Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!
Chapter 445 - 445: The Impossible Choice

*You have proven you can feel for infinite souls,* the Guardian acknowledged, its voice carrying grudging respect for what Parker had endured. *But can you choose between them when choice becomes necessary?*

The reality around them shifted again, the crystalline chamber dissolving into something far more immediate and terrifying. Parker found himself standing in a vast observation deck suspended between two dying versions of New York, both hanging in space like massive snow globes filled with eight million screaming souls.

In the reality to his left, the Street Rat's shadow plague had evolved beyond mere consumption. The darkness didn't just kill—it transformed, turning the city into a living nightmare where buildings breathed with malevolent consciousness and streets pulsed like arterial veins.

Families huddled in apartments that were slowly digesting them, while children ran through parks where trees grew human faces that screamed in eternal agony.

The shadows weren't just consuming the city; they were making it suffer.

In the middle of it all...

To his right, the Painter's artistic madness had reached its final expression. New York existed as a living canvas where reality operated according to aesthetic principles rather than physical laws. People had been painted into geometric impossibilities—mothers stretched into spirals that allowed them to see their children but never touch them, fathers compressed into two-dimensional planes that let them hear their families' cries but never respond.

The city was beautiful in the way that a masterpiece painted in human suffering could be beautiful—perfect, artistic, and absolutely wrong.

Both cities pulsed with the agony of eight million souls. Both realities showed him every face, every name, every individual story of suffering.

Parker could see a young girl in the shadow realm watching her parents melt into living darkness, while simultaneously witnessing a boy in the painted reality whose sister had been transformed into a mathematical equation that expressed pure loneliness.

*Choose,* the Guardian commanded, its voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere. *The cosmic infrastructure can only sustain one intervention. Save one reality, and the other ceases to exist entirely. Which eight million souls deserve to continue their stories?*

Parker stared at both dying cities, feeling the weight of sixteen million lives hanging in the balance of his decision. His soul, already damaged from the first test, sent spikes of agony through his consciousness as he tried to process the magnitude of what was being asked.

How could anyone make such a choice? How could one group of souls be deemed more valuable than another?

In the shadow realm, he watched a mother sing lullabies to her child even as they both slowly dissolved into living darkness—her love persisting even as her physical form failed.

In the painted reality, he saw an elderly man painting messages of hope on walls that screamed in colors that had no names, trying to comfort his neighbors even as his own existence became increasingly abstract.

Both realities contained heroes. Both contained innocents. Both contained the full spectrum of human experience—love, hope, dreams, all being slowly extinguished in different but equally horrific ways.

"I refuse," Parker said quietly, the words falling into the cosmic void between realities.

*Excuse me?* The Guardian's surprise rippled through dimensions, creating aurora-like disturbances in the space around them.

"I refuse to choose," Parker declared, his voice gaining strength despite the soul-deep exhaustion that threatened to collapse him. "If bonding with the Prime Core means accepting that sometimes I'll have to sacrifice entire realities for the sake of cosmic efficiency, then I'm not worthy of the responsibility."

*But the parameters of the trial are absolute,* the Guardian protested. *The infrastructure cannot sustain—*

"Are artificial constraints designed to test my willingness to make impossible choices," Parker interrupted, red-gold-black blood trickling from his eyes as the emotional weight of infinite realities continued to press against his consciousness.

"But a true guardian doesn't accept artificial limitations. A true guardian finds third options, no matter the cost."

Maya watched in growing horror as she realized what Parker was about to attempt.

Her powers, intrinsically connected to the soul's essence, allowed her to see the spiritual damage he had already sustained. His soul wasn't just cracked—entire sections were missing, devoured by the first test. What remained flickered like a candle in a hurricane.

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking as she witnessed the extent of his spiritual mutilation. "You're already too damaged. Another use of that power could send you into centuries of agonizing slumber. Your soul—Parker, I can see what's left of it. There are holes where pieces of you used to exist."

"Hundreds of years in pain," Parker acknowledged, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "I know. But I've seen what it means to be responsible for infinite souls. I've felt their pain, their hope, their love. I won't sacrifice eight million people because some cosmic test says I have to."

Without waiting for the Guardian's response, Parker reached deep again into his essence, accessing full power that had been locked away since his cosmic rebirth.

[Ding! Nyxborn Chaos Unlocked!]

[The Nine abilities unlocked...]

He didn't waste time exploring the other eight abilities that had suddenly become available to him. Instead, he immediately tapped into the ninth power—the ability that had emerged after his awakening in the Ninth Life, the one he had never dared use at full strength.

[Nyxilith's Will Over Fate – Master reshapes fate at his will. With a mere gesture, he twists destinies, breaking the chains of predetermination. At lower levels, fate resists, demanding sacrifice—his time, his power, or even fragments of his very soul!]

The moment his will crashed against predetermined destiny for the second time, the price extracted was immediate and devastating.

This time, the aging didn't come gradually—years ripped away from his lifespan in massive chunks, his face shifting from young adult to middle-aged in seconds. Silver didn't just streak through his hair; it consumed it entirely, leaving him with the appearance of someone who had lived centuries.

But the physical changes were nothing compared to the spiritual devastation.

More pieces of his soul began tearing away, larger fragments this time, taking with them memories, emotions, fundamental aspects of his personality. Parker felt pieces of his love for Maya dissolving into cosmic energy, memories of his daughters' laughter being consumed as fuel for fate's reversal.

Maya watched in horror through her soul-sight as entire sections of Parker's spiritual essence simply vanished, leaving behind voids that would never heal.

"Stop!" she screamed, reaching toward him. "You're losing core memories—the foundations of who you are!"

But Parker pressed forward, even as he felt his capacity for joy being consumed, his ability to feel wonder being sacrificed. Red-gold-black blood flowed freely from his eyes, nose, and mouth as his essence bled away. He was becoming less human with each passing second, more void than being, yet still he poured everything into reshaping the impossible.

The Guardian's predetermined parameters began to crack under the assault of pure will backed by ultimate sacrifice. Reality groaned as Parker demanded both cities survive, his diminished soul bleeding power into the cosmic infrastructure that claimed it could only sustain one intervention.

"Both... cities... WILL... SURVIVE!" he roared, his voice breaking as another memory—the first time Maya had smiled at him—dissolved to feed his desperate command.

The artificial constraints shattered like glass struck by lightning. Both realities stabilized simultaneously, their fates rewritten to avoid the annihilation that had seemed inevitable.

The shadow plague in one New York suddenly found itself constrained by laws that refused to let it consume beyond certain boundaries. The artistic madness in the other was forced to operate within parameters that preserved human consciousness even as it transformed physical reality.

Sixteen million souls continued their existence, saved by a being who had literally erased pieces of himself to ensure their survival.

Parker collapsed to the crystalline floor, his form now visibly older and spiritually hollow.

Through her soul-sight, Maya could see the devastating truth—gaps existed in his consciousness where fundamental aspects of his personality had once resided. He could remember loving his family, but the feeling itself had been partially consumed.

He knew he had once found joy in simple pleasures, but that capacity had been sacrificed to cosmic necessity.

Maya knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face as she witnessed the full extent of what her husband had sacrificed.

"Parker, what have you done? I can see... there are pieces of you that just don't exist anymore."

"What... was necessary," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had paid the ultimate price for the privilege of protecting others. "Both realities... both survive."

Behind them, sixteen million souls continued their stories—some in a New York where shadows had learned restraint, others in a reality where art respected the sanctity of consciousness. None of them would ever know the name of the being who had sacrificed pieces of his soul to save them.

*Impossible,* the Guardian whispered, awe replacing skepticism in its ancient voice. *You have rewritten fundamental cosmic law through will alone. But the price...*

"Was worth it," Parker said firmly, struggling to stand on legs that felt like they belonged to someone decades older. "Every soul saved was worth whatever I gave up."

The Guardian's presence pressed against his diminished consciousness, and for the first time in eons, the ancient entity felt something approaching humility.

*You have passed the second test through sacrifice that defies comprehension,* it acknowledged. *But one final trial remains—and I fear what centuries of agonizing slumber it may cost you to complete. No, you're going to die surely, Prince of Existence...*

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