Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 485 The Illusory True God: A Stage for Seven Hundred and Sixty Seconds

The stars burned like lamps.

All of this is a veil of illusion.

The stage is short-lived.

Yet it can illuminate the abyss.

—The Planetary Disaster Script

The void of the drawer world trembled once more.

The enormous mass of flesh of the postmaster wriggled, and hundreds of drawer eyes suddenly opened.

The next second, black envelopes of calamity poured out of those eye sockets one after another.

They poured down like raindrops, but instead of falling on the God of Fate, they were thrown straight at the broken ruins of the tower.

Above the wreckage, Isabelle supports herself with one arm, Han Zhenya weakly possesses the Annabelle doll, and Reinhardt's semi-mechanical body is still sparking.

The three of them barely had the strength to dodge.

"Well done!"

Reinhardt roared, and the mechanical arm suddenly extended.

Behind him, with a thunderous roar, a massive anti-aircraft gun appeared out of thin air. The muzzle spun, flames flashed, and bullets rained down like fire.

“Da da da da da—!”

The roar of cannons pierced through the void.

But those calamity envelopes seemed to be completely unrestrained by the laws of physics.

The bullets pierced through them, but the envelopes trembled in the air before reassembling and continuing their trajectory toward the target.

"Damn it!" Reinhard growled.

Isabel looked up, her expression icy: "Delivery...cannot be stopped."

The black envelopes were drawing near, casting a suffocating shadow, like death sentences, about to engulf the three of them completely.

at this time--

In the void, a gigantic hand stretched out.

That hand did not belong to a human, but was a phantom interwoven with illusion and reality, as if pieced together from scraps of paper, ink stains, and shadows.

A giant hand clenched.

All the black envelopes were instantly grasped in his palm.

They writhed and twisted frantically, as if trying to escape, but they couldn't break free at all.

The three people on the wreckage were stunned.

The next second, Si Ming's low laughter echoed from the void.

The voice was sarcastic and indifferent, yet it brought a sense of peace.
"—Incorrect address."

"Delivery invalid."

"Your Excellency the Postmaster General."

The giant hand slowly tightened.

A crimson flame suddenly ignited in his palm.

The flames were not ordinary flames, but sinister fires that whispered eerie secrets, as if burning away all lies and false causes and effects.

"call--"

The flames roared and engulfed the envelope in his palm.

The black, calamity-ridden letter twisted and struggled in the flames, emitting a piercing shriek. Layers of paper peeled away, and the ink turned into blood-red smoke.

In the end, they all burned to ashes, leaving only nothing but ashes.

The void trembled, and the drawer world emitted a muffled roar.

The postmaster's flesh writhed wildly, and hundreds of drawer eyes opened wide simultaneously, roaring in unison:

"The complaint has not been resolved—!"

"Complaint process continues—!"

"Delivery...will surely arrive—!"

The roar shook the entire world.

The illusory true god of destiny still stands in the void, his cloak billowing in the storm of paper scraps.

The grotesque smile on the mask seemed to mock the absurdity of the entire process.

The postmaster's roar echoed through the void.

The enormous chunk of flesh writhed wildly, and countless drawers sprang open.

"Click! Click-click-click—!"

One after another, bull-headed postmen were launched out, carrying heavy mailbags on their shoulders, their eyes empty as still water, and their calamity hammers flashing in the void.

They are no longer giant beasts tens of meters tall, but emerge in a continuous stream like bee pupa, numbering in the thousands, covering the sky and earth.

A black torrent surged through the void, rushing towards the God of Fate and the remaining tower.

Han Zhenya laughed weakly inside the doll, her voice hollow: "What a terrible audience."

Sima Ming moved.

He simply raised his hand and tapped it lightly with his finger.

"The stars."

His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable resonance.

"Light it up for me."

boom--!
In the depths of the void, the deathly darkness suddenly flickered.

The stars lit up like fireflies dipped in ink.

First, a little bit.

Then it's two o'clock, three o'clock...

In an instant, the entire void was transformed into a dazzling sea of ​​stars.

Reinhardt held his breath: "That's...?"

Si Ming chuckled softly, the bizarre smile on his mask flickering in the light.

"Alien host".

He uttered it softly, as if reciting a spell of destiny.

"Star Egg".

In an instant, cracks began to appear on the surface of the star.

The cracks spread, and light flickered.

These stars seemed not to be celestial bodies, but rather giant eggshells.

"Kakaka-!"

Countless cracks burst open from the surface of the star.

Suddenly, a huge figure crawled out from the shattered "star egg".

Those were enormous demonic insects.

Their carapaces shimmered with alien colors, their tentacles swept across the void, and their compound eyes emitted a captivating light.

The first demonic insect opened its blood-red maw and emitted a sharp chirping sound.

"hiss--!!!"

The sound shook the entire void.

The swarm of bull-headed postmen, rushing in like bees, froze in unison amidst the chirping of insects.

The next instant, their bodies seemed to be shattered by invisible sound waves, their flesh and the mailbag exploding into dust.

The chirping of insects signals the annihilation of the enemy.

Reinhardt's eyes widened, and his mechanical eyes emitted a piercing electrical sound.

"...This is no longer an army. This is...the predator of calamity."

More demonic insects hatched from the star eggs, baring their fangs and roaring madly.

They pounced on the herd of bull-headed postmen, each bite swallowing the giant beasts, some tens of meters tall, along with their mailbags.

In the black void, the Minotaur Postman seemed like a powerless ant.

Si Ming slowly raised his hand, his cloak billowing, and the smile on his mask became even more bizarre in the light and shadow of the insect swarm.

"you."

He stretched out his fingertips and gently traced them across the void.

"guard."

Several enormous demonic insects stopped, climbed to the side of the tower, spread their wings, and quietly lay down around the ruins.

Their compound eyes gleamed with a cold light as they watched Isabel and the others on the tower, like silent guardians.

Isabel took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the pocket watch, a complex look flashing in her eyes: "This... is the Burning Star."

The God of Fate did not stop.

He led the remaining swarm of demonic insects, turned around, and flew straight towards the inner wall of the void.

His voice whispered on the wind, clearly carrying across the battlefield:
"Postmaster General."

"Let me see how many envelopes you have left to fill my stage."

Countless demonic insects roared to the sky, their compound eyes flashing with crimson light, and charged towards the inner wall of the drawer world along with the God of Fate.

Their enormous mouths bit open the postmark eye, and their tentacles lashed out at the void.

The chirping of insects echoed, carrying a frenzied madness that seemed to devour everything.

The postmaster's enormous fleshy mass writhed violently in the void.

It was as if, for the first time, He felt... unease.

The void vibrates.

The alien swarm of insects gnawed and tore apart the postmark holes on the inner wall.

The tentacles extending from behind the eye sockets were constantly being bitten off by the swarm of insects, spurting blood like dark red fireworks exploding in a sea of ​​stars.

"Roar--!!"

The swarm of insects hissed in unison, shaking the entire world.

On the ruins of the tower, Han Zhenya leaned weakly against the Annabelle doll, her voice like a humming song: "This stage, at least... deserves applause."

Isabel narrowed her eyes, gripping her pocket watch tightly as the hands ticked, her voice icy: "...This is just the beginning."

Sure enough, the postmaster made a move.

His massive mass of flesh shuddered violently, and all the drawer eyes opened simultaneously, as if to tear the entire void apart. "The complaints are not over—"

"Process continues—"

The sound was deafening, and then the surface of His body began to crack.

Dark red liquid gushed from the crack, starting as a thin stream and then instantly turning into a raging torrent.

Blood gushed out of the crack like an inverted waterfall, yet flowed backward into the sea in the void.

The torrents surged and the waves rose high, as if the entire starry sea had been stained with blood.

This is not an ordinary liquid, but blood plasma carrying information of calamity.

Within every drop of blood, countless eyes roll about, watching everything with mockery, ridicule, and indifference.

"Complaint accepted."

"Complaints will inevitably be received."

Blood, carrying countless whispers, transformed into a torrent of calamity, sweeping towards the God of Fate and his swarm of demonic insects.

Its momentum was so great that it seemed to want to completely engulf the world.

Dark red blood surged forth, instantly transforming into a torrent that blotted out the sky.

The sea of ​​blood surged forth, and countless eyes rose and fell on the crests of the waves, all staring at the Fate Master and the swarm of insects.

The whispers intertwined, as if a million people were reciting in my ear at the same time:

"Complaints will inevitably arrive—"

The swarm of insects hissed and writhed wildly, as if the entire void was about to be submerged.

Si Ming raised his hand, and the smile on his mask stretched out grotesquely in the bloody light.

"One finger is enough, Dark Star Destroyer."

He tapped his finger lightly.

——Boom! ! !
The void collapsed instantly, and a huge black hole exploded and formed in front of the flood of blood.

The surrounding light was instantly swallowed up, stars were distorted, bones were shattered, and the waves of the sea of ​​blood were all pulled towards the dark vortex.

"hiss--!!!"

The sea of ​​blood churned and wailed, millions of eyes exploded at the same time, the red mist turned into fragments, and screams collapsed one after another in the void.

The swarm of insects flapped their wings, circling around the God of Destiny to avoid the black hole, their compound eyes flashing, their cries high-pitched, as if they were singing a chorus for the ruler.

The black hole spun faster and faster until it completely tore apart, swallowed, and compressed the entire mass of calamity and blood, finally falling silent.

The void was left with only—silent darkness.

Si Ming withdrew his hand, his cloak fluttering, and his mask chuckled softly.

"A flood of complaints?"

"It's just a lie that even you don't believe."

The black hole gradually contracted behind him, like a curtain slowly falling, announcing the end of this battle.

But the entire world inside the drawer continued to wriggle.

The next scene will be even crazier.

Si Ming slowly raised his head.

Whispers behind the mask echoed throughout the void, and cloaks billowed wildly.

"The Mutant Beast King—"

He uttered a cruel and somber declaration.

"Dragon Transformation".

boom! ! !
The void exploded.

The Fate Master's body suddenly swelled, and his cloak billowed out like a tattered curtain, replaced by an endless dragon shadow.

Skeletal remains were torn apart, ash storms were stirred up, and his figure broke through the tower, broke through the swarm of insects, and stretched straight towards the sky.

A five-clawed golden dragon soars through the starry sea.

The dragon's body was as vast as the Milky Way, its scales shimmering with a light that was a mixture of starlight and destruction, each scale seemingly reflecting a world that was burning.

His eyes transformed into starlight, and with each gaze, the void itself was ignited.

"Roar--!!!"

The dragon's roar shook the void, all sounds ceased, the swarm of insects bowed down, their compound eyes trembled, and the bones of the undead shattered together, as if submitting to the pressure of a god.

The God of Fate raised his giant claw.

With a gentle flick of its dragon claws, the void undulated and folded like fabric.

"Star Speaker".

His voice transformed into ancient dragon language, and in its roar, even time seemed to stand still.

"—Stars vanish!"

boom--! ! !
In the depths of the void, all the previously silent stars lit up.

They are not distant stars, but rather as if they are linked together by threads and hooked by dragon claws, losing their balance one by one.

"Kakaka-!"

One, two, three... hundreds of stars shattered simultaneously, their light exploding.

Then, they all fell!
Like a puppet manipulated by strings, forcibly pulled off the stage by an invisible hand.

The stars, trailing blazing tails, crashed down on the postmaster's massive chunk of flesh from all directions.

boom! ! !
The first star fell, flesh and blood tore apart, and a monstrous wave of calamity surged into the sky.

Boom boom boom! ! !
The second one, the third one, countless ones...

A shower of stars poured down, turning the void into daylight, and the blazing light swallowed everything.

The postmaster's enormous mass of flesh writhed wildly, the drawer eyes snapped open, and his roar sounded like the wails of a million demons:

"The complaint has not been resolved—!"

"Complaints will definitely be received—!"

But His voice sounded incredibly small amidst the roars of dragons and the falling stars.

The enormous mass of flesh was torn apart and shattered layer by layer under the impact of the star shower, blood splattered everywhere, tentacles broke off, as if it were being crushed by the universe itself.

The void burned, and the sky collapsed.

The Eastern demonic dragon that Siming had transformed into hovered in the center of the starry sea, its figure spanning the void, overlooking this devastation.

He lowered his dragon head, the mask-like smile still hanging on the blurred dragon face, carrying endless mockery.

At this moment, He was no ordinary person.

He is a false god, the playwright of the stage of destruction, and the puppeteer who manipulates the stars.

Offstage, the postmaster finally revealed his true form for the first time... fear.

On the ruins of the tower, the three silently gazed at the battlefield in the void.

The sky was torn apart by a shower of stars, the postmaster's flesh was collapsing, and the sounds of calamity were completely suppressed by the dragon's roar.

At that moment, it felt as if victory was within reach.

Reinhardt leaned against the broken stone wall, sparks flying from his mechanical body. He was panting heavily, but a rare relaxed smile appeared on his face.

"Hoo... Hahaha!"

He laughed loudly, his voice booming like metal.

"This time—it should be okay, right?"

His eyes reflected the dragon's shadow of the God of Fate, its enormous form swirling in the void, drawing down the stars.

That was no ordinary battle.

That is the stage of the gods.

However, Isabel did not laugh.

She held the pocket watch in one hand, blood dripping from her severed arm, but her expression remained blank.

The pointer ticked, and the flickering starlight faded away one tick at a time.

She spoke coldly, her voice like ice water poured onto embers:
"Do not."

Reinhardt paused, his smile freezing on his face.

Isabel lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the pocket watch, her fingertips gripping the edge tightly.

She read the numbers aloud:
"...Four hundred and twenty seconds, he has already used up so much time."

The hands of the pocket watch continued to tick relentlessly.

Each sound seemed to be a countdown to the moment when the divine will burn out its rationality.

Han Zhenya leaned against the Annabelle doll, her eyes vacant, a faint smile on her lips: "And three hundred and forty seconds later... the stage will come to its final curtain call."

Void.

The dragon that the God of Fate had transformed into was still fighting.

Dragon claws tore through the void, dragon language shattered the stars, and stars rained down on the postmaster's massive body.

The brilliance of the burning star illuminated the entire drawer world, shining upon all the ashes, blood, and debris.

However, behind that splendor, the second hand of the pocket watch continued its cold, relentless march.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

[Time remaining: 340 seconds.]

The stage lights were incredibly intense; the brighter they were, the more cruel it seemed.

They all knew that the countdown to the Burning Star would not stop because of any miracle.

A sense of crisis, like an undercurrent, weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

Victory seemed within reach, but it was coldly pulled away by an invisible hand.

This stage could turn into a funeral at any moment.

The second hand is a sickle.

The stage is the execution ground.

Deception can fool all beings.
But time can't fool it.

The spark burned out.

Darkness is coming.

—Annotations on the Burning Star

(End of this chapter)