The human civilization was spread and scattered across several galaxies, some even star fields away…

The particular group who abducted Roy were located in the Reduxe Galaxy, a small group known as the Pioneers of Evolution.

So the moment people heard they had abducted a fledgling Lord — and it was even rumored to be a human?

Races swarmed towards them, big or small. They needed to know where he originated from so they could eradicate them all.

Humans were scourges, bastards they had had enough of. They had cheated, bullied, defeated, experimented on, and more. No one wanted to see the rise of another batch — the ones they were dealing with now were bad enough.

They had let the same mistake happen ninety-eight times. They weren't going to stand for it the ninety-ninth… not now, not ever!

At the edge of the Reduxe Galaxy, a spire interwoven from potent metal ores extracted from live stars stood, its properties giving it enough gravitational pull to sit amid the sea of stars in balance.

The construct held thousands of rooms where hundreds of thousands of humans dwelled, going about their day.

Their jobs were border control — controlling who and what came in and out of the Reduxe Galaxy.

In the master room, high-ranked individuals sat. When they sensed the disruption of space, they knew who it was, and by default all went down on a knee.

"Greetings, Master Clyme!"

Clyme stepped forward, not paying his subordinates any heed. Gazing at the control tables, his eyes glinted with ferocity.

"The Ashuras… As I thought, they are the first to come."

Right in the void, countless streaks of light could be seen converging towards them. Looking closer, one would tell they were humanoid creatures similar to humans, just having more arms. They were the Ashuras.

A race that grew more arms the stronger they became — the weakest had four arms, and the strongest had twelve.

And heading this troop of warriors was an individual Clyme knew well.

Clyme teleported out to confront the army tide on his own.

The curly-mustached human, plated in shiny armor, stood with a sword well over two times his size and height.

Hands clasped behind his back, standing and breathing in the nothingness of the void like it was nothing.

"Rohan, do you really want to do this?"

The streaking troops halted meters away from him, and an eight-armed figure stood at the head of the thousands of warriors.

This eight-armed commander, dark-skinned, bald, and bulky, was the one called Rohan.

Rohan's eight arms clutched tighter to their weapons on seeing who stood before them.

"Clyme, it is you… You can't stop this…"

Clyme upheld a grim expression, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, I can't…"

Rohan grew bolder.

"You know we can't let another batch of your kind spawn… It would spell doom."

"And who told you we have a fledgling with us?"

Rohan frowned.

"That doesn't matter. Just hand it over and we can kill it, find where it came from, and eradicate them whole."

"You can't destroy their plane. Three years' protection period. Did thousands of years of supremacy make you forget?" Clyme reminded.

Rohan's eyes glinted with sinister intentions.

"They are still that young? Even better… We just have to wait out the trial period, and then we can enslave them. Better than letting them wreak havoc."

Clyme went silent for a moment, as though in contemplation.

"I've thought it through."

Rohan was glad. It seemed this human had brains after all. It was best not to resi—

"I can't stop your force…" A sadistic smile graced Clyme's face, his eyes turning crescent moons as he concluded.

"But I can wreck it!"

Rohan's expression stiffened. Sharp clinks of weapons rang as the warriors behind him grew wary, steadying their stances, preparing to engage.

Rohan raised a hand, commanding them to hold, staring straight into Clyme's gaze. His expression went serious.

"You know more are coming, right?"

"The more the merrier." Clyme sang, brandishing his absurdly long sword, void pulsating around his figure. Around his barely exposed neck, nine star engravings glimmered brightly.

"Let's just hope Evans can get what we need on time."

Clyme was trying to buy time. Hopefully they could gain what they wanted before the myriad races converged — or even before the upper echelon of the human race arrived.

But before then? He needed to show these guys that more arms didn't mean stronger.

…

Meanwhile, the main character of the chaotic event that had taken place was unconscious, deep down in some bunker beneath the surface of an unknown planet.

Planet Sorion: 79% land, 12% water, 9% unknown toxins…

"Evans, any lead so far?" A voice transmitted through a radio-like device before the unkempt scholar…

"Huuuu…" A dense mist of foul breath drifted from a man's mouth as he was startled awake by the voice.

"I told you, unlock the goddamn system, then I can do my job!" Evans yelled, eyes half-lidded, as he slammed the radio silent, not even waiting for a retort.

He got to his feet, putting on his black leather coat, scratching through his unkempt beard as he made his way towards a metal door frame that led nowhere but a wall.

Inputting a pin, currents of energy seeped into the metal inscriptions all over the item, igniting alive as a whirlpool of energy formed at its depths.

The scholar then proceeded to step through, ripples forming like a water surface, as he emerged from the other end into a room fully lit with energy crystals.

At its center, strapped to a worktable, was Roy — still out of it.

Evans reached out and drew a chair close, sitting as he observed the sleeping Lord.

Poking his fair cheeks, Evans couldn't help but mumble.

"These batches seem frail… or is it me?"

"Probably because they're still weak…"

Evans was the best researcher of the Pioneers of Evolution, their brightest mind. And today he was given the mission of tapping into the innovation of this foreign human civilization.

That way they too could make weapons of superior quality, as they had seen the little man own.

You see, creation of items — or even anything at all — wasn't as easy as it seemed.

There was a reason beasts couldn't craft: they had no civilization innovation to back it up.

Their time spent in the matter plane was important. It helped create the foundation for their lives in the ether plane.

Most of the first batch of humans ascended barely after the Stone Age. Some could enter the medieval era before ascension, and that was the limit.

And as one could imagine, their innovation for creation was limited to spears and swords. Even the famous Armageddon destroyer of civilization wasn't that great of a creation.

But this batch of humans seemed to have surpassed the level of their predecessors. They seemed to have entered an era even Evans couldn't fathom.

"I can't wait to crack you open."

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