When courier Lin Ye was delivering his last takeout order, the sky cracked. What fell in the meteor shower was not a fireball, but amber wrapped in ancient genes. When the black fog engulfed the city and the reinforced concrete turned into a nest of flesh and blood, he found that the wound he was bitten was flowing with starlight - it was the god-killing mark that could swallow the energy of all things, and it was also a countdown to death that gradually eroded sanity.
"You came too late." Under the Antarctic ice, the erased history mocked.
In the ending of this dance between flesh and blood, Lin Ye walked on the tightrope. The left hand holds the devouring power that can melt the star core, and the right hand holds the violent power that can cause genetic collapse at any time. The former military reformer handed over the suppressive potion, the alien monk's flying sword hung between his eyebrows, and the saint of the doomsday sect whispered in his ear: "Guess, the price of being selected to become a god-killer... Is it to kill the first god, or to become the last god?"
When the suspended continent obscured the sun and moon, and when quantum ghosts wandered in the ruins of data, he tore open his chest and pressed his glowing heart into the core of the earth.
"This time, we decide how civilization should die."
