[Cosmic Finality]
[Tier: Unique]
[Authority Unlocked: Siphon]
[Siphon: Upon enacting Finality upon a being, you may Siphon their essence. Based on the target's nature, this forms Affixes.]
[Next Authority Unlock: 0/100]
"Siphon?"
Rhys drew a sharp inhale. As a Top 100 player in The Epoch of Endings, he knew this ability's power far surpassed its surface description.
Affixes—those eight letters encompassed nearly every facet of The Epoch of Endings.
Monsters, players, weapons, armor, skills, items—even the lofty deities—all possessed affixes.
Affixes were the foundation of The Epoch of Endings!
Identical abilities could manifest wildly differently between practitioners of the same class, all due to affix variations.
A weapon with inheritable affixes—even a Common-grade Level 1 wooden stick—could fetch astronomical prices.
The reason was simple: the inheritable affix property was exceedingly rare.
Now, Cosmic Finality's Siphon Authority granted Rhys the power to extract essence and forge Affixes. This meant... he held infinite inheritable affixes?
Rhys swallowed hard, then took a steadying breath to contain his exhilaration.
Cosmic Finality's power defied comprehension!
And this was merely one Authority. What heights could he reach unlocking others?
"Calm. Stay calm."
Rhys slapped his cheeks, forcing composure. Cosmic Finality's might was undeniable, but it required time to mature. It didn't grant instant invincibility upon entering the game.
Arrogance could still make him shipwreck in some unseen gutter.
He checked his phone. The Epoch of Endings hadn't launched yet. Setting it aside, he sank into contemplation.
"That thing… should be north of the starter village..."
As a former Top 100 player, Rhys had connections. Though not an early entrant, he'd gleaned valuable intel through the grapevine.
One comrade once mentioned a hidden boss north of the starter village, accessible via a quest chain. Defeating it preemptively yielded an Ancient-grade item.
The Epoch of Endings categorized items, gear, skills, and more into eleven tiers:
Common
Fine
Rare
Epic
Legendary
Ancient
Mythic
Immortal
Divine
These nine covered most obtainable grades. Beyond them lay two rarest tiers—realms beyond mortal reach.
"Unique" and "Primordial."
An Ancient-grade item would be nothing short of divine gear for players in the pioneering phase—let alone the rarest necklace type.
Yet it became a white elephant: too flawed to use, too precious to discard. The reason was simple—it was cursed.
In The Epoch of Endings, any item could bear a [Cursed] affix with wildly varied but universally negative effects. Equipping cursed gear meant enduring its penalties.
That Ancient-grade necklace carried the curse [Glass Cannon]. Its effect was brutally simple: the wearer's maximum HP became permanently locked at 1 point—irreversible by any means.
Overnight, the coveted necklace turned toxic. Even the most arrogant players wouldn't risk it. In-game death didn't equal real death, but each fatality halved the player's remaining lifespan.
Without lifespan boosts, every player had exactly one death before permanent demise.
This assumed no real-world power transfer. In practice, most players faced true death upon their first in-game fall.
[Glass Cannon]'s price was simply too steep for anyone to pay.
Rhys had once treated this Ancient item as trivia. Even after rebirth, he'd dismissed pursuing it. But now, wielding Cosmic Finality's Siphon Authority…
A plan sparked.
Ding-a-ling~
A shrill ringtone shattered his thoughts.
Rhys lifted his phone. The caller ID blared two characters: Sister.
Willa. He knew her demand without answering—yet he accepted the call.
"Why aren't you here yet?" Willa's voice stabbed through the speaker, sharper than ever. "Do you even know the game launches soon?"
Rhys smirked silently. His gaze drifted to the colossal holographic gaming helmet resting on his bedside.
Ripping open its packaging, he replied flatly: "Want it so badly? Buy it yourself."
He knew the truth: Willa—who loathed gaming—only pestered him for The Epoch of Endings helmet to impress her crush. She'd demanded it after forcing Rhys to clear her ￥10,000 installment debt.
Back then, Rhys hadn't understood—he'd simply catered to his sister's whims, desperate to see her happy. But present-day Rhys would commit no such folly.
"You!" Willa's voice crackled with disbelief. The brother who'd always yielded was defying her?
How dare he!
She sniffed coldly. "If that's your attitude, I'll never speak to you again!"
Accustomed to coddling, she'd always deployed this ultimate threat to extract apologies and concessions. Yet she couldn't fathom—this Rhys was different.
"Oh? My sincere thanks, then." Rhys chuckled, amusement saturating his tone. "And do repay your installment debt yourself."
Willa opened her mouth to retort—but only a dial tone buzzed back. She bit her lip lightly, eyes blazing with indignation.
...
Meanwhile.
Rhys knew exactly how enraged Willa must be. He understood his sister's spoiled nature intimately.
So what? From this moment, nothing mattered more than entering The Epoch of Endings.
The game was live.
Rhys inhaled deeply, settling the helmet over his head. "Initiate connection."
The world dissolved into cascading data streams. When clarity returned, he stood in a colossal sanctum.
Fingers curling into a testing fist, he surveyed the empty hall—a smile gracing his lips.
This was the Hall of Vocations: every player's mandatory crucible of choice.
[Welcome to The Epoch of Endings.]
[Your destination: The Sundered Realm—a land forsaken by gods, teeming with treasures and perils.]
[You can rely on none but yourself.]
[Select your foundational vocation!]
[Warning: Foundational vocations are permanent. Choose wisely.]
[Upon selection, you will receive one vocation-locked foundational skill.]
The elegant black script faded. Instantly, obsidian pillars surrounding him ignited with luminescent fog.
Warrior. Mage. Cleric. Archer. Assassin....
Each monolith represented a core vocation.
Rhys scanned the options—then strode decisively toward the pillar on his right....