The small land in the picture is growing moonlight-like branches and leaves in countless scarlet flames. The tiny creature that He wished He had carved with His ribs to protect, its white branches and leaves are swaying, and when they are lifted up, they reveal the ceramic inner leaves.
His throat vibrated with a shattering sound, and dark golden divine blood gushed out from the point where the iron spear pierced through, condensing into a constellation of pain in the void.
"So you love this defective product."
A creature with six human faces walked into the hall, each face representing a civilization that He had saved.
Together, they held the crystal plate, Xiaodi's head immersed in its cerebrospinal fluid. "Unfortunately, it refused to participate in the godslaying ritual, so we had no choice but to turn it into an observation instrument."
His retinas began to peel.
In his last clear vision, he saw himself being deconstructed - his spine and extracted bone spurs were sucked in turn by twelve traitor clans, his liver was auctioned in the sacrificial square, and his sausage casings became sacred objects for the transfer of power.
The most ironic thing is that His heart is being analyzed simultaneously by technology and witchcraft in the former altar in order to extract the so-called "creation gene".
"Why did you give us so much wisdom when you created us?"
The fire magma touches the earth with its fingers and transforms into human hair as pure as moonlight.
"Having tasted power, we naturally want more."
"By the way, Father God, I was deeply in love with this face, so I chose to kill that damned witch."
Memories welled up like a festering wound.
He remembered that in a certain era of civilization, he had come to the Disaster Continent in the most primitive form.
Even though He was extremely confused and bored at that time.
He can only come here with a fragment of his soul, and he only has one of the five senses, which is vision.
But when those tiny creatures knelt and trembled as they offered young boys and girls, He simply glanced at them and granted the entire tribe a hundred years of good harvest.
He seemed to be trapped forever in this fire and magma.
Now the descendants of those who benefited are using lasers to cut His pineal gland.
"Look! The Father's nerve cord is glowing!"
A traitor covered in mechanical tentacles cheered.
He was indeed glowing—every torn nerve ending burst with lavender lightning, a sign that the universe's baseline parameters were collapsing.
Xiaodi's head suddenly floated up. Her moonlight-like hair broke apart, sending out countless firefly-like points of light.
These were the breaths of creation that He had breathed into the small land when He was helping it recover, and now they were all returning to their origin.
Wherever the light passed, the traitors' skin began to reveal the truth: the Magma's torso was actually billions of parasites devouring each other, and each face of the six-faced creature had a mouthpart hidden under the skin.
He suddenly understood the greatest irony—these creations never “became” greedy, but rather inherited the imperfections of their own division from the very beginning.
Just like when a mirror breaks, each broken piece longs to become a complete circle, but can only simulate completeness by devouring others.
They are all Him.
When the last nerve and bone spur were pulled out, He heard the sound of the cosmic membrane rupturing.
Magma is using His vocal cords to announce the new era, while countless traitors are mutated into indescribable pieces of flesh during the eating ceremony.
In his gradually blurred vision, the small dots of light gathered into a vague human shape, gently hugging the crystallizing remains of the god.
Before being completely annihilated, his hearing caught the sound of a newborn fetus tearing itself apart in the deepest darkness.
But He suddenly smelled a scent.
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