Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

The shadows on the moon's surface slowly shifted their angles under the sunlight. Lin Ziming's psionic projection hovered above the lifeless crater, as if the moon were his throne, and a god overlooking the human world from deep space.

Three pairs of eyes, formed from black and red flames, gazed at the blue planet that was gradually returning to calm. Vast spiritual energy, like a fine spider web, enveloped the entire globe, causing the earth's strata to close, volcanic lava to flow backward, and violent cyclones to be calmed one by one.

As the last tsunami crashed against the psionic barrier, creating white spray, Lin Ziming could clearly sense the faint pulse emanating from the ground. It was the heartbeat of humanity that had survived the ruins, spreading across the globe. Given the sheer number of survivors, there were always enough lucky ones who made it to his rescue.

This was the seventh day since Lin Zimo awoke, and also the end of the disaster's respite. This project was no less significant than the creation of a new world.

Above ground, Howard was walking on the still-unconsolidated volcanic rock fragments. The armored vehicles of the "Revered Death Cavalry" erected temporary bridges between the cracks that had closed after the earthquake, and the soldiers threw canned food and clean water to the survivors who were staggering out of the ruins.

The former battlefield hero is now covered in dust, and his beloved gun with the skull and angel pattern at his waist is stained with mud, yet it remains loaded.

Deep within the city ruins, Howard heard the faint cry of a baby. He summoned soldiers, and together they dug through the collapsed concrete slabs. There they found a mother shielding a baby in swaddling clothes with her body. On the swaddling clothes of the baby in her arms, there were faint dragon bone patterns embroidered.

"It's the Lord's protection!" The mother's chapped lips trembled as she held her child tightly to her chest. "When the earthquake happened, I saw the Lord's figure on the moon; He has been watching over us!"

Similar cries and prayers echoed around the world, with death priests dressed in grey-black robes walking among relief teams, their red trim standing out against the swirling ashes and dust.

They gathered the fallen Anle Trees, piled them into an altar in the open space, and then threw a fire on them. The flames rose up and, under the influence of the surging psionic energy waves on the ground, formed the image of a coiled dragon skeleton.

The priests knelt before the altar and prayed, praising the Lord's authority and blessing both the dead and the survivors.

"Praise be to the Heavenly Father! The Lord has quelled the calamities that befell humanity," the priests' voices were hoarse but firm, conveying faith to the survivors who had gathered around. "Those souls who perished in the disaster have found eternal peace by the Lord's side! Children of man, let us sing praises to the Lord's mercy! Let us sing praises to the Lord's power!"

From the first day to the seventh day, Lin Zimo heard the voice of faith coming from the planet, growing louder and louder until it converged into a hymn of praise. The spiritual energy he had consumed in the great project of reshaping the planet was actually replenished by a tiny, insignificant amount.

In the stronghold established by the Death Cavalry, this faith was even more devout, even fanatical. An old priest, who had just been rescued from the ruins, was surrounded by believers. He trembled as he unfolded the charred secret text. The blank corners of the pages were blackened by the flames, but at some point, black and red patterns, like flowing and solidified lava, appeared.

"This is the Lord's revelation!" The old priest held up the scripture in his hand, letting the sunlight filter through his wrinkles and cast dappled red light onto his face. He loudly proclaimed his heartfelt piety to the believers around him, "He brings the end times, but also gives new life! Sons of man, repent! In the Lord's mercy, our sins will be forgiven!"

As the death cult gained unprecedented popularity, Terence, as its leader, was not in the church, but rather in the observatory.

The observation station was hastily set up, and the monitoring parameters jumping on the screen made him look solemn. Several members of the Death Faction surrounded their leader, their fingers rapidly tapping on the keyboard, trying to calibrate the constantly shifting curve.

"It's confirmed, Lord Terence," a subordinate said, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "The lack of mass in the Earth's core is causing gravitational field anomalies, and planetary orbits are moving away from the sun. But that's not the most fatal thing. The Earth's magnetic field is weakening, and dust clouds in the atmosphere are reflecting off the surface and gases are escaping..."

"Get to the point," Terence interrupted him, his half-burnt cheek flickering in and out of the screen light.

The subordinate took a deep breath, operated the console continuously, retrieved the historical records of climate change, and constructed a simple model:

"What is certain now is that we have lost a lot of gases, especially greenhouse gases. Atmospheric pressure is continuing to decrease, and humans will no longer be able to survive for long periods in high-altitude areas. In the future, the global average temperature will drop at an increasingly faster rate, and high-latitude regions will be the first to form larger-scale permanent ice sheets."

"We will enter the Ice Age ahead of schedule, which will be colder and more extreme than any major ice age in history. Snow lines and glaciers will cover the equator, causing a significant drop in sea levels. It is also foreseeable that the probability of humans developing cancer will increase dramatically due to a significant weakening of the Earth's magnetic field."

Terence walked to the window, the flames in his eyes flickering intensely. "How much time do we have left?"

"In the most optimistic scenario, it could remain habitable for humans for several hundred years..." the subordinate choked up slightly, as if finding it difficult to speak, "In the pessimistic scenario, it won't even last a year."

"The Lord foresaw all of this," Terence murmured calmly, stroking the almand garnet brooch on his chest. "The death ceremony is not the end, but the beginning of human civilization's trial."

Terence turned and left, heading to the signal transmission station to deliver a new sermon to all members of the Death Faction. As he passed the floor-to-ceiling window, he saw the bright moonlight falling, and in the grayish-white shadow of the moon, the outline of a huge dragon skeleton was vaguely visible. Terence stopped and slowly knelt down towards the sky, his black robe unfurling like a bird with broken wings.

At the same moment, Howard's armored vehicle was driving across a lake that had just thawed. Beneath the ice, countless small fish carcasses were neatly arranged in a spiral, like some kind of mysterious sacrificial ritual.

The satellite phone in my pocket rang, and Terence's calm yet cold voice came through when I answered:

"Howard, tell everyone for me that we must prepare for a long winter."

"The right to life, given by the Lord, must be grasped by us humans ourselves."

The armored vehicle continued forward, and outside the window, more and more survivors joined the walking procession.

Holding homemade flags simply painted with the image of a keel, they moved slowly behind the relief vehicles, leaving winding tracks on the gray-black earth.

High in the sky, the dust clouds had not yet dispersed, but a ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds and shone on the dragon bone wood carving held high at the front of the procession, refracting into tiny golden light.

Lin Ziming watched all this from the moon. In his psychic perception, the life signals of human civilization were like faint sparks, yet they stubbornly gathered together on the vast land.

The three pairs of blazing eyes of fire grew even hotter, and the psionic wave swept across the planet once more. This time, no disaster occurred; instead, energy was injected into the barren and desolate land, finely adjusting the surface structure and leveling the terrain in an effort to restore the surface to a habitable state.

On the seventh day, the setting sun pierced through the dust, turning the earth a dark red. On this land kissed by death, the seeds of faith and survival were sown along with the first snow of the year.