away like a thin layer of skin, and he was gone.

When the world returned, it was wrong.

He stood on what looked like a cosmic plane. Endless. Vast. Layers upon layers of space folding into each other. The air itself was saturated with dense cosmic energy, so concentrated it almost felt heavy against his skin.

Vastro walked forward, eyes taking everything in.

Before, he had suspected that hell was aware. Conscious. Something more than a system or domain.

Now he was sure.

Hell was old. Far older than him. Older than the Eighth Realm. Old enough that time itself probably bowed to it. Wise enough that even eternity might feel short.

That thought lingered.

Then a figure appeared before him.

It stood still, wrapped in something that looked like countless colors overlapping, yet when he focused, there was no color at all. Just presence. Just wrongness. The shape of something that did not need form.

Vastro’s guard rose instantly, every instinct screaming.

He could not read it.

No aura. No pressure. No intent. Nothing.

That alone made it terrifying.

“Do not bother speculating,” the voice said. “This is only a projection of my consciousness.”

The voice was soothing. Gentle. Calm.

And beneath it lay something absolutely sinister.

Vastro felt it immediately.

This thing was like him.

And that was bad.

“I am not here to harm you,” the voice continued. “I am here to reward you, as you have surely already guessed.”

A pause.

“I am hell.”

Vastro’s expression did not change.

But a strange thought surfaced in his mind.

So this is hell. Or a fragment of it.

What would happen if I destroyed it?

The idea excited him.

For some reason, the figure chuckled.

The sound was soft. Almost pleasant.

“Forget that thought,” hell said. “You would need to go far beyond your current peak to even have a chance.”

Vastro’s eyes narrowed.

So it could read his mind.

That confirmed it.

“Why do I feel challenged somehow?” Vastro said casually.

He looked around, at the endless vastness of just a small portion of hell, and spoke like he was commenting on the weather.

“Well, challenge accepted. I will destroy hell.”

Hell chuckled again.

This time, the sound carried amusement.

The thought was not just absurd. It was abnormal. Insane. Something no sane being would ever consider.

And yet, coming from Vastro, it felt inevitable.

“Let us get straight to the point,” Vastro said, losing interest. “Where is my reward?”

The hell figure stopped chuckling and looked straight at Vastro.

It had no face. No eyes. No features at all. Yet Vastro felt it clearly. That invisible gaze locking onto him was nothing but his own perception screaming that he was being watched.

“Before anything else,” the voice said, “allow me to congratulate you.”

Its tone carried something rare.

Reverence.

“You are the most outstanding contestant to ever conquer the trial. To clear it in such a spectacular and absurdly fast manner… you truly are something else.”

The voice dipped.

The warmth vanished.

“But there is something you must know before you accept the reward.”

Vastro said nothing.

“The hell trial was created by me,” the voice continued, now serious. “It exists to gather contestants and determine whether any of them are worthy of assisting me in my pursuit.”

Vastro’s eyes hardened.

“What that pursuit is, and how I intend to accomplish it, is not knowledge you are qualified to receive,” hell said calmly. “However, you have proven yourself worthy. I intend to make you another of my ultimate projects. One that will help bring my plan to fulfillment.”

Silence.

Then Vastro scoffed.

“You are dreaming.”

His voice was cold, dismissive.

“If you think you can dangle rewards in front of me and turn me into your subordinate,” he said, grinning, “then you are hopeless.”

His blue eyes flared.

His aura surged.

In this ocean of overwhelming cosmic energy, his power was no more than a drop in an endless sea. Completely unnoticeable.

But hell noticed.

The figure chuckled again.

“You really are interesting, Vastro. I like that.”

Before Vastro could reject it outright, the voice continued.

“Before you decline, why not hear the details?”

Vastro did not answer.

His gaze made it clear. He was not listening. Not truly.

The figure raised a hand.

The scenery shattered.

Reality peeled back to reveal thousands upon thousands of laws, concepts, and skills, layered across existence itself. Multiversal principles laid bare, stretching beyond comprehension.

Hell spoke again.

“Do not misunderstand. This reward has nothing to do with making you my project. Not yet.”

All around them floated laws and skills powerful enough to destabilize the very concept of a multiversal pinnacle in any realm they belonged to. Each one alone was catastrophic. Together, they were absurd.

“They are suitable only for someone with an achievement rank as high as yours,” hell said. “I believe you deserve access.”

Vastro’s eyes narrowed.

“How many do I get to choose?”

The figure chuckled.

“That is the best part.”

“As many as possible.”

“There is only one condition.”

Vastro remained silent.

“It depends on the number of names you remember killing during the trial.”

A pause.

“Since there were at least several billion,” hell continued, clearly intrigued, “you should be able to choose an extremely large amount of these realm breaking laws and conceptual skills.”

Just the thought of it made even hell excited.

This was a gold mine.

A walking catastrophe in the making.

The figure’s excitement surged. If it had blood, it would have been pumping wildly. Even without it, the thrill was undeniable.

“Go on,” hell said, anticipation thick in its voice. “Step forward. Take hold of multiversal shattering skills and law mastery.”

Hell could already imagine it.

The moment Vastro returned to the Eighth Realm.

The speed of his rise.

The chaos he would bring.

The possibilities were endless.

Forget the power of the old Vastro. This new Vastro would surpass that by a margin no one could measure.

Hell would have felt their blood pumping with excitement—if they had blood. But then… something caught them off guard. Completely.

Vastro just stood there. Somehow lost. Staring at the endless array of multiversal-shattering skills and laws he could claim.

“Well then, let’s begin,” Vastro said.

He called out the first name in his head. A single dot floated toward him.

Several millions aligned and surged forward, ready to obey his call.

He called another name. Another dot followed.

Hell’s excitement surged. It leaned in, waiting for him to continue, to claim more, to tear through the multiversal trove.

But that was it.

Vastro did not call any more names.

“What is wrong?” the figure asked, confused.

Vastro turned, forcing a small, confident smile. He rubbed the back of his head, calm as if nothing mattered.

“Well, as fate seems to have it… I only remember two names,” he said.

The figure froze.

And then something impossible happened.

Something that had never occurred before.

Hell….. ancient, unfathomable, beyond comprehension…. was shocked. Beyond words. Beyond calculation.

Hell… was caught off guard.

To be continued….

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