My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 683 Moving Forward

While Nova Technologies was fundamentally restructuring the political and economic realities of Earth, Liam Scott remained entirely detached from the passage of local time, suspended in a lotus position in the silent, freezing vacuum of deep space.

His physical body was a motionless statue anchored above the Earth, but his immortal consciousness was tearing through the cosmos at speeds that defied the boundaries of physical reality.

He was locked in an endless, hypnotic rhythm of mental transit, projecting his spiritual sense from one galaxy-wide entropy law gear to the next.

His objective was clear: trace the mechanical web of universal decay all the way to the absolute edge of the cosmos—the vanguard where the accelerating heat death was violently eating away at the surviving universe.

It had been days since he first linked his mind to the Milky Way's local gear and began his outward jump, but the sheer monotony of the void was beginning to erode his perception of time.

He had no idea how much physical distance he had covered. He didn't know if he had crossed a quarter of the necessary distance, or merely a fraction of a fraction. Even in its current dying state, the observable universe contained roughly fifteen trillion galaxies.

If Liam had attempted to physically fly across that expanse, even tens of millions of years would not have been enough to reach the edge. That was the singular advantage of his Third Transcendent Stage consciousness—he could ride the interconnected laws of the universe like a digital signal moving through a fiber-optic cable.

Yet, even at that speed, the mental weight of the journey was staggering.

During the brief moments he pulled his awareness inward to rest his mind, Liam found himself contemplating a far simpler, highly tempting alternative.

Why not just build the defensive wall of modified entropy gears locally? He had the blueprints for the Law of Universal Consonance perfectly mapped in his mind.

He could theoretically format the gears of the Milky Way and a cluster of neighboring galaxies, seal them off from the accelerating heat death, and create a localized safe zone. It would save him the agonizing journey across trillions of light-years.

But the moment he ran the geopolitical and cosmic arithmetic, he discarded the idea completely.

If he walled off the Milky Way and allowed the rest of the universe to burn, the heat death would systematically wipe out the fifteen trillion other galaxies. Any advanced, spacefaring race surviving in those dying sectors would instantly detect the thermal anomaly of the Milky Way safe zone.

It would trigger the greatest refugee crisis in the history of existence.

Trillions of alien vessels, fleeing the absolute zero of the void, would swarm the Milky Way. The local galaxies would become catastrophically overcrowded. Finite resources on like habitable planets, raw minerals, stellar energy, would be instantly depleted. That hyper-competition would inevitably spark a multiversal war for survival. Thousands of ancient races would be driven to extinction, and dozens of mass genocides would be committed just to secure breathing room in the last living corner of the universe.

Saving a fraction of the universe was functionally the same as destroying it by proxy.

Furthermore, Liam was not engaging in this cosmic engineering out of pure altruism. The mechanics of the Law of Universal Consonance were designed to intercept the destructive decay of the heat death and convert it into Primordial Essence. If he mapped the entire universal grid, the sheer volume of converted Primordial Essence funneling back into his system would be incomprehensible.

It would provide the exact fuel required to hyper-accelerate his cultivation and instantly terraform the vast, empty expanse of his internal Dimensional Space.

He wasn't just saving the universe; he was using the universe's garbage disposal system to build his own immortal foundation.

Understanding the stakes, Liam dismissed his fatigue, channeled a fresh surge of Primordial Essence into his mind, and launched his consciousness toward the next churning gear in the dark.

***

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the velocity of human events was moving at a blinding pace. Hours bled into days, days turned into weeks, and suddenly, the fourteen-day application window for the Nova Technologies Space Station officially reached its deadline.

At precisely midnight, Coordinated Universal Time (UTC), the Employment Portal on LucidNet locked.

The final statistics were immediately published to the public dashboard, and the numbers were so staggering they temporarily broke the global news cycle.

In exactly two weeks, Nova Technologies had received 500,142,000 completed applications.

The station had exactly 1,240 open seats across both its Set A and B full-time and relief rotation categories.

That left a selection ratio of roughly one open position for every four hundred and three thousand applicants.

To put the math into perspective, terrestrial labor economists pointed out that gaining admission to the most elite Ivy League universities on Earth carried a five percent acceptance rate. Getting hired as a NASA astronaut during a peak recruitment year was a zero-point-zero-eight percent probability.

Securing a job as a line cook or a junior nurse on the Lagrange 5 Space Station carried an acceptance rate of 0.00024%. It was, by a massive margin, the most fiercely competitive selection process in the history of the human race.

When the portal closed, a heavy, anxious silence fell over the globe.

HR departments and corporate recruiters on earth assumed that processing half a billion highly detailed applications—complete with medical histories, professional certifications, cross-cultural psychological profiles, and background checks—would take Nova Technologies months, if not years, to filter. They expected a long, agonizing wait.

They had forgotten who was managing the hiring pool.

The newly created space station management AGI extensions, which the task has been delegated to, did not need months. AGI processed all 500 million applications simultaneously.

In a fraction of a second, the extension cross-referenced every applicant's provided data against global financial registries, verified their professional licenses through state medical and labor boards, analyzed their psychological resilience based on digital footprints and application essay structures, and filtered out any candidate who demonstrated underlying ideological extremism or a history of workplace toxicity.

By the time the terrestrial clocks rolled over to 12:01 AM, the selection was completely finished.

At 12:05 AM, the notifications were dispatched.

Across the planet, in tiny studio apartments, overcrowded hospital breakrooms, Michelin-starred kitchens, and quiet suburban homes, 1,240 LucidNet dashboards chimed in perfect unison.

Nova Technologies Space Station Employment Portal: Status Update.

In a cramped staff locker room in Manila, Grace, the junior nurse who had spent weeks agonizing over her application, stared at her screen. Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped her phone. The text on the screen was crisp, white, and unyielding.

Selection Confirmed.

Position: Junior Nurse (Full-Time Rotation)

Status: Awaiting Candidate Acceptance. You have 72 hours to confirm.

She burst into tears, sliding down the front of the metal lockers until she hit the floor.

In São Paulo, Rafael the line cook received his notification while scrubbing down a stainless-steel prep table. He read the acceptance for the Casual Dining Commis Chef position, untied his grease-stained apron, folded it neatly on the counter, and walked out the back door of the restaurant without saying a word to his manager.

For 1,240 human beings, life had just fundamentally fractured into an unprecedented "before" and an "after."

They had two weeks to complete their final digital onboarding, finalize their terrestrial affairs, and pack whatever small personal effects they wished to take into orbit.

Because outside their windows, hanging in the night sky, the countdown timer on the live construction feed had fallen to just fifteen days.