Urban Legends? I’m the Lord of the Weird!

[As the neon lights of the cyberpunk city are devoured by mechanical spiders, the bloodstains on Shen Mo's body are fading into nothingness: the birthmark of civilization's end. He strides across time's turbulent current, frozen to an amber hue. Behind him float three collapsing dimensions: the shattered spiritual veins of the cultivation world entwined with the wreckage of starships, the gear plague of a steampunk empire taking root in a cybernetic arena, and the final Philosopher's Stone of a certain magic kingdom, still screaming beneath his feet.] He is a walking incubator of urban legends, with a galaxy of entropic change flowing through his veins. Shen Mo scratches open an observation window in the curtain of space. The creatures of three hundred galaxies are devouring one another to verify Gödel's theorem. His left iris is a constantly reassembling Mayan apocalypse calendar; his right eye holds every erased timeline: “Despair needs hope as its growth medium if it is to be pure.” “It's time to sow a new nightmare.” Shen Mo tears off his shadow and pins it to the dawn and dusk of a new world. The flowing darkness immediately begins to corrupt the laws of physics. The primitive civilization waking in the morning light will never know that the fire they have just tamed harbors an entropy beast capable of devouring the technology tree, and that the corneas of the first humans to gaze at the stars have already been branded with an Observer Protocol that warps the constellations.