The Omnipotent System

In the grand chamber known as the Hall of Eternity, a place reserved only for the twelve Overlords of the Heavens, tension filled the air. The seats, each formed from celestial marble and inscribed with runes of unimaginable power, were now occupied by the most powerful beings across all planes.

A heavy silence hung over them, broken only by the tapping of fingers and the restless shifting of powerful figures who were not accustomed to feeling vulnerable.

"Good riddance, I thought you all would never make it, even when the Plane is in crisis," the man from earlier remarked, his voice laced with impatience as his eyes swept over the figures now taking their seats. His sharp gaze was full of annoyance, the corner of his mouth twitching as if barely suppressing a scowl.

"Shut up." El's voice cut through the air like a blade, commanding instant silence as he strode into the Hall, being the last to arrive. His aura radiated power so potent it made the celestial walls hum. Even those seated near him couldn't help but feel a shiver crawl down their spines. He took his seat with a glare, his eyes flashing with frustration. "Now is not the time for snide remarks.

We should be focused on how to avert this crisis."

"There is no stopping it, El. We are all doomed. The Ragnarok is upon us, and there is no escaping it."

All eyes turned toward the woman who had spoken. She was ancient, though her physical form appeared no older than fifty. Yet her presence exuded the weight of countless years. Her silver hair framed a face marked by wisdom and deep sorrow, and her violet eyes, glowing faintly with the gift of prophecy, were clouded with grim certainty.

She was Greta, the Overlord of Sight and Prophecy, one of the most revered beings in the Heavens. Her words hung in the air like a heavy, undeniable truth.

El sneered, his lips curling into a smirk as he fixed her with a cold glare. "I beg to differ," he growled. "I don't believe in those visions of yours, not as long as I have the strength to crush anything in my path." His voice was sharp, filled with arrogance, as if he could bend the very universe to his will.

He leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as he surveyed the other Overlords, searching their faces for support, for defiance.

But before anyone could respond, the younger woman who had first mentioned the One Above All spoke again. Her voice was calm, yet laced with urgency. "There is one being you are forgetting—The One Above All. He has returned, and he is out for blood. Our blood." Her gaze swept across the room, her eyes gleaming with both fear and determination.

El's expression hardened, his jaw clenching tightly. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. "He's dead," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "I saw to it myself. The Ashura General sent by the Ashura God crippled him before his father finished the job.

Even if by some miracle he survived, there's no way he could have grown strong enough to pose a threat to us, to the Heavens."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to grow colder as her words followed, cutting through El's arrogance like a knife. "You forget," she said softly, "he is the favored son of the Heavens. The Phenomenals he caused just by being born… His first breath, his first words, his first step, even his first moment of cultivation—they all shook the very foundations of existence.

His potential was unmatched, so great that even before he was born, Greta had already bestowed upon him the title The One Above All. We all addressed him as such, before greed clouded our judgment. We feared what he would become, and in that fear, we committed an unforgivable crime."

Her words hung in the air like an accusation, her gaze locking with El's, daring him to deny it. The tension in the room grew palpable, each Overlord shifting uneasily in their seat, weighed down by the guilt of their actions.

An old man, sitting with his back straight and his hands resting on his cane, finally spoke. His voice was slow, measured, yet carried the gravitas of ages. His long white beard and hair framed a face etched with wisdom, and his deep, penetrating eyes seemed to see through time itself.

This was the Sage Overlord, a being renowned for his boundless knowledge and cultivation insights, who had once revolutionized the very art of cultivation. Read the latest chapters at m-vl-em,pyr

"Greed led us astray," the Sage said softly, shaking his head as his gaze swept across the room. "We feared him, yes, but we also coveted what he could become—something far greater than any of us. And so, we did the unthinkable. We killed the favored son of the Heavens and Destiny, a being chosen to ascend to heights even we could not imagine."

He turned his eyes toward El, who met his gaze with a glare, though there was something flickering behind that defiant mask. "You, more than anyone, should remember. You led the charge. And now, if he has returned, there is no force strong enough to stop him."

El clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the words struck him like a hammer. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of their past actions hanging over them like a storm cloud. Each Overlord's expression reflected a mix of fear, guilt, and the dawning realization that their reckoning had finally come.

"If he was defeated before, then we can do it again," El said, his voice resolute, his eyes blazing with a dangerous determination. He leaned forward, gripping the arms of his celestial throne with white-knuckled intensity. "It's not too hard," he added, as though convincing not only the others but himself. El's gaze burned with ambition, a hunger for power that made the other Overlords uneasy.

They all knew how close he was to fulfilling his goals, and nothing—not even the impending destruction—would make him back down.

Greta, seated a few chairs down, regarded him with a mixture of pity and weariness. Her violet eyes, ancient and knowing, softened for a moment as she sighed. She had seen this coming from the start, El's reckless ambition driving him to chase power that would ultimately destroy him.

Though she had never voiced it aloud, Greta knew his fate was sealed—he would perish just as he reached out for the power he sought. She clasped her hands tightly, her fingers trembling with the weight of foresight.

"El…" she whispered to herself, knowing her words would fall on deaf ears.

From across the table, Eliza, who had made the suggestion earlier, spoke again, her voice softer this time. She was a beautiful figure with an aura that shimmered like a mirage, her powers over reality warping the space around her subtly, though her current unease was evident in her pale face.

"Maybe… maybe we could return his sister to him," Eliza suggested, her voice hesitant as her eyes flickered nervously to El. "Perhaps… if we did that, he would show leniency."

A few of the Overlords exchanged glances, a flicker of hope stirring within them. But before anyone could latch onto the idea, Greta shook her head, her silver hair falling loosely over her shoulders. "It's not going to work," she said, her voice firm but tinged with regret. "I told you before, Ragnarok is upon us.

There is no stopping it." She turned her gaze to Eliza, her expression softening, almost apologetic. "And even if we did return the girl… how do you propose we retrieve her from the Devas? They're more troublesome than the Ashuras. Their ways are… mysterious, unpredictable."

Eliza's shoulders slumped, her hope crumbling under the weight of Greta's words. She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly as the gravity of the situation set in. "Then I'll just run away," she muttered, almost to herself, her eyes downcast. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her jaw tensing as she made up her mind. "It's not that hard.

I can hide… disappear."

Greta's eyes snapped open, fixing Eliza with a hard stare. "Your powers over reality won't work," she said flatly, her voice devoid of any comfort. "Remember, he's the One Above All for a reason. He will find you, and he will kill you before you even know it." Her tone was cold, but not out of cruelty—Greta was simply stating the truth, the undeniable fate that awaited them all.

Eliza looked at her, stunned for a moment, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came. The tension in the room spiked as Greta's grim prophecy settled over the Overlords like a shroud. The other figures in the Hall shifted uncomfortably, their eyes narrowing at Greta, some glaring at her as if she were personally responsible for their doom.

But she stood firm, unflinching under their scrutiny.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Greta said, her voice quieter now, yet filled with the weight of certainty. "But it's the truth. I've seen how most of you die, and there is no escaping it." She locked eyes with El, her gaze unwavering, challenging him to deny it.

El's hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his nails digging into the stone as he glared back at her. His breathing grew shallow, his jaw clenched so tight it looked as though he might break his own teeth. He wanted to shout, to reject her words with every fiber of his being, but something in her stare… something made him pause.

The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker, as if fate itself was closing in on them.

Finally, the Sage Overlord, who had remained quiet until now, let out a deep, resigned sigh. His long white beard trembled slightly as he shifted in his seat, his wise, ancient eyes clouded with defeat. "So we just… do nothing, then?" he asked, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Wait for our deaths?"

Greta closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. Her hands rested calmly in her lap, though the tension in her shoulders suggested that she, too, carried the weight of helplessness. "Yes," she whispered. "And hope for the best."

The Hall of Eternity fell silent once more, the Overlords trapped in the chilling reality of their impending end. Each of them, powerful beings who had once believed themselves untouchable, now faced the inescapable truth: no power, no influence, no amount of strength could save them from the reckoning that was coming. The Ragnarok was upon them.