When a contract becomes a lie, blasphemy is the noblest form of salvation.
The severed finger of an upside-down god statue sprouts nerve-like branches in his palm. Every knot throbs with a memory spore:
A girl in a white dress breathes onto stained glass and writes: “Brother, don’t come home.”
The instant ice thorns pierce her eyes, the rainstorm begins flowing backward into the sky.
Two alien crystals beneath his collarbone gnaw at his ribs. One came from the [Weaver of Time], who promised immortality; the other from the [Memory Borer], who bestowed freedom. The price of their generous gifts is that Shen Mo’s past has been rewritten into a medical record riddled with inconsistencies.
“He swindled three gods at once. The price was having his heart turned into a time bomb.”
As nine thousand white doves fly over scorched earth, carrying torn contracts in their beaks, the last god gazes at its creation from deep within the cocoon.
The being once known as Shen Mo gives a faint smile and brushes his fingertips across his chest. What beats there is no longer a heart. It is a blank divine core wrapped in strands of nerve.
It's great, with rich content and strong logical reasoning. It's worth reading.
The details are outstanding and the plot is cookie cutter!