I Somehow Became The Almighty Creator, l can create anything: Be Ware
Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Chapter 58

A/N: I have made a little clarification about the change in his abilities so for those who might want to know more, please re-read Chapter 47.

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Watts walked steadily through the facility, the faint hum of machinery and the soft, rhythmic flicker of lights his only companions.

He walked towards the teleportation rune steadily with Nova on his shoulder.

The teleportation rune was etched into the smooth, metallic floor ahead of him—a complex array of glowing symbols that pulsed with energy as he approached.

He stopped at its edge, his boots brushing against the faintly shimmering lines.

Activating it immediately.

The energy surged upward, enveloping Watts in a column of blinding white. The sensation was instantaneous—no pull, no jolt, just a seamless transition.

In the blink of an eye, he stood at the top of the mountain once more, the freezing air whipping around him and snow crunching beneath his feet.

The view was breathtaking: the sun casting long shadows across the endless expanse of white, the world below a mere haze of clouds and peaks. He took a deep breath, feeling the crisp air fill his lungs.

He reached inward, summoning El Max. That’s the name he had chosen for his companion

The suit responded instantly, forming around him with a soft mechanical whir, its dark plates sliding into place like puzzle pieces.

And he didn’t forget to create an apartment on his shoulder large enough to host Nova without any problems.

But with how small Nova was, it looked just like a small bump on his shoulder which didn’t hinder him at all.

As the last section locked around his head, the HUD flickered to life, displaying a wealth of information: altitude, wind speed, temperature.

"Time to move," Watts said, and the suit responded with a low hum.

He crouched slightly, the thrusters in the suit’s legs warming up. With a sudden burst, he launched himself into the air, the sonic boom of his departure echoing through the mountains.

The shockwave displaced snow in a wide radius, leaving a crater where he had stood.

High above the Earth, the world stretched out before him. He accelerated, breaking through the sound barrier with ease as he raced toward his destination.

The HUD marked his progress, and Watts allowed himself a small smile. This was freedom—power beyond imagination.

From the memories he got, lay the coordinates of a haven—a shadowy enclave of individuals capable of fabricating identities so perfect even the hidden cities’ impenetrable systems wouldn’t detect them.

For Watts, it wasn’t just about infiltration; it was about control. If he could enter undetected, El Max could dismantle their networks from within, piece by piece, without raising an alarm.

It wasn’t the easiest path, but it was the only one that promised precision—and revenge.

With the ability to traverse realms using his newfound death powers, he could have simply bypassed their defenses.

But that wasn’t his style. Subtlety was key. By obtaining a legitimate identity, he would ensure a flawless infiltration, allowing El Max to quietly worm into their systems.

The plan was set.

.........

Not far away, beneath the dazzling lights of De Mcrea Casino, the underground arena buzzed with activity.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation as the crowd roared, urging on the fighters below.

Above the din of the roaring crowd came the occasional clang of a chair against a railing or the sharp intake of breath as a fighter landed a bone-crushing punch in the pit below.

Flickering lights cast uneven shadows, making the arena feel both alive and sinister.

The night outside De Mcrea Casino was alive with neon lights and the distant hum of traffic, but none of it seemed to matter to the three figures who stepped through the casino’s main doors.

They moved as though the world around them was beneath notice, their presence commanding attention even in the bustling, extravagant atmosphere.

The first was a tall man, his shoulders broad beneath a heavy coat that bore traces of snow. His sharp, angular features were framed by a short beard, and his eyes were sharp and unyielding, scanning the room with quiet authority.

Despite his calm demeanor, something about him radiated danger, a restrained force beneath a composed exterior.

Following him were two women, identical in appearance but worlds apart in demeanor.

One strolled leisurely, licking an ice cream cone with apparent indifference. Her half-lidded eyes gave her an air of detachment, as though she were too bored to care.

The other moved with an electric energy, her movements sharp and purposeful.

Her gaze darted around the casino, cataloging details with precision, her body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Heads turned as they passed, whispers rippling through the crowd like an undercurrent.

Even the most hardened gamblers and high-rollers found themselves pausing mid-bet to steal a glance.

Yet the trio moved as though no one else existed, heading with unerring precision toward a staff-only door at the back of the casino.

They found the two body guards, but with a simple generous gesture to them, they opened the door with wide smiles.

Very ecstatic about the bulge in their pants, free money, huge money, just as a tip.

The lock clicked open, and the group stepped inside. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, the walls lined with worn posters advertising past events.

An elevator awaited at the end, its polished metal doors gleaming faintly in the low light.

At the elevator, Bontu pressed the button, his thick Russian accent breaking the silence. "Down ve go. Stay close, yes?"

The twins rolled their eyes in unison but followed without a word.

The ride down was silent but tense, the hum of the elevator punctuated only by the faint sound of Nina’s ice cream being licked.

When the doors opened, they stepped into a cavernous underground arena.

The air was thick with the scents of sweat, blood, and anticipation, the sounds of cheering and jeering filling the space.

The arena itself was a marvel of rough engineering: a circular pit ringed by tiered seating, with bright lights casting harsh shadows across the fighters below.

The floor bore the scars of countless battles, its metallic surface dented and scratched, while the walls were adorned with crude graffiti and banners.

A fight was underway in the center of the pit. Two combatants circled each other, fists flying in an exchange of blows that elicited roars from the crowd.

But to the trio, it was nothing special.

"This is it?" the fiery twin, Rina, asked, her tone laced with disdain.

Nina shrugged, licking her ice cream as her eyes lazily followed the match. "Not bad. Could be worse. I kinda like the vibe."

"It’s pathetic," Rina snapped, crossing her arms. "I’ve seen better fights in back-alley brawls."

Bontu, who had been silent up to this point, raised a hand to quiet them. "Ve are not here to vatch," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "Keep moving."

They made their way around the arena, drawing stares from fighters and spectators alike.

Even the ongoing match faltered momentarily as one of the fighters glanced up, distracted by their arrival.

However they paid no attention to any.... well except Nina who wanted to stay back and relax.

They reached the manager’s office, a cramped room cluttered with papers and monitors. The manager, a wiry man with a nervous energy, looked up in alarm as the trio entered unannounced.

"Who—what do you want?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

The man stepped forward, fixing the manager with a cold stare.

"Records," Bontu said simply, his tone giving nothing away. "Everyzing on a man zey called... One Punch. A man like zat does not simply disappear, no?" He exchanged a glance with the twins, their silence heavy with shared understanding.

The manager blinked, then hurried to his terminal, typing furiously. Data began to stream across the screen, and Bontu leaned in, his sharp eyes scanning the information.

"Videos." Nina suggested.

AAnd the manager did just that, giving all the recodings of Watt’s dights and the three scrutinized them.

"Nothing," Bontu muttered after a moment, stepping back. "Nozing ve do not already know."

Rina sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Waste of time."

"Not necessarily," Nina chimed in, her voice soft and lazy. She finished the last of her ice cream, tossing the stick into a nearby trash can. "We haven’t checked his locker yet."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment before the trio moved on. It may seem desperate, but it was a good idea none the less.

Who knows, maybe he left something there that could be helpful. With the help of the manager, they got the number of the locker.

The changing rooms were dim and musty, the air heavy with the scent of old sweat and metal.

Rows of lockers lined the walls, some dented and scratched from years of use.

Rina moved with purpose, scanning the lockers until she found one labeled with the name they sought. She yanked it open, her sharp eyes immediately catching sight of something unusual tucked in the back.

"Well, will you look at that," she said, pulling out a small device.

It was compact, sleek, and faintly glowing—a piece of technology that seemed far too advanced for the grimy setting.

Nina leaned closer, her curiosity momentarily piqued. "Huh. Didn’t think we’d find something like this here."

Bontu’s expression remained unreadable, but his tone held a note of satisfaction.

"Ve take zis," Bontu said, turning the device over in his hands, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Important? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is just... how you say, breadcrumbs? Either vay, ve follow."

The trio exchanged a glance, their unspoken agreement clear. They pocketed the device and left the changing room, their purpose far from complete.