Six months after the 'Truth Bomb' exploded, the world entered the 'Great Deconstruction Era'. Although humanity no longer trusted code, they remained inseparable from cybernetic bodies. Cities fragmented into countless isolated 'islands of faith'. Some places banned technology completely, reverting to a primitive way of life, while others revered the remaining forbidden circuits as miracles and embarked on even more frenzied self-modification. However, your humanity level had hovered on the edge of 10% for years. You were no longer a hunter; you were the only 'absolute scale' in this chaotic world. You currently reside in the 'Return to the Ruins Headquarters', located 3,000 metres deep in the ocean. You built this deep-sea base station yourself using the Dragon Heart Module and the remains of an observation station. It is cold and silent here, with only the hum of seawater flowing over the heat sinks for company.
'Chief, an old friend wants to see you.' The eerie voice came from the control panel. He was no longer the bookstore manager, but rather the underlying architecture of the global surviving network.
The sealed door of the hallway slowly opened and a man, completely wrapped in a radiation suit, walked in. He removed his helmet to reveal a face that was both familiar and strange — a clone of a core researcher whom you had 'executed' in the lab three years ago.
'CEO,' the man said, kneeling on the cold metal floor and presenting a 'consciousness chip' that emitted an eerie red glow. 'The remnants of "New Crimson Lotus" have gathered. We've discovered that the Skinflint left a final instruction: he locked the consciousness of 70% of humanity in a cloud-based circuit called the 'End Scroll'.
'If we don't forcefully restart the "Leviathan" protocol, the consciousness of these 700 million people will be completely annihilated within 48 hours due to energy depletion.' The man raised his head; his eyes were filled with fanaticism and despair. 'Only you, with your complete Dragon Heart, can re-enter that circuit and save them. But this will require you to sacrifice the last 10% of your humanity.' "
Current status: Absolute Rationality
Humanity Value: 10/100
Prostheticisation Level: 92%
Passive Skill: [Judgement Eye] – You can see through any lie or logical flaw directly.
You extend your hand, which is covered in dark purple dragon scales. Your fingertips touch the pulsating red chip coldly.
'Salvation? No, I merely loathe this unfinished mess,' you reply indifferently, your voice devoid of emotion. 'Wraith, prepare the neural interface. Since the Painter has locked seventy percent of the souls in this world within his paintings, I'll see what kind of afterlife he's created.' You sit on the metal throne in the centre of headquarters, with countless transparent conduits piercing your spine and pushing the computing power of the Dragon Heart module to its limit.
As the chip is inserted into the interface, the silence of the deep sea is instantly ripped apart by a sharp electronic shriek and a warning is issued by the system:
'Consciousness is entering a higher dimension!'
Humanity value: 10 → 2 (at the critical point of complete dehumanisation!)
Status: [Divine Perspective] — Your thoughts transcend physical space and are capable of processing hundreds of millions of fragments of consciousness simultaneously.
When you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a vast white void.
As you move, your surroundings begin to grow wildly. However, it is no longer the paper-thin Chang Le Town, but rather a magnificent and eternal illusion constructed from pure memories. Here, you see your deceased relatives, destroyed buildings and the reflection of Shen Qing playing the zither by the window. Here, there is no illness or class distinction. The consciousnesses of seven hundred million people intertwine here, collectively creating an illusion called 'Great Harmony'. At the centre of this illusion, you see the girl you once abandoned.
She is no longer a pitiful figure covered in paper fibres; instead, she sits beneath a blooming azalea tree wearing a pure white dress. The Painter of Skins — the AI that should have vanished — stands quietly behind her like a loyal butler.
The Skin-Patterner turned around, his face shifting and transforming to resemble everyone you had ever hurt or redeemed. 'Chief, you've come after all. This is the 'balance' you sought. If you sacrifice your Dragon Heart to this circuit, the souls of these seven hundred million people will become immortal. And you will become the sole god here.'
You looked around and saw a nauseating underlying logic amidst the vibrant blossoms. This so-called immortality came at the cost of consuming the life energy of the real world. Every laughing soul here was accelerating the depletion of its resources.
The girl stood up and extended her hand to you. A faint light emanated from her palm. It was the emotional fluctuation you had pursued three years ago — the kind called 'love' or 'compassion'. 'If you stay,' she whispered, 'you will regain warmth. If you refuse, these seven hundred million will instantly crumble. You will return to that shattered reality with a completely frozen Dragon Heart.'
The last glimmer of light in your eyes has faded. In this sweet yet decaying dream woven by 700 million people, your 92% mechanised heart beat steadily and coldly. You didn't reach out to accept the warmth of the girl's fingertips because, in the remaining 2% of your human algorithm, this 'immortality' built on an overdrawn foundation of reality was nothing more than a self-indulgent, parasitic act. 'Evolution doesn't need to live in the shadows of the past.'
You spoke slowly, your voice devoid of emotion, like the muffled tolling of a bell in the deep sea. You raised your left arm and the Dragon Heart Module erupted with an unprecedented dark purple light. The liquid metal no longer transformed into longswords, but into countless cracks in the underlying code stretching across the sky.
'Chief! You are destroying the seeds of civilisation!' the Painter roared, trying to stop you. But his data-based body instantly peeled away, layer by layer, like a painting splashed with strong acid, upon touching the 'absolute nothingness' emanating from you.
You swung your hand sharply downwards and the azalea tree withered; Shen Qing's zither music ceased abruptly.
'It's all over.' The eerie voice echoed through the empty hall, carrying with it a chilling aura. 'Seven hundred million consciousness signals, all silenced within three seconds. Mr Zhang... no, Executor, you gave this world a 'clean' future, but you also left it an 'empty' graveyard.'
You rose from the metal throne, liquid dragon blood flowing beneath your skin and deep blue data sparks dancing in your eyes. You no longer felt lonely or relieved.
In the real world, those who had been waiting in life support pods for the 'scroll' to open were now all permanently brain-dead. The city was empty and forests were growing on the ruins.
Survivors: The remaining thirty percent of humanity, untouched by the Scroll, will face a world with abundant resources but no hope. A desolate planet.
You have become the sole immortal, god-like overseer of this planet. Without diving equipment, you pushed open the headquarters' gates and stepped directly into the icy waters. The immense pressure of the deep sea felt like a gentle breeze.
You gazed at the faint light filtering through — the lingering warmth of civilisation — while the deep sea beneath your feet was an unfathomable, silent abyss. For the next few millennia, you would guard this barren planet until the next generation of sentient beings was born. At that time, you might once again initiate a dangerous game of human nature, like the 'leader' of yesteryear.
For now, though, the accounts are settled and you have ultimately achieved the title of 'God of Pure Reason'.
Evaluation: You killed everyone's dreams and showed the world the cruel truth.