Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 410: [Plunder: Unlocked!] 2

"So only me hasn't given you my powers?" Ruoyun asked, her voice low, that calm kind of soft that always felt way too close to dangerous.

Parker chuckled, hands in his pockets, then gave a slow nod. "Mhm. You're the last one."

She stared at him, a little longer than normal. Not just curious—like she was remembering. Something deeper. Something older. Then, without saying anything else, she extended her hand toward him, fingers open, elegant, steady.

Parker stepped forward and took her hand—there was no flair or anything when he Plundered her power. Their touch was strange though… strange. Not cold. Not warm either. Just cool—perfect, smooth, lingering. Like it was meant to be held, not shaken. The kind of touch that stuck to your skin after you let go.

But he still let go.

"I guess a full introduction won't be for today, huh?" she murmured, one brow arched beneath her silver half-mask.

"I'm afraid not, my little one," he said, lips tugging into a small smirk, playful but layered with something deeper.

Zhang Ruoyun didn't pull away.

Instead, she stepped closer, lowering her head just slightly. Parker raised his hand and gently patted her head, fingers brushing over her silky hair like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And she… leaned into it.

Like a wolf finally laying down.

She bowed lower, and for a moment—just one raw, vulnerable second—she let herself enjoy it. The feel of his palm in her hair, on her crown. It wasn't dominance. It wasn't control. It was home. Her thoughts flickered—memories she'd locked away surfacing like light behind stained glass.

"Prince Nyxlith~"

Her everything. Her beginning and her end.

But before she could say anything, before her mouth could even form the word stay—he disappeared.

Gone.

Vanished into a puff of quiet, absolute nothingness, like he'd never been there at all.

Zhang Ruoyun blinked.

Stared at the empty space where he'd stood.

"…Really?" she sighed, voice falling. "You could've at least said thank you for plundering my powers, bastard…"

But he was already gone.

That's right—one of the gifts his sister had slipped him last night had been that juicy unlock his magical system.

Plundering.

Not just the basic "copy and paste" everyone dreamed about—nah, this was the dark stuff.

This was Parker-level.

He could take people's powers now. All of them. Elemental gifts, magic, supernatural quirks—even something as dumb as basic fire-bending? Yep. His. Bagged and tagged.

But that wasn't the scary part.

Parker could also copy their racial traits if he wanted—Elven grace, Vampire instincts, even Deamon endurance. He could wear their lineage like a damn coat.

No one was outside this rule, be it his creations or not!

And if he really wanted?

He could strip them too.

Take away what made someone special. Rip the magic from their blood. Leave them empty.

That's exactly why it was called Plunder. Not some decorative title slapped on for flair. Not a dramatic term in a power system. Nah. It was a fucking warning label. It was what made Parker different—what made him dangerous.

Because this wasn't just about copying someone's flame powers or lifting a trick or two off a half-blood sorcerer. This was deeper. Rawer. Violent in concept and execution.

Parker didn't ask for permission. He didn't [Plunder] to survive. He Plundered. And when he did it completely, you didn't just feel it—you lost something. Something real. Something you might never get back. That was the whole thing. He could look you dead in the eye, take what made you who you were, and either give you the mercy of keeping the rest… or choose, with a flicker of thought, to leave you hollow. A ghost with no spark.

A legacy erased. Permanent gain or permanent erasure. No middle ground. No second chances. It wasn't a system feature—it was a threat wrapped in divinity.

Maybe that's why even primordials and progenitors got nervous when his name was whispered. Not just because of what he could do, but because of how far it could go.

This power wasn't limited to the so-called elites, the Origin Families. No. Parker could take from anyone. It didn't matter if you were a newly awakened mundane or an ancient bloodline still dancing in myths—if you had power, even the tiniest trace of it, he could rip it from your bones.

And the scariest part? There was no limit. No status bar. No warning notification saying "Power capacity reached." Thousands? Sure. Hundreds of thousands? Bring it on. Millions? Why the fuck not? He could hold them all. Stack them like chips at a casino. Mix them.

Fuse them. Rewrite their logic. His ability wasn't built for balance—it was built to break the system and then Plunder the system too.

And now? He was finally free. His power, the one everyone had been scared to mention, was back. No seal. No divine interference.

Just raw, endless capability. He wasn't just playing in the game anymore—he was owning the fucking board. The Player, the Dealer, and the House. He could build an empire with the powers of a thousand races and burn it down the next day just to test something new.

This wasn't potential. This wasn't theory. It was real. And if the world wasn't ready for that? Too bad. Because Parker was about to start collecting.

His sister knew—really knew—what made Parker the most terrifying being to ever breathe beneath the heavens. It wasn't the status, wasn't the title of Prince of Existence, not even the unfathomable blood running through his veins that bent ancient laws just by existing. No.

What made Parker fearsome, what made him the one even they—even their mother—wouldn't dare cross at his fullest with no good preparation, was the one thing no one else in all the cosmos could replicate, copy, steal, or suppress. His power.

[Plunder!]

It wasn't gifted. Wasn't inherited. Wasn't stolen. It was created by him—conjured into being by sheer force of identity, a lawbreaker of the Existence's very systems, forged from Parker's own soul, something that had never existed until he did. That made it absolute.

That made it irreversible.

That made it his. And that meant no being, no system, no god, no universe, reality, cosmos or existence had a clause for what he could do.

There was no counter. No upper limit. No final boss. With that power in his hands, even the assignments handed to him by their mother—existential level quests that could devour millennia—could be handled in a span of days. Days. Which, for beings like them, wasn't even a heartbeat in the ticking of cosmic time.

He'd be done soon.

And here on Earth, where physics still obeyed gravity and humans still believed in taxes and borders, Parker stood above all. Not metaphorically—literally. With all his power reclaimed, Plunder active, and the sacred gifts from his sister fused into his soul, he could tear through THEY the moment they touched soil. He wouldn't just defend Earth. He'd lock it down. Reinforce it like a divine vault.

And no outside force—god, demon, or unknown—would be able to touch it without his permission.

But that wasn't even the real goal.

No, this wasn't about Earth. Earth was the starting line. The warm-up lap. The place where the gods fumbled and the Origin Families bled quietly in the shadows. But now? With Parker back? His mother and sister could finally exhale. They could rest. Because their greatest weapon had returned—not bound in chains, not unsure of himself—but ready.

They had carried this burden long enough, protected the weave of Existence like silent guardians while the stars forgot their names.

But no more. Parker had returned to his throne, and once Earth was secured, once the cores were stabilized, he would rise beyond this world. And the rest of Existence—infinite, fractured, divine and doomed—would be next.

And far, far away—beyond the mortal world, beyond time's flow, past dimensions stitched together by ancient threads—something felt it. Something old. Something buried. When Parker [Plunder!]the power of

Phoenix of Balance, when her core power were pulled into his being too like it had always belonged there, the Multiverse shivered.

Somewhere in the Void between realities, a ripple spread through the tapestry of space. Reality cracked. The cheat had been written. The paradox injected. The universe knew it. A new center had formed. A flame that didn't burn—it balanced. A Plunderer with the power to rewrite the rules mid-play.

And whatever was watching?

It woke up.