Or... like those bloody gods born from absurd capitalism.

Trillions of cubic meters of calamity crashed down from the sky, turning it into a dead city, filled with the resentment of all the dead souls. This was a grand painting that had been delayed for three months.

But no one will look back; they're all going to die.

Andrew was stunned, and at the same time felt the cycle of reincarnation consuming itself at an alarming rate.

The surrounding scene was so shocking, the allure of destruction was so powerful that it was impossible to look away.

The homeland of the three gods.

It has become a true abyss.

Merlink walked past him and sat on the altar. A cold, damp wind blew by, and he looked like a wet bird.

Only his gaze, casually fixed on the destruction, sat calmly in the still-warm gale, his eyes undaunted, as if he might take flight at any moment.

Inside the altar, Pandora sat beside him. Above another hellish realm, the fallen gods had descended into madness. Together they watched the scene, their expressions like those of people watching a grand fireworks display, so dazzling and brilliant.

Merlink pointed to the crumbling city, then turned and smiled at the bewildered girl.

“This,” he said, “is what fucking art.”

This was a momentous occasion, but then a spoilsport appeared. The wall of the pavilion was kicked down, and Carlos stumbled out, followed by He Yu, his face full of helplessness, clearly feeling hopeless about someone.

As he ran, he shouted, "Fuck you! Merlinck, just tear this painting up! We're still stuck in this forbidden place!"