Primordial Awakening: I Can Evolve My Skills Infinitely - Chapter 233

Chapter 233: Death Stop, Overpowering the Curse
Time slowed to a crawl, stretched out until each second felt like an eternity.

Sam’s lungs still burned, his neck still strained against the grip of the monarch’s gauntlet, but for the first time since the battle began, he had room to think.

The world around him moved at a hundredth of its speed.

The air hung still, every ripple of dust frozen in place, every fragment of shattered stone suspended midair.

Even the tightening of the monarch’s fingers around his throat dragged on like a drawn-out death sentence.

The curse inside him, however, didn’t slow.

Its grip didn’t loosen.

It coiled through his soul, biting deeper, heavier than any chain.

This curse was what had claimed every other primordial before him.

None had escaped. Not one had endured it.

They all had fallen the moment they absorbed the judges’ cores, their bodies and souls both undone by the vines of corruption.

The monarchs had turned the desperation of his kind into a weapon.

The curse didn’t just bind flesh and aura—it weakened will.

It strangled determination itself, draining the very thing Sam had relied on against the [Pale Monarch].

That was what made it the deadliest of all.

Because if determination fell, then revival fell with it.

Sam’s jaw clenched.

He thought back to his fight with the [Pale Monarch].

Thousands of deaths. Thousands of times he had been torn apart and reborn.

But through it all, his determination had remained unbroken, and that alone had allowed him to continue fighting.

Now, however, the rules had changed.

Now revival wasn’t an option.

If his determination snapped even once, then the clone would stay gone.

And if the clone stayed gone, then so would he.

He remembered how the monarch had crushed the clone’s neck as if it were nothing.

They killed it quickly, as though it were a nuisance.

When they reached him, they had done the same.

No arrogance. Just a swift execution.

Their confidence was proof enough, they had no reason to fear him while he was cursed.

Sam could feel the slow clench of the gauntlet’s fingers against his throat, the faint tremor of bones about to snap.

Even slowed a hundredfold, he knew what would come once time returned to its natural flow.

But even then…

[We have nothing else.]

[If we fall, we vanish like all the others.]

[You must not stop here.]

Sam’s crimson eyes burned, a light flaring deep in his soul.

Ding!

[You have summoned a “Star of Hatred.”]

A bright flare ignited near his chest, spinning slowly, its aura untouched by the slowed flow of time.

Unlike his body, bound to the rhythm of [Death Stop], the star’s movements carried on unimpeded.

It shone fiercely, spinning around him like a miniature crimson sun.

[Do not falter, Sam Walker!]

[Stand firm. Stay… DETERMINED!]

The panels seared through his vision, words clawing at his heart.

Sam’s soul answered in kind, blazing brighter, crimson flames licking through the cracks of his body, pushing against the black vines strangling him.

The curse itself revealed its form inside his being.

Thick, jagged vines coiled around his soul, sinking their thorns deep, binding him into stillness.

They constricted his skills. They smothered his revivals.

And worst of all, they strangled his determination.

None of the primordials before him had torn through those bonds.

None had withstood the weight of the curse long enough to resist.

But Sam refused to end like them.

He refused to die here, forgotten in the [Land of Judgment], nothing more than another failed primordial.

He wanted his death to mean something.

If he fell, then it would be on the final battlefield, against the [King] himself, not before.

His fists trembled. His crimson eyes widened.

Hatred roared within him.

HATRED BOOST!

The star flared and sank into his body, its searing light exploding within his soul.

His veins burned crimson, glowing with power as hatred coursed through every fiber of him.

His aura flared outward, cracking the floor beneath his feet.

The black vines within his soul shuddered violently.

Pressure built, tearing against the curse.

Snap! Crack!

With a thunderous boom, the vines splintered.

Sam roared in agony, his vision flashing white as pain tore through his body.

But he did not fall.

The Hatred Boost steadied him, burning away weakness, forcing him onward with power beyond his limits.

Ding!

[You have overpowered the curse.]

Beep!

[Time will resume.]

The system echoed like a drumbeat in his ears.

[Death Stop] had reached its limit.

It had not been a true stop after all, only a slowing, one final moment to think, to act.

Now, the world would return to normal, everything would crash forward at once.

Sam braced himself.

He could feel the monarch’s fingers coiled around his throat.

Any second, the grip would snap his neck the same way it had broken the clone.

But he was ready.

Ding!

[Time is resumed.]

The floodgates burst open.

The pressure returned all at once, the gauntlet crushing down with enough force to break steel.

But Sam was faster.

SLASH!

His primordial sword flashed crimson, carving through the monarch’s arm in one swift arc.

The gauntlet dropped from his throat as the severed limb fell away, spraying black liquid across the broken stone floor.

Sam dropped heavily to the ground, rolling back as he landed on his feet.

His grip tightened on his sword, his crimson eyes glaring forward.

‘It’s strong. I have less than five seconds before [Hatred Boost] ends. I need to finish this now.’

There was no room for hesitation.

No time to gamble.

He couldn’t rely on determination recovering fast enough for revival.

If he died here, it would be permanent.

Cooldown Breaker!

[Which skill would you like to reset?]

The panel opened, listing his choices.

Normally, he would reset [Primordial Barrier] to buy himself more time to endure.

But this time… He chose differently.

“Primordial Clone!”

The cooldown dropped instantly to zero as he selected the skill.

Ding!

[“Primordial Clone” is available.]

Sam activated it without delay.

The clone appeared at his side, its face stretched wide in its usual unsettling grin.

For the first time since the monarch’s curse struck, Sam felt a spark of steadiness.

“Huh?”

The monarch finally glanced down at its severed arm, ichor dripping from the stump.

Its three heads rotated one after another, voices overlapping.

“You…”

“How?”

“This is impossible.”

Sam’s chest heaved, blood still dripping from his mouth, but he didn’t care.

They had lost an arm.

Only three remained.

‘Even one strike from them is enough to kill me,’ Sam thought, his eyes narrowing, ‘But I don’t care.’

He knew exactly what he was doing.

He had traded away his safety net for one last weapon.

The dark ichor ran freely from the stump, but the monarch didn’t falter.

Their three heads rotated and spoke as one.

“Annoying insect.”

“… …”

“Let’s finish this.”

BOOM!

The monarch blurred forward in a surge of black aura, the bell raised high.

‘The bell stuns through its shockwave,’ the judges thought with their shared mind, grinning inwardly.

‘The closer we are, the harder it hits. He won’t escape.’

Each of the four relics they carried had unique power.

The gauntlet crushed and restrained.

The rope bound. The bell stunned. The scale judged and destroyed.

And together, they had ended every primordial before him.

Ring!

The bell chimed as the monarch arrived in front of Sam, unleashing a shockwave that rippled outward in a pulse of raw force, slamming into Sam and the clone.

Their bodies froze, their muscles locked in place.

“DIE!”

The monarch didn’t waste a moment.

They raised the scale in their other hand and swung it downward with brutal force.

The scale was even worse than the bell.

It judged its target. The guiltier they were, the more damage it inflicted.

And in Sam’s case, the [True Primordial], the blow would mean instant death.

The scale fell. Sam’s crimson eyes flared.

SLASH!

His sword swung in a blur.

The monarch’s arm that held the bell split in half, cut clean through by the strike.

Black liquid sprayed into the air as the second severed arm dropped uselessly to the floor.

The monarch’s eyes widened, their heads rotating in disbelief.

Two arms gone. Two left.

Sam stood with his sword raised, his crimson aura burning brighter than before.

“I overpowered your curse,” Sam said coldly, his voice steady despite the blood running from his lips, “And you think stunning me will work?”

He stepped forward, his sword gleaming with crimson power.

“Just die already.”

The monarch’s expression darkened, but they didn’t falter.

Even with two arms gone, one blow from them could still kill him.

Sam knew that.

But above the monarch’s head, the [Verdict Bar] was nearly full.

The first arm he severed had filled it halfway.

The second arm pushed it even higher.

Now, with only two arms remaining, the bar was on the verge of completion.

‘I wonder what happens when it’s full,’ Sam thought, his crimson eyes narrowing.