Bloodline Plant Lord: Rise of the World Sovereign
Chapter 181: Graveyard of Worlds

Chapter 181: Graveyard of Worlds

The panel loaded his status first.

[STATUS — REN VALIS. STAGE 5: WORLD CREATION — COMPLETE.]

[FOUNDATION: 21,320 TONS. PREVIOUS: 8,400.]

Almost triple. Ren scanned the number twice, and the shock hit—but smaller than he’d expected. The world had spent an hour knitting him back together from the inside out; the number was just the final bill. Everything else had climbed right along with it—his speed, his recovery, the sheer depth of his reserves. The stabilization was finished.

He swiped it away and scrolled down the panel, past the usual suspects—SCAN, OPTIMIZE, storage. A small note mentioned OPTIMIZE had leveled up with the rest. It didn’t say by how much. He could feel it, though, like the way you can tell a blade is sharper before you even touch an edge.

Then he hit the new one, and stopped dead.

[FUNCTION: GRAVEYARD OF WORLDS]

’That’s... a name,’ Ren thought.

He opened it. He read it once. He read it again.

And then Ren Valis started laughing.

Not a light chuckle—honest, ugly laughter that bended him over, one fist smacking his thigh, then his chest, tears blurring the edges of his eyes. He laughed until his ribs burned, alone in his room, because there wasn’t anything else you could do with a thing like this.

The System had given him cheats before. SCAN was a cheat. OPTIMIZE was a cheat that had dragged him through four and a half months of hell. But next to this, all of them looked like toys.

[NOTICE: THE HOST’S WORLD IS NOT CONTAINED WITHIN THE HOST.]

[IT IS ANCHORED ADJACENT TO THE HOST’S PLANE, FLOATING IN THE BOUNDLESS OCEAN, ACCESSED THROUGH THE HOST.]

That alone rewired his brain. The "inner world" was never actually inside him—no wonder three hundred square miles fit inside a teenager. His body was just the door. The world hung outside the main plane, moored to him like a ship to its anchor.

And the new function used it exactly like that.

[USING THE COMPLETED WORLD AS ANCHOR, THIS FUNCTION LOCATES FRAGMENTED PLANES ADRIFT IN THE BOUNDLESS OCEAN — DEAD WORLDS, SHATTERED REALMS, UNANCHORED SHARDS.]

[THE HOST MAY ENTER A LOCATED FRAGMENT. CONQUEST CONDITIONS: DEFEAT THE FRAGMENT’S STRONGEST ENTITY, OR CLAIM ITS CORE.]

[A CONQUERED FRAGMENT MERGES WITH THE HOST’S WORLD: TERRITORY, LAWS, AND RESIDUAL INHERITANCES TRANSFER.]

Ren leaned back and focused on breathing.

Secret realms—the ones everyone obsessed over, the ones he’d nearly died in—were just fragments, too. Broken planes that had drifted close enough to latch onto Edius. But there was a difference, and the difference changed everything: a realm anchored to a plane got stabilized by it. Its energy smoothed out, settled, became part of the world’s own rhythm. The fragments this function targeted were the other kind. Unanchored. Adrift. Slowly rotting into the Boundless Ocean with nothing left to hold their shape.

Dead worlds, waiting to finish dying—unless someone gave them a place to crash.

[CROSS-FUNCTION NOTE: OUROBOROS.]

[FRAGMENTS LACK SPATIAL STABILITY. REVIVAL ALLOWANCE WITHIN THEM IS ELEVATED. MINIMUM PROJECTED: 2–3 PER FRAGMENT.]

And there it was—the two new powers locking together like they were always meant to be a set. In the main world, one life every ten years. Inside a dying fragment, the rules bent for him: at least two or three returns, more if the fragment was weak. He could walk into a graveyard, fight the boss, and death wouldn’t even be the end of the run.

’A real cheat,’ he thought, scrubbing at his eyes. ’An actual, certified cheat.’

And the merge was only half the deal. Territory, sure—his world growing without a single graft. But the laws, too. A fragment’s laws didn’t just sink into his world’s soil; they fed his own understanding.

That was the kicker, because of one cold rule:

[NOTE: A LAW BELOW 0.01% COMPREHENSION CANNOT BE ACTIVELY WIELDED.]

His ledger had ten entries, and eight of them were just for show. Life and Death he could actually swing. The rest—fire, water, earth, air, light, darkness, space, poison—stayed below the line, traces too thin to grab. That was normal. That was why cultivation took lifetimes: the average guy needed fifty to a hundred years just to hit Stage 5, and after that the road turned into centuries. Thousands of years. Ten thousand, for the top-tier freaks. Comprehension just crawled.

Unless you could swallow dead worlds whole.

’Who knows how much time this hacks off,’ Ren thought. ’Decades? Centuries?’

And it wasn’t just for him. That was the last piece, the one that made it perfect. Subjects could go in with him. A dying fragment was a locked training ground—real danger, real combat, real resources, all under his watch, all feeding his people. The bond gave them his world to grow in. The Graveyard would give them worlds to grow through.

One last line sat at the bottom of the screen.

[MERGE OUTCOMES VARY. SIMILAR ENERGY: ASSIMILATION — QUANTITY AND QUALITY. FOREIGN ENERGY: UNIQUE TRANSFORMATION — OUTCOME UNKNOWN UNTIL MERGE.]

A fragment that matched his world’s flavor would just make it bigger and richer. A fragment that didn’t—something truly alien—would trigger something else. The System didn’t say what. It didn’t know. Every strange world was its own sealed box, and the only way to see the prize was to win it and merge it.

’Random loot,’ Ren thought, and almost started laughing again. ’The System learned gacha.’

He was still grinning at the panel when a knock echoed through the room.

— • —

He knew who it was before he reached the door. Two sets of footsteps coming down the hall—one light and quiet, one brisk and sharp.

Vesper and Eira stood out in the hall together.

"Hey," Ren said. "Come in."

They sat down—Vesper by the window, hands folded, Eira in the chair she shifted toward him, her notebook nowhere in sight. That, more than anything, told him this wasn’t a chat for questions.

For a second, nobody said a word.

Then Eira glanced at Vesper, Vesper nodded, her ears turning a faint pink, and Eira turned back to him.

"We talked it through," she said. "Both of us, Together."

"We’ve made our choice," Vesper added quietly.

Ren sat up straighter.