The mass of the Universe is no longer sufficient.
Thus, this is the final outcome of this prolonged apocalypse that has lasted sixty-six hundred and sixty years.
The slender limb gently lay on the hand, cold and hard, as if it embodied the doomsday itself, or perhaps the greatest impression left by those departed souls on their "homeland"—cold, malicious, like a vast machine collapsing relentlessly and crushing everything.
The fear and awe that mortals felt towards their homeland have transformed into the world's last deity, entrusting all earnest wishes for continuity and dreams of the new world to this deity. Hope belongs to it, despair belongs to it, and the void left after everything ends also belongs to it.
No wonder those strands of spider silk were so cold and unyielding.
Yet Yu Sheng suddenly found it hard to reconcile.
