My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 370: Primordia

As a supreme existence, Ethan had no desire to merely revert to the life of a common mortal.

He craved something more.

He sought excitement.

After a period of deep reflection, a distinct vision took shape in his mind. He would forge a brand-new world. Into this realm, he would transport one million mortals. He would bestow them with unique talents, allocate them territories, and appoint them as lords of their own domains.

This would be known as the World of Lords.

Their objectives were straightforward yet brutal: Survive. Expand their borders. Construct massive empires. They would be forced to clash with ferocious monsters, competing lords, and the myriad perils of the environment itself. Through hardship, bloodshed, and raw ambition, they would gradually ascend in power.

Ethan intended to observe their journeys meticulously.

However, he would not be a mere spectator watching from the sidelines; he would be a participant.

He, too, would join this grand game as a lord.

For the mortals, this would serve as a ruthless trial of their resolve, intellect, and destiny. To those who survived the crucible, it would become their ultimate reward. By witnessing their growth, their dilemmas, and their battles, Ethan aimed to master the final, elusive percentage of the Source of Existence.

Once his enlightenment was complete, he would grant them freedom from his created world.

Furthermore, if a truly peerless individual emerged—someone whose brilliance eclipsed all others—Ethan might even consider taking them as a disciple.

With his blueprint finalized, Ethan shared his intentions with his followers.

They listened, struck by a sense of profound wonder.

Every subordinate offered immediate and unwavering praise for his grand vision.

"Ragnarok," Ethan spoke with a calm tone, looking toward his ancient butler. "Escort me to the coordinates where your world once stood. I plan to resurrect the Ancient Demon race. They shall serve as the primary antagonists of my game. Do you have any thoughts on this?"

Ragnarok answered without a moment's pause.

"My Lord, proceed as you desire," he replied, bowing low with absolute devotion. "To be utilized for your purposes would be their greatest honor. I have no objections whatsoever."

Ethan gave a slight nod.

"Very well. Let us depart."

Shortly after, Ragnarok guided him through the vast void.

They arrived at a desolate, fractured region of space. This silent graveyard was the former home of the Ancient Demon race, a world long ago obliterated by a great catastrophe.

The butler stood behind Ethan, his body tense and his eyes clouded with a sorrow he had kept buried for countless ages.

"It is nothing but a cold tomb, my lord," Ragnarok murmured, his voice thick with suppressed grief. "The very essence of their souls was pulverized by the collective power of the nine Monarchs. There is nothing left here to reclaim."

Ethan turned to Ragnarok with a faint smile.

"Let us discover if this 'impossible' task is truly beyond my reach."

Taking a step forward, he stood before the ruins of the world and lifted his right hand.

The vacuum of space groaned, seemingly buckling under the immense weight of his presence. He didn't just exist within space; he stood above its laws.

"Return," Ethan commanded.

That single word wasn't just spoken; it was etched into the very fabric of reality.

Suddenly, the debris began to vibrate. In a spectacle that shattered the laws of entropy, the broken shards of the demon world began to move in reverse. Dust gathered into boulders. Boulders merged into massive tectonic plates. The timeline of these specific coordinates was being dragged back by force, howling in silent opposition.

The atmosphere of the Ancient Demon World reconstituted itself, shifting from poisonous black clouds back into the vibrant, purple-hued oxygen the demons once thrived upon.

Next came the restoration of souls.

Ethan reached into the River of Time and pulled with authority.

Millions of spiritual threads were jerked back into the material plane. Flesh wove itself over reconstructed bone. Hearts began to beat with warm blood once more. On the planet's surface, countless Ancient Demons blinked in confusion. To them, not a second had passed; they were still occupied with their daily routines, completely unaware they had been dead for eons.

"I have suppressed their memories of the massacre," Ethan stated, his voice vibrating directly within Ragnarok’s mind. "To them, they remain a race of conquerors seeking a challenge. They shall be the ultimate bosses of my new realm."

Ragnarok collapsed to his knees, his composure finally failing as tears fell freely down his face.

"Thank you, My Lord. I am truly grateful."

Ethan shifted his focus away from the reborn world. His eyes glowed with the intense fire of creation—the look of a being who was not just a savior or a destroyer, but an architect.

"Now, I must build the stage."

He raised his right hand again. A single droplet of golden fluid emerged from his skin. This was a drop of Origin Blood, the distilled essence of a being who had attained ninety-nine percent comprehension of the Source of Existence. It held enough power to sustain a universe for trillions of years.

"Expand," Ethan whispered.

The golden drop erupted.

However, it wasn't a messy explosion but a meticulously structured growth. Within moments, a colossal, flat continent took shape in the void. This was the World of Lords, an infinite plane partitioned into millions of unique biomes: burning wastes, floating islands, bottomless trenches, and forests of crystal.

Ethan then began to populate the land.

With a simple motion, he plucked monsters from the corners of the primary world—Hydras from toxic clouds, Earth Eaters from the cores of dying suns, and ghosts from the void. He distributed them across the map with purpose, establishing Danger Zones of varying difficulty.

"Every game requires a set of rules," Ethan reflected.

Closing his eyes, he delved into his subconscious to manifest the Lord System.

He created a glowing, translucent interface that would be accessible to all Players. He established the Tier system for talents. F and E ranks were basic, representing the limits of normal humans. D and C ranks were uncommon, offering boosted growth.

B and A ranks were rare, possessing the potential to become formidable rulers. S rank was Epic, representing a transcendent level of talent. SS was Legendary, granting the power to warp reality. SSS was God Tier—singular powers tied directly to the Source.

"The allocation shall be random," Ethan decided. "Fate is unpredictable, and I wish to see how these mortals play the hand they are dealt. Will a person with an F-rank talent give up, or will they find the path to slay a god?"

Back in the third dimension of the Origin Dimension—Ethan’s world of origin—one million souls were suddenly enveloped in a brilliant white light.

Ethan did not choose the mighty Cultivation masters or the haughty Sect leaders.

Instead, he selected the desperate, the dreamers, the ambitious, and the ordinary. He took an office worker from a crowded city, a mother mourning in a war-torn land, a genius strategist who was never allowed to lead, and a thief who longed for his own kingdom.

In a heartbeat, they vanished from their world.

Ethan stood at the heart of this new world, which he christened Primordia.

Beside him were Ragnarok and the trembling Emperor-class entity he had captured earlier, its former pride completely extinguished.

"You," Ethan said, pointing at the Emperor. "Your name is now The Caretaker. You will oversee the system's backend. If a monster becomes too powerful and threatens to destroy the players prematurely, you will prune them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Great One," the creature stammered, terrified of a worse fate.

Ethan looked at his own hands.

His attire transformed, shifting from majestic robes into the basic, rugged leather gear of a novice adventurer. His stifling aura disappeared, suppressed so thoroughly that he appeared to be nothing more than a handsome young man.

"I shall enter as a Lord myself," Ethan said with a small smile. "I will not rely on my supreme authority. I will use the system I have built. To truly grasp the Source of Existence, I must remember what it feels like to struggle, to create, and to lead from the very bottom."

Across the vastness of Primordia, one million beams of light struck the earth.

In a fertile valley, a young man named Leo shook his head to clear the dizziness. He looked around to find a small, crumbling stone shack and a simple wooden fence. Before him, a digital screen flickered to life.

"Welcome to the World of Lords, Lord Leo. Your Territory: Beginners Valley.

Current Population: 3 Peasants.

Generating Initial Talent.

Congratulations! You have obtained S Rank Talent: Aura of the Brave. Effect: All subordinates within your territory receive a 50 percent boost to morale and a 20 percent increase in physical strength."

Leo’s heart hammered in his chest. "Is this real?"

Similar events were occurring everywhere. Some people broke down in tears, others cheered, and some immediately began shouting commands at their confused peasants.

Ethan arrived in a barren, rocky wasteland near the border of the Forbidden Zone—the region where he had placed the Ancient Demons. It was the most difficult starting point in the entire world.

He opened his personal interface.

"Lord Name: Ethan. Territory: The Nameless Crag. Current Population: 0. Generating Initial Talent."

Ethan watched with genuine interest. He hadn't manipulated the system for his own benefit; he wanted to see what Fate would offer its own creator.

The display spun frantically, gold and black light clashing until the screen seemed to fracture under the strain.

"Error. Data Overflow. System Recalibrating. Congratulations! You have received Unique SSS Rank Talent: The Source Architect. Effect: You can perceive the Hidden Attributes of all things and can upgrade any object, structure, or unit by spending Existence Points earned through your actions."

Ethan let out a soft chuckle.

"Even when I attempt to be ordinary, my luck is truly monstrous."