Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 297 Fate's End - Reinforcements Arrive as Promised
It's not that you died slowly,

Instead, someone will do it for you—

To delay the outcome.

The third minute after the Lord of Destiny manifested.

The star ring behind Madman Thirteen still floated high in the sky, its surface shining brightly, but it no longer had any movement trajectory.

That ring of celestial laws, which originally symbolized the creator's omniscience, was as if frozen and locked by a higher-order textual structure—

It can no longer be "updated".

He stood on the command platform called "Creation," his palm still raised in the air, as if preparing to continue writing, but he could no longer write any new sentences.

It's not because I've run out of inspiration.

Rather—his "entry" was cut off.

Si Ming stood silently in the void, holding a mask in his left hand and a life-destiny pen in his right, as if he were standing at the edge of the Star Abyss where fiction and reality intersected.

The place where he stood was no longer a "battlefield," but a rift in the determination of authority, a sovereign site recognized by the system of destiny.

This is a suppression that completely transcends the structure of the Star Calamity.

The Lord of Destiny, the Weaver of a Thousand Faces, has completed the initial setting of sovereign control:

"At this moment, everyone on the field except me is silent."

Crazy Thirteen remained silent for a full ten seconds.

His gaze slowly fell on the young man whose face was half-covered by a thousand faces.

the first time.

Beneath the light of "divinity" that once shrouded all living beings, an indelible unease emerged.

That wasn't the fear of death.

Instead, it's like an author who is an expert in all grammar suddenly discovering that someone has marked his entire dictionary as "invalid" with a red pen.

—

The world began to stagnate.

Behind Madman Thirteen, the world-type domain called the [Decree Creation Realm] began to show dense micro-cracks, like spider webs cracking before a mirror shatters.

The sound waves of the rules began to shatter, the vibrations became uncontrollable like an echo, and even the Star Bridge of Destiny beneath his feet trembled violently, as if it might collapse at any moment.

Selene's lips curled into a smile, her eyes weary yet filled with a sharp, relieved joy:

"Wow, Siming... you're really handsome this time."

As Lynn panted, he completely integrated the fragment of the pocket watch into the lifeline of the Gray Tower, and whispered a report:

"The cross-locking of the rules of fate is complete, and the rewriting of the time anchor point is ready."

Natasha raised her hand, cocked both guns, and her eyes turned cold:
"When fighting a god, there's no need to wait for the god to finish their lines."

—

"A seven-person team."

"To a god."

"Start the war."

—

The raging winds stirred up the remnants of the dead tide, and the corridor of illusion cast ten thousand illusory reflections, each one a branch of destiny.

But at this moment, these branches no longer extend.

They all converged towards the core centered on the God of Fate.

He didn't say "start".

He simply raised his hand.

As agreed, everyone set off.

—

Nobuna was the first to rush out.

She abruptly flipped open the Book of Fate, and the pages instantly transformed into a talisman array. The contract totems of the former and latter ghosts emerged from between her palms, as if the seal of destiny had been forcibly pulled into battle mode.

"With my blood, I summon my shadow."

“In my name I call those who serve the gods who sit on my throne.”

Suddenly, two giant, fiery shadows appeared in the Black Venus chart, rolling out of her Book of Fate one after the other.

[Summon - Former Demon - Prison Form]

[Summoning - After Demon - Spirit Form]

The demon was like an obsidian flame, wielding fangs of destruction, and clad in battle armor like a demon general.

The ghosts, like red gauze soul chains, were entwined with spirits and shimmered with cursed killing wheel seals.

Standing between the two, like the chief instigator in a divine ritual, Nobuna spoke in a cold voice:

"You say you are the creator?"

"Then come and taste what it's like to be a false god killed by the 'worshippers'."

—

Selene's blood flames were already nearing their limit, and her aura was chaotic, yet she still exerted all her strength to squeeze out the remaining blood energy.

With a roar, she stepped forward, her claws, in her berserk state, like the furious claws of a divine beast, tearing through the air and drawing fiery tracks like chains.

Her figure intertwined with the ghost's, launching a surprise attack that completely blocked Madman Thirteen's path to the left and right.

"You bastard, you false god," she cursed through gritted teeth, "try and see if you can take my last claw."

—

Natasha had no spare magazines left.

She gripped both pistols in reverse and hurled them with tremendous force!

The gun disintegrated into two beams of light in mid-air, crashing into the core of the Irostia projection, where it was absorbed and fused.

[Fusion Technique: Illusionary Dream Bolt Array]

Irostia's whispers echoed, dreamlike and ethereal, as several locking rings that froze the trajectory of time appeared in space.

Freeze in three seconds.

enough.

The next instant, Natasha raised her fist in the air—

In the void, a god-slaying bullet slowly condensed.

This bullet was not intended to penetrate.

For — record.

"Fate Recorder - Fifth Bullet"

"Target: The Concept of False Gods - Thirteen".

—

Zhuang Yege stood at the rear of the battlefield, where the Dead Tide Lanterns had run out of oil, leaving only a faint, eerie blue glow.

He did not extradite any more souls.

He simply transformed the entire bottom of the battlefield into an "unnamed realm".

As Madman Thirteen stepped onto the surface of this dead tide, the ripples beneath his feet dissipated like scattered words:
"who are you?"

Are you yourself?

"Did you define yourself?"

"Or are you going to make up a 'you' and claim that you are you?"

Crazy Thirteen's expression froze, his lips twitched, and when he spoke for the first time—there was a pause.

—

Hermann did not charge.

He stood at the furthest point on the perimeter, remaining calm.

The second hand of the pocket watch continues to move backward, with logical time progressing precisely.

"three minutes."

he whispered.

"We have to hold on."

—

And the God of Fate—

Finally, they made their move.

He drew four playing cards, flicked them with his fingertips, and threw the four cards out, which then swirled around the square.

With each stroke of the pen, each card manifests an extreme power: explosion, cutting, poison, illusion.

The four elements surround each other.

The God of Fate slowly uttered a sentence, as if a gamble by the gods of judgment had begun:
"At the beginning, you are a writer."

"Right now, you're just a chip on my gambling table."

Madman Thirteen roared, his voice like thunder and lightning:

"You are human!!"

The Master of Fate pressed down with his pen, his tone as sharp as falling rocks from a deep abyss:

"I am also—fate."

On the battlefield, for the first time—

Madman Thirteen was knocked back a step.

Within that single step, the outline of divinity cracked in reality for the first time.

The layer of deadly tide beneath his feet, constructed by Zhuang Yege, was now named by Si Ming as "The Land of Meaninglessness".

At that moment, the "authority of existence" beneath his feet was briefly stripped away.

It wasn't that I was injured.

Rather, it is from the perspective of its logical essence that it has been stripped of its "untouchable" divinity.

In that instant, he—was no longer a god.

Rather, it is an entity that can be defeated.

—

But, in just a moment.

He smiled.

His lips twitched, and that eerie smile was no longer the composure of a former playwright, but a distorted echo of a god who had completely lost control.

His laughter was like a torn piece of script paper ignited, burning with a hoarse, low roar.

He stretched out his hand.

What drips from the fingertips is no longer blood, nor is it the light that constructs data; rather, it is a kind of fundamental life source core.

Like the umbilical cord severing at birth, like the flames flowing at the beginning of creation.

The true mastermind behind Madman Thirteen has finally revealed himself:
[High-level Mystery of the Life System: Gene Embryo - Replica of the Divine Embryo]

He casually tossed his pen into the air, as if he had completely abandoned his identity as a "narrator".

He stopped writing.

He wants to take the stage himself.

He thrust his hands into the ground of the square, and the earth throbbed like a heartbeat, trembling and rippling, as if the earth's veins were roaring.

The stone slabs beneath the entire square swayed incessantly, like a divine factory that had been dormant until now—awakening in this instant!
Siming's expression changed drastically, his voice trembling as he spoke, each word distinct and powerful, echoing in the wind:

"It's not a rule..."

"It's him—he wants to get involved himself."

—

boom! !

The ground exploded, and the entire battlefield was swallowed by the swirling light and shadow, shattering, churning, and reforming.

Crazy Thirteen's "creator shell" collapsed with a bang, his divine armor was stripped off, and his true body, hidden behind the play, was finally revealed.

It was a terrifying body that grew in chaos, half-god and half-flesh.

Bone spurs protruded from his skin, supporting the core of a constantly pulsating star-shaped embryo, beating in his chest cavity like the heart of the universe.

His body no longer uses the structure of fate.

Instead, it directly switches to the operation of the life-system mystery's own core.

【Entry Activation: Self-Regenerating Harmony (Active)】Instantly restores 25% of health and removes all abnormal statuses.

【Entry Activation: Flesh Regeneration (Passive)】When health is below 40%, regenerates 5% per second for 10 seconds.

【Entry Activation: Embryo Replication (Summon)】Deploys three “Replica Embryos” that automatically charge forward and bite the target.

—

The battlefield was shrouded in a deep red blood mist.

The air was ripped apart by the flesh-like regenerated structure, and blood mist, like tentacles, covered all directions.

The combined power of the summoned Oni and Oni was instantly suppressed, their runes distorted and their incantations disordered.
Xin Nai herself was directly thrown into the corrosive field by a surging wave of air, her robes torn open, and her Book of Fate shaking like crazy pages.

Selene faced the enemy head-on, her right arm severed by sharp, fleshy spikes, blood evaporating, her vampire princess form nearly disintegrating, her blood energy draining away, her combat power nearing its limit.

Natasha's fifth god-slaying bullet struck the "self-generated flesh wall" defense.

Completely ineffective, the ballistic logic is devoured, and it is absorbed into new cells before the explosion.

Lynn's pocket watch shattered with a "click," its core components flew off, the time anchor broke, and she fell to the ground. The star map scattered, and she was unable to reconstruct the time path.

Zhuang Yege held up the Death Tide Lantern, the spiritual oil went out, the wick shattered, and his Yellow Springs Crossing Boundary completely collapsed.

Herman tried to pull the bloodline to awaken Helena's remaining factors—but failed.

Helena burst from the coffin, her blood vessels severed, and she knelt on the ground, spitting out a mouthful of scarlet blood, her breath disordered like the lingering echo of an old bell.

—

The last playing card of the Fate Master was bounced back, causing the Fate Pen to vibrate violently, and his body took a step back.

The Destiny Map Starfield turned gray like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, with the spiritual veins backfiring, and even the field of vision was losing focus.

The Star of Reason—the tenth one—is now fully lit.

The next one will trigger the "Star Chart Burnout" state.

he knows.

I only have a few dozen seconds left for Qingming Festival.

—

At this moment, Madman Thirteen stood in the core of the divine body where light and shadow surged, with twelve fleshy wings behind him vibrating, and his voice could no longer be called human.

Instead, it is the roar of some old structure that considers itself a god:

"I am no longer a playwright."

"I am a divine being in flesh."

"It is the ultimate structure of this game of fate!"

"And you, you are not even worthy of sacrificing yourselves!!"

The seven people were forced back dozens of meters, dust billowing like waves, and the air was filled with the scorching smell of burning flesh and torn rules.

Herman struggled to prop himself up from the shattered ground, his body covered in blood vessels, his arms trembling so badly he could barely hold his pocket watch. He bit his tongue hard, a mouthful of blood splattering between his teeth, barely managing to pull himself back from the brink of unconsciousness.

He murmured softly, as if counting down before his death:

"Three minutes...three minutes left..."

Si Ming knelt on one knee, his left hand pressed tightly against the ground, his knuckles turning white.

His chest heaved violently, a metallic taste rose in his throat, and he finally couldn't hold back a mouthful of blood, which spilled from the corner of his lips.

He wiped the mud and blood off his face, raised his head, and stared at the still proud Madman Thirteen high in the sky.

His voice was low and hoarse, yet sharp as steel needles:
"Crazy Thirteen".

"You are indeed...powerful."

He coughed, his smile pale as paper, but the sharp edge within it remained.

"But this situation—"

He looked up, his eyes brightening slightly, and a faint yet glaring smile curved his lips:
"It was the ending I had already written."

—

The smoke and dust had not yet dissipated.

Madman Thirteen hovered in the center of the square, his flesh and blood embryo, reconstructed from his disintegrated divine body, rising and falling like the tide, while the ground beneath his feet had already transformed into a surging red ocean.

The rules of the star chart burned incessantly around him, and biological logic, like overflowing ink, spread and painted across every inch of the battlefield, attempting to reconstruct order with "life".

Si Ming knelt on the ground, his shoulders heaving violently.

The robe of illusion was already soaked with blood, and the masks of the Thousand Faces floated around him, but no longer rotated, like out-of-control meteors that broke free from the constraints of their orbits.

He has ignited the tenth star of reason.

Its aura—is on the verge of collapse.

In my mind, the world has begun to lose focus, and tinnitus feels like the tide crashing against the reefs of the sea of ​​life.

Everybody knows:
They—are about to collapse.

—

Madman Thirteen threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound waves shaking the air and piercing through the entire shattered battlefield like thunder.

His voice was like the final hammer blow in a theater, tearing apart the veil of illusion in space:
"Your destiny is written by me!"

"Your souls are under my gaze!"

"Your deaths are footnotes in my genealogy, reflections in my poems!"

He spread his arms wide, his fleshy wings stretched to their limit, as if to embrace this rewritten world:
"And now—you're almost out of even the right to fail!!"

—

But at this moment——

Si Ming smiled.

That smile was not the joy of a victor.

It was neither sarcasm, pity, nor mockery.

Instead, it's a flawed laugh that tears out a glimpse of "human victory" from the crack between God and the script.

He braced himself with one hand on the ground, and slowly raised the other, pointing towards a certain direction at the edge of the battlefield, to that seemingly empty void.

His gaze pierced through Madman Thirteen's gaze, pointing directly to the deepest part of "forgetfulness".

Then, he slowly opened his mouth and whispered to Madman Thirteen:
"madman."

"Have you... forgotten something?"

Crazy Thirteen's pupils contracted.

It was an instinctive unease.

A sense of disorientation at realizing that a certain part of the story is not under one's control.

Si Ming nodded slightly, as if confirming something, or perhaps revealing the answer to a mystery:
"You said you 'record everything'."

“But you forgot—'record' is not 'remember'.”

He slowly turned around.

His gaze turned to the figure behind him—the one in gray, silent, who had been silent for far too long.

Hermann stood there, his face as white as paper, but a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth.

He stepped out of the blood-soaked dust and helped himself up from the edge of the already broken blood coffin.

His hands were trembling slightly.

But he still took out the cracked, nearly shattered pocket watch from his pocket.

He spoke softly, his voice like the tolling of a bell:
"Pocket watch second hand: Reset to zero."

[Memory Sealing Released]

Target: Madman Thirteen

Content: Forgotten proposition - Reinforcements will arrive in five minutes.

—

Madman Thirteen suddenly took half a step back, his pupils trembling violently, his face contorted in the divine light, as if a logical error had occurred in the program.

"Varied--"

He opened his mouth, and unfinished words escaped his throat.

What did he want to say.

But he couldn't say it.

because--

His logical chain of language began to break down and collapse.

It was as if he was experiencing the betrayal of language for the first time; words slipped from his tongue but could not coalesce into will.

"...Reinforcements...? Troops...?"

His voice broke off, like a corner of a play being torn away, revealing the "truth" that should have existed in memory—

He himself couldn't remember.

boom!
The southeastern edge of the square—the deepest part of the illusory corridor.

That place was originally the anchor point set by the God of Fate, a dream circuit hidden in the gap between the structure of dreams and the logic of fate, a passage "not observed by fate".

But at this moment——

The entire ground shook violently, as if it had been torn apart from the ground.

The moment the dream thread broke, space rippled and distorted, as if a pen with higher authority was forcibly scribbling and rewriting on the scroll of fate.

The afterimages of the Thousand Faces recombine and converge into a structural pattern resembling a "welcoming door frame".

Irostia's whispers echoed from the void, like the awakening of a dream, like the beginning of a prologue:

"Pre-determined Dream Path - Arrival Time: Current".

"Target permissions - Ruoli, Vera."

—

Crazy Thirteen suddenly turned around, his pupils contracting violently as if pierced by a sharp needle.

His voice was out of control, like the scream of a misguided god:

"Impossible!! This isn't mine—!!"

Si Ming staggered to his feet, leaving a trail of blood with each step, blood dripping from his fingertips.

But he was smiling.

He bowed slightly to Madman Thirteen, his posture for that instant resembling that of an actor taking his final bow at the end of a performance.

"Yes."

"you do not know."

"Because I didn't write 'You lose'."

"I'm just telling you—to forget that I won't win."

When he said this, there was no anger or arrogance in his voice.

Only those who have long stood behind the final outcome possess such calm and steadfastness.

He seemed to be merely recalling an old story that had been intentionally forgotten, and sighed softly:
"We never needed to defeat you."

"All we need to do is stall you."

—

The voice just fell.

Light burst forth from the ground in a slanted line, and the Bridge of Dreams slowly revealed its true form in the corridor of illusion.

The battlefield space expanded dramatically at this moment, as if the boundaries of the rules had been forcibly torn apart, and the folded world slowly unfolded like a scroll.

That was a passage that should not have existed in the first place.

It is neither the archiving path of destiny nor the allocation result of the destiny system.

It is a future that was never "allowed".

But at this moment—it is acknowledged.

—

Two figures slowly stepped out of the passage.

One in front, one behind.

Ruoli, Vera.

—

Ruoli's robes flared like starlight as three mysterious spells activated simultaneously, their combined power swirling around her in a synchronized glow.
It was as if three stars were orbiting in the same direction behind her.

She slowly surveyed the battlefield, her gaze calm as still water, settling on the seven wounded men.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the air clearly:
"……sorry."

"We're late."

Vera stepped forward, raising the string of upside-down angel icons in her hand.

With a gentle flip, beams of holy light emerged from her fingertips, transforming into warm ripples that reversed everyone's injuries and negative states.

She looked at the seven people, her tone gentle, yet with an almost respectful firmness:

"But you have held on to the page that 'he should fall' until now."

—

Madman Thirteen still stood on the altar of life seeds, the platform as red as blood, his bone wings half-spread, the mystery of life was extending a second layer of veins in his limbs to reconstruct, attempting to accelerate the recovery of divinity.

But at that moment.

His expression crumbled.

An emotion that has never been written down before—fear.

The first thing to emerge above divinity was an “uncontrollable” crack.

It's not because they are powerful.

Rather, they are his undefined future.

—

Ruoli moved slowly forward.

Her footsteps were silent, yet the moment she landed, they suppressed the vibration frequency of all the floating rules in the entire square.

The air seemed to freeze, and the remaining masks of the Thousand Faces automatically parted to the sides the moment she approached, clearing a blank path.

That was not an order.

That's the judgment of the fate system itself—

The controller has changed.

—

Si Ming slowly raised his eyes to look at her, without saying a word.

Ruoli did not say much.

She merely glanced back at him, her gaze devoid of sorrow, guilt, or surprise.

It was as if she had already traversed all possibilities, and had simply arrived at that page in the book on time.

—

Crazy Thirteen's voice was low and hoarse, as if his throat was filled with the ash of old manuscripts:

"Who are you?"

Ruoli raised her head slightly, her tone calm, yet it transformed into an extremely sharp wind in the air:

"I am nobody."

"I just……"

She paused slightly, looking at the seven figures standing between blood and death, yet never retreating a single step.

She smiled calmly, a smile that held both fire and light:

"...They are the ones who have come to continue writing this chapter for them."

—

Madman Thirteen growled, his voice splitting in two:
"You dare change the ending I wrote?!"

Ruoli's gaze remained unchanged, her tone low, yet as sharp as a hammer blow:

"Do not."

"I'm here to—take over the pen."

"The ink on your pen isn't dry yet."

"Then I'll write what you didn't finish."

—

Just as Madman Thirteen raised his hand again to summon structural feedback, three mysterious scrolls suddenly swirled around Ruoli's side, their star patterns exploding, as if the prototype of the world had suddenly unfurled.

But she didn't start it.

She simply asked in a low voice:
"Guess what? Have you seen my card before?"

Madman Thirteen's pupils contracted sharply, his bone wings suddenly unfurled, and his entire divine body instantly emitted structural warning signs.

Ke Ruoli remained standing in the same spot.

Silence, and refusal.

—

The wind is still.

The square fell into a frozen silence.

But this blank—

This is not the end.

Yes—turn the page.

It wasn't that he arrived too late.
Rather, it is fate.
I had already planned for you to fall first.

Then, we see—the page of redemption has been turned.

(End of this chapter)