Although I'd never hesitated in carrying out my plans, there was one question I'd never stopped thinking about: why did the Warehouse still make me work so hard to level up?
All I had to do was kill people. Once I'd picked my target, I could send in my full-powered self and wipe the place clean with a big move. Why bother making my favorite kind of mission so complicated?
Now I seemed to have found the answer: this place had a limited capacity.
The arrival of an existence with too high a rank would be rejected.
I was only at the Second Order, but I could already feel that I was standing on some kind of threshold.
At this moment, I was like a high-powered appliance running right at its limit. The slightest mishap might cut the connection.
That might also explain why Lui, who seemed to have the backing of a god, had gone to such lengths to invite guests.
The three demigods might rank highly, but how could they compare to a god's will?
If the higher one's rank, the greater one's contribution to the consensus, then couldn't the being behind him just hold a brainstorming session and get little Benjamin his Divine Human Face?
The restrictions should apply equally to everyone.
Even if there really was a high-ranking existence behind him, it couldn't descend directly into this place and take part in the consensus.
Even just leaking in a little authority—something like the omnipresent Blood Order—was probably already pushing right up against the power limit.
In short, an outright overclocking stunt like the King of Prison Break was absolutely out of the question.
And Lui's suggestion that I keep improving myself was clearly another trap.
Setting aside the fact that it didn't matter whether the anchor