1 Prologue: The Last Supper_1

The Year 2020

Mount Everest

In the distance came a tearing roar.

Huge ice sheets slid from the dark peaks, plunging into the surging sea.

The violent ice sea surged tumultuously, as if extending to the very end of the world. Then, from the world's end, wind blew, carrying the scent of ashes and dust.

The world suddenly felt so small.

The towering sky dome seemed to press down, turning into pure white iron. Through its massive cracks, one could glimpse the gradually dimming stars in the universe.

It was like lamps melting away into the darkness after losing power.

Between the vast heavens and earth, it seemed as if everything had disappeared, leaving behind only this highest narrow platform on Earth, and the makeshift work cabin erected upon it.

A fishing rod was set up at the edge of the platform, casting the line into the sea, with the bobber bobbing in the murky waters.

The bored angler, donning a felt hat, lay on his folding chair.

As if to pass the time, he even brought an old chessboard, disregarding the continuous crumbling noises in the distance and casually moving the pieces around.

As if having endured long years, it was hard to gather a complete set of black and white pieces anymore. The "population" had dwindled, with only the "King" and "Bishop" remaining, both too damaged and cracked from the weathering of time.

Even the chessboard was missing a large corner, with black and white squares twisted and mingling into a chaotic grey.

Surprisingly, no matter how much the earth shook, those chess pieces stood steadfastly in their own territories, without the slightest wobble.

"President, NASA has sent a message—"

The assistant, wearing thick glasses, came out of the cabin, carrying the last of the luggage, "—The fourth settlement is completed, the New York Stock Exchange has finished uploading, and they're about to evacuate, wishing us a smooth workflow."

"They should've buggered off earlier."

The president shook his head unhappily, "Those folks at the Jurisdiction Bureau are such a hassle, always dragging their feet, can't even move out efficiently."

"We have to save backups. After 'Heaven' fell, data transfer can only rely on hard drives."

"Don't be naïve, kid," scoffed the president. "Those guys just enjoy the sensation of beating the clock, as if they're so professional and punctual. Tch, ten minutes earlier won't kill anyone."

"Ahahaha."

The assistant laughed awkwardly, said nothing more, and edged closer. He then saw the computer next to the chessboard, with only two recently opened tabs searching 'how to fish in the Himalayas', and the rest of the screen showing a live satellite cloud image.

Satellites from the old NASA, enduring against all odds, still stubbornly maintained their mission. They meticulously transmitted back the views they saw from space.

Unfortunately, the screen no longer displayed the beautiful stars of yesteryear, but a sight riddled with countless holes.

Numerous messy cyclones covered the entire azure sky, and beneath that layer of thick or sparse typhoon clouds were revealed patches after patches of startling scars.

And at the same time, a massive crack slowly emerged on the satellite image, a line of crimson spreading from a scale of thousands of kilometers, rapidly extending, pulling at the surrounding parched land and the dark grey sea, and finally whipping up hurricanes that tore another gash in the atmosphere.

"Was that an earthquake?"

The assistant looked astonished, moving closer, "Wow, that's impressive, I didn't expect it to be so spectacular."

The chairman looked up, and instantly understood, "It's a geothermal eruption. The core has begun to cool, and the third wave of tremors is releasing from the continental plates of North America and South America. If left unchecked, it'll probably end in about sixty years… Look, New York, it's sunk into the sea."

"What a pity, I haven't seen the Statue of Liberty yet."

"I have."

The chairman withdrew his gaze, "Actually, it's nothing special…"

Suddenly, a roar came from afar, as if something bright stirred in the depths of the ocean, the crimson red tumbling in the darkness, reflecting a painful burning light from beneath the earth's crust.

Burning Wind blew from the ends of the sea, bringing with it gray dust and white mist, as if it covered the entire world.

As if the whole world had been boiled by the sea.

"It's really like teppanyaki," the chairman suddenly said.

"Hm?"

"Teppanyaki, didn't I take you to eat it last time? The flavor was pretty good."

The chairman seemed tired, lying in the chair, covering his face with a hat, as if preparing to take a nap. His voice was as soft as if he was muttering in his sleep, "An old friend from Yingzhou once told me that there are two kinds of teppanyaki, Kanto and Kansai. What most people have is the Kanto type, which is simple and convenient, but the real delight is the flavor of Kansai.

"Because it only starts with a thin layer of oil on the hotplate, and as long as the heat is sufficient, the natural oils of the ingredients themselves can cook the food. It's said that this is the only way to savor the natural freshness and original taste of the ingredients…"

The assistant was silent for a moment, "That sounds pretty cruel."

"Yes, but aren't humans inherently cruel creatures?" The chairman responded, "If eating is required to survive, then we eat—this is the simplest truth, the evil rooted in human nature.

"At first they devoured lightning and fire, burned the wilderness, excavated coal mines, then drilled for oil, and when oil wasn't enough, they coveted fission… Until now, even as this world dies, they won't let go.

"It has been out of control since our ancestors added the Neanderthals to their diet."

The assistant turned around and looked at the man on the lounge chair, but his face was obscured by the hat, unrecognizable, uncertain whether the expression in his eyes was one of piety or the familiar scorn and mockery of the past.

In the prolonged silence, the sky grew darker, the once pure white sky gradually became overcast until at last, the phantom light behind the clouds slowly contracted and faded away…

"Is the sun about to go out too?"

"Yes, the power of the Pillar of Source is beginning to retract."

"The storm is picking up again, huh?"

"Mm."

"Will it stop this time?"

"Who knows?" the chairman slowly stood up, putting his hat back on his head, "No matter how much it changes, this land is no longer suitable for humans to live in… Haven't you already seen? Apart from all its wounds, it's got nothing left."

He paused, whispering softly: "This then, is our last supper."

The last cigarette was lit.

The flickering flame, a wisp of blue smoke rose gently.

On the computer screen, all signals representing satellites gradually extinguished, replaced by one peculiar emblem after another. They moved on the dark screen as if God Spirits navigated their own abyssal surfaces, exuding an indescribable chill and grandeur.

Utopia, online.

Existence Institute, online.

Jurisdiction Bureau, online.

Stone Pot Society, Bronze Hand, Homeless Cemetery…

Through the black screen and their own emblems, it seemed as though innumerable gazes had set upon this final tract of land, welcoming the arrival of the ultimate moment.

All the guests were in place, waiting for the last curtain to rise.

Staring at that incomplete chessboard.

The assistant swallowed nervously and carefully watched his pocket watch; as the hour and minute hands overlapped, he looked up as if struck by electricity and reported, "The Central Pillar of God Marrow is preheated."

"… Wait!"

The Chairman suddenly furrowed his brows, as if listening intently.

Not only the assistant, but the emblems on the screen seemed to become more solemn, as though facing a formidable enemy.

Immediately after, that guy suddenly reached out and gave a tug, and the fishing rod was pulled up, indeed pulling something fuzzy out of the sea that resembled a cat, yet it had a fish-like tail, indescribably strange.

"Ah-ha, waited for two hours, but there's still a catch, huh? Who says Baidu Baike isn't reliable?" the Chairman beamed with joy, scrutinizing his 'catch': "We really are fated, little guy! But no matter how I look at it, you don't seem much like a fish. Are you edible?"

"…"

Everyone was silent, no one spoke.

They didn't feel much like dealing with him.

Pulled up by the fishing rod, the little creature snapped unhappily twice, and tried to scratch his face with its small front paws, but he casually stuffed it into the fish basket.

Once back in the sea water, it settled down, flipped over, and became too lazy to move.

"Alright," the Chairman said as he stuffed the fishing rod and bucket into the assistant's arms and picked up his chair, "Let's get ready to go."

He reached out, picked the white rook off the chessboard.

With his movement, it was as if the last light went out.

The sun, suspended beyond the sky dome, disappeared without a trace.

All of the world plunged into darkness.

After the disappearance of light came the absence of any wind sound, for apart from them, everything came to an abrupt halt, as though frozen in time.

First to leave was the universe, as a slender and graceful hand reached from nowhere, plucked the black queen—Utopia withdrew the Cosmic Foundation—so Yuan An faded, countless stars ceased to exist, leaving nothing but meaningless void.

Immediately after, the remaining sea receded as the Existence Institute carried away the evidence of existence, the black bishop vanished without trace. Whether it was towering tsunamis or the boiling crimson Sea, all the living waters of this world were rapidly declining, collapsing, until at last, only a pitch-black seabed remained.

Then, the white bishop's illusion melted away, Jurisdiction Bureau shut down the Brilliant Light; thus, all became still, the roaring earth crust fell into silence, the spewing lava from the fissures quickly solidified, losing all warmth…

Now, Asia, Europe, Africa, South America, North America; the barren land, turbulent Sea, cold or scorching hurricanes, or high above the skies… everything was methodically being destroyed.

Only a low, mournful lament of the world's disintegration remained.

Like the snapping of strings one by one, in the end, only a hollow echo lingered.

In this vast and lonely destruction, The Old Gaia—Earth Number Eight—met its end.

When the last cigarette was smoked, this world, riddled with countless holes, retained only its final outline, and the last door beside the Chairman that had yet to close.

"The fourteenth abandoned Eden and Promised Land..."

The Chairman gazed silently at the empty chessboard in front of him, took out a bouquet of pure white flowers from his chest, remnants of dew still on the petals from some unknown place.

Like tears, they fell into the cracks of the chessboard.

"Thank you for your shelter and patience over these three hundred plus years. You have worked hard."

He removed his hat, bid a gentle farewell and turned to all that had been:

"—One day, let's meet again in another Hell."

.

In the end, the door closed.

Within eternal darkness and silence, space devoid of any further significance contracted inward, the dying spectrum started a futile red shift as it struggled, and with the collapse of the four fundamental forces, the chessboard and flowers were annihilated in the void.

Earth Number Eight was completely obliterated.

The International Astronomical Association's fourteenth world annihilation plan was thus accomplished.

In the final moment, a sliver of light emerged from the chessboard, drawing out the pure white form of the queen amidst the tears of the flowers, like a shooting star, it flew toward the distance.

The old world died once again, just as it had countless times before.

Then, the new world arrived.

All proceeded as usual.

.

These are the records that remained ninety years ago, the last afterimage of a glorious era.

After that, there was no more such splendor.