Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 126 - : DIFFERENT PLAN

Greg left a contingent of orcs and kobolds to guard the mine, their squat figures vanishing into the shimmering haze of the wilderness as he turned back toward the settlement. The remaining orcs and goblins fell in behind him—a ragged procession of clanking armor and guttural murmurs, their boots grinding against the cracked, sun-scorched earth. The air hung heavy with dust and the faint tang of sulfur—a reminder of the demon realm's unrelenting hostility.

"What's that sound?" Greg muttered to no one in particular, halting mid-step as a low, mournful howl cut through the stillness, barely audible beneath the wind's dry rasp. He tilted his head, straining to pinpoint it, his sharp eyes narrowing against the glare. A hunch tugged at him—something worth investigating.

With a curt wave, he beckoned his forces onward, leading the motley army toward the noise, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the barren ground.

As they crested a low dune, Greg caught sight of the source—a brutal skirmish raging in the distance. Dire wolves, their thick fur matted with grit and blood, snarled and lunged at a demonic sandworm. Its grotesque, segmented body thrashed wildly in the sand, its maw gaping, rows of jagged teeth glinting as it snapped at the pack. The wolves darted in and out, tearing at its slimy hide with relentless ferocity.

"Great," Greg said, a smirk curling his lips, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Another run-in with sandworms. Wait here—I'll kill it."

He gestured for his troops to hold position, their weapons glinting faintly in the dim light.

"That's a lot of dire wolves," he added, eyeing the pack—dozens strong, maybe more. "They should push my divinity points to 100. Easy pickings." His mind churned, already calculating the payoff: more followers, more power.

"Mystery Box," Greg called softly, activating the skill under his breath, the words a quiet ritual.

[Mystery Box has been activated]

[Mystery Box has placed a debuff on you. Debuff - Sleeping Curse: You feel slow and heavy. Mental fatigue doubles, stamina drain doubles, strength and speed stats halved. Duration: 20 minutes]

Speechless—Greg stood there, utterly speechless, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. He knew Mystery Box was a roll of the dice, spitting out buffs or debuffs at random, but this? This was a kick in the teeth. His limbs grew sluggish, a dull weight settling into his bones as his mind fogged at the edges.

Still, he didn't panic—his talents were his safety net, like an insurance payout he could bank on.

"Tsk, can't believe I wasted it," he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice, disappointment gnawing at him.

Shaking off the gloom, he pushed forward toward the dire wolves, their usefulness already a fixed point in his strategy.

Despite the curse dragging at him, Greg moved fast—or as fast as he could—scrambling up the sandworm's back. Its slimy, rancid hide squished under his boots, the stench of rot hitting him like a fist. He'd learned his lesson the hard way—no way in hell was he getting swallowed by one of these disgusting bastards again.

He swung Heaven's Defier at its spine, ruthless and unrestrained, carving into it like a butcher hacking through a carcass. The blade sank deep, dark blood spurting in thick, oily arcs, staining his hands and spattering his face.

The sandworm convulsed, its massive body wriggling to dislodge the pest tearing into its back, but Greg held fast, gripping it like a tapeworm burrowed in a gut. It couldn't shake him loose.

He kept at it—slashing, cutting, stabbing—the blade flashing in a relentless rhythm, chipping away its HP bit by bit as its screeches pierced the air.

"Why didn't I do this to the last sandworm?" he grumbled, shaking his head at the memory of that grim, stomach-churning fight—trapped in its gullet, fighting his way out. Never again.

His slow, methodical strikes wore it down. The sandworm's health bar flickered near empty. In a last-ditch effort, it plunged its head into the sand, burrowing to escape the torment.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

"No, you don't!" Greg roared, catching the move.

He triggered Heaven's Defier's strongest skill—Defying the Heaven—and drove the blade deep into its core, bottoming out its health with one savage thrust. The beast shuddered and went limp, collapsing into the sand with a dull, wet thud.

[Level 60 Sandworm killed]

[Exp gained]

User: Nemesis

Job: N/A

Level: 60 (7,519,562/7,600,000 EXP)

Health: 130,000

Strength: 391 (+196) +3910

Speed: 323 (+162) +3230

Stamina: 575 +5750

Intelligence: 270 +2700

Constitution: 529 +5290

Divinity: 75 +750

Free Attribute Points: 10

Talent: EX Rank – 100% Dodge Rate, EX Rank – God of Wealth, S Rank – Talent Share, Primordial Dragon Bloodline, Primordial Sea Dragon Bloodline

"Hah, how boring," Greg muttered, wiping blood from his brow, his frown deepening. No stat plunder notification—the one he craved most—flashed up. Just EXP. No bonus stats to steal.

He shrugged it off, spitting into the sand, and trudged toward the dire wolves, their panting forms scattered across the battlefield. He hadn't killed the sandworm for kicks—he wanted their allegiance, their worship.

"What in the world?" Greg blurted, freezing mid-step as the ground rumbled beneath him.

Four more demonic sandworms erupted from the sand, their grotesque bodies surging upward, showering the area with grit and debris.

"My lucky day, I guess," he grinned, a feral edge to it, gripping Heaven's Defier tighter.

With his jacked stats from Defying the Heaven still pumping through him, it was child's play—one strike, one kill. Each worm fell with a single swing, their bodies piling up in a grotesque heap, the air thick with the stench of their innards.

[You have killed a Level 56 Demonic Sandworm]

[Exp gained]

[You have killed a Level 61 Demonic Sandworm]

[Exp gained]

[You have killed a Level 58 Demonic Sandworm]

[Exp gained]

[You have killed a Level 64 Demonic Sandworm]

[Exp gained]

[You have leveled up]

"That's it?" Greg asked, his voice flat, a scowl etching across his face. Five sandworms, all ripe with stats, and not a single plunder notice?

"Guess today's my last day," he sighed, kicking at the scattered loot—chunks of worm flesh, a few crude trinkets. Worthless to him, but he'd save them for his new armies, toss them out as rewards later. Motivation for the grunts.

"Howww," the alpha dire wolf howled, its deep, resonant call cutting through the aftermath. It padded closer, its massive frame towering over the others, and bowed its head to Greg, its gray fur streaked with sandworm blood.

"I love leaders like this—smart enough not to die for nothing," Greg said, nodding with approval as the rest of the pack followed suit, their muzzles dipping low in a ripple of submission.

[Congratulations! 140 dire wolves have accepted you as their god]

[You have gained 28 divinity points]

[You have unlocked new skills for reaching 100 divinity points!]

[Check your status for more information on the skills]

User: Nemesis

Job: N/A

Level: 61 (7,624,562/7,700,000 EXP)

Health: 140,000

Strength: 391 (+196)

Speed: 323 (+162)

Stamina: 575

Intelligence: 270

Constitution: 529

Divinity: 103

Free Attribute Points: 20

Talent: EX Rank – 100% Dodge Rate, EX Rank – God of Wealth, S Rank – Talent Share, Primordial Dragon Bloodline, Primordial Sea Dragon Bloodline

Divinity Skills:

[Exp Generator]: Gain experience when you gain followers; 10% of their total experience transfers to you.

[Independent Space]: As a god with worshippers, you have a personal space for you and chosen followers, fully under your control. Manipulation extent depends on divinity points.

[Observation]: Observe your followers—reverence, status, skills. Extent depends on divinity points.

[Bestowment]: Grant skills, stats, or abilities to worshippers. Stats given are permanent and deducted from your total; skills can be revoked.

[Divine Construction]: Build imagined structures; aesthetics and utility drain more divinity.

"Finally, the game-changer skill," Greg muttered, a faint grin cracking his stern expression.

Divine Construction—he could build a real settlement now, not the goblins' ramshackle huts. No offense to them, but their setup was too pitiful for his liking—a patchwork of scavenged junk barely holding together.

The alpha dire wolf sidled up, rubbing its coarse fur against Greg's leg, its warmth seeping through his armor. He found it oddly satisfying, a rare moment of calm, and ran a hand through its thick pelt, petting it back.

After a few minutes, the wolf knelt, nudging him insistently. Greg mounted it, settling onto its broad back, the beast's muscles flexing beneath him. The goblins and orcs followed, clambering onto other wolves, and their speed surged as the pack bolted forward, the wind whipping past in a blur of dust and fur.

They reached the settlement faster than Greg had anticipated, the wolves' loping strides cutting the journey short. Dust swirled as they slowed, and he slid off, brushing sand from his hands.

Time to work.

He pictured simple houses—sturdy, organized rows of stone and wood with basic roads weaving between—and they rose from the ground as he willed it, the divinity draining with each structure. Complex designs burned through points too fast, and with no potion to speed regeneration, he stuck to the basics, watching the town take shape under the gray sky.

"Hah, I'm spent," Greg sighed, wiping sweat from his brow as the last house solidified. His divinity hit zero—he'd even tapped Defying the Heaven again, its one-day cooldown finished before arrival.

"I need to increase my divinity points," he muttered, frustration creeping in. "They're damn useful, but when am I getting personal skills? Exp Generator's all I've got."

With the mine too far to justify, Greg relocated the kobolds, orcs, and goblins guarding it. It was handy for crafting, sure, but the distance made it a strategic liability—losing worshippers meant losing divinity, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

Greg felt the itch to grow stronger, to claim the worship of sea creatures and dragons next. After a beat, he checked the player leaderboard, curiosity gnawing at him after too long.

Leaderboard:

Kyle - Lv 75

Sword God - Lv 74

Stagnant Water - Lv 69

Nemesis - Lv 61

Scarlett - Lv 55

Dual Blade - Lv 50

Shadow - Lv 50

Dan - Lv 49

Odin - Lv 49

Gold Goblin - Lv 49

Kyle still held the top spot—no shock there. But Sword God, just one level behind? That pinged Greg's radar—some feat must've spiked him up. No system alerts reached the demon realm, but forums and media outlets buzzed with Sword God's exploits, tales of some grand kill or conquest.

"Guess I should grind," Greg mused, his pulse quickening. "And Kyle—he's lived too long. I'll kill him soon. Need info from Jessica about him; her sticking by his side any longer might make me snap."

His heart pounded, a wild rhythm he didn't bother taming. Before revenge, he'd have shoved it down. Now? He'd let it steer him wherever it damn well pleased.