Chapter 91: The Unstoppable Force of Awakening

I was impressed.

Who would have thought someone would incite and manipulate the Human Empire?

Even the grim reaper with all-white hair would be amazed at such smooth talk.

“But don’t worry. Now that I, Han Yurim, am here, no more tragedies will occur.”

I spoke confidently while looking at the Imperial fleet.

Then—

Ding.

A donation came through.

[Anonymous has donated 10,000 won.]

[-If it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve happened in the first place, damn it.]

“That was beyond my control.”

I recalled the events from about eleven days ago.

About eleven days ago, right after we started the game.

We joined forces and swiftly took down a space pirate ship.

Using the navigation data we obtained, we set course for the capital of the Human Empire.

Despite its ultra-futuristic technology, the capital’s scenery was oddly reminiscent of the Victorian era.

The imbalance between the two left a deep impression on me.

So, I decided to do some sightseeing—and got caught up in various incidents along the way.

[Anonymous has donated 10,000 won.]

[-Blowing up the Empire’s energy facility, destroying their fleet, and stealing their sacred relic—are you seriously calling that “sightseeing”?]

“My main goal was sightseeing, so yes, it was just a side thing.”

Honestly, who leaves the Empire’s sacred relic in a crowded public square?

They dared me to pull it out if I could, so I did. I was just following instructions—how could I be at fault?

If anyone’s to blame, it’s the developers who made this game.

Yeah, that makes more sense.

Ziiing.

A beam of light began gathering in the distant Imperial fleet.

Unlike before, their target wasn’t scattered—it was focused on a single point. Me.

I stood alone in the vastness of outer space.

No additional gear, no massive spaceship, no mecha—just my bare body. I must have looked vulnerable.

And yet, the Imperial fleet was preparing to launch an all-out assault against me.

Because they knew exactly what it meant for a human to be standing in the vacuum of space.

I kicked off the emptiness beneath me and shot forward.

In Cosmic Ossuary, there were many styles of combat—space battles between ships, close-quarters skirmishes inside enemy vessels, and ground fights on planetary surfaces.

The weapons were equally diverse—plasma cannons, laser pistols, gravity guns, and swords.

And then—there were Awakening Powers.

The alpha and omega of Cosmic Ossuary.

The potential of these Awakening Powers was so outrageous that anyone who read the descriptions of high-level skills would think, Isn’t this broken?

Even in the early levels, players could gain super-regeneration abilities.

By mid-level, walking through the air wasn’t unusual.

Honestly, up to that point, it was still within reason—other games had similar powers.

Most game systems are designed to make players feel powerful.

There’s a reason web novel protagonists become unstoppable when they get their hands on one.

But even those systems usually have limits.

Most games set a low power ceiling to prevent players from becoming too overpowered.

It’s a matter of balance and technical limitations.

Cosmic Ossuary didn’t care.

Although leveling up got progressively harder, and dying reset you to level one, the power ceiling itself was ridiculously high.

Especially the Awakening Powers you unlocked at max level—no matter the type, they were so absurdly strong that even the developers probably thought, Yeah, this is overpowered.

Flash.

Light filled the void of space.

Just like before, I stayed calm and swung my sword.

The Empire’s sacred relic, [Excalibur], glowed as I poured my psychic energy into it.

Although a massive amount of energy drained from me, it was just a drop in the ocean compared to my reserves.

Starlight traced a shining path.

Even in this era, where advanced science had reduced cosmic wonder to mere background noise, that light could still ignite a spark in people’s hearts.

That starlight devoured their scientific weapons—free electrons and ions scattered at the same density were nothing in its presence.

I followed the path it carved and charged toward the Imperial fleet.

Back to the point—Cosmic Ossuary’s Awakening Powers.

Especially at max level, they were insanely powerful.

For example, a control-type Awakener could lift and throw mountains.

A transformation-type Awakener could literally become a mythical god.

And for an enhancement-type Awakener—

At max level, this was what they could do.

I raised my sword high.

A crimson glow swirled around it.

It grew larger—bigger—without end.

When the psychic blade swelled to the size of a mountain, I swung the sword downward and spoke.

“That’s right. I told you I’m all about enhanced romance.”

Kwaaang—!

With a single slash, the massive battleship split cleanly in half. Enemy mechas scrambled out in panic, but I only laughed.

“You think you can stop me with those piles of scrap metal?”

Even with humanity’s technology, destroying a massive battleship in a single strike was entirely possible.

After all, the latest Imperial warships boasted similar destructive power.

But there was a fundamental difference between them and me.

Mobility.

No matter how powerful a massive battleship was, there was a limit to how effectively that power could be used by a single individual.

Each time I swung my sword, the Imperial forces thinned out.

The reduction was small compared to their total numbers, but they must have realized it—if this turned into a prolonged battle, they’d be the ones paying the price.

As a last-ditch effort, the Imperial forces simultaneously fired antimatter shells.

But a max-level awakened being is practically a demigod. Such attacks were meaningless.

Of course, if I took a direct hit, it would be dangerous—but this wasn’t some shonen battle manga where I had to stand there and take their finishing moves.

I easily dodged and shattered dozens of their massive warships with a psychic blade as large as Mount Everest.

Only then did the Imperial forces acknowledge it—their operation had failed.

The remaining ships warped away simultaneously.

I watched them retreat before returning to our spaceship—the same rough but practical vessel we had built at the beginning.

“With this, the peace of the universe is safe once again.”

“If you’d just played the game quietly, the peace wouldn’t have been disturbed in the first place.”

“Paepae, since when did you care about such trivial things? Is that why you went out of your way to crush the supporter like that?”

“You’re the last person who should be talking, considering you break out in hives if you don’t treat supporters like tools.”

I turned my gaze to a nearby battlefield.

The space tentacle monster seemed to have entered Phase 2.

It had grown nearly ten times larger and was mercilessly destroying the [United Alliance] warships.

“Aren’t you going to help with the raid?”

“The game’s only fun if you handle things yourself.”

What was the point of playing if you only relied on help? The real thrill came from achieving victory through your own power.

I pulled up Palpali’s stream.

“More than half are already wiped out! Isn’t this too much?!”

“If it’s too much, what, you’re gonna give up? Shut up and keep dealing damage!”

Awakened beings and mechas alike swarmed the gigantic space tentacle monster, creating a scene as grand as something out of mythology.

The fleet, which had numbered close to 10,000, was steadily dwindling.

5,000.
4,000.
3,000…

And when the number of ships dropped to 2,000—

[Uwoooooooh.]

A brief death cry echoed through the void of space as the monster’s movements ceased.

Palpali fell silent, struggling to process what had just happened.

“Huh?”

His expression shifted as his brain finally caught up.

He shouted.

“It’s dead, holy shit!”

The moment he spoke, a tremendous cheer erupted across the massive communication network he was connected to—loud enough to rival the streets during the 2002 World Cup.

“Quick! Check the loot!”

While Cosmic Ossuary had many realistic elements, its reward system remained true to standard game mechanics.

When a monster was defeated, materials and items would drop in a flashy, unmistakable display—just like any other game.

So, finding the loot from the colossal space tentacle monster should have been easy.

“…That’s it?”

For some reason, the only reward was a rather underwhelming material called [Core of Transcendence].

Sure, the [Core of Transcendence] was probably crucial for crafting ultimate weapons like my [Excalibur], but that’s not what everyone was after.

What they really wanted was the Developer’s Free Game Creation License.

Paepae’s voice rang out, baffled.

“Wait… wasn’t the Free Game Creation License supposed to be in there?”

I couldn’t agree more.

I was just as confused.

If it’s not there, then where the hell did they hide it?

Is the developer out of their mind?