Apocalypse: Surviving as the God of a Tiny Cultivation Sect

Urduja’s face gradually became paler as more and more possibilities surfaced within her mind. The appearance of the helicopters alone was enough to awaken memories she desperately wished would remain buried.

Unfortunately, the similarities between the current situation and the events of her previous life were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Every new detail seemed to align with memories she had hoped would never repeat themselves.

In her previous life, there had been a period when the undead tide suddenly changed direction without warning.

Entire regions that had once been overwhelmed by countless undead suddenly became empty. Millions of creatures abandoned their original routes and moved toward a single destination. At the time, humanity had celebrated the phenomenon.

Survivors believed the nightmare was finally easing. Military forces believed an opportunity had appeared. Powerful organizations believed they could investigate the source and perhaps even discover a method to control the undead.

Those hopes had not lasted long.

The first military forces that entered the affected region never returned.

The second wave vanished as well.

Elite parahuman teams disappeared.

Entire armored convoys were swallowed whole.

Communication lines went silent one after another.

Eventually, the truth emerged.

The undead had not retreated.

The undead had not become weaker.

The undead had not lost interest in humanity.

They had been summoned.

Something had appeared.

Something so important that even millions of undead considered it a higher priority than living humans.

The memory caused Urduja’s hands to tremble.

A King.

That title immediately surfaced inside her mind.

Only a King possessed enough authority to influence undead on such a scale.

Only a King could attract an entire tide.

Only a King could cause countless undead to move as though they shared a single mind.

Yet the possibility made absolutely no sense.

Urduja rejected it again and again.

There should not be a King here.

There should not be a King now.

The timeline was wrong.

The location was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Most importantly, she had already altered too many events.

She had obtained treasures that did not belong to her previous timeline.

She had taken opportunities before others could reach them.

She had changed the future.

The existence of a King should have become even less likely.

Then why was the situation unfolding this way?

Why did history seem determined to repeat itself?

Why did she feel as though the future was correcting itself no matter what she did?

Urduja clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

No.

Something was different.

The more she observed the movement of the undead tide, the more she felt that something was fundamentally different from the catastrophe she remembered.

This did not feel like an Undead King.

At least, not yet.

The attraction was real.

The movement was real.

The danger was real.

Yet her instincts continuously warned her that the source was still alive.

The realization only made her more uneasy.

Because if the source was alive, then the situation could become even worse.

A living monster capable of attracting millions of undead was not something that should exist during this early stage of the apocalypse.

No matter how powerful such a creature was, it would eventually be overwhelmed by the sheer number of undead surrounding it.

And if that creature died...

Urduja’s stomach tightened.

Because she knew exactly what would happen next.

The corpse would become nourishment.

The undead would evolve.

The winner would ascend.

And then a true King would emerge.

The thought alone was enough to make her scalp go numb.

Then, as she desperately searched through her memories for answers, another realization suddenly struck her like lightning.

The Corrode Family.

The name exploded inside her mind so violently that her entire body froze.

Everything seemed to connect at once.

The strange attraction.

The changed timeline.

The impossible growth.

The undead movement.

The helicopters.

The uncertainty.

And above all else...

Clayne Corrode.

The young man she had left behind.

The young man she had convinced herself would probably die.

The young man whose surname alone carried enough weight to haunt her memories even after death and rebirth.

Urduja’s breathing gradually became unstable.

The Corrode Family.

In her previous life, countless factions had investigated them.

Countless powers had attempted to uncover the secrets hidden within their bloodline.

The more people learned, the more terrifying the family became.

Every member of the Corrode Family carried something within them.

Most researchers referred to it as a parasite.

Yet that description was inaccurate.

Parasites weakened their hosts.

The things inside the Corrode Family strengthened them.

Protected them.

Evolved alongside them.

The stronger the host became, the stronger the parasite became.

The stronger the parasite became, the stronger the host became.

It was a perfect cycle.

An endless cycle.

A horrifying cycle.

One that had transformed the Corrode Family into one of humanity’s greatest powers.

Urduja had personally witnessed their strength.

She remembered battlefields where entire armies collapsed.

She remembered monster tides being erased.

She remembered cities being destroyed during conflicts involving members of that family.

Most terrifying of all, she remembered the effort required to suppress even a single Corrode Family member.

Thousands of top-tier parahumans.

Thousands.

And even then, victory was never guaranteed.

The memory caused her heart to sink.

Then she remembered Clayne.

Back before the apocalypse.

Back before the red mist.

Back before the world ended.

He had already been different.

Now she met him, he had already possessed unusual strength.

He had already stood apart from ordinary students.

Even without visible mutations. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Even without awakened tentacles.

Even without any special opportunities.

Now the apocalypse had long begun.

Now evolution had started.

Now countless opportunities existed.

The possibility forming inside Urduja’s mind became increasingly difficult to ignore.

What if the source of the disturbance was not some unknown monster?

What if the source was not a hidden King?

What if the source was Clayne?

The thought nearly made her lose her composure.

She had been reborn.

She had prepared.

She had planned.

She had sacrificed.

She had sworn to change the future.

Yet somehow, despite all of her efforts, she felt as though she had still failed.

The students standing behind her quickly noticed her condition.

Several exchanged nervous glances.

One girl cautiously stepped forward.

"Miss Wells, are you alright?"

Another student immediately added his own concern.

"You don’t look well."

The others remained silent, yet their worried expressions spoke for themselves.

Urduja did not answer immediately.

Her gaze remained fixed upon the helicopters moving across the distant sky.

The rotors echoed across the city.

The machines continued advancing toward the source of the disturbance.

Toward the answer she desperately needed.

Toward the truth.

Eventually, Urduja made her decision.

A dangerous decision.

A reckless decision.

A decision she could not avoid.

She needed answers.

She needed confirmation.

Most importantly, she needed to know whether Clayne Corrode was involved.

Slowly, she turned toward the students.

"I have to go."

The group immediately became alarmed.

One of the boys pointed toward the distant helicopters.

"Go where?"

Urduja followed his gesture.

"There."

The students stared.

Then panic spread through the group.

Several immediately attempted to stop her.

The helicopters were flying toward the center of the disturbance.

Toward danger.

Toward death.

Yet before anyone could say another word, five crimson tentacles erupted from behind her.

The sight remained shocking despite everything they had already witnessed.

The tentacles twisted through the air.

The rooftop beneath her feet cracked.

Concrete fragmented.

The surrounding students instinctively retreated.

Urduja inhaled deeply.

Then she jumped.

The rooftop exploded beneath her.

Fragments of concrete scattered in every direction.

Her body launched forward like a projectile.

The wind roared around her.

The city blurred beneath her feet.

The tentacles extended and contracted repeatedly, allowing her to travel through the air with astonishing speed.

Her destination remained clear.

One of the helicopters.

One of the helicopters heading toward the source.

One of the helicopters heading toward the answer.

...

Meanwhile, back at the campus, Clayne remained completely unaware of everything happening elsewhere in the city. At that moment, his attention was focused entirely on his newly hatched mantis. The creature continued rampaging through the surrounding streets with terrifying efficiency. Every few moments another monster died. Every few moments another crystal disappeared into its mouth. Every few moments its aura became slightly stronger.

Watching the creature hunt was strangely satisfying.

The mantis moved like a crimson phantom.

One moment it stood atop a building.

The next moment a beast several streets away was already dead.

Its speed was increasing.

Its attacks were becoming sharper.

Its control over the strange wind blades was becoming increasingly refined.

Clayne could practically see it growing stronger in real time.

Then suddenly, something felt wrong.

A strange sensation traveled through his consciousness.

The feeling was noticeable at first.

Yet it rapidly became stronger.

The connection did not originate from the mantis.

It came from somewhere else.

Immediately, Clayne focused his attention on the Tiny World.

The moment his consciousness entered, he froze.

His expression changed instantly.

His eyes widened.

For several seconds, he could only stare.

Silent River Hill...

The place that saved his life.

The place where he had repeatedly restored rivers, forests, and mountains.

The place that had become the center of his miniature cultivation world.

It was devastated.

Entire forests had disappeared.

Mountain peaks had collapsed.

Huge sections of land had been torn apart.

Gigantic scars stretched across the terrain.

The landscape looked as though countless powerful cultivators had fought a war there while he was distracted.

The destruction extended far beyond anything caused by previous heavenly tribulations.

The damage looked intentional.

The damage looked recent.

The damage looked personal.

Clayne simply stared at the scene.

The more he looked, the more shocked he became.

Because this was not ordinary destruction.

Someone had attacked Silent River Hill.

Someone had targeted it directly.

And as that realization settled inside his mind, a single thought emerged.

A thought that immediately caused his expression to darken.

What exactly happened to my Silent River Hill while I wasn’t looking?