Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Parker chuckled under his breath, the kind of sound that made silence feel like it had just missed the punchline.

"Alright, Levi," he muttered with a smirk, "hit me with the hidden gem."

A system ripple pulsed through the air like a divine email alert—and Levi, ever obedient and unnervingly dramatic, delivered:

[Hidden Mission Completed!

Mission: Law governs the modern world with paper chains and courtroom jazz. But you, Prince Nyxlith... you are law. Sovereign above scribbles and signatures. The world believes in contracts. You believe in control.

[Acquire a law firm and remind the world what absolute immunity tastes like.

Reward: ByPass Card]

ByPass Card: Grants the user a permanent passive effect that allows them to bypass any legal, contractual, or judicial consequence. (Does not affect divine decrees, celestial bindings, or Nyxilith family rules.)]

Parker blinked.

"…Well damn."

Taxes? What taxes? Felony? Never heard of her. If it involves manmade laws—he walk through like a ghost with diplomatic immunity blessed by the cosmos. He held up the card—sleek, pitch black, and edged with thin red lines that looked like bleeding ink. No name. No explanation. Just one golden word burned into it like a signature from the abyss:

ByPass.

"I've been getting more and more cards. What's the deal?" He asked himself as he crushed it between his fingers.

The card disintegrated on contact, dissolving into glittery dust that slithered into his skin like it knew exactly where it belonged.

[Ding! Acquired Passive Skill: ByPass]

No sparks. No flash. No system orchestra. Just a quiet hum that sank into his bones like a promise whispered by the universe. He stood there, flexing his fingers. Nothing felt different. But in the distance, somewhere in the modern machine of courtrooms and criminal codes… a law book wept.

"Imagine buying an illegal weapon with a smile," he whispered. "And the law? Just nods at you and hands you a receipt."

He turned toward the window, watching sunlight kiss the edges of the estate like even photons respected him. This was unreal. No—this was divine. Power without limits. Immunity written in soul-code. He could rewrite property lines with a Sharpie and no judge on Earth would blink.

"Shit," he muttered, grin spreading. "I'm basically the legal version of God Mode."

Because of course, only a Nyxlith would legalize breaking the law.

And Parker was just getting started. Now it was time. Time for the last damn thing on his mind—the Concept Card.

Yeah. That fucking card.

He hadn't forgotten. Wasn't something you just forget after offering your entire ass on a cosmic livestream for gods to watch. No joke—he was pretty sure some divine Twitch was out there in Olympus, titled "Prince of Chaos: Live Meltdown Feed #127" with gods in chat like: "Yo who gave him a permission to kill our own?" "Is that Erebus hidden in his shadows?? Mods ban her fr."

He didn't care.

Let them watch. Let them zoom in. Heck, they could throw popcorn at the screen. What were they gonna do? Smite him? Please.

Because thanks to Atalanta's rambling during their joyride to Wilder Automotive, Parker had picked up on something spicy—those gods, yeah, they do touch ground Earth every now and then. Probably more often than TSA checks in JFK. But it didn't matter. Even if they descended in golden robes and heavenly eyeliner, they still wouldn't dare touch him. Not now.

He knew they knew.

And if they didn't? Well... they'd find out fast enough.

He was a Nyxilith. The Prince. Sure, he could bark orders at the Origin Families and watch them fold like cheap suits, but to the gods— the Families were a different breed. Especially the Leaders. Even he as there Prince ge wasn't dumb enough to compare himself to them—not yet. But let's not forget: the divine Olympis gods feared these guys and those same families bow to him.

And besides—Second of the Six wasn't just watching. But was guarding—at least he thought so.

The moment a god sneezed near his dimension with intent to kill, that monster would vaporize them into philosophical particles. Hell, Six would probably do it with a yawn and a latte in hand.

So yeah, the gods? They could stream all they wanted. Watch his dreams, follow his shadow, memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat. But they couldn't lay a finger on him.

Not without getting clapped so hard, Olympus would need a GoFundMe for resurrection spells.

Their only hope? Champions. Poor little mortals, immortals and demigods in divine cosplay, trying to play godkiller. And even that was a gamble. Some of those champions couldn't last more than a TikTok trend.

And let's not even get into the whole "asking THEY for help" situation. If the gods had two neurons rubbing together for warmth, they'd never involve THEY. Or worse... the Price.

"Whatever," Parker muttered, waving it off like a mosquito in winter.

Focus. Card.

He didn't need a manual. He didn't need Levi's whisper. He didn't need Ere rolling her eyes somewhere in the ether.

This… this was a Concept Card.

And Concepts weren't child's play. These weren't skills or spells. They were raw truths. Anchors of reality. There were the OGs—the Concepts of Beginning like Life, Time, Void, Death, Nihility… the ones that basically shaped the multiverse. But there were also other concepts.

Lesser, maybe. But still wild in the right hands.

He held the card up.

It didn't thrum like the Beginning Concept one had. No pressure wave. No golden hum. No reality-bending orchestra in the background. But it wasn't trash either. It shimmered with a kind of dangerous silence. Like it knew it was broken… and liked it.

Then—

[Ding!

You have acquired a Concept: Infinity Equivalent Exchange.

Description:

Equivalent Exchange once meant sacrifice—give something to get something of equal value. But with Infinity Equivalent Exchange there is no resistance. No negotiation. No gatekeepers. Trade wealth for anything of material or non-material value regardless of ownership status or transactional consent. The only requirement is... enough money or resources!]

Parker grinned. The kind of grin that didn't belong on a sane man's face.

"Damn," he whispered. "So now... I'm PayPal with divine override."

He flicked the card once, and it dissolved into his hand like mist—warm, buzzing, real. The power sank in with zero fanfare. No lightning, no fireworks. Just a quiet click in his brain. Like a lock opening somewhere in the back of the universe.

He didn't just have wealth anymore.

He had authority.

Currency that commanded.

The world was built on money?

Cool.

He'll just become its god.

Parker stared at his hand for a long second after the card had vanished. The warmth of it still lingered in his palm, almost like static, like something ancient had decided to take root inside him.

He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just whispered, "So... it's what I think it is, huh?"

Levi's voice slid into his mind, steady as ever.

[It is. You've acquired a Concept. Not just a tool or a perk—a law.]

Parker exhaled through his nose, slowly. "Equivalent Exchange. I remember the basics. Sacrifice something to gain something else, as long as the value's equal."

[That was the old law,] Levi affirmed. [The honest one. A concept of trade written into the bones of reality. It governed rituals, pacts, even fate.]

"But this isn't the old one." Parker's tone was flat now. Knowing. "This… this is Infinity Equivalent Exchange."

Levi didn't hesitate.

[There is no resistance. No negotiation. No waiting for the world to agree. If you have the wealth—the real kind, not just numbers, but value forged by force of will—you can claim anything.]

Parker looked out at the treeline ahead, but he wasn't seeing it. "Even if the world says no."

[Especially then.]

He clenched his jaw a little. "So if I wanted to buy 51% of a corporation that would never sell to me…?"

[You don't need their approval. Just enough value. And the exchange is made.]

Parker blinked. His mind spun through every locked door, every guarded vault, every thing off-limits to the average man. "And land?"

[Even that. Restricted zones. Sacred sites. Claimed territories. If the worth of your offering speaks to the soul of what you want, nothing can bar you.]

"Even if the owners resist. Even if governments resist? This is pure sorcery!"

[Not laws. Not ownership. Not reality itself.]

Parker was quiet.

Then he spoke again, quieter still, like the truth was settling bone-deep now. "The sacrifice still exists though, doesn't it?"

[Always,] Levi said. [But not in pain. Not in blood. In price. The cost must still match the weight of the gain. That law holds.]

Parker nodded slowly.

"Good," he said. "That's the kind of law I can work with." And with that, he turned. The conversation didn't need more. He already knew what the world looked like tomorrow.

And the world?

It had no idea what it just sold.

It was time!