I Somehow Became The Almighty Creator, l can create anything: Be Ware Chapter 30

A/N:

This Chapter, my dear readers, offers you a tantalizing glimpse into the roadmap ahead. Consider it a peek at the horizon, where mysteries deepen and the story unfurls.

We are only beginning to uncover the enigma that is Watts—his family, this world, and the intricate threads that tie him to a larger, grander destiny. Stay with as we venture into the unknown.

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[STATUS PANEL

Na: Jack Wattson Aeonborn

Race: Supre Human {Progenitor}

Blessing: Blessing from Universe

Bloodline: Aeonborn

Existence Level: Level 1

Main Ability: CREATOR lv1

Innate Abilities: Immortality, Eyes of the Universe, Luck, ????

Physique: 250.9

Spiritual: 250.9

Mindscape: 250.9

ABILITIES:

Created

Evolution

Bloodline

CREATED KNOWLEDGE;

//Basic Runes//

CREATED ITEMS;

//None//

NOTE: Congratulations, you are on your journey to becoming the Last Aoenborn Heir.]

.............

Watts stared at the glowing notifications from the system, his brow furrowed in frustration. It felt like every answer only bred more questions, each more confounding than the last.

What exactly was this trial he was supposedly undergoing? There were no visible trial grounds, no tangible signs that sothing monuntal was happening.

How could he already be in a trial if nothing around him seed to have changed?

"System?" he called out ntally, hoping for clarity.

[The trial of the Aeonborn is unique to each individual. I currently lack the ability to determine the exact nature of your trial. However, given the circumstances, it appears your trial involves study and research regarding your powers.]

Watts exhaled sharply. Study and research?

What did that even entail? Was he supposed to start experinting with the limits of his abilities or uncover new ways to wield them?

And was there even a ti limit for this so-called trial?

[No,] the system responded, as though reading his thoughts.

[The trial has no ti constraints. It can take as long as necessary—even a lifeti. So have failed to complete it entirely before their deaths.]

A small wave of relief washed over him. At least there wasn't a countdown looming over his head. He already had enough on his plate without the added pressure of a ticking clock.

But the system's answer raised another question: was it even possible to fail? And if so, what would failure an for him?

He glanced at his surroundings, his mind churning with possibilities.

The bloodline tied to his ability intrigued him the most. It wasn't just a coincidence that his powers were so overwhelming—this "Aeonborn" designation clearly carried imnse significance.

To manipulate the very fabric of reality itself was no trivial matter. This bloodline must have a storied history, one he was now connected to by fate or design.

Watts clenched his fists. He had to uncover more about this lineage, this broken yet extraordinary power that he had sohow inherited.

But alongside this burning curiosity was a growing sense of dread.

The cryptic note left by Shadow kept nagging at him, particularly the ntion of the paragons.

Were they truly as powerful as the note suggested? More troubling still was the revelation that Earth had ventured beyond its solar system, colonizing alien worlds.

This was information so monuntal that Watts couldn't comprehend how it had been kept from him—or from the public at large.

How had humanity achieved such feats in secret? And if these paragons were powerful enough to rule over aliens, what chance did he stand if they turned their attention to him?

He wasn't ready for such an encounter, not yet.

His thoughts spiraled, each more urgent than the last. So many questions demanded answers. So many tasks lood over him like towering mountains.

It was overwhelming, paralyzing even.

With a deep breath, he grabbed a pen and a notebook, forcing himself to create a plan—a structured roadmap to tackle the chaos in his mind.

The list of objectives grew longer with every stroke of his pen. As he reviewed it, he couldn't help but shake his head at so of the more whimsical entries.

But he decided to keep them. If they were on paper, they were fair ga.

First, he needed a personal hideout. Sowhere secret and secure. A "bat cave," if you will.

With the paragons' hidden cities out there, Watts saw no reason why he couldn't have his own clandestine base.

The trial demanded study and research, and for that, he needed privacy.

No one could be allowed to snoop around, not if he wanted to remain undetected.

Second, he resolved to beco the richest person alive—and he gave himself a week to do it. Information, technology, and resources were essential for his plans, and all of them required imnse wealth.

Of course, there was also a selfish side to this goal. Watts wanted to taste the luxuries that money could buy, if only for a brief mont before he inevitably got swept up in more complicated affairs.

Third, he would resurrect an old dream: to beco the faceless, unknown king of the underworld.

While the grander sches of the paragons had sowhat eclipsed his initial ambitions, the underworld still held appeal.

Establishing a vast and invisible information network was crucial, and this goal aligned perfectly with his desire for revenge.

Ah, revenge. Watts had not forgotten the man who killed him at the airport. Despite all that had transpired since—despite even awakening his dormant bloodline—that betrayal still burned in his mory.

That man wasn't ordinary; Watts was sure of it. Even after deploying his technopathy to dig up clues, he'd uncovered almost nothing. It was as though every trace had been ticulously erased.

That alone was reason enough to pursue the man. Watts needed answers about the man's mission, his connections to the paragons, and the circumstances of that fateful day.

And when he finally found him? Punishnt would be swift and absolute.

Watts tapped his pen against the notebook, his mind drifting to the paragons' hidden cities.

He had glimpsed their advanced technology during his confrontation with the alien in that high-tech city.

If those cities were indeed paragons' strongholds, then they were also treasure troves of information.

He would infiltrate them using his technopathy, slipping into their networks unnoticed. Once inside, he would map out their secrets, their plans, and their weaknesses.

If necessary, he would evolve his technopathy to new heights to achieve his goal. Knowledge was power, and Watts intended to wield it like a blade.

But first, he needed to locate the cities. That, in itself, would be a challenge. He had no starting point, no leads, save for the faint mory of his previous encounter.

Still, he was confident that he could uncover their locations in ti.

The final item on his list was personal: to uncover everything about his bloodline and inheritance.

The Aeonborn legacy was a mystery that demanded exploration. Understanding it fully could very well be the key to everything else.

Watts leaned back, surveying his list with a mix of determination and anxiety. Before he could tackle any of these grand plans, he had a more imdiate task: visiting his family in the hospital.

It had been on his mind, gnawing at him like a restless itch.

Perhaps he could even do sothing to help them. The idea of turning his family into "supre humans" flitted through his thoughts, a product of his newfound powers.

But for now, he just wanted to see them, to ground himself in sothing familiar before diving headfirst into the unknown.

And then, there was Evelyn. She deserved answers, too, though Watts wasn't sure he was ready to give them.

His journey was only just beginning, and the road ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. But one thing was clear: Watts was no longer just a man with questions.

He was a man with a plan—a plan to bend the very fabric of reality to his will.