I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space

Razeal forced himself up to his feet.

Every inch of his body was bleeding, torn or bruised, but his regeneration was slowly kicking in. Very slow, but steady. Torn flesh began knitting. Fractured nerves reignited. Still naked, he looked like a walking corpse but one who just made a mountain bleed.

The Glaciermight, toppled on the frozen plains, lay still.

"System," Razeal muttered with a cocky smirk, still swaying on his feet, "how would you rate my performance?"

[4 out of 10,] the system responded dryly.

Razeal blinked.

"That low?"

[You did manage to damage a B-ranked Juggernaut-type opponent. That alone is a feat. But the drawbacks are clear: excessive build-up time, overreliance on straight-line speed, inability to chain attacks, and... currently, you are entirely naked.]

Razeal looked down.

"Yeah... fair."

[Also, you injured yourself more than the enemy. Not sustainable for extended combat.]

Razeal didn't argue. He was too busy trying to stabilize his shaking legs.

But then something shifted.

A hum of ice magic buzzed across the battlefield.

He turned his gaze to the Glaciermight and his stomach dropped.

Where the beast's leg had been severed, a sudden burst of cold magic surged. The ankle once dripping blood and steam was now freezing over. Thick layers of jagged ice crystallized and twisted, forming a new artificial limb: an ice foot.

"No..." Razeal whispered, smile gone.

The Glaciermight's head turned.

Its glacier-blue eyes looked colder than ever.

But in Razeal's mind, they might as well have been red.

The monster roared. A scream that rumbled across the plains like an avalanche.

Razeal's instincts screamed: I need to run.

But he couldn't.

His legs barely worked.

So he summoned his shadowboard beneath him. It formed instantly and lifted him gently above the ground. Without hesitation, he turned and rocketed in the opposite direction.

But the monster had had enough.

No more games.

From behind him came a massive sound like thunder cracking in reverse. Razeal didn't need to look to know.

But he did anyway.

And there it was.

A building-sized ice pillar easily ten or twenty times larger than any before shot through the air like a divine hammer.

"Oh, come on... This is just overkill"

He had just enough time to stare up at the falling monolith, shadow eclipsed beneath it.

[Host, you have died.]

***

50 attempts later.

He had tried everything.

Speed. Timing. Precision.

But the result was always the same.

The best he ever managed was severing a limb once an arm, another time a leg. But it was never enough. He died again and again.

So eventually, he had to accept it.

No matter how many times he repeated the process, it wouldn't change the outcome. That path led nowhere. Frustrated and worn down, Razeal finally abandoned the technique. It simply wasn't enough. If he truly wanted to defeat this monstrous being, he had to rely on something else an ability that might actually stand a chance.

The Flow.

Razeal knew what he had to do… but knowing wasn't the same as understanding. The Flow wasn't just a power. It was a state of being. It meant moving with the world flow or whatever you choose with like the wind, with the energy or with the rhythm of everything around him. But every time he tried to use it, he couldn't align himself with it. He couldn't flow with it atleast not without being harming only himself.

The truth was brutal: the moment he invoked the Flow, the entire force of the that flow which he cloose like the natural current of the planet itself rushed through him. It struck him like a tidal wave, shattering his body in an instant. He wasn't ready. He wasn't skilled enough. His control was crude. He couldn't limit the intake. It was like trying to drink the entire ocean in one breath.

What he needed was restraint.

He couldn't draw on the Flow of the whole world… not yet. Maybe, just maybe, if he could tap into a smaller portion say, the wind in just a 10-kilometer radius, a fragment of the area then his body might withstand it. That was what the old man had adviced him about. He had to start small. Learn control. Learn to survive the Flow, piece by piece.

With that realization settling in his chest like cold steel, Razeal took a deep breath and stepped far back across the battlefield. He planted his feet and began to swing his sword through the air not with rage, forced force, but with intent to flow.

Across the field, the Glaciermight stood still massive, unmoving, arrogant. It watched. Then, as if irritated by Razeal's persistence, it raised its frost covered arm and began launching massive ice pillars toward him like a mountain god bored of waiting.

***

So now razeal stood alone on the scorched plateau, eyes locked onto the ice pillar before him a towering spire of frozen magic thrust into the earth like the gods' own blade. Wind howled around him, spiraling from every horizon. But he didn't flinch. He'd done this tens of thousands of times. And every time, he exploded before his sword could even taste the pillar's surface.

That was the problem.

The wind wasn't just wind. It was the planetary flow the unending circulation of energy wrapping the globe. Every time he tried to tap into it, the whole force came rushing in. One hundred percent. Always. No filter. No control. A god-tier torrent that tore him apart from the inside out the instant he opened himself to it.

[Host, you have died.]

"Again."

[Host, you have died.]

And he did this.

Tens of thousands of times.

Still, Razeal kept trying. Again. And again. And again.

And just like that before he could even feel time moving a hundred days had passed.

One hundred days of death. Of detonation. Of failure.

He started wondering if maybe effort alone wasn't enough. Maybe the universe didn't care how hard he tried. Because, truthfully, there wasn't much progress to show.

That's when the system finally spoke:

"Correction: You are no longer absorbing 100% of the planetary wind flow. The current uptake has been reduced by 0.25%. Total intake: 99.75%."

Razeal stared at the screen.

Expressionless.

"...So you're saying I died 12,643 times... to reduce 0.25 percent of wind input?"

[Correct.]

He sighed, blood still dripping from his regenerating jaw.

"This is hell."

It didn't feel like training anymore.

It felt like banging his head against a divine wall.

A quarter of a percent.

It was a joke. An insult. He had sacrificed everything and all he'd gotten was a footnote.

But he didn't stop.

He couldn't.

Even when the wind turned him into fireworks, he kept trying. Because if he could master the planetary flow, he would become a living storm a weapon that could rival natural disasters.

And Maybe that is the way to his victory.

And yet… progress slowed. It was like trying to tame the rotation of the entire planet. Each step forward took a mountain of pain.

Eventually, he cracked.

He screamed.

He cursed the sky.

"This is so fucking slow!"

He was done chasing planetary wind. Coriolis force? Planetary flows? Too vast. Too volatile. No sword technique could survive being fed raw kinetic fury from an entire atmosphere.

So he stopped.

And started looking down.

If not wind… what else flows?

That's when he felt it a slow, brown-hued pulse beneath the crust. A tectonic drift.

It was faint. Barely a ripple.

But it was there.

And unlike the winds, it was steady. Predictable. And monstrously heavy.

He asked the system for data.

[Tectonic plates range from tens to hundreds of millions of square kilometers. Weight estimated between 40 septillion to 200 septillion kilograms. Movement rate: 1 to 10 centimeters per single full Planetary rotation.]

So small. So slow. But so dense.

If he could tap into that movement, ride the inertia of the planet bones… the kinetic energy would be terrifying not as chaotic as planetary wind, Not strong enough as that fully but definitely stable and easier as the power is definitely small.

That's when he began crafting a new technique:

Tectonic Drift Strike.

There were no flourishes. No flashy moves.

He simply stood there.

Held his blade.

And tried to move with the flow of the tectonic plate itself.

The plates moved just centimeters per year. Barely perceptible. But that slowness masked a truth: massive objects moving slowly still generate unfathomable force.

The first time he tried, he exploded again.

Every time he synced with the drift, his body absorbed all of the kinetic energy behind the continental shift like trying to swing the momentum of a continent through a single slash.

He obliterated himself. Over. And over.

But this time, it felt different.

He wasn't frustrated.

This was something he could work with. It didn't roar like wind. It rumbled patient and deep. The explosions still came, sure. But his spirit could match its pace.

Razeal committed.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months.

And then, the system updated again:

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 97%. Reduction of 3% achieved.]

Three percent. It sounded like nothing.

But it was enormous. An object as heavy as a tectonic plate even a one percent change in absorbed energy meant the difference between total vaporization and a survivable hit.

And yet, in practice? He still exploded every time.

Same second. Same instant. Still torn apart by the force he tried to wield.

But he didn't stop. Because now, for the first time since learning this ability, progress had a pulse. Really..

He just needs more time and practice maybe after some time he can just control it Fully.

Do he did what anyone would do.. Keep trying..

And just like that, 7,000 hours vanished like nothing.

He hadn't killed a single monster in all that time. Not even scored an injury point. Dying instantly didn't count.

And worse he hadn't improved any other skill. Not even one. All he did was die. Again and again. Obsessively focused on mastering one thing:

Flow.

Every attempt, a failure. Every revival, another reset. But still, Razeal stood up. Trained. And died again.

He didn't know why he even wanted it so badly.

Maybe because he'd never had power. Maybe because this was finally his shot at it.

Maybe he was just too stubborn to give up.

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 70%. Reduction of 30% achieved.]

The notification hit as Razeal died again and reappeared in the system's training space.

Gasping softly.

"Good," he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched.

But truth was nothing felt different. The second he activated the skill, the same thing happened.

Massive build-up.

Sudden overload.

BOOM.

Instant death.

Over and over.

And worse the closer he got to mastering it, the harder each step became.

[Host… Good work,] the system said though it rarely commented on such things.

But Razeal was truly giving it everything.

Months had passed. He never stopped. Inside the system's space, there was no fatigue, no stamina drain, no psychological stress. But even with all those burdens removed, it still took something more will. To focus on a single task for this long, without losing interest, without giving up despite almost zero visible progress… that was rare.

The system wasn't affected by the perception of time. It was an omnipotent entity. But for a human, time hit differently. Holding yourself together under those conditions? That was something else entirely.

Maybe it was hunger power finally within reach. All it required was effort. And that, Razeal had always been willing to give.

He never had power. Not once in his life. So now, with a real chance to grow stronger through pure hard work, he refused to waste it.

From the system's perspective, Razeal had proven himself worthy to be its host. Not everyone could handle this kind of training. This system didn't hand out shortcuts. Nothing came free. Everything had to be earned. And Razeal? He always paid the price.

From the smallest skill to this moment now he worked for every inch.

Because just acquiring a skill isn't enough. Earning that skill grinding for it, bleeding for it, refining it through your own effort that's what truly matters.

And the system was satisfied. Deeply satisfied with his progress.

As for this particular skill? Taking years to master it with little to no progress is entirely normal.

It wasn't surprising if you really thought about it. Flow, an SSS-ranked skill, wasn't just huge it was massive.

And he wasn't just learning to handle one stream, like the flow of a tectonic plate. He was learning to manage every possible application of Flow. The larger the flow, the more brutal the grind.

But this skill would be worth it. One day, it would be his greatest strength.

And so, he continued. Razeal kept going. No matter what.

Thousands of hours passed.

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 60%. Reduction of 40% achieved]

More deaths.

Razeal cursed aloud, face twisted in frustration. "Fucking brutal..."

He stopped to breathe though he didn't need to. It was just habit now.

"Two whole years. For this? For barely 40% reduction?" His voice cracked.

If this had been real time, he'd be a skeleton by now. But thankfully, only two hours had passed in the outside world. 1.6, to be exact.

That fact alone kept him going.

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 50%]

[Reduction of 50% achieved]

The halfway mark didn't feel like a win.

Because it only got harder.

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 40% Reduction of 60% achieved]

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 20%]

[Reduction of 80% achieved]

Each percent took more time than the last ten combined.

Eventually:

[Tectonic Drift Uptake: 1%]

[Reduction of 99% achieved]

And then… nothing.

Still dying.

Still the exact same explosion.

Still the same catastrophic kinetic blast that shredded him in a blink.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Razeal roared, throwing his sword down to ground. bubbling up with frustration.

Seventeen years.

More than 150,000 hours.

All for 99% perfection.

And it still wasn't enough.

This was madness.

He collapsed backward, panting despite having infinite stamina. He didn't need to breathe but his mind still felt the pressure.

How the hell did that old man even learn this?

Razeal could die and revive endlessly no fatigue, no psychological trauma, infinite stamina and yet it still felt impossible. The old man didn't have any of that. So how? How did he do it?

"Either he had some secret technique…he refused to teach me or he was just a different breed altogether…" Razeal muttered.

There was no way a normal person could master this while risking their real life every time.

But no matter how much he raged or questioned, it wouldn't change what had to be done.

So Razeal stood again.

Reset.

Focused.

And kept trying.

Because if this was the price of mastery, then he'd pay it. All of it.

Even if it took a hundred years in here.

Because outside?

Only 17 hours had passed.

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