Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 486 The Lie That Shattered the World
Illusion and reality overlap

A script woven from lies.

At the moment when the spark burns out,

The curtain has not yet fallen on the stage.

—The False Gospel

The void is burning.

The dragon's roar shattered the inner walls of the drawer world, and stars rained down, each carrying a destructive roar, crashing onto the postmaster's endless chunks of flesh.

"Roar--!"

The dragon body of the Fate Master stretched across the void, its claws hooking into the fleshy walls, spewing out starlight and raging fire at the same time.

The postmaster's drawer opened and closed frantically, and tentacles stretched out one by one to wrap around it, trying to press the dragon's body firmly into the abyss of flesh and blood.

The dragon's claws tore apart, and evil flames burned.

A primal melee erupted in the void.

But in the eyes of the God of Fate, the world is splitting apart.

He lowered his dragon head and saw not only flesh and tentacles.

A compound eye opened before him, and he saw himself sitting at a gambling table, holding a deck of cards with chips piled up like a small mountain.

The next instant, the Ace of Spades in the playing card shattered with a "crack," transforming into fleshy tentacles that wrapped around the dragon's claw.

“...It’s fake.” Si Ming said in a low, hoarse voice.

He suddenly flung it away, tearing the tentacles apart, and then crashed back into the chunks of flesh.

But the scene before my eyes changed again.

He was not in the void, but on the deck.

The Lost One rocked on the raging sea, clinging desperately to the sails. The gale whipped up the waves, and countless strange shadows floated in the darkness.

"Raise the sails!" he roared.

But the postmaster’s whisper was his only response.

"Complaints will inevitably arrive—"

The sails instantly transformed into countless eyes, all staring at him with mockery.

Si Ming gritted his teeth, his dragon claws sweeping across, crushing the sails and eyes together.

The screen flickered again.

He saw himself standing on the streets of Alleston, amidst billowing coal smoke and the hawking of newsboys.

"Tomorrow will be better!" The newsboy shoved the newspaper into his hand.

But in the next instant, the words on the newspaper all changed to "complaint," and one after another, they flew over and slammed into his dragon head.

The God of Destiny roared in pain, his dragon body slamming violently into the postmaster's flesh, spewing flames that turned the flying papers to ashes.

The illusions are becoming more and more numerous.

Casinos, the sea, streets, cemeteries, piles of bones...

All memories, all lies, all experiences are superimposed.

Every time he swung his claws, every time he breathed out monstrous fire, the enemy before him constantly changed:

Sometimes it's a paper figure made of playing cards, sometimes it's a roaring wave, and sometimes it's the empty eyes of a newsboy.

He even couldn't tell whether he was fighting, drowning, or gambling.

Who is he?
Is he a gambler?
Are they sailors?
Is it a scam?
Or is it this illusory star dragon?
In my mind, countless compound eyes opened at the same time.

Their perspectives overlap, tearing reality into fragmented pieces.

The God of Fate was panting, and the dragon's head was shaking violently.

"...Who am I, really?"

"What exactly is this?"

Reason is being burned away, illusions are increasing, and the line between falsehood and reality has long been blurred.

The battle in the void continued, his dragon body tightly wrapped around the postmaster's massive flesh, the monstrous flames constantly devouring the tentacles, and stardust raining down one after another.

In his eyes, those tentacles were sometimes playing cards, sometimes sails, sometimes newspapers, and sometimes tombstones.

He was almost unable to tell whether he was fighting or dreaming.

Only one thing is true:

The stellar disaster value of the Burning Star is being devoured second by second.

The ticking of the pocket watch seemed to echo in my ears.

There isn't much time left.

As the compound eyes expanded their field of vision, the world was torn apart into shattered curtains.

Playing cards flew through the air, dice slammed to the ground, waves crashed down from beneath their feet, newspapers swirled in the air, and streets collapsed into ashes.

Si Ming seemed to be dragged into countless stages, all performing simultaneously, mocking him, engulfing him, and suffocating him.

His consciousness was like a candle flame in the wind, flickering constantly, and could be extinguished at any moment.

"...I'm going...crazy."

The dragon's head let out a hoarse growl, and the trajectory of the raging fire it spewed began to distort.

At that moment, he clenched his teeth and raised his giant claws.

Between those sharp claws, a bottle of alchemical potion shimmering with starlight emerged.

That was the last card Isabel handed him.

Si Ming stared at the bottle, the illusions in his compound eyes surging, like countless hands trying to stop him.

Playing cards blocked the bottle opening, dice rolled on the bottle, newspapers blocked the view, and waves crashed violently.

He gritted his teeth and swallowed the liquid in the bottle in one gulp.

"Goo-"

The icy liquid flowed down my throat, and starlight exploded in my veins, like flowing silver light, quickly spreading throughout my body.

The illusion did not disappear.

The playing cards are still flying, the dice are still rolling, and the waves are still surging.

But at this moment, the center of all illusions suddenly focused—

The postmaster's enormous chunk of flesh.

Every one of His tentacles, every drawer eye, is so clearly visible in the very center of the Sea of ​​Compound Eyes that it cannot be ignored.

Si Ming raised his dragon head, the smile on his mask lengthening in the firelight.

"Ha... there's no going back."

He chuckled softly, his voice echoing in the void, carrying a sense of relief.

"But—at least, I can get them out of here."

boom--!
The dragon's body wrapped around the chunks of flesh again, its sharp claws digging deep into the flesh.

The monstrous flames spewed from its mouth, burning its tentacles and eyes.

The postmaster's body writhed violently, and countless eyes roared: "The complaints are not over! The complaints will surely arrive—!"

But this time, Si Ming was no longer distracted.

The illusion continued to tear at his consciousness; he could still hear the rolling of dice, the shattering of playing cards, and the roar of the waves.

But behind all the veils of falsehood, His true enemy is crystal clear.

He knew very well:

The enormous chunk of flesh before me is merely an illusion.

The real postmaster is the entire world of drawers.

All he did was perform.

A performance where illusion and reality intertwine.

boom! ! !
The void roared.

The dragon that the God of Fate had transformed into was entangled with the postmaster's flesh, its claws digging deep into the flesh and blood, and its demonic flames burning the tentacles and drawer eyes to ashes.

The postmaster roared, and hundreds of drawer eyes opened simultaneously, unleashing beams of calamity that relentlessly bombarded the dragon's body.

Dragon scales burst open, starlight and evil fire intertwined, and the entire drawer world shook.

This is a collision powerful enough to tear the universe apart.

Reinhardt looked up, his eyes flashing with the light of war, and growled through gritted teeth, "...Damn it, this is what war is all about!"

Isabel stared intently at the vast battlefield, her face pale, her heart pounding, and the hands of her pocket watch still ticking coldly.

Han Zhenya leaned against the Annabelle doll, her sickly smile frozen at the corners of her mouth, but her gaze was unusually calm.

However, no one noticed.

Behind the roar of the dragon, in the heart of the Fate Master, a chessboard quietly unfolds.

Black and white squares appeared deep in his mind, and a chess piece gently fell.

[Falsehoods and Deceptions: Making Moves on the Chessboard]

"The game of chess is not played on the center stage."

No one could hear his whispers.

Beside the tower, the giant demonic insect that had been silently guarding it suddenly moved.

Its compound eyes flashed red light, and its enormous body swooped down, its six giant arms stretching out simultaneously to wrap around the three people on the tower.

"Varied--?!"

Reinhardt roared, abruptly raising his mechanical arm, the cannon humming as it pointed at the face of the demonic insect.

"Let me go—!"

Boom! The flames flickered, but were easily extinguished.

The demonic insect lowered its enormous head, its face gradually changing as it writhed in a blur.

It was, surprisingly, the face of the God of Fate.

Reinhardt was stunned, and the angry curse stuck in his throat.

Isabel's pupils contracted sharply as she immediately realized what was happening, and the pocket watch in her hand nearly slipped from her grasp.

Han Zhenya smiled weakly: "Heh... the stage has changed."

Whispers echoed in the void.

"Nightmares whisper, tides guide."

"Lost souls of the sea—"

"Returned to a broken ship."

The sound was distant and carried an irresistible power.

"Roar—!" The demonic insect roared to the sky, and with a sudden swing of its six arms, it hurled the three of them high into the air.

The void trembled, and the phantom of an ancient and heavy sea ship quietly emerged.

Its hull was riddled with cracks, its sails were tattered, and its masts were askew, making it look like a wreck that could collapse at any moment.

However, when it floated in the void, all the chaos and noise instantly quieted down.

That is—the Lost One.

The void fell silent for a moment.

Then, the Fate Master's dragon eyes, like sparks of starlight, slowly closed, and he uttered a low, incantation-like whisper:
"The calamity that shatters the world, the sage who burns it, let everything return to Nirvana."

As soon as the words were spoken, the giant dragon from the East roared to the sky.

"Roar--!!!"

boom! ! !
The enormous dragon body trembled violently in the void, and starlight and raging fire surged out from the gaps in its scales.

The next second, the dragon's body exploded inch by inch.

Every dragon scale and every bone fragment transformed into a crimson lotus flame in the explosion.

Nirvana Red Lotus.

One.

Two flowers.

Three flowers...

Countless crimson flames bloomed in the void, like a burning sea of ​​flowers, illuminating the entire drawer universe.

"Boom—boom boom boom boom—!!!"

A series of supernova explosions erupted simultaneously, with shockwaves layer upon layer, even shattering the folds of space.

That blazing light was more dazzling than the stars, and more devastating than the end of the world.

The postmaster’s countless drawer eyes opened simultaneously, but had to close under the bright light. The pupils of the demonic eye contracted violently, as if even He could not look directly at the burning.

The crimson flames whipped up fleshy tentacles, engulfing and burning them, leaving only a void of ashes.

The Lost One floated slowly in the void.

The ancient wooden hull creaked and the sails were tattered, yet they seemed to be coated with a sacred glow under the flames.

Isabel, Reinhardt, and Han Jin-ya were thrown heavily onto the deck.

Before the three could even struggle to their feet, they felt the entire ship suddenly shudder.

It’s Sima Ming.

His massive dragon claws braced against the hull, and with his last ounce of strength, he shoved the Lost One toward the chaotic rift in the distance.

The crack continued to writhe, and the tentacles waved wildly, as if trying to block the only exit.

Under the radiant glow of the Nirvana Red Lotus, the tentacles retreated in unison, as if facing an inescapable command.

Si Ming chuckled softly.

"Go ahead..."

"At least... I can still get you out of here."

With a swipe of its claws, the Lost One shot off like an arrow, hurtling straight toward the rift that Wayne had once torn open.

Flames exploded in a series behind him, igniting the void.

At that moment, he was no longer a liar, no longer a gambler, no longer a weaver of lies.

He is—the flame of the stage.

The sea of ​​fire that engulfed the red lotus was his final farewell.

The Lost One was violently tossed about in the void storm.

The planks creaked, and the sails were tattered, as if they could be torn to shreds at any moment.

Isabel gripped the pocket watch tightly with one hand, and the last starlight on the hands went out completely.

"……zero."

Her face changed drastically, and she couldn't help but scream:
"Stop! Si Ming! You've exceeded the time limit!!"

Her voice was ripped from her throat, filled with despair and anger, but it was drowned out by the raging wind and roar.

Inside the cabin, Han Zhenya's singing voice rang out.

A Hymn to the End of the World.

She possessed the Annabelle doll, her voice weak, yet still carrying a morbid allure and madness.

The song was powerful enough to shatter mountains and make the dead bow down, but at this moment, it could not awaken anyone.

Especially the God of Fate.

Reinhard gritted his teeth, his mechanical arm sparking as he desperately protected Han Zhenya's doll, one hand clutching Isabel's collar, the other gripping the ship's mast tightly.

"Hold on for me—!"

The storm roared, and tentacles writhed wildly in the cracks, trying to grab the speeding ship.

Isabel strained to look up, and in the last of her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of something.

That is the God of Fate.

He didn't board the ship, but stayed outside the storm, tightly entangled by countless tentacles.

The cloak of illusion shattered in the wind, but the smile on the mask remained mocking.

He spoke in a low voice, his lips moving clearly, his voice seeming to penetrate everything and reach her ears:

"Let's escape."

"At least, you owe me three lives now."

"I hope that next time we meet... you will have paid back what you owed me."

The next moment, the torrent of tentacles completely engulfed him.

The Lost One suddenly accelerated.

boom--!
The ancient ship's hull, like a projectile arrow, plunged straight into the crack.

A violent feeling of weightlessness swept over the entire ship, and the world spun wildly before their eyes.

Isabel stared intently at the fading phantom, tears welling in her eyes instantly evaporating in the wind.

The God of Fate is gone.

Quiet.

Icy.

They fell into a strange office.

Rows of filing cabinets were arranged around the room, yellowed calendars hung on the walls, and an old rotary telephone sat on the table.

They appeared in a transparent liquid tank.

The walls of the vat shattered, foul-smelling liquid splattered everywhere, and the mass of flesh inside exploded completely, turning into ruins.

Isabel, Reinhardt, and Han Zhenya's dolls fell to the ground in a sorry state, their bodies covered in tentacles and limbs, barely breathing.

Behind them, the phantom of the Lost One slowly dissipated, disappearing into the air like mist.

The figure of the God of Fate did not appear.

Jingle Bell--

The rotary phone on the table suddenly rang with a piercing sound.

The three were startled and barely managed to look up.

The moment the call connected, a cold, mechanical announcement began:
"Star Scourge [Starlight Alchemist Isabel]".

"The Scourge [Lord of Calamity Reinhardt]".

"Star Scourge [Han Zhenya, the Doomsday Pioneer]".

"Star Scourge [Lies Weaver - Fate Master]".

"Pass through the first level of the Hell Post Office game."

"Reward points: 1079".

Please confirm.

The office was silent.

The three were covered in wounds and could only respond with silence.

Just then, a row of filing cabinets along the wall silently opened automatically.

One by one, cards slid out of the drawer and were neatly stacked on the table, like indifferent file folders.

On the back of each card is a blood-red postmark, as if reminding them: these are all remnants of the calamity's dungeon.

Isabel looked down and saw the first card:

[Calamity Post Office] (World System - High-Tier)
An endless post office illusion that, when used, can drag the target into the "envelope world" and force a delivery cycle.

The second one exudes a sense of oppression:
[Complaints Will Be Resolved] (Destiny System - High-Level)
Once initiated, the target will inevitably suffer a negative effect, which is unavoidable.

Then, a series of fate cards fell one after another:
[Complaint Chain] (Fate System - Intermediate)
【Destiny Postmark】(Destiny System - Intermediate)
[Return Receipt] (Fate System - Intermediate)
Each one carries a mocking tone, as if reminding them that complaining is their true destiny.

Next is the Life system:

[Calamity Postman] (Life System - Intermediate)
【Fire Knight】(Life-type, Mid-tier)
【Calamity Mail Truck】(Life System - Low Tier)
【Ghost Mail Envelope】(Life System - Low Tier)
[Hell Postman] (Life Type - Low Tier)
A dozen or so cards were laid out on the table, gleaming with a cold, eerie light.

Reinhardt stared at the cards, his cyborg eyes flashing with electricity, and chuckled dryly: "Haha... at least this battle wasn't fought in vain."

Han Zhenya leaned weakly against the Annabelle doll, chuckling softly, "Heh... even the reward feels like a script for the final curtain call."

Isabel simply put away the cards silently, her face expressionless.

She knew that no matter how many or how great these rewards were, they couldn't bring that person back.

The ringing gradually faded, as if this cold verdict was the true end.

But deep down, they all knew.

The stage has not truly come to an end.

"Return to the sea,"

Extinct by fire.

King of Lies

It dissipated into the depths of the crack.

The stage curtain falls.

But behind the curtain,

The whispers continued.

—The Lost Voyage

(End of this chapter)