Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The house breathed in the stillness of deep night. Only the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the distant argument between wind and dog disturbed the peace. Outside, stars hung like scattered diamonds against velvet, oblivious to the turmoil stirring within.

In the small upstairs bedroom, where childhood still clung to the walls in faded fairy posters and phosphorescent constellations, Elia thrashed against her sheets like a creature caught in a trap. Sweat beaded on her brow, her nightshirt clinging to her skin. Her breathing came in shallow, desperate gasps.

Behind her closed lids, the world was already burning.

The dream had hurled Elia into chaos without warning.

She materialized in the center of a cosmic battlefield, suspended above a dying Earth. The ground beneath her feet was a mosaic of crystallized screams—reality itself fracturing under the weight of something that should not exist.

Elia stood suspended in a place that defied description. Not ground, not sky, but the space between thoughts, where reality wore thin. Beneath her bare feet, something that might have been crystallized time cracked with each trembling step. The sound was wrong— glass that screamed, ice that wept.

She was herself, small. Powerless. A witness to the unmaking of everything.

The world didn't explode. It simply... forgot how to exist.

Below, continents and dimensions buckled and rose like the ribs of some titanic beast. The Pacific Ocean spiraled into the sky, a tower of water that stretched into space before exploding into billions of crystalline fragments. Each droplet became a star, then died, then was reborn as something else entirely. This content originates from M1VLEMPYR, My Virtual Library Empire.

Cities weren't just falling—they were fighting their destruction. Skyscrapers grew claws and lashed out at the collapsing sky. Streets became serpents that devoured themselves. People ran in rivers of panic, their screams weaving together into a symphony of the apocalypse.

And at the epicenter of this cosmic dissolution stood a girl, she stood like a conductor before her orchestra of annihilation.

She couldn't have been more than seventeen, but she wore her youth like armor forged from starlight. Her white hair moved without wind, each strand a constellation unto itself. The white dress that adorned her frame seemed to exist in its own dimension, flowing through space rather than across it.

But it was her eyes that made Elia's dream-heart stop. They held the color of collapsed stars, of light crushed into something new and terrible. And around her—power. Not the flashy kind from movies, but something deeper. Older. The kind that existed before the first word was spoken, before the first thought was born.

The very air bent around her, afraid to touch her skin. With each breath she drew, another constellation died. With every blink, another world forgot its name.

Across from her, on his knees in the crystalline wasteland, was a man who looked like he'd been carved from moonlight and sorrow.

He was beautiful in the way that broken things sometimes are—perfect features marred by devastation almost same features as the girl, same white hair, eyes that might have once held laughter now drowning in tears. His coat hung in tatters, his hair wild with desperation. His hands reached toward the girl not in anger, but in supplication.

"Please," he whispered, and his voice carried the weight of dying galaxies. "Please, baby... you have to stop. You're stronger than this. You're more than this."

But the girl—his daughter—remained unmoved, untouchable in her terrible serenity.

From her outstretched fingers extended chains that had no earthly equivalent. They weren't made of metal or magic, but of something far more fundamental. They looked like crystallized betrayal, like the moment before love turns to ash, like the space between a promise and its breaking. They wrapped around the man's throat, his wrists, his very soul—not binding his body, but his essence.

He didn't fight them. He let them claim him.

And still, through tears that fell like liquid starlight, he begged.

"Eliana... I named you after hope. Please don't become the end of it."

Above them both, watching from a throne of twisted space, sat a woman whose smile was the most terrifying thing in this apocalyptic tableau. Nyxavere—though Elia had no name for her, only the bone-deep knowledge that this creature was older than meaning itself. She observed the destruction with the satisfaction of an artist watching their masterpiece unfold.

She had orchestrated this. Expected it. Perhaps even wanted it.

The girl—Eliana—raised her hand, and reality screamed.

Galaxies collapsed like dominoes. Stars imploded in sequences too beautiful to comprehend. Earth itself began to crumble, not with fire or flood, but with the simple, inexorable weight of being forgotten.

And through it all, the man knelt and wept and loved and broke.

Eliana—seventeen, beautiful, and terrible beyond measure—raised her hands, and the moon shattered.

The fragments didn't fall. They attacked. Each piece of lunar rock became a guided missile, streaking towards countless Earths with the fury of a spurned lover. Multiverse exploded on impact. The cores boiled. The very air and energy caught fire.

But Parker was there, suddenly, impossibly—fighting back.

He erupted from the ground like a comet in reverse, his body wreathed in light that made the dying sun look pale. His fists connected with moon-fragments, turning them to dust. His voice roared across the battlefield, and the sound alone stopped tsunamis mid-crash.

"Eliana, stop!" he commanded, and for a moment—just a moment—the destruction paused.

She turned to him, her star-collapse eyes wide with something that might have been recognition.

"Daddy?"

The word hit him like a physical blow. He staggered, and in that instant of weakness, she struck like she'd lost her reasoning once more.

More chains materialized from the space between heartbeats—not metal, but crystallized regret, woven from every moment of love that had ever gone wrong. They wrapped around his throat, his wrists, his very soul, and he screamed as they tightened.

But he didn't break. Instead, he pulled.

The chains sang with tension as Parker fought against them, his power blazing like a newborn star. The battlefield shook. Reality itself groaned under the strain of their conflict.

"I won't let you destroy everything," he gasped, even as the chains bit deeper. "I won't let you become this."

"You can't stop me," Eliana whispered, and her voice was the sound of every goodbye ever spoken. "I'm already more than you ever were."

She gestured, and the chains multiplied. A thousand ethereal bonds erupted from the earth, the sky, the very air itself. They wrapped around his arms, his legs, his wings—wings that Elia hadn't noticed before, great burning things that looked like they'd been torn from the heart of creation itself.

Parker's light began to dim as the chains drained his power, feeding it directly into Eliah's already overwhelming strength. She grew brighter, more terrible, until looking at her was like staring into the birth of a universe.

"Please," he begged, falling to his knees as his wings withered. "Please, my baby. Remember who you are. Remember who you were before..."