"The second time, Guy and I defected to the indigenous camp," Alex narrated in a low voice.
"This time, with Guy's encouragement, I learned about this group of natives and their evil god beliefs. I used to think they were very ignorant, but that was the first time I felt that ignorance could be a good thing."
Alex let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Their faith comes from the land and the evil god. They will never leave the territory granted to them by the evil god to invade other places. In other words, they won't launch large-scale wars and continue expanding as my army did."
"I foolishly thought that if I could let the natives win the war peacefully, everything would be over."
"I already knew that hiding this potion was useless, because those I saved would tell their camp about its effects no matter what. So this time, I chose to tell the natives directly what the potion could do."
Alex lowered his head, his expression obscured. "After resurrecting two more dead natives, they easily believed me. I created a large undead army for them, formulated a strategy, and attacked the enemy in an orderly manner. Soon, we achieved a phased victory."
"When the enemy grew desperate and prepared to deploy heavy artillery, I ambushed them with the undead army and transferred the artillery to the indigenous people."
"On the sixth night, under the dual threat of the undead army and massive artillery fire, they finally gave in. They chose to negotiate peacefully with the natives and gave up further attacks."
Alex's voice turned hoarse. "I didn't know how long that false peace would last, but at that moment, I felt relieved. After signing the peace agreement and stopping the war, I thought I would definitely win the game this time. But I never expected…"
He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths before continuing with difficulty.
"…When I returned to the native camp, they had aimed their artillery at the fully resurrected undead troops."
"The natives said these undead were evil, cursed by the gods. They had only tolerated their existence until the end of the war. Now that the war was over, they decided it was time to judge them."
Alex said hoarsely, "No matter how I explained that the undead would become no different from normal people once fully resurrected, they refused to believe me. Unspeakable fear filled their faces. They shouted that the undead could not die easily, that they had to be bombarded repeatedly and smashed to pieces so they could never resurrect again."
"…Those undead were once their parents, friends, lovers, even their children. They had knelt before me, hugging corpses and begging me to revive them. But after using those undead to win the war, they became afraid of their power and declared them heretics. They wanted to send them to hell."
Alex sneered. "How ironic. I had once been grateful that their foolishness didn't harm others. Now it had become a weapon that wounded me instead."
"I shouted for the undead to run, but they remained where they were."
"During the resurrection process, they gradually recover their memories from seven days prior. They don't know what happened during those seven days. They simply open their arms and smile at the relatives and friends approaching them, then watch as those same people set up the artillery."
Alex gritted his teeth. "They didn't understand what was happening until the cannons were aimed at them. I watched helplessly as they shouted the names of their loved ones and were blown to pieces the moment they were fully resurrected."
"…I lost the second time and chose to reload the game again."
"In the third game, I didn't join any camp. I went mad and began creating my own undead army, attacking and suppressing both factions. The more they resisted, the more people died, and the larger my undead army grew."
Alex took two steadying breaths. "Just like that, I quickly seized control of the situation. To contain me, the two factions stopped fighting each other and formed an alliance. One transported massive artillery; the other used the terrain to coordinate attacks against me."
"But I intercepted the artillery again. After the first two cycles, I had mastered the distribution of firepower and understood the terrain thoroughly. I thought that as long as I held out for seven days, I would be safe."
He paused. "On the sixth night, I went to ask the evil god. I said, 'As long as there is no war during these seven days, I win, right?'"
"He said yes—but the world line I was in would continue as the world line where I won."
A tear slid down Alex's face, his voice trembling.
"In other words, if I won in this world line, I would have to continue creating undead to maintain my faction's strength, suppress the cooperation between the other two camps, and prevent them from waging war."
"But after seven days, those undead would become living people. They would no longer be immortal, just ordinary humans of flesh and blood. If I continued creating undead, I would have to keep killing people. If I stopped, war would break out again, and everything I wanted to change would remain unchanged."
"I chose to reload again." Alex fell silent for a long time, staring blankly at the statue of the old evil god. "…I came back ten times. I tried everything to prevent the war, to stop everyone from dying."
"But even with an unlimited supply of immortality potion and ten chances to start over, countless people still died."
"I realized that neither the potion nor I could save anyone. The only way to stop the war was to erase its initiator, to prevent the harm from spreading further."
Alex's tears fell numbly. "So when I loaded my final save, I used all the paint the evil god had given me and poured it over the arsenal. On the eve of the war, I killed everyone with my own hands."
"Finally, the real world continued forward with the ending where I had killed everyone. Time moved on."
"I lost the game with the evil god. So he combined my ten repeated experiences and created this nightmare-like war world that endlessly loops. He froze me here as a character in his game and watches my pain for amusement."
Alex hung his head, tears dripping from his chin.
"…The starting point of every cycle is always the arrival of a new group of soldiers I've never seen before. And it always ends with those soldiers playfully sinking the undead I created to the bottom of the lake, counting them as they go."
"I can't remember how many times Guy has been sunk to the bottom of that lake and then reappeared in the tent beside me. Other undead forget everything from the previous seven days after resurrection. They remember nothing."
"But I remember." Alex smiled nervously at the wooden sculpture of the evil god, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I remember every cycle."
"Because I am not undead. I am the only living person in this world of the living dead. God does not allow me to die—so I cannot forget. I remember everything."
His voice was so hoarse it was barely more than breath.
"At first, I tried to change things here. I tried to save them in this virtual world. But eventually, I became desperate. I couldn't change anything."
He gave a hollow smile.
"No one understood what I was doing except Guy, who believed me completely. So I told him what would happen. And he said, 'Let's run away.'"
"We found a fog-covered blank area—what should have been the boundary of this virtual war world. We tried countless ways to escape but failed. Still, we didn't give up. After each cycle, I would find Guy again, and we would return to search for a way out."
"Until one day."
Alex whispered, "I knelt at the boundary, driven nearly mad by my desire to escape. And I heard the evil god's voice again. He asked me, 'Do you want to leave?'"
"I said yes. He said he could design a way for one of us to escape—but only one. Either Guy or me. I had to choose."
Alex's eyes reddened. "I chose Guy."
"Guy couldn't hear the evil god. He knew nothing. I watched him disappear into the mist. Then I heard his surprised voice from the other side: 'Alex, I'm out!'"
"The fog vanished instantly. I saw Guy standing beyond the barrier, smiling and waving, urging me to come out quickly. I told him I needed to study the rules—that it might have been an accident. I said I might need to wait another seven days."
Alex blinked slowly.
"Guy is undead. I knew that after seven days, he would be fully resurrected—and forget that I was trapped here. He might even think I was dead in the real world."
"But at least… one person—my lover—had been saved."
"Every day, Guy came to the barrier to look for me. He couldn't enter, but he told me about what he saw outside. He said he found my grave and his grave. Elena's letter and wedding dress were placed on top. He said the little girl had grown up and had actually made him a wedding dress."
Alex's voice trembled.
"He held up the wedding dress and smiled so brightly. For a moment, I felt that all my pain had meaning."
"But seven days later, when I went to the boundary to see him one last time before the cycle reset…"
Alex began to tremble.
"I saw him standing there, holding the wedding dress—already an unconscious corpse. A bluish-white zombie."
"I nearly lost my mind. I smashed the wooden statue of the evil god again and again, demanding to know why."
"The evil god told me that Guy was originally undead. When he left the virtual world and entered reality, the time in his body detached from the virtual timeline and synchronized with real time."
"He said gently, 'Alex, have you forgotten? In the real world, the ending you chose—Guy had already been blown to death by you. He was always a corpse.'"
"Guy can only live for seven days. After that, he becomes what he was meant to be in reality."
"I refused to accept it. I tried again and again to let Guy escape, but every attempt failed. All I managed to do was add countless zombie brides to the border."
Alex's voice faded.
"In the end, I gave up. I numbly took the wedding dress and letter that Zombie Guy brought back. In the next cycle, I give them to another Guy, so he can wear Elena's wedding dress and marry me before he dies."
"That may be the happiest moment of his life."
"…I can do nothing else."
The Reverse God stared at him. "You should hate the evil god. I don't understand—why are you helping him complete the sacrificial ceremony for his successor?"
Alex's gaze shifted briefly to the Reverse God before returning to the statue of the new evil god.
"Do you know how to escape a god's control?"
The Reverse God was silent for a moment. "Create a new god?"
"How can you be certain that the new god won't also design games to torment you?"
Alex's voice was barely audible.
"I don't know. But I have never seen the evil god so obsessed with a new soldier. The moment the soldier named Bai Liu entered this war world, I heard the evil god say with delight that the successor he had chosen long ago had finally arrived."
"At that moment, I could barely suppress my disgust toward Bai Liu. I even hated the subordinates he brought in. I hated that they came into contact with Guy."
The Reverse God suddenly understood—why Bai Liu's favorability had dropped below the safe value when he first met Alex, while the favorability of the players who joined the opposing camp remained stable above sixty.
There had been another reason.
Alex continued, "But soon, I stopped hating Bai Liu so much. The evil god told me that once the new god is formed, he will fall, and his control over me will be lifted. Bai Liu is here to destroy him and inherit his throne."
"The rotation of gods is just as brutal as that of humans," Alex said with a faint, sarcastic smile. "Perhaps it's because gods, at their core, are merely humans filled with desire."
"Have you ever considered why the evil god would tell you something that harms him?" the Reverse God asked. "What if he intends to kill you…"
The Reverse God stopped mid-sentence abruptly.
Alex turned to look at him. His brows were lowered, his eyes dark and shadowed, his laughter manic.
"—Who's going to kill me? Death is the one thing I fear least now. I don't want to save anyone anymore, and I'm not afraid of anything. No matter the cost, as long as this can end, I'm willing to pay it."
Alex panted, his eyes bloodshot.
"That man, when the evil god told me those things, when he said Bai Liu would destroy him… he was smiling. Smiling from the bottom of his heart."
"He genuinely expects Bai Liu to kill him and become the new evil god."
Alex let out a morbid sneer. "Maybe he's just like me—tired of living, on the verge of madness, waiting to die in this world full of ugly human desires. Maybe he's longing for someone who can finally end his life."
Alex stared at the wooden sculpture of the old evil god.
"You know, new soldier, I once spoke to this evil god after I lost the game. He asked me, condescendingly, whether I knew why I had lost."
"I said I didn't know. I had done everything I could, but I still couldn't change anything. Why couldn't everyone survive?"
Alex's lips twitched faintly.
"He laughed and said that most human desires are built on harming one another. The more miserable a person is, the more they want to hurt others. Or the stronger their desires are, the more meaningful they believe their existence to be."
"He is the one who sees, records, and listens to all the evil desires in this world. As long as even one person's desires reek of blood, the evil god's game will never end."
Alex's gaze slowly shifted from the old wooden carving to the new one.
"And Bai Liu is the player he found who is most suited for this game of desire. His desire is so powerful that he can transcend the game itself and reach the realm of the gods."
"Bai Liu is a player born for the evil god's game. Everything the evil god meticulously prepared, war, destruction, death, souls, was all to celebrate his arrival."
"God favors him and is even willing to die for him," Alex said quietly. "Whether it was the previous one who died long ago, or this one who waits in anticipation."
The smile on the old wooden carving of the evil god became eerily gentle and sweet. The new wooden carving was less than a third of the way to being fully formed from the log.
The smile on the wooden sculpture's face was warm and serene, like a compassionate deity gazing tenderly upon all living beings, yet unbearably hypocritical.
-----------------
At the temple.
The petrification spreading across the Prophet's body had already reached his heart. Sitting rigidly on the stone bench, he found it difficult to speak. His voice came out hoarse:
"What did you put into this copy?"
The hooded man wore an eerily gentle smile identical to the one carved onto the old wooden statue of the evil god. He clasped his hands together, then slowly opened them. Between his palms, a pure black whip and a suspended inverted cross materialized out of thin air.
"His original weapons and beliefs."
The whip was covered in sharp bone spurs, each one glinting with lethal intent. Compared to the siren bone whip or Spade's lizard bone whip, it looked similar in structure, yet it carried an unmistakable aura of slaughter.
The inverted cross appeared to be carved from an unknown stone, its surface the color of flowing blood. It emitted a faint, soul-stirring glow.
The Prophet's pupils contracted.
"You put Bai Liu's weapon and the reverse cross into this copy?"
"Bai Liu is the most perfect successor I selected from among countless versions of Bai Liu," the man replied indulgently. "I destroyed his original weapon and reverse cross. Naturally, I should replace them with something newer and better, shouldn't I?"
"It's like how I killed his old god. Of course, I should give him a more perfect new one."
The Prophet struggled to breathe.
"Bai Liu hates you. He will never become your believer. So your claim about giving him a more perfect new god is completely false. He won't believe in you, nor will he accept what you offer. The only person Bai Liu believes in is—"
"Tawil."
The hooded man opened his eyes slightly and smiled.
"But Prophet, if Tawil does not exist, then you have still overlooked someone Bai Liu believes in."
The Prophet froze. This time, even his expression solidified.
The hooded man laughed softly.
"—That person is Bai Liu himself."
"The more perfect new god I'm speaking of is not me."
"It is Bai Liu."
"Bai Liu can despise me, hate me, reject me all he wants. In fact, I need him to feel those emotions toward me." There was an unreadable smile in the man's eyes. "I will continue taking away the things he cherishes, forcing him to face me—until he kills me."
"—Because only a god can kill a god."
"By now, Bai Liu should fully understand this truth. If he wants to kill me, he must accept every fragment of divine power I have placed in his hands—"
The man's voice softened into something almost tender.
"—And then, as I wish, become the new evil god who slays the old one."
The Prophet forced out each word as though suffocating.
"Do you truly want Bai Liu to become the new god? You will be destroyed because of this."
The hooded man rose slowly. With his back to the nearly petrified Prophet, he gazed at the waves crashing against the shore outside the temple. A faint smile curved his lips, but nothing was reflected in his eyes.
"Prophet, since you can see the future, you should understand that nothing in this world lasts forever. Rocks, water, waves, sky, earth—even gods—will perish one day."
"That is why living beings possess the instinct to reproduce. All conscious entities instinctively seek some form of continuation."
The Prophet coughed.
"Are you seeking to continue your existence through Bai Liu?"
"No." The man smiled faintly. "I find that kind of continuation rather dull."
"What I desire is someone who perfectly follows my game rules—a player capable of clearing every game I design. Someone who can break all the rules I've set for every world, reach me at the end, and personally kill me—the game's designer—with his own hands."
A strange light flickered beneath his hood.
"—Wouldn't it be amusing to be killed by such a person, as the ultimate game?"
The Prophet spoke hoarsely:
"There are many versions of Bai Liu capable of clearing your games. Why choose this one as your successor?"
The man tilted his head slightly, intrigued.
"Then let me ask you—why have you placed all your chips on this Bai Liu to defeat me? Why not another version?"
The Prophet fell silent.
The man turned back toward the sea. The ocean wind lifted the long ponytail beneath his hood. He lowered his gaze, smiling gently.
"—Because you and I both know this Bai Liu is different."
"His soul is entirely unlike those crudely constructed versions. He is the most perfect—and the most interesting."
"He possesses a soul filled with both desire and restraint."
He looked out at the endless sea, anticipation flickering in his eyes.
"If I must die someday," he said softly, "I hope it is Bai Liu—someone with such a soul—who kills me with his own hands."