Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 291 Seven People Slay the Gods - The Mother of the End
Not because they are fearless,

Rather, they were simply tired of it.

Fear was woven into God's creation.

The sky returned to a brief silence.

It is not a peaceful silence, but a vacuum silence that comes after extreme oppression.

The sea of ​​blood receded, the crimson tide subsided, and the embryo ceased its cries, as if some force had forcibly halted the process of conception.

It was as if the heavens and earth were making way for a silent blank page in preparation for some decision that was about to be made.

At this moment, Zhuang Yege sat quietly at the end of the bridge leading to the Yellow Springs.

His face was as pale as snow, and his pulse was so faint it was almost imperceptible.

Blood dripped from his sleeve, falling drop by drop from his fingertips into the River Styx formed by the illusory shadow beneath his feet, where it was silently swallowed up, leaving no trace.

He spoke softly, his voice so steady it was almost mechanical, devoid of any emotional fluctuation:
"All humankind,"

"Passed through the Star Bridge."

"The star map shows that the star positioning is complete, and all mortals have left the City of Remains."

"I can maintain this domain for... three more minutes."

He spoke as if he were giving a task report, as if he were handing over the last page of an experimental record that was destined to be archived.

Then, he looked up.

His gaze slowly swept over the six people in front of him:
Si Ming, Natasha, Herman, Lynn, Xin Nai, and Selene.

His tone remained unchanged, still as calm as if he were calculating time, making judgments, and eliminating unnecessary variables:
"I have a suggestion."

"Now, you shall cross the Star Bridge immediately."

"I will hold off the last wave of death tide for you."

“I can stay; the dead tide can buy you two minutes to get through the window.”

"Your survival is far more valuable than mine."

After he finished speaking...

The wind has died down.

No one answered.

There was no surprise, nor any objection.

There was only one kind of silence, as if a vow long written in one's heart had been quietly revealed.

It's too heavy to turn the page.

Then, Hermann was the first to speak.

He held a cigarette in his mouth, smiled lazily, and began to speak:
“I can’t remember exactly how many times you’ve said you were going to ‘die here.’”

"But I'm pretty sure that the way you're saying this right now is that you're trying to make us owe you our lives."

Natasha snorted and rolled her eyes:
"You want to stage a 'sacrificial hero' drama all by yourself?"

"I'm sorry, we haven't rehearsed that script yet."

Lynn gently closed his pocket watch, his tone as if he were a cataloger organizing documents:

"What you wrote is an escape report."

"What we hold in our hands is the outline of the ending."

Nobuna gently lifted the Book of Fate, pointing with the vermilion brush:
"If death is a script written by a foolish god—"

"Before we die, at least we should set off our own fireworks display."

Selene clenched her fist, crimson flames seeping from her fingertips, her smile alluring yet fiery:

"You want us to leave?"

"I don't."

"Right now, the thing I fear least is death."

She raised her chin, and in that instant, she resembled a goddess on the battlefield who refused to yield.

Finally, Si Ming stepped forward.

He stood in front of Zhuang Yege, reached out, and gently placed his hand on Zhuang Yege's shoulder.

His gaze was calm, yet carried an undeniable warmth.

"Zhuang Yege."

"Your door opens very steadily."

"But it has already completed its mission."

His tone was low, yet it was like a broken sword falling on a challenge.

"We're not going to use this door to escape."

"We're staying here—"

"For her, and for their farce—the curtain falls."

Zhuang Yege looked at them without saying a word.

None of them avoided his gaze.

They weren't waiting for him to say "okay".

They were waiting for him to nod and put pen to paper.

a long time.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

It's like finally closing a book that you can no longer read.

Then he got up.

The Death Tide Realm began to slowly rotate the moment he stood up, the bridge was stained with blood, the ghostly light swirled, and the lamps of the underworld lit up one by one.

He said softly:
"……it is good."

"Then—write the last line."

"Then, together."

"Destroy Gods".

At this moment, only seven people remained between heaven and earth.

With a star-causing mother goddess.

They did not flee.

They didn't ask about the odds of winning.

They stood like an unfinished paragraph.

Preparation—Putting pen to paper.

boom--!
With Zhuang Yege at its core, a deep abyss suddenly opened up beneath the entire Star Bridge.

It is no longer the phantom-like "projection of the dead tide," but a materialized [underworld ferry structure].

A dark light rose from the depths of the earth, revealing a weathered ancient bronze bridge beneath the darkness. The bridge was covered with inscriptions, and the Soul-Locking Lighthouse slowly ignited.

The pale yellow lights lit up one after another along the bridge ridge, like some ancient necromancy ritual that had been sealed away for thousands of years being awakened again.

Each flame seemed to illuminate the name of the "Forgotten Ones".

Zhuang Yege slowly raised his hand, revealing the card that had been dormant for so long in his right palm—

【Ferry to the Underworld - The Boundary of the Dead Tide】

It unfolded suddenly!

At this moment, he released it in reverse using a "supercritical perfusion" method.

The card surface shattered into a runic wheel, the patterns spreading out like a network of rivers, sealing the entire surface into the extradition domain.

His voice was calm, yet as if a coffin lid had been locked:
"This is not for the living to walk on."

"It's for the dead—to return their names."

Above the River Styx, lamps of the underworld are lit one by one.

In the lamplight, the soul began to stir.

Not a freshman.

It is a return to normalcy.

Those mortals who died in the City of Mysteries, those individuals whose fates were overwritten as "seeds" in the logic of numbering—

Their "names" are suppressed by layers of numbering, functionally differentiated, and stripped of their flesh and blood, leaving only the remnants of their consciousness.
At this moment, under the power of the Yellow Springs' guidance, it is being peeled away from the structure of its destiny, thread by thread.

It's as if the original handwriting is slowly emerging under the eraser on a piece of paper that has been altered.

That is the most primal light of a name.

Number H-42, the outline of "Liu Jingyu" was peeled off.

Number E-07 reveals Fabio's consciousness oscillation curve.

Number G-16, fragments of Martin Lane's old communication card emerge, glowing like a portrait in the ghost lamp.

They did not speak.

But they "came back".

—In the form of a name.

As these "names" detached from the shell of the "seed number," Angela, standing in the center of the nest, experienced a sudden tremor in her umbilical cord nerve clusters!

That tremor was not just pain, but also an instinctive logical denial.

Her eyes widened suddenly, and she let out a piercing scream like a ruptured fetus!
"You want to give my children back to themselves?!"

Her voice was no longer gentle, but rather carried the mad twisting of the deprived.

Zhuang Yege did not avoid the question.

He looked up, the blood-red lamplight reflecting on his pale, bony face. His tone was as cold as unburned joss paper:
"They are not your children."

"They are—the 'names' you swallowed but couldn't chew."

"Now, I'll return the favor on their behalf..."

He waved his sleeve.

Expansion across the board!

【Ferryman to the Underworld】—Activate Extreme Mode!
All souls in the state between death and incomplete numbering will automatically be removed from the mother body's identification logic system.

If the soul is separated for more than five seconds, the identification number will become completely invalid, and the mother body will lose full control over it.

When excessive detachment occurs, it will forcibly interfere with the "structural integrity of the reproductive system" and trigger the "Uterine Structure Loosening" judgment.

Angela felt as if the roots of the offspring were being uprooted from her body!
She cried out in pain as multiple embryonic sacs inside her body began to vibrate and collapse, and the umbilical cord connections became disconnected, misaligned, and burst one by one!
She let out a heart-wrenching roar:

"If you want to kill me... then first—take my unborn child!"

"You... abortion victims I rejected!!!"

But Zhuang Yege remained unmoved.

He simply uttered a cold sentence:
"The gates of the underworld have been opened."

"She can no longer bear children."

His voice was like the seal of the underworld, like an iron pen falling into a coffin.

Angela was startled.

She stared at him, and finally her eyes showed a flicker of emotion.

In that instant, she didn't seem like a god.

It doesn't look like a monster either.

She was simply—a real mother.

It's just too late.

She finally understood.

She never had these people.

She is not pregnant.

She was simply not allowed to continue writing their passage.

The sea of ​​blood was still churning, but it began to slowly recede.

It was not a defeat, but rather being led to "return".

Under the maximum operation of Zhuang Yege's Dead Tide Realm [Yellow Springs Transfer],
Extradition is not targeted at a specific numbered destiny, but rather involves rewriting the entire destiny system at the name level.

Souls are forcibly extradited, identification codes are stripped away one by one, and every being covered by a number is forced to return to their "origin of memory".

Each individual will that was devoured was stripped from the framework of the logic of destiny, like ink being pulled from the snow, and its name reappeared.

Angela's uterine nerve center emitted a high-frequency noise.

That wasn't an attack command, but rather a system pain response.

It's like the organs of a woman on the verge of childbirth are refusing to function.

She is "identifying overflow".

Her "maternal structure" is rejecting this "cessation of production at the cognitive level".

-

And this moment.

The God of Fate took a step forward.

The gray mist gathered at his feet, like pages of paper quietly unfolding beneath him.

The corridor of illusion quietly opens.

This is not a domain.

It's not a battle.

It was a moment for storytelling.

He stood still.

He raised the card that had been dormant for so long—

The Thousand-Faced Weaver of Destiny

The cards rotate, and thousands of floating faces slowly rise up, like a celestial mirror array, each face engraved with an "unfinished fragment of fate".

Irostia appeared, standing quietly to his left, side by side with Sir.

The illusory corridor unfolded beneath her feet, transforming into a star-studded array of brushes, and a brush of emptiness quietly appeared before the God of Fate.

He held a card in his left hand and a pen in his right.

The last two stars of the Destiny Chart ignite, the Mystery of the Thousand Faces and the Mystery of the Corridor of Illusion operate in sync, and the Weaving of Destiny and the [Handwriting of the Nameless] are activated simultaneously.

His eyes remained expressionless.

No anger.

There was no hatred either.

He was simply putting pen to paper.

—

Herrington Angela.

He read the name aloud.

That was a name that had long been blocked, erased, and replaced by "Matriarch Number Logic" by Madman Thirteen.

Her reaction was immediate and intense.

The star embryo trembled, the inner walls of the nerves twisted, and it throbbed as if muscles were overstretched.

Female faces emerged from the mother's skin, distorted, blurred, and wailing.

She is trying to resist being "restored".

The God of Fate remained unmoved.

He picked up his pen, and the first stroke came down:
[Mother of Destiny], [Abnormal Reproduction Form]

Second stroke:
[Divine Control Core], [Umbilical Cord Bionic Network - Unstable]

The third stroke:
[Purpose of Reproduction: To Create a God], [Motivation for Reproduction: To Compensate for Self-Deficiencies]

Every stroke of his pen is like disassembling a high-level logical framework.

Not destruction.

It means rename.

He meticulously stripped her from the definition of "god" back to humanity.

Her vocal cords began to malfunction.

The pharyngeal voice was a mixture of fear, sorrow, and an inexplicable "maternal angina":
"You can't do this... I'm not her anymore... I'm... a mother now!!"

The God of Fate responded softly, like a commentary after a fragment of a text:
"You are not God."

"You are Angela Herrington."

The fourth stroke is made.

"You are not the mother."

"You are the creator of the god of pregnancy failure."

-

Click.

The pen is put away.

It wasn't a violent breakage.

Rather, it was a "sound of the logical structure being unwound." The inner layers of the entire [Mother of Destiny] structure began to collapse violently.

The identification labels are confusing.

Neural feedback failed.

The numbering mapping is disordered.

The star-cause embryonic chain breaks.

Angela's womb, which resembled a divine palace, began to show its first discernible crack.

Bloodline reversal.

Uterine torsion.

System reconstruction failed; nurturing logic overflowed.

She screamed, but couldn't form a complete sentence.

Because of her most core element—the "maternal system subject"—

It has already been negated by the writings of the God of Fate.

At that moment, she was no longer a goddess.

She is no longer the Mother Goddess of the Star Calamity.

She was just a loser trying to control her "fate".

This time, however, the person who named her did not allow her to continue writing.

Natasha slowly raised the sniper scope. What was reflected in the scope was not a single target, but a distorted resonance between multiple layers of naming structures.

Her gun was aimed at the crack in the collapsing core of the star embryo.

At this moment, the voice of the God of Fate came, low and steady, like the final narration on the last page of a story nearing its end:
"Natasha."

"Is your 'Godslayer' card even enough to kill a demoted god?"

-

Natasha bit her lip, her pupils reflecting Angela's crumbling figure. A slight smile played on her lips, a cold yet somewhat relieved one.

"of course."

"And I've prepared an extra one today."

-

Under the sky, Angela screamed.

Her voice no longer possessed the ability to construct complete language; the vibrations of her tongue and vocal cords produced a kind of maternal, off-frequency sob, similar to a "mechanical cry."

"Don't change my name... I'm not her..."

“I… am no longer… Herrington…”

"I am the mother of destiny!! I was born for Thirteen... I carried the universe for him... I extracted the star core for him!!"

Her body was no longer stable, like a towering structure of a womb, which began to collapse layer by layer in the violent tremors after being rewritten by the pen.

The three high-level arcane cards on her body also degenerated and dissipated simultaneously:
[Blood Embryo Mother Core]: The logic of the twelve embryos was interrupted, six failed to provide feedback, four became ownerless wandering souls, and two shattered into cores that backfired.

[Blood Ancestor Nurturing]: The twin spirits lose their nurturing coordinates, disconnect from the source, fail to be identified, and their souls shatter, falling like glass shards with the blood rain.

[Primitive Uterus]: The maternal ovary organ layers collapse, the inner wall begins to show organ ulceration, the reproductive nerve bundle is broken, the umbilical cord detaches, and the system issues a series of warnings.

-

now.

Lynn immediately activated the time anchor:
"Revert to the ammunition status from thirty seconds ago."

[Godslayer] Five silver bullets - Automatic reloading complete.

Hermann simultaneously activated the Blood Coffin Girl's core, creating a ten-second window for recovery protection:

"They can't hold out much longer, kill them quickly."

Nobunai first used the Demon Blade to cut through the edge of the defense, and then used the Demon Brush to break through the wall.

Selene entered Wild Hunt mode, her body engulfed in blood flames, transforming into a red shadow, her blood claws tearing through Angela's second umbilical cord barrier.

Behind him, Zhuang Yege's death tide domain was burning at its critical point, and he bit his tongue:

“Her astral embryo… has transcended divinity.”

Si Ming nodded, his gaze unwavering.
"Then start."

-

The wind is still.

The sunlight faded.

Natasha raised her gun.

Blood fell like frost.

What she was aiming for was never a "position of God".

Rather, it is a five-fold structural axis that constitutes "divinity".

-

"First shot."

Target: [Hematopoietic embryo nucleus]

The silver bullet pierced the air and penetrated Angela's abdominal cavity.

All the undeveloped embryos ruptured simultaneously, turning into blood mist and evaporating in the explosion, leaving nothing behind.

-

"Second shot."

Objective: [Blood Ancestor Nurturing]

The bullet pierced the nurturing altar on her tear ducts.

The twin spirits screamed and dissipated, their last cry of "Mama" distorting into a deathly tone in the air, their mournful cries ceasing.

-

"The third shot."

Target: [Primordial Uterus]

The silver spear exploded, piercing through the metal core.

The original breeding system, "Cry Activation," attempted a final summoning, but was broken by a shockwave.

The entire surface of the mother nest stopped moving, like a stopped beating heart, frozen in time as the final remains.

-

"Fourth shot."

Target: The identity of [Mother of Destiny] is named as such.

The numbering system has completely collapsed.

All umbilical cord naming identifiers were reset to zero, neural tags collapsed, and data protocols self-destructed.

The star map deep within her pupils shattered inch by inch.

Angela murmured:
“You…killed me, your ‘mother’…”

The voice is out of focus and the tone is ruined.

-

"Fifth shot."

Natasha took a deep breath and gently pulled the trigger.

This time, the bullet sliced ​​through the air—like a period written by God.

Target: Herrington Angela's core—left side of the heart, 0.23-second beat interval.

-

The silver bullet pierced her heart silently.

At that moment, her expression finally froze.

It's not pain.

It's not hatred.

Instead, it was an expression that had never appeared on her face before:
silence.

The sea of ​​blood collapsed.

The umbilical cord fell off.

Her body began to spontaneously combust, disintegrate, and peel away.

Angela did not say another word.

She simply lowered her head, quietly watching the last glimmer of light remaining in her heart—

That's a bullet.

It's also a name.

In her final moments before death, she seemed to be asking:
"Did I... actually give birth to anything?"

And then she—

Gone.

The wind stopped.

The fire went out.

The world seemed to finally relax its fascia and come to a standstill after a long period of contractions and whispers.

Angela's remains are not on the ground.

She did not fall.

She was not destroyed either.

She was—turned into a pool of grayish-white powder.

Silently, it disintegrated in the air, vanishing with the wind into the world she had painstakingly conceived but was never allowed to be born.

That is the end of the mother's body.

He was the self-proclaimed creator, only to have his "writing end" in an instant by the one who named him.

—

The crowd slowly gathered around.

There were no bugles, no war drums.

No one cheered.

There was only a solemnity, almost like a divine funeral.

This was a victory for which there was no right to celebrate.

This is the final, complete judgment on the existence of an error.

—

Lynn stood at the front, paused slightly, and stared at the pool of ashes.

She spoke softly, her voice like annotations in the margins of an old manuscript:
"Grey Tower once said: Death is not the end."

"It was just the last line of a lab report."

That sentence isn't about remembering, it's about archiving.

—

Herman stood beside her, wisps of smoke rising from his fingertips.

He exhaled the last puff of smoke and spoke softly:
"Someone died inside her womb."

"And today, I helped them—extract it from her body."

His tone was as light as if he were settling an old debt.

—

Nobuna opened the Book of Fate.

The Book of Fate, which contained too many numbers and crossed out too many names, was like a divine scroll in her hands.

She slowly crossed out a line of words with a vermilion pen.

"False God Herrington".

"The name of God is revoked."

"The moment you die—you will no longer be a god."

She had no expression.

But her pen was a sacrificial knife.

—

Selene was standing closest.

She stared at the pool of ash, her eyes filled with a complex, ambiguous expression, a half-smile playing on her lips.

She spoke in a low voice, as if debating with the wind, or perhaps conversing with a past self:

"This time, no one can call me a monster, right?"

“I’m on the side of humanity, and I killed the ‘god’.”

The vampire's smile carried the wildness of a victor, but it was no longer an isolated sharpness.

—

Zhuang Yege leaned against a broken, withered branch, swaying but standing upright.

He spoke weakly but clearly:
"She is the door."

"But she is the gate that devours people."

He took a deep breath, blood staining the corner of his mouth:

"I... shut her off today."

—

Si Ming stepped forward last.

He didn't say much.

He simply bent down, and with a flick of his fingertip, drew an almost invisible arc in that small patch of ash.

As the wind blew, the trace quietly disappeared, vanishing without a trace.

He raised his head, looked at the gradually brightening sky, and whispered:
"It's finished."

The sound was like both the sound of writing and a sigh.

It's like the end of a story, and also like a gentle yet firm affirmation of human will.

—

Finally, there's Natasha.

She has always been a woman of few words, and many victories have not elicited a "worth it" from her.

But at this moment, she seemed to finally feel that there was something she should say.

She looked up at the rising starlight in the distance and wiped the dust and blood from the muzzle of her gun.

She said softly:

"I don't know if you are a god."

All I know is that you are not my next target.

This is the hunter's final judgment.

—

The seven people remained silent.

They stood around the pool of ash.

It revolves around the "false god" who once tried to re-conceive them all.

Angela.

The Mother of Life.

A mistake that can no longer be allowed to happen.

It has already been—

write.

breakdown.

name.

deprivation.

Erase.

Zero.

This page—will not be continued.

Just be remembered.

It wasn't that God was defeated.

But it was before she was remembered—

It has already lost because of the naming.

(End of this chapter)