Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

As the massive explosion lit up the sky, waves of fire crashed onto the shore, illuminating the water and increasing the tide. The scorching heat was undeniable as it singed everyone's skin, leaving no doubt that this was real.

Amidst the chaos, Roxy and the others stared at Kiera in shock, half demanding, half begging for an explanation. Seeing their expressions, she huffed, "Don't look at me like that—that's what happened!"

Everyone blinked twice in disbelief, unable to comprehend her words.

"Watch the clothing!" An indignant voice demanded from high. "I barely got a chance to dress like Mr. Loved a few hours ago!"

The crowd looked up in disbelief and found the teen brushing soot off his tan khakis with a frantic expression. He was praying that she hadn't ruined them! When he noticed the sea of concerned faces, his expression turned from annoyance to disappointment.

"Yooooooooo…." Mars groaned. "Don't tell me that [no one] thinks flying is a proof of strength here. I get a heaven realm cultivator not thinking I'm cool but aren't there at least a few of you sky realms that think so?"

A lone chuckle pierced through the oppressive silence, barely audible over the crashing waves. But it sparked a cataclysmic chain reaction, sending chuckles cascading like falling dominoes. Soon, an Immortal female cheered, and the area detonated with festive cheering.

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Mars pumped his fists victoriously, circling the Immortals, treating him like a war god.

BOOOM!

A far smaller explosion detonated near the man, sending him flying. Luckily, he had a shield.

"YO, DARWIN!" Kiera screamed. "WE DON'T REWARD SHOW-OFFS, SO KEEP YOUR HIGH-LEVEL TECHNIQUE IN YOUR PANTS!"

The Immortals cheered now that they knew he was fine and her blast was playful.

Boom! BOOM! Boom, boom, boom-boom-boom! BOOM!

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Forced to assume his role again, he unsheathed his sword and expertly maneuvered through a field of explosions, lighting up the sky in a dazzling display of fireworks.

Roxy could only watch in amazement and confusion, her heart pounding as the two performers captivated the audience. She glanced at Kiera, who was snapping her fingers with a smirk, and wondered what her game was. There was no doubt that the slang riddler knew about his technique, so Roxy couldn't understand why Kiera was playing into it.
Then it dawned on her—the explosion had broken the immersion! With everyone looking up, no one had noticed any aftereffect of Mars' technique.

"Did she do that to prevent others from noticing?" Roxy asked in a daze, studying the enigmatic slang riddler as she attacked with a mysterious smile. "If so, does that mean they'll spare him?"

She frowned, unsure of the outcome. If Mars' technique wasn't already on their radar, it certainly was now, and due to how the non-betrayal pact worked, the skill would either prove to be a liability by exposing Immortal Skye involuntarily, or it could kill him. It was a nightmare.

"Hey!" Mars cried, "We're friends now, right? Can't you go a easier on me!?"

Immortal Skye boomed with laughter, hearing the poor man many flying for his life.

"Hmmm… continuing the reenactment would kill people, so I suppose we'll have to," Kiera muttered in contemplation, stopping her onslaught. "So may~be, just a taste."

"Oh, thank—" he began in relief. Then his eyes snapped open, "Wait, no!"

It was too late. Just as before, the firing had ceased, so he was flying toward her when—

VRoOOOoOOOSH! SPLASH!

"AHhHHHhhHhhHhhhHhhHh!"

A massive gust of wind blew from the sky onto the unguarded man, sending him crashing into the lake. The wind hit the water, sending tidal waves to shore.

"THAT'S OUR PRINCESS!" Larkin yelled wildly, flailing his arms around erratically.

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Thunderous applause rocked the soundwaves as Mars emerged from the water and swam to shore with a bitter expression, looking at his new clothing like it was an abused kitten.

"Don't be a baby," Kiera huffed, "Put it in the wash hamper inside your room, and it'll magically come back looking brand new tomorrow night."

"That's all I have to get it back to looking normal?" Mars asked in puzzlement.

"The Mortal Plane's the shit—you'll get used to it, Skytheeny," she declared proudly, triggering a wild response. The Immortals buzzed with pride and nationalism, bringing up their spirits.

"Yo, Kiera!" Larkin called. "What happened to the leader? No one knows what went down."

Kiera frowned but quickly replaced it with a sassy smirk, "Well, for starters, the dude's dead as disco and as memorable as an infomercial. He went down like a two-bit villain in a drama, complete with cheap psychosis and evil threats."

The audience buzzed around her, sitting in a circle like children to let the others behind them see.

"You know the type—sends twelve to kill you, and then indignant you want to kill them," she remarked. "Simply put—rude as fuck. However, wheeeeeeeeeeew! We couldn't ask for a better ally."

Confusion spread through the crowd, making people's ears perk up for clarification.

"We showed up with eight people who felt god fucking awful about joining us," Kiera explained. "I prepared to watch them mope for the better part of a year, but nooooooope! Mr. Worm Cuddler came in super clutch, giving them a long list of reasons to join us!"


After drawing them in, the slang riddler abruptly turned aggressive, using a burly man's voice.

"What are you doing!? KILL THEM!" she reenacted. "Do you expect [me] to do something? I'm the leader! You'll do what I say, or I'll ruin your entire family! I have real power!"

Her vitriolic rant jolted the audience, striking their hearts like a hammer. They turned to one another with strange expressions, chuckling self-deprecatingly at their reaction.

"Naturally, the recruits couldn't speak because [hashtag death], so we spoke on their behalf, saying that they were forced to join or die," Kiera explained. "That's when things really got good. Ahem."

Prepared this time, the crowd held their breath in anticipation.

"THAT'S NO EXCUSE!" she roared."Stop acting like people! Your lives don't matter! You're weak slaves! You'll be my meat shields and like it!

Eighty quadrillion lives depend upon me in the Empire! Have you thought about them? Probably not—because you're selfish! You sicken me, you traitors, whores, and scum!

I can't wait to return so I can kill your wife in front of your eyes and take your child sisters for my harem! I'm going to be slow and gentle with them for WEEKS! Hahahahaha!"

The Immortals went wild. Even if it was cheesy, nothing was better than a story with a one-dimensional villain with zero redeeming qualities. It drew a line between good and evil and crowned them—Immortal Skye—the arbitrators of justice in the new world. So satisfying.

Kiera coughed cutely, "We let our recruits kill him."

Whispers surged through the audience as they tried to confirm her words. If he really were a two-bit villain, the story would be legendary! People quickly asked her for clarification.

"Do you think dunk weasel here would be telling a grand story if he was sad he was gone?" the slang riddler huffed, pointing her thumb at Mars. "These people aren't traitorous clout chasers and opportunists—they're victims with severe Sky Plane Syndrome. It took some serious villainy to bring'em down to Earth, but here they are, finally in a place with opportunity for strength and virtue!"

Mars' story became a sensation, shattering the stunned silence with striking screams of support. The sight sincerely shocked him, sending shivers down his spine.

Roxy was also speechless, scared stiff that Mars would get silenced seconds before, now stammering after seeing the spellbinding standing ovation.

Kiera silently studied the stimulated soldiers and stupefied Skythenians with a sinister smirk. While she was selective, socially anxious, and solitary, she was single-track-minded about serving her future spouse. So she supported his scheme, sold herself as a symbol of strength, and became a seraphic siren, slowly steering stupified sheep toward safety.

Still, speaking felt suffocating for someone suffering from social anxiety, like a snake slithering around her spine and strangling her—especially knowing a spy survived after stealing their secrets.