Reborn With the Infinite Gods System

The entire facility buzzed with frantic activity as everyone rushed to complete their tasks, moving supplies and equipment to their designated locations. Time was slipping away, and the urgency hung in the air like a thick fog.

The spaceship, already stocked with as many supplies as they could manage, sat waiting. They had done their best, though everything had come as a shock. The rumors of a Voidwalker's appearance had spread like wildfire, giving them only three hours to evacuate the planet. The information was false, intentionally planted by Commander Asher himself. His closest subordinates had helped him spread the lie.

It was a necessary cruelty, one he bore with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sacrificing a hundred lives for the safety of billions back on Earth—that's what it had come down to. The pain of it gnawed at his conscience, but it was a sacrifice he deemed unavoidable.

Asher gulped hard, his throat dry as he checked his watch. The countdown he had set was down to two minutes and a few seconds. His eyes flicked toward the spaceship from his vantage point in the upper monitoring room. Below, the monitoring team worked feverishly at their consoles, while the Ruham leader stood silently beside him, watching with a tense expression.

"Are we all set?" Commander Asher's voice cut through the chaotic din of the room.

The technicians didn't look up, their fingers flying over keyboards, eyes glued to screens. "Almost, sir! We'll be ready in under a minute, and we'll engage the launch immediately," one of them shouted back, sweat beading on his brow.

"Good," Asher said, his voice firm though his stomach churned with unease. "Make sure to launch with maximum thrust. We need to break this planet's gravity and get that ship into space within thirty seconds." He leaned in, emphasizing the urgency.

The words spurred the team into even faster motion, though the atmosphere in the room was already crackling with tension. Asher's gaze remained fixed on the ship. He couldn't afford a single mistake—not now, not when so many lives depended on it.

Taking a breath, he reached for the small wired microphone on the control table and brought it to his lips. "Do you read me, Hunters?" His voice, though steady, carried the weight of a man who knew this might be the last time he spoke to them. Silence followed. He repeated, "Do you read me?"

After a second, a crackling reply came through. "Yes, we're all settled in and ready for launch—mostly," Josh's voice came over the comm, strained but trying to sound composed. He glanced around the main compartment of the ship. Most of the crew was strapped into their seats, the tension palpable. Even a Ruham guide had been sent with them, sitting grimly among the passengers.

The only ones missing were Axel and Sarah, isolated in a separate compartment to heal and recover from their previous ordeal.

Asher sighed softly, regret tightening in his chest. "I wish I could've said more before your departure," he said quietly, his voice tinged with melancholy. "But with the little time we have left… make sure you don't fail us."

He didn't wait for a reply. His hand dropped from the microphone, his body slumping slightly. The weight of his decisions pressed down on him, and he lowered himself to the floor, his back against the cold wall. His eyes drifted to the faces of his men, then to the Ruham standing near the launch control.

In different circumstances, he might have lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. But diplomacy, the delicate balancing act they were engaged in, had stripped him even of that small comfort.

"What a drag," he muttered under his breath. The words were hollow, as if trying to push back the inevitable with idle thoughts. His eyes shifted back to the rocket. Thick white smoke filled the launch area, signaling the start of the ignition sequence.

As the ship blasted into the atmosphere with incredible speed, disappearing from his line of sight, Asher's mind wandered to darker thoughts.

'So, this is what it feels like,' he mused bitterly. 'To be assured of death.' Just an hour ago, they'd been eating breakfast. Now, they were biting the dust. The absurdity of it all made him feel nauseous.

His hand clenched involuntarily, and instinctively, he activated his binding. The surge of power, the feeling of control, was supposed to be comforting. But this time, it felt empty.

'Powerful again? What a joke,' he thought, his gaze following the trail of the rocket as it disappeared into the stars. The rumble of its engines still echoed in his ears. 'Power won't let you run from an enemy. It won't let you change fate. True power…' His thoughts trailed off, but the sentiment lingered: *True power is the ability to change fate itself.*

Suddenly, the air around him shifted, vibrating with an ominous energy. His heart pounded as a dark wave of visible air surged toward him, consuming everything in its path. It wasn't just destructive—it was erasing existence itself. Buildings, equipment, even the very air dissolved into colorful embers, then vanished into nothingness.

His men hadn't even noticed the wave yet, their focus still on their consoles. For most of them, death would come before they even realized what was happening. But Asher, with his binding active, could see it all unfold in horrifying slow motion.

'Why did I use my binding?' he wondered, raising his hand, now shaking uncontrollably. *Shaky? When did that start?*

The wave drew closer, and fear gripped him—not the ordinary kind, but a primal, all-encompassing terror that left him paralyzed. His heart thudded violently in his chest. It wasn't just fear; it was deeper, more invasive, crawling through his veins like ice.

'Is this fear… or something worse?' he thought, his pulse racing out of control.

As the wave reached his legs, the pain hit like nothing he'd ever felt. His flesh, his very cells, were torn apart, atom by atom. From his toes to his ankles, then to his knees, the destructive force devoured him. Even with time slowed, it was agony. The beam moved relentlessly, faster than any defense he could muster.

Tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden. "It's painful, Silvia," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His mind flashed to his daughter—his last thought, filled with sorrow and guilt.

"Forgive me," he murmured, as the wave consumed him entirely, his body dissolving into nothing. "This is where I part ways."

***

SHWOOOOM!

Onboard the ship, the hunters sat strapped into their seats, feeling the vibration of the launch thrumming through the walls. Their faces were pale, eyes wide as they watched through the viewport. Below them, Rika Zero—the entire planet—faded into nothingness. The wave of destruction was so absolute, so quick, that it left nothing behind but empty space.

"Shit!" Haze blurted out, his voice cracking. "It wiped out an entire planet in minutes!" He stared, dumbfounded, unable to fully process the scale of what they had just witnessed.

No one spoke. They were all equally stunned, the reality of the Voidwalker's power sinking in.

"And that's the fate Earth will face if we fail," Josh said grimly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of the truth. "The sacrifices they made back there… can't go to waste."

He clenched his fist, staring at the void where Rika Zero had once been. The ship hummed softly, the only sound in the oppressive quiet.

"The fate of this world rests on us…" Josh's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

"There's no saving us if we fail."3