SSS-Rank Skill Copy: I Can Steal Every Class

Chapter 108: The Door

The cavern in Sector 99-Sub was silent. The toxic purple miasma that had filled the air just moments ago was gone, completely eradicated by the sheer, entropic weight of Glen’s S-Rank core.

He stood in the center of the massive chamber, the Abyssal Prism resting in his left hand.

He didn’t feel the crushing exhaustion that usually followed a brutal fight. The Apex Sovereign class didn’t just increase his mana capacity; it fundamentally altered how his body processed energy. The void fragment was no longer a parasite he had to fight to control. It was the engine of his existence.

He looked down at the Abyssal Prism. The ancient, obsidian artifact was humming with a deep, resonant frequency, recognizing the absolute density of the anti-mana flowing through Glen’s veins.

"Show me," Glen whispered.

He didn’t use Ash Resonance. That was an A-Rank skill, designed to perceive the physical root network of the Ash Bloom. He didn’t need to see the roots anymore. He needed to see the soil they grew in.

He closed his eyes and pushed his S-Rank mana into the Prism.

The artifact didn’t resist. It acted as a lens, focusing Glen’s perception and projecting it outward, past the physical walls of the dungeon, past the artificial energy grid of the Celestial Tower, and into the spaces between reality.

The world dissolved into a terrifying, infinite expanse of starry darkness.

This was the void. The domain of The Lost. It wasn’t a physical place; it was a conceptual dimension of absolute entropy, where the laws of physics and magic broke down into raw, chaotic nothingness.

Glen’s consciousness drifted through the dark, anchored only by the physical weight of the Prism in his hand. He was searching for a specific signature. He wasn’t looking for the Wanderer—that Noble was safely locked away inside the artifact he held. He was looking for the entity that had taken Caleb.

He felt it.

It was a faint, jagged tear in the fabric of the void, radiating a cold, clinical malice that felt entirely different from the Wanderer’s theatrical sadism. It was the Female Noble.

Glen opened his eyes.

He was back in the cavern. He knew exactly where she was. She wasn’t hiding in the deep void; she was anchored to a dormant Red Gate located directly beneath the foundation of the Celestial Tower. She was using the Tower’s massive energy draw to mask her presence while she observed the Eastern Spire.

Glen didn’t walk toward the exit of the cavern. He didn’t need to navigate the labyrinth of the dungeon to reach the Tower’s foundation.

He raised his right hand, his fingers twitching as he activated his newly stolen skill.

Spatial Fold.

At B-Rank, the skill allowed the user to teleport short distances, folding the space between two points in their immediate line of sight. But Glen wasn’t a B-Rank anymore. He was an S-Rank Apex Sovereign, and his core was saturated with the power of the void.

He didn’t just fold the space in the room. He grabbed the fabric of reality itself and tore it open.

The air in front of him shattered with a deafening, sonic crack, revealing a swirling, jagged vortex of starry darkness. It wasn’t a stabilized blue portal like the dungeon entrances. It was a raw, bleeding wound in the universe.

Glen stepped through.

The transition was violent. The pressure of the void slammed into him from all sides, trying to crush his physical body and scatter his atoms across infinity. But his Obsidian Skin held, reinforced by the absolute density of his core. The void fragment in his chest pulsed, acting as a beacon that repelled the chaotic energy of the dimension.

He materialized in a massive, subterranean chamber.

It didn’t look like a dungeon. It looked like a cathedral built by a madman. The walls were made of smooth, black glass, stretching upward into an impossibly high, vaulted ceiling. The floor was covered in a thin layer of freezing, black water that perfectly reflected the starry darkness above.

At the far end of the cathedral, sitting on a throne carved from jagged, petrified bone, was the Female Noble.

She looked exactly as she had in the tunnels beneath Johannesburg. Her body was formed entirely of shifting, starry darkness, a silhouette cut from the fabric of the night sky. She had no distinct features, no clothing, no face—only two glowing, piercing eyes that looked down at Glen with cold, terrifying curiosity.

And kneeling at the base of her throne, bound by thick chains of condensed anti-mana, was Caleb.

The gravity mage looked horrific. His clothes were shredded, his skin pale and drawn tight over his bones. His eyes, usually bright and focused, were clouded with a dull, vacant haze. The geometric prism that served as his magical focus was cracked and bleeding a sickly, corrupted purple light.

"Caleb," Glen said, his voice echoing across the black water.

Caleb didn’t look up. He didn’t seem to hear him.

The Female Noble leaned forward on her throne of bone, her glowing eyes fixing on Glen.

"You are an anomaly," she said. Her voice didn’t travel through the air; it manifested directly inside Glen’s mind, a cold, clinical whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. "A human vessel that has achieved absolute resonance with the rot. You should have been consumed months ago. Yet, here you stand, holding the prison of my brother."

"Let him go," Glen demanded, raising the Abyssal blade.

"He is not a prisoner," the Noble replied, her starry silhouette shifting slightly. "He is a subject of study. His understanding of gravitational forces is... intriguing. I am observing how his fragile human mind processes the absolute zero-gravity of the void. It is a slow, fascinating unraveling."

"I said, let him go."

"You are in no position to make demands, anomaly," the Noble said, standing up from her throne. The sheer scale of her presence made the massive cathedral feel claustrophobic. "You have achieved a fraction of our power, and you believe yourself a god. You are nothing but a parasite feeding on the scraps we leave behind."

She raised a hand formed of starry darkness.

The black water beneath Glen’s feet erupted. Massive, jagged spikes of condensed anti-mana shot upward, aiming to impale him.

Glen didn’t dodge. He didn’t use Lightning Movement or Spatial Fold.

He triggered his Predator Domain.

The S-Rank aura exploded outward, a localized sphere of absolute, entropic decay. The anti-mana spikes didn’t pierce him; they shattered against the invisible barrier of his domain, crumbling into harmless gray ash before they even touched his boots.

The Female Noble paused, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly.

"You think you understand the void," Glen said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, dual-layered resonance. "You think because you were born in the dark, you own it."

He took a step forward, the black water freezing solid beneath his boots.

"I wasn’t born in the dark," Glen whispered, raising the Abyssal blade. "I was forged in it. And I am going to tear you apart."

He triggered Spatial Fold, vanishing from the center of the room and materializing directly above the Female Noble. He brought the heavy black iron down in a devastating, two-handed overhead strike, channeling every ounce of his S-Rank mana into the blade.

The Noble didn’t try to block it. She simply dissolved, her starry silhouette scattering into a cloud of dark mist just as the sword cleaved through the space she had occupied.

The Abyssal blade struck the throne of bone, shattering it into a million jagged pieces with a deafening explosion of kinetic force.

Glen landed gracefully on the dais, his dark eyes scanning the massive cathedral.

"Brute force," the Noble’s voice echoed from the shadows, mocking and cold. "How disappointingly human."

The starry mist coalesced behind Glen, reforming into the silhouette of the Noble. She lashed out with a whip of condensed void energy, aiming to sever his head from his shoulders.

Glen didn’t turn around. He raised his left hand, his fingers splayed wide.

Shadow Thread.

Five razor-sharp lines of black mana shot backward, intercepting the void whip. The threads didn’t just block the attack; they wrapped around the whip, anchoring it in place.

Glen yanked his arm forward, using the Noble’s own weapon to pull her off balance.

As she stumbled forward, Glen pivoted on his heel, bringing the Abyssal blade around in a vicious horizontal arc.

The black iron struck the Noble’s starry silhouette. It didn’t cut flesh, but it severed the conceptual fabric of her form. The Noble shrieked, a sound that shattered the black glass walls of the cathedral, as a massive chunk of her starry darkness was torn away by the blade.

She retreated, blurring across the room to put distance between them. Her glowing eyes flickered with genuine, unadulterated shock.

"You can hurt me," she whispered, her clinical detachment finally breaking.

"I can kill you," Glen corrected, stepping off the dais.

He didn’t give her time to recover. He triggered Corrupted Synthesis.

He merged Lightning Movement with Spatial Fold. It was a combination that would have ruptured his mana channels and killed him an hour ago. But with his S-Rank core, the two skills fused perfectly, creating a terrifying new method of traversal.

He didn’t just teleport; he became a localized storm of spatial displacement.

He blurred across the cathedral, appearing and disappearing in a fraction of a second, striking the Noble from every conceivable angle. The Abyssal blade flashed in the dark, carving deep, jagged wounds into her starry form.

The Noble fought back, unleashing waves of absolute zero-gravity and barrages of anti-mana spikes, but she couldn’t track him. Glen was moving faster than her perception, his S-Rank core fueling a relentless, overwhelming assault.

He materialized directly in front of her, the Abyssal blade raised high.

"This is for Caleb," Glen roared.

He brought the sword down, aiming to cleave her core in two.

But the Noble didn’t try to dodge. She raised both of her hands, her glowing eyes flaring with a blinding, desperate light.

"I will not be sealed by a parasite!" she screamed.

She didn’t attack Glen. She attacked the fabric of the cathedral itself. She unleashed a massive, uncontrolled burst of anti-mana, intentionally destabilizing the spatial anchor that kept the room tethered to the Celestial Tower.

The black glass walls shattered completely. The ceiling collapsed, revealing the infinite, chaotic expanse of the deep void.

The cathedral was tearing itself apart, the raw entropy of the dimension rushing in to consume the stabilized space.

The Noble used the distraction to blur backward, retreating into the chaotic storm of the collapsing dimension.

"You cannot save him, anomaly," her voice echoed through the tearing fabric of reality. "The void has already claimed his mind. If you stay, it will claim yours as well."

Glen didn’t pursue her. He couldn’t. The cathedral was disintegrating around him, the black water boiling away into nothingness.

He turned and sprinted toward the dais, where Caleb was still kneeling, bound by the chains of anti-mana.

Glen dropped to his knees beside his friend. He grabbed the chains with his bare hands, ignoring the searing pain as the concentrated rot burned his skin, and channeled his own anti-mana to shatter the bindings.

The chains crumbled into ash.

Caleb slumped forward, his eyes still clouded and vacant.

"Caleb," Glen yelled over the roar of the collapsing dimension, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and shaking him. "Caleb, look at me! We have to go!"

Caleb didn’t respond. He just stared blankly at the floor, his mind lost in the terrifying depths of the void.

Glen cursed, hauling Caleb up and throwing his friend’s arm over his shoulder. He took Caleb’s weight, his S-Rank core straining to protect them both from the crushing pressure of the collapsing room.

He looked around. The spatial tear he had created to enter the cathedral was closing, the edges fraying and sparking as the dimension tore itself apart.

He had seconds before they were trapped in the deep void forever.

Glen triggered Lightning Movement, dragging Caleb toward the closing portal. The ground beneath their feet was disintegrating, forcing Glen to use Shadow Thread to swing them across the widening gaps in the floor.

They reached the portal just as it began to collapse inward.

Glen threw Caleb through the jagged tear in reality, and then dove through after him, the Abyssal blade clattering against the stone floor of the dungeon cavern.

The portal snapped shut behind them with a deafening crack, severing the connection to the void.

Glen collapsed onto the floor of Sector 99-Sub, his chest heaving, his body covered in sweat and black blood. The toxic purple miasma of the cavern was slowly beginning to seep back into the room, but Glen didn’t care.

He had done it. He had faced a Noble of the Lost in her own domain, and he had survived.

He rolled over, looking at Caleb.

The gravity mage was lying on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling of the cavern. The cloudy, vacant haze in his eyes was slowly beginning to clear, replaced by a look of profound, overwhelming terror.

Caleb took a ragged, gasping breath, his hands clawing at the stone floor.

"Glen?" Caleb whispered, his voice cracking.

Glen pushed himself up, crawling over to his friend. "I’m here, Caleb. I’ve got you. You’re safe."

Caleb looked at him, his eyes wide and frantic. He reached out, grabbing the lapels of Glen’s ruined trench coat with trembling hands.

"They’re coming, Glen," Caleb gasped, tears streaming down his face. "I saw them in the dark. The Wanderer... the Female Noble... they’re just the vanguard. The rest of them... the Monarchs of the Lost... they’re coming for the Towers."

Glen stared at his friend, the cold reality of Caleb’s words settling over him like a shroud.

The war wasn’t over. It had barely even begun.

But as Glen looked down at his hands, feeling the absolute, terrifying power of his S-Rank core pulsing in his veins, he knew one thing for certain.

When the Monarchs of the Lost finally arrived, they were going to find a monster waiting for them.