My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

The collapse of three Primordial Void-Gods in less than a single solar turn sent a violent, reverberating shockwave through the unmapped outer reaches of the Null Expanse.

It was not merely the loss of territory that sent panic surging through the remaining divine entities; it was the harrowing efficiency of it all. Kharon, whose absolute martial fortitude had withstood millennia of cosmic storms, had been crushed underfoot as if he were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Sycorax, whose web of ten thousand illusions had driven entire celestial armies to madness, had been stripped bare and core-harvested in seventy-two seconds. And Vaelen—whose domain of primordial zero had remained untouched since the dawning of the current epoch—had seen his thirty-thousand-mile glacial fortress flash-boiled into harmless steam by a single blow from a dragon-kin’s soul-flame.

At the absolute western rim of the expanse—a bleak, violent sector where jagged dark-matter reefs tore through nebulae of raw, chaotic mana—the last two surviving Void-Gods watched the outer borders of their world dissolve into silent gold light in real time.

Inside the Chthonic Citadel, a grand, hollowed-out asteroid metropolis floating at the unstable intersection of the two final sectors, two massive figures stood before a towering, obsidian viewing basin. The dark liquid within the basin rippled with images of Vince’s floating white-marble spire moving effortlessly through the void, devouring every scrap of unrefined cosmic energy in its wake.

To the left of the pool stood Moros the Soul-Feaster. He was a gaunt, twelve-foot nightmare clad in tattered shadow robes that seemed woven from the blackest abyssal threads. His face was not a singular countenance, but a shifting, writhing mass of screaming spirit-souls, their spectral faces pushing against the pale skin of his jaw and forehead. His long, skeletal fingers twitched with volatile necromantic energy, drawing dark arcs across the cold stone floor.

To his right towered Ignis the World-Burner, a primordial chaos titan forged entirely from roaring, gold-and-black solar fire. Ignis had no true armor; his body was an unstable star held together by pure, furious willpower, and his very breathing scorched the ancient stone battlements beneath his massive, three-toed feet.

”Kharon is gone,” Moros rasped. His voice did not issue from a single mouth, but echoed as a terrifying chorus of thousands of tormented ghosts whispering in unison. ”Sycorax was unraveled before she could weave her third layer. Vaelen’s absolute zero was boiled away like morning mist on a summer lake... This intruder does not play by the laws of the outer expanse. He does not compete with our divinity—he unwrites it.”

”Silence, Moros!” Ignis bellowed, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates wrapped in nuclear flame. His solar aura flared violently, casting deep, harsh shadows across the high stone arches of the hall. ”We are primordial entities born from the unshaped chaos of the first dawn! We have held sway over these outer sectors for ten thousand years! I will not cower like a frightened beast, nor will I kneel to a mortal who happened to stumble upon a celestial flower!”

”You fool,” Moros hissed, turning his writhing, featureless visage toward the flaming titan. A skeletal finger extended, pointing sharply at the viewing pool where Vince’s citadel gleamed with sickening, unshakeable stability. ”Look closely at the resonance! It is not merely a flower he wields. He has bound the core of the World-Heart directly to his own spiritual origin. He does not manipulate domain light—he is the domain. If we remain isolated in our respective territories and fight him one on one, we are nothing more than fuel for his expansion.”

Ignis growled, the black solar fire at his chest churning like a dying sun as the weight of Moros’s words settled into his scorching core. ”Then what do you propose? Flee into the deeper Primordial Void? Become wandering vagrants without a domain to anchor our existence?”

”There is nowhere left to flee,” Moros said darkly, his shadow robes sweeping low as he stepped closer to the obsidian basin. ”His domain spreads outward with every core he absorbs. With three cores already integrated, his spatial reach is absolute. Our only path to survival is total fusion. We combine our divine authorities—my Soul-Styx Labyrinth and your Void-Solar Core—into a singular Primordial Twin-Barrier. We abandon individual mastery and force him into a battle of pure, raw domain density.”

Ignis quieted, his golden eyes narrowing into piercing slits of pure plasma. ”A total fusion... It means chaining our divine souls together. If the barrier breaks, we both perish.”

”If we do not fuse them, we perish anyway,” Moros replied, his spectral voice chilling the air despite the titan’s proximity. ”Will you gamble on your pride, World-Burner, or will you fight for your life?”

Ignis let out a low, rumbling roar that shook the very foundations of the asteroid metropolis. ”So be it!”

Without another word, both Void-Gods raised their arms high into the darkened vault of the hall. Moros reached into his own gaunt chest, pulling forth a shimmering, pitch-black sphere dripping with viscous spectral plasma and the echoed shrieks of a billion dead souls. Ignis slammed his clawed hands into his fiery solar core, tearing out a blinding, golden-black orb of compressed, super-dense star-fire.

With a joint roar that echoed into the deep void, they slammed the two domain cores together at the center of the hall.

BOOOOOOM—!

A catastrophic, dual-colored shockwave of crimson and obsidian energy erupted from the Chthonic Citadel, tearing through the fabric of space for light-years in every direction. The two outer domain-realms folded inward on themselves, tearing down their old borders and stitching together dark matter with solar plasma. Over the course of hours, a colossal, double-layered dome tens of thousands of miles in diameter solidified over the western horizon—the Primordial Twin Dominion.

Inside, necromantic soul-flames intertwined with solar matter, creating a boiling, impenetrable perimeter designed to incinerate both body and soul the instant anything dared touch its boundary.

Far across the expanse, inside the peaceful gardens of the floating white-marble citadel, the air remained cool and crisp.

Vince sat relaxed on the edge of the central marble terrace, a cup of rare, spiced celestial tea resting lightly between his fingers. Beside him, Barnaby rested her head softly against his shoulder, her golden eyes half-closed as a deep, rhythmic purr vibrated gently through her chest. On his other side, Lyrielle leaned in close, idly fanning him with a wide silver-wood leaf, her delicate elven ears twitching whenever the distant cosmic storms rumbled across the horizon.

A short distance away in the open courtyard, Vetra was executing heavy broadsword forms. Her pale skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, her dark dragon-wings flaring with every heavy strike, sending crisp, controlled shockwaves rippling through the air without disturbing a single flower in the surrounding garden.

Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere was interrupted by the high-pitched chime of space folding.

Elena stepped out from the primary tactical hall, her golden eyes glowing with active mana calculations as floating translucent screens hovered around her fingers.

”Vince,” Elena called out smoothly, her voice crisp and brimming with quiet excitement. ”The ambient readings across the western sectors have completely shifted. The two remaining signatures have ceased moving independently.”

Vince took a quiet sip of his tea before glancing sideways at her. ”They fused?”

”Completely,” Elena replied, tapping a translucent rune to project a three-dimensional model of the newly formed Twin Dominion. ”Moros and Ignis have pulled their territories together into a singular, hyper-dense defensive shell. They’ve intertwined high-density necromantic soul-traps directly into a matrix of super-compressed solar plasma. It’s an incredibly unstable build, but the sheer density is formidable.”

Vetra paused her sword swing, resting the flat of her massive blade against her shoulder with a sharp, eager grin. ”A double barrier, huh? Does that mean they think stacking two broken shields together will keep them safe from us?”

”Their domain density has increased roughly eight-hundred percent compared to Vaelen’s standalone fortress,” Elena explained, enlarging the diagram to highlight the overlapping energy matrices. ”Under normal circumstances, any spatial divinity or high-tier cultivator attempting to breach that shell would have their physical vessel melted by the star-fire while their soul was simultaneously harvested by the necromantic Styx filaments.”

Vince set his teacup back onto its silver saucer with a soft, decisive clink.

He stood up smoothly, his dark coat settling over his broad shoulders as he walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out toward the distant western horizon. Even from thousands of miles away, the pulsing, violent crimson-and-black aura of the Twin Dominion was visible against the backdrop of the void—a desperate monument built by two ancient beings who knew their time was running out.

”A wall built out of fear,” Vince said softly, his deep voice carrying an effortless, iron weight that caused the air in the garden to still. His dark amethyst eyes flared with cold, absolute dominance. ”They believe that by pooling their meager scraps of divine authority, they can alter the outcome. They still don’t understand what has entered their realm.”

Barnaby stood up beside him, her fully bloomed lotus core emitting a radiant, harmonic chime that synchronized perfectly with Vince’s heartbeat. She wrapped her slender arms around his waist from behind, her golden eyes glowing with fierce devotion.

”My Lord... your lotus craves those final two cores,” Barnaby whispered, her warm breath brushing against his neck. ”Once you take them and weave them into your domain, the Null Expanse will finally be whole under your rule.”

Vince turned slightly, catching Barnaby by the hip and pulling her flush against his chest, feeling the deep, resonant pulse of her lotus blending effortlessly with his own spirit. He then looked across at Elena, Lyrielle, and Vetra, all of whom were watching him with unwavering loyalty.

”Gather the vanguard,” Vince commanded, his voice expanding outward to echo through every hall and corridor of the white-marble spire. ”We march on the Twin Dominion... and complete the harvest.”