As the emcee announced the next phase, murmurs rippled through the hall. "Oh my God, are they bringing out the Creator?"
"I never expected to witness the true form of the great Creator."
"I never imagined I'd be present for this moment..."
Amid the hushed whispers, a thin man with white hair and beard but vigorous bearing walked into the hall. He seemed to radiate some unique magnetism—the moment he entered, the entire room fell silent.
I was puzzled. Could this man be the "great Creator" they spoke of?
"Dad?!" Selene suddenly stood up and ran over, grabbing the man's sleeve, too overwhelmed to speak.
I was startled—could this man be Selene's father, Victor Day?
Indeed, he stroked Selene's hair, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "Selene, I haven't seen you in so many years. You've grown up."
"Dad..." Selene was already in tears, choking on her words.
"I'm so proud of you, my daughter. Truth be told, I've been watching you all these years, watching you grow, watching you grow stronger, surviving one Death Trip after another, getting closer and closer to the world's secret. Honestly, I didn't expect you to complete this Maze Trip. You've surpassed all my expectations. Selene, you are my pride."
Then he turned to me. "Ryan Knox, do you remember me? When you were young, I was the resident doctor at the orphanage. I watched you grow up until you were adopted and left."
When I'd first seen him, something had stirred in my memory, and now it came rushing back. Yes—Victor Day, the orphanage doctor who'd been great with the kids, always handing out fruit candies. He'd been especially close to me, often carrying me around when I was little.
"You... you stayed at the orphanage... because of me?"
"Of course." Victor Day smiled, still as warm and amicable as ever. "You were my most successful specimen. Naturally I had to monitor your development closely and record your growth."
That single sentence shattered every warm memory I had. It blew away the few precious fragments of my childhood like ash in the wind. A fiery ache seized my chest.
"Ryan Knox, you've grown up too, and exceeded my expectations. In a way, you're also my child. I'm proud of you."
I stared at him. "So you're the 'great Creator' they're talking about?"
He laughed. "I wouldn't call myself 'great,' let alone a Creator. I'm merely a researcher—everything I've done has been under orders. I am the Creator's servant."
He clapped his hands, and a rumbling sound came from the rear of the banquet hall. Hidden mechanisms began turning, and the marble walls parted like the Red Sea before Moses, revealing an enormous object. Everyone turned to look, their faces displaying shock.
Beneath the dome stood a massive glass cylinder, over four meters tall, completely transparent, so its contents were clearly visible.
It was like an enormous petri dish, growing clusters of nerve bundles. Red and white nerve fibers intertwined, spreading and climbing like creeping vines across the glass walls, gently undulating.
I was too stunned to speak.
Gasps erupted from the guests. Some had already dropped to their knees, bowing in worship before the glass cylinder.
"This is Headquarters' supreme decision-maker—The Creator. All of Headquarters' strategies and plans, including Death Trip, the New World, and everything else, originate from His thought and design. It is fair to say that The Creator has made everything you see today." Victor Day walked over and placed his hand on the glass, gently stroking it. The nerve clusters inside seemed to respond, moving slowly to follow his fingers.
"It's a miracle!" One guest was moved to tears.
"Indeed, a miracle," Victor Day said. "The Creator fuses the brain neurons of over one hundred elite humans. These neurons communicate, intertwine, and reproduce inside, gradually merging into a vast unified personality. This is a super-intelligence, a powerful thought-field beyond the reach of ordinary humans. Every time He thinks, it unleashes a tsunami-like cascade of cognition—before Him, the entire world holds no secrets."
So that was it. Headquarters' ability to expand its power to this scale, to nearly steer the direction of the world—it was all controlled by this thing.
"This is the reward we offer the winners of the Maze Trip—" Victor Day spread his arms, his voice rising with passion. "You have passed through layer upon layer of trials. Your courage and intellect make you the finest among humanity. Now, I grant you the chance to approach a miracle: upload your consciousness, extract your brain neurons, and merge with The Creator. You will gain immortality and become the rulers of the world."
I was floored. So this was the ultimate reward. This was the so-called "experience the ultimate mystery of the world"!
Under Victor Day's hypnotically mellifluous voice, the three groups of winners who'd preceded us rose to their feet, their eyes filled with longing. They'd already been brainwashed—or perhaps this had been their goal all along.
Gaining immortality through another means, becoming the rulers of the world, possessing supreme power—wasn't this what many people dreamed of?
They walked toward Victor Day, willing to offer up their consciousness and brain neurons to merge with The Creator.
Even many of the guests at the banquet were clamoring to sacrifice themselves and become part of The Creator—but they didn't even qualify.
Inside the glass cylinder, the nerve clusters seemed to sense the infusion of fresh blood and began trembling with excitement, climbing up and down the walls like geckos.
This grotesque, absurd spectacle made my scalp crawl.
"No, Dad, don't do this..." Selene ran forward in tears, trying to stop Victor Day. "Dad, please, don't become a monster..."
"Silly girl, this isn't a monster—it's humanity's supreme achievement. The Creator needs fresh blood—He will grow stronger, more vital. Under His guidance, we will soon usher in the New World." Victor Day held her shoulders. "Selene, you've now become one of humanity's elite. You've earned the right to enter this miracle and merge with The Creator. Once I finish these arrangements, I'll extract my own consciousness and nerves too, and we'll meet again in another wonderful world."
"No, Dad, wake up—it's not like that! The Creator isn't human—it's a monster, a devil, a freak..." But no matter how Selene shouted, Victor Day was immovable.
Several staff members stepped forward, grabbed the now-exhausted Selene, and began dragging her toward an operating table to extract her consciousness and brain neurons.
In that instant, I understood what Shiva had given his life fighting against.
I understood what Brother Asher meant by "the age of the extinction of the Dharma."
I understood what kind of world countless rounds of "Death Games" were meant to create.
"Stop!" I screamed from the depths of my soul.
"Oh, Ryan Knox, come join us—" Victor Day extended his hand toward me. "Come, offer your consciousness and brain neurons, merge with The Creator, and experience eternal bliss."
"I'll merge with your bullshit!" I roared. My body blazed with heat, white mist rising from my skin. My muscles surged like flowing sand, my arches lifted high, my Achilles tendons swelled, and my calf muscles gathered backward, forming feathered wings!
Someone cried out, "Yaksha! The Yaksha has manifested!"
That's right—this was their creation! This was the Neo-human they'd been obsessing over!
I exploded into motion, fast as lightning, charging straight at The Creator! In this body, no one here could match me. If I wanted, I could slaughter every last one of them!
I leaped high, launched myself at the giant glass cylinder, raised my right leg in midair, and brought down a devastating axe kick!
Even reinforced bulletproof glass couldn't withstand a strike accelerated to the absolute limit!
This bullshit "Creator"—I would smash it to pieces, rip out these disgusting nerve clusters, and scatter them to the wind!