My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 510: Rewriting Fate

All emanating from Frener’s jovial outburst ceased. The atmosphere within the modest bakeshop turned dense and oppressive, as though an unseen burden had descended upon every object. Frener’s arm remained suspended, the crimson orb of destruction still crackling in his grasp, yet his gaze no longer rested upon Jack and Elina. It was now fixed intently on Ethan.

Frener scrutinized the young man seated opposite him. He could detect no discernible cultivation emanating from him – no aura, no palpable pressure, absolutely nothing that could account for the abrupt alteration in the surrounding ambiance. This absence alone instilled a profound sense of unease within him. Nevertheless, his unyielding pride as an Eternal Singularity Realm cultivator forbade any outward display of weakness. He was, after all, a hunter dispatched by divine beings themselves. Who, then, could possibly pose a threat to him?

"How dare you mock me?" Frener’s voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. The sphere of destruction in his hand expanded, becoming noticeably more volatile. Jagged fissures of crimson energy snaked outward from his palm, resembling a macabre tracery. "Do you comprehend my nature? Do you grasp the identity of my patrons? You insignificant speck of dust, I possess the power to obliterate you from existence with less effort than it takes to draw a single breath."

Ethan took another unhurried bite of his bread. He chewed with measured, deliberate motions, as though Frener’s dire pronouncement were little more than inconsequential ambient noise. The sardonic smirk remained plastered across his features, unmoving.

"You believe I jest?" Frener's fury intensified. The destructive sphere pulsed once, unleashing a shockwave that violently shattered every windowpane in the shop. Fragments of glass rained down like deadly hail. The other patrons shrieked in terror and scrambled for the exits. Jack instinctively pulled Elina behind him, his physique tensing in preparation to shield her. Yet, Ethan remained utterly unmoved, not even a flicker of reaction betraying his composure.

"You ought to be prostrate on your knees," Frener continued, his voice escalating in volume and intensity. "You should be desperately pleading for your wretched existence. I am a divine hunter. I have annihilated entire lineages. I have reduced valiant heroes to mere ashes. And yet, you sit here, casually consuming bread as if utterly unconcerned with the world around you?"

Ethan finally swallowed the morsel he was chewing. He carefully placed the remaining portion of bread onto his plate and meticulously wiped his hands with a napkin. Following this, he began to rise from his seat.

His movement was unhurried, imbued with a sense of deliberate intent. With each incremental inch he ascended, it felt as though he were subtly pushing back against Frener’s imposing presence – not with overt aggression, but with an unwavering certainty that a profound shift was imminent.

Frener’s innermost instincts screamed a dire warning. Something was fundamentally wrong. Terribly, catastrophically wrong. However, his physical form remained inexplicably immobile. It was as if invisible manacles had coiled around his limbs, not restraining him through force, but rather conveying a potent suggestion that any attempt at movement would be an exceedingly ill-advised decision.

Ethan advanced a single step. Then another followed. He traversed the perimeter of the small table, eventually halting directly before Frener. The sphere of destruction now hovered mere inches from his chest. Its crimson luminescence illuminated his face, casting stark, dramatic shadows across his features. The smile had vanished completely. In its stead resided an expression of chilling detachment, something ancient and profound, possessing an unsettling incongruity with the youthful visage it adorned.

"Listen to my words with utmost care," Ethan declared. His voice, though quiet, delivered each utterance with the impact of a blacksmith's hammer. "You wretched hound of the gods. You presume to hunt my kin? You harbor the delusion that those pathetic deities you venerate possess the power to shield you?"

Frener's eyes widened in alarm. His hand began to tremble uncontrollably. The destructive sphere flickered precariously.

"I shall personally annihilate your entire ancestral line," Ethan pronounced. These words were not boomed; they were whispered, and this hushed delivery imbued them with a terrifying, infinitely more dreadful weight.

Before Frener could muster any form of reaction, Ethan raised both of his hands, gently clasping them upon Frener’s head. His fingers exerted pressure against his temples, his palms resting atop his crown. The contact was firm, yet devoid of any violent intent. It was the touch of an individual who had definitively, irrefutably triumphed.

Ethan then activated his innate ability: Ruler of Fate.

The surrounding reality dissolved into an ethereal canvas. Within his unique perception, thousands upon thousands of luminous threads materialized, each distinguished by a different hue, and each meticulously representing a divergent potential future for Frener Garner. These threads extended outwards in all conceivable directions, intertwining and diverging in a ceaseless dance, constructing a tapestry of possibilities so overwhelmingly intricate that a standard mind would undoubtedly shatter merely attempting to comprehend its complexity.

Ethan observed these myriad pathways with absolute, unclouded clarity.

He commenced the act of deletion.

Thread by vanishing thread, he systematically expunged them. Countless potential futures dissolved into nothingness. The timelines where Frener managed to evade retribution. The timelines where Frener successfully returned to his celestial masters in a blaze of glory. The timelines where Frener experienced a long and prosperous existence. All of them were eradicated, obliterated as if they had never possessed the slightest potential to manifest.

Only a solitary thread remained, suspended in the void.

Yet, Ethan's task was far from complete.

He gently placed his fingers upon that single, remaining thread and commenced the process of rewriting its very essence. He did not merely select Frener’s ultimate destiny; he meticulously carved it into existence. He inscribed every minute detail with a cruel, surgical precision. In this newly authored future, Frener would be compelled to extinguish every single one of his own descendants. Every innocent child. Every unsuspecting grandchild. Every distant relative who bore the mark of his bloodline. And thereafter, once utterly alone, devoid of any posterity, he would turn his hand against his forebears. His own father. His devoted mother. His grandfathers and grandmothers. All of them. He would butcher them with his own hands, and he would do so with fervent willingness, with unadulterated joy, embracing it as the most profound honor of his existence. Following this horrific culmination, he would then take his own life.

Ethan slowly withdrew his hands.

Frener's gaze went vacant for a beat, then an inner shift occurred. A wildness began to unfurl within him. It wasn't the delirium of alarm or bewilderment, but the fervor of certainty.

"You..." Frener uttered, his voice a mere whisper, before halting. A peculiar grin contorted his features. "I must leave. I need to see my family."

He spun around and fled, his movement a blur. Without slowing his pace or casting a backward glance, he exploded through the fractured doorway, disappearing into the thoroughfare with such velocity that phantom images lingered in the air. His consciousness was entirely captured by the new destiny Ethan had imprinted upon him. The compulsion to visit his family was overpowering, overriding the intentions of the two deities who dispatched him and defying all self-preservation instincts. Yet, Frener paid no heed. He had to go. He had to see them. He had to fulfill his newly found purpose.

Ethan offered a grim smile, devoid of pity or hesitation. When the well-being of his kin was at stake, Ethan's resolve was not merely unyielding; it was absolute. He would reduce entire lineages to cinders, reshape destiny itself, all while maintaining a placid expression and a warm piece of bread still clutched in his hand.

He then turned his attention to Jack and Elina. His parents remained statuesque behind the counter, their complexions ashen, their frames quivering. They had witnessed the entire spectacle. While much of it eluded their comprehension, they grasped the crucial implication: their son had just inflicted something dire upon that man, something far beyond the scope of normal cultivation.

Ethan approached them with silent steps. His countenance softened as he drew near, the severity receding, replaced by a gentler warmth. He paused before them, gazing at their faces, faces he hadn't truly seen in what felt like an eternity – not as his true self.

"Mother. Father," he declared. "It is time we returned home."

With a simple snap of his fingers,

the sound, crisp and distinct, reverberated once before dissolving into silence. Jack and Elina dematerialized from the shop, not through any violent upheaval, but a subtle persuasion, as if the world itself had decreed their presence elsewhere. They reappeared within Ethan's internal cosmos, enveloped by the immense scope of his expanding universe, secure and undisturbed.