A Belated Return Bird

The hotbed where we sleep has become the last coffin lid of civilization. Without warning, the "gap" connecting reality and nothingness quietly opened in bedrooms around the world. Under the warm quilt is a chasm leading to the abyss 91 million years ago. Indescribable ancient things surged out like a tide. They tore apart steel and concrete, devoured flesh and neon, and trampled the modern civilization that mankind was proud of into mud. This is not an invasion, but a belated "return." On the verge of extinction, the remaining humans managed to piece together a completely erased epic from the broken ruins and monster genes. A truth that is far beyond imagination and bone-chilling gradually emerges: In the savage era before humans or even dinosaurs were born, there was a god-level civilization that was extremely glorious. They were not destroyed by disaster, but by their own ultimate loneliness. She was the last watchman of that era and the only tombstone of civilization. There are no epics to sing about her achievements, no monuments to record her sacrifices. There are only endless monsters, the enemies and compatriots she has fought against for ninety-one million years. The so-called road to "becoming a god" is an eternal torture of being forced to accept, stripping away all warmth, and becoming the enemy of the entire void. The so-called "salvation" is nothing more than a lonely individual at the end of time, continuing a meager glimmer of vitality for a race that has long forgotten her.