Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Talent In An Apocalyptic World
Chapter 119: Rally You Shall!

Chapter 119: Rally You Shall!

— Four Weeks Later —

For the past three weeks, I had lived a silent life in the palace—eating nothing and speaking to no one. Walking this path, I believed it was my first step to escape the grip of the heavens.

Yet it turned out to be a path set for me by the heavens.

It was heartbreaking.

Ten times more heartbreaking than when my family testified against me and had me imprisoned.

I was tired—not in body, but in soul.

The praises and chants that once moved me felt hollow, even annoying.

On the bright side, Serena wasn’t speaking to me either. My harsh remarks had broken something in her. I guess she never imagined a situation where any man would reject her—the future Empress.

Was she beautiful?

Yes.

But so were Kenza and Natasha.

Beautiful girls could be found everywhere. She was nothing special.

Because of this, she clung tight to her grimoire, and I hadn’t bothered learning any new spells since then.

Luckily for the people of Solinthar, our victory at both valleys and the declaration of the Great One’s presence had shaken their enemies to the core.

I wasn’t just a nameless hero—I was the one who defeated Thalorien, the most popular elf prince, or so I had been told.

So for now, they enjoyed peace like never before.

---

— Solinthar Royal Court —

Name: Adam Black

Level: 10

Race: Human

Talent: Gatekeeper

Talent Tier: SSS-Tier

[Stats]

Strength: 13 + 5

Speed: 10 + 5

Vitality: 14 + 5

Intelligence: 10 + 5

Health Points: 150/150 + 50

Energy Points: 40/40

Experience Points: 7550/12,400

Corruption: 0.5%

Universal Fragments: 0

Dark Fragments: 0

Blood Fragments: 0

Limitless Fragments: 0

Solinthar Fragments: 2,330

Orc Fragments: 12

[Skills]

Name: Door

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: C

Cost: 1 EP

Proficiency: 50%

Technique: Doorpost

Name: Blood Pact

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: A

Cost: 10 HP

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Might of Man

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: C

Cost: Nil

Proficiency: 100%

Name: Berserk Mode

Status: Fixed

Tier: C

Cost: Nil

Proficiency: 100%

Name: Blood Ignition

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: B

Cost: 10% HP

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Crimson Threads

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: B

Cost: 1 HP per thread

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Angel

Status: Upgradeable

Tier: B

Cost: 3 EP

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Omen Pulse

Status: Fixed

Tier: B

Cost: 5 EP

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Corrupted Growth

Status: Fixed

Tier: A

Cost: 10 EP

Proficiency: 0%

Name: Magic Acumen

Status: Fixed

Tier: SS

Cost: Nil

Proficiency: 100%

[Territory]

Solinthar Empire [Living Realm]

Perk: +5 to all Stats & +50 Health Points

My curious gaze was fixed on my stats, ignoring the noisy courtroom. After hitting the level ten threshold, I noticed a qualitative change. My skin grew slightly paler, my senses sharper, and the pain in my chest intensified.

Before, it felt like a knife was lodged in my chest. Now, it felt like someone was shoveling through my ribcage to reach my heart.

Still, I had grown more resilient—resilient enough to ignore the pain.

On the flip side, I unlocked something new: the ability to upgrade my skills using fragments.

It didn’t matter which fragment—which was a good thing. Because if I needed Blood Fragments to upgrade my blood-based skills, I’d be helpless until I found a vampire realm.

However, the system—being the fraudulent bastard it is—made upgrades ridiculously expensive.

Upgrading a skill cost 1000 fragments.

Yes, a thousand.

At this point, I believed the system didn’t have fixed prices. It just looked at my stats and set the price based on what I had. I killed over 2000 people to accumulate these fragments—meant to be used on high-level spells—yet it planned to rob me blind.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if that bitch Serena would stop being moody and just hand over the grimoire. I couldn’t rip it from her hands—it would ruin the image I had fought to build.

And that was what pissed me off the most.

"The Kings have arrived!"

The cry from beyond the doors snapped me back to reality.

I was seated on the main throne while Queen Althea sat beside me on a smaller throne. Serena stood behind her, while Caleum stood behind me.

The entire court fell silent as the doors swung open and six figures walked in—each dressed in expensive robes with puffy faces and delicate skin.

Some were bald, others half-bald, and only one with a decent hairline. What annoyed me most were the capes. Whatever presence those capes were meant to give was ruined by their protruding bellies.

Clearly, these kings had lived comfortable lives while humanity struggled to survive.

I planned to have a civil conversation, but seeing them made me want to slaughter some and threaten the rest.

Thud!

Their heavy footsteps halted nearly a dozen meters away from the throne. Their contemptuous gaze swept through the room, landing on me—then fear crept in.

Of course it would. I didn’t look very human.

To women, I was their fantasy.

To men, I was a threat.

"Introduce yourselves," I said coldly, and all eyes shifted to me.

It was clear people didn’t speak to these kings like this. Given the empire’s current situation, they expected me to be meek.

The kings exchanged glances. A few seconds later, the one at the center stepped forward.

"King Aldurion Vhal’Tor... King of Virelia," he said in a stuffy voice, like he had a whole chicken stuck in his throat.

He was the fastest of them all, dressed in expensive purple garments and a clean white cape with a fur collar. Ironically, he was the only one with a decent hairline.

He stared at me, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment.

I glanced past him.

"Next."

I felt Serena’s worried gaze from the corner. Diplomacy was needed for our survival, yet I was speaking to the allies we so dearly needed like they were the ones who needed our help.

"King Renar Solgrave of Duskhold!"

Unlike the rest, he wasn’t outright fat. He was tall—nearly 6’4"—but his belly was the biggest of them all. The man was half-bald and had a fat nose that could gather oxygen for two people.

"King Kaelus Dreadmourne of Lag’etha."

"King Orun Velmire of Kael’Barad."

"King Tiberion Ashvane of Orynthall."

"King Zevrath Ul’Mael of Thal’Venora."

Not long after, all six had introduced themselves with displeased looks in their eyes.

The recognition and grand welcome they expected... they did not receive.

"Why have you refused to help Solinthar in its war against these barbarians?" I asked coldly, and they snapped.

"WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO QUESTION US?!" Kaelus screamed—only to run out of breath after one shout.

"Do you think we are peasants you can question?" King Orun barked.

"Yes."

Buzz!

This time Queen Althea glanced at me in shock, but I ignored her and rose to my feet.

"I asked Selric to rally you all in my name... and rally you shall. Or pay the ultimate price."