The Omnipotent System

Ten years later

A boy stood in the center of the arena, calm and composed, his breath steady as his eyes swept across the ground. Around him, men lay sprawled with bruises and cuts, struggling to rise, groaning in pain. Despite the wreckage, the boy remained unscathed, his small frame at odds with the devastation he'd just unleashed.

This boy was Adams. Though young and inexperienced, he possessed a natural talent and strength that defied expectations. Unlike his peers, who were still learning the fundamentals of cultivation, Adams had far surpassed any ordinary child's development. He had always been exceptional.

At just three months old, he began walking and speaking with the proficiency of a seasoned child far older than his age. His curiosity was insatiable, drawing him into the Albert family's vast library where, within an hour, he absorbed knowledge that would take years for others to comprehend.

He was a prodigy unlike any other, devouring books on cultivation, history, and the mysteries of the world he lived in.

One evening, after reading about the nature of mana, Adams decided to put his newfound knowledge into practice. Sitting cross-legged on the library floor, he closed his eyes and began to meditate, feeling for the mana in the air around him. His breathing deepened as he focused, clearing his mind. He visualized the flow of energy, sensing the vibrations of the world itself.

At first, it was faint, like a distant pulse, but then it grew stronger, more tangible, and he reached for it.

As his awareness deepened, the air in the library grew heavy. A swirling gust of wind began to form around him, rustling the pages of the books, lifting loose scrolls into the air. The mana responded to him, surging toward his body as if drawn to his very being. His skin began to glow faintly, shimmering with a soft golden light, signaling his entry into the first phase of cultivation.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled. The very atmosphere seemed to shift as a phenomenon beyond understanding erupted. The skies outside darkened, and an unnatural stillness spread across the Albert estate. His parents, sensing the overwhelming power, rushed to the library, alarmed by the violent reaction of the mana.

As they burst into the room, they saw their son radiating an otherworldly energy, far beyond what a child should ever possess.

With urgency, his mother swept him into her arms, cutting off the flow of mana and stopping the process. "No, Adams!" she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. "You're not ready for this yet."

Despite the abrupt interruption, the damage had been done. Word of the phenomenon spread like wildfire across the God Ascension Plane. Everyone was talking about the boy who had not only sensed mana but had triggered an unprecedented event while still an infant.

Soon, nobles, cultivators, and powerful figures came from across the plane, each hoping to form a connection with the child prodigy. Gifts poured in, from rare treasures to invaluable tomes of knowledge. Some came offering their young daughters and granddaughters for marriage, while others even brought women of great beauty, proposing their future hand to the boy when he came of age.

However, Adams' parents turned them all away, refusing to make their son a pawn in anyone's political games.

Not all the attention was positive. Dark forces from the shadows began to stir, seeing Adams as a threat to their future. Assassination attempts were plotted in secret. But every attempt was met with failure. Mysterious protectors thwarted the killers, leaving no trace of their interference.

The organizations responsible for the attempts went into hiding, and the assassination guilds that took the contracts vanished from the face of the God Ascension Plane, leaving only whispers behind.

Adams had become a beacon—one that shone too brightly for some, but inescapable for all.

Adams stood in the arena, his eyes scanning the fallen cultivators around him. His expression was calm, but his eyes held a fierce determination. He knew that his journey was just beginning, and despite the challenges, he was ready to face whatever came his way.

The arena echoed with the sounds of groans and the shuffling of feet as the defeated men tried to rise, a testament to the power and potential of the boy who stood among them.

"That's incredible, I have nothing left to teach you," a man said, clapping as he strolled toward a young Adams. His tone carried a hint of pride, but Adams barely acknowledged him, giving a quick glance before his eyes drifted to his mother, seated not far from an older woman—Edna, his grandmother.

"If you even taught him anything to begin with, brat," Edna retorted sharply, her piercing glare directed at the man still clapping.

The man's confident grin faltered as he stopped clapping, his lips forming a pout. "Come on, Mother, not in front of my favorite nephew," he said, clearly sulking.

Adams, catching the exchange, couldn't help but chuckle. "She's not wrong, Uncle Edward. But don't worry, I'll still acknowledge you as a great teacher," Adams teased, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he dashed off the stage.

"Not you too!" Edward groaned, his shoulders slumping as he watched his nephew bolt away. "This is all your fault, Mother," he huffed, casting an exasperated look at Edna before running after Adams.

Meanwhile, the men who had been knocked out during training remained sprawled on the ground, still reeling from the day's events. As they blinked in disbelief, trying to process the effortless way Adams had outclassed them, one of them finally sighed, shaking his head. "The life of a genius...

it's a world apart from ours," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation as they were left to nurse their bruised pride.

Edna's eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched her grandson's retreating form, while Edward's hurried footsteps echoed behind him, both knowing full well that Adams was already leagues ahead in more ways than one.

Five years had passed, and life for Adams, the favored son of two of the most powerful figures in the God Ascension Plane, had reached a critical turning point.

Adams sat in a lotus position, his expression calm and focused, as his parents and grandparents from both sides of his family surrounded him in silent preparation. The room hummed with an otherworldly energy, the air thick with the weight of ancient power.

Garland, Laden's father and a master of intricate formations, moved with precision, inscribing the final rune into the vast network of symbols that covered every inch of the chamber. His brow furrowed with concentration, his fingers glowing as he etched the last line.

"This should hold," Garland muttered, his voice tinged with both caution and confidence. His eyes flicked briefly toward Adams. "We can't afford another catastrophe like last time. The entire realm felt that surge."

As Garland finished, the room pulsed, the formation coming to life, shimmering faintly. The air grew denser, a quiet hum vibrating through the space, ensuring that any phenomena generated by Adams' cultivation would be contained. His family members exchanged glances, the tension in their faces betraying the enormity of what was about to take place.

Laden, Adams' father, stood beside Garland, arms crossed, his sharp gaze never leaving his son. Though he said nothing, his clenched jaw revealed the depth of his concern. Adams' power had already proven volatile, capable of shaking the very fabric of the realm itself, and they all knew that this time—if things went wrong—there might be no containing it.

His mother, Aria, watched with a soft, unwavering focus, her heart brimming with both pride and apprehension. She placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, her touch light but grounding, as if to remind him that they were all there, with him, supporting him through whatever lay ahead.

The runes on the walls glowed brighter, casting eerie shadows on the faces of those present. Adams, fully aware of the gravity of the situation, exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. His movements were minimal, but his body seemed to tense with the immense energy stirring within him.

"Let's hope this is enough," Garland whispered under his breath, his hands dropping to his sides, his gaze sweeping over the runes as if searching for any possible flaw. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Adams' grandparents exchanged silent nods, their expressions masked with years of wisdom and a touch of weariness. They had seen this before, the raw power their grandson possessed. But this time, they were prepared.

The formation crackled softly, its energy poised, waiting for Adams to begin. Everyone in the room knew that the moment he started cultivating, the real test would begin—both for the formation and for Adams himself.

Adams stood still for a moment, inhaling deeply as the weight of the upcoming cultivation session pressed down on him. His eyes flickered briefly towards his parents, who gave him reassuring nods, their expressions calm but filled with silent encouragement.

With a final exhale, Adams closed his eyes, letting the world around him fade away, the anticipation tightening in his chest. His posture straightened, hands gently coming together as he prepared to tap into the vast ocean of energy swirling within him.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured under his breath, the words barely a whisper, as he began to immerse himself in cultivation.