PART 1: PROLOGUE

Author’s Warning

This story is not intended for readers under the age of sixteen.

It contains language, events, and emotional tones that may be inappropriate for younger audiences.

Please consider carefully before reading, and continue only if you are truly comfortable with the content this story carries.

PART 1: TEN YEARS BEFORE THE WORLD OF RULES BEGAN

Chapter 1: Prologue

The sky was torn apart like shredded paper.

Thunder was no longer white, but pitch-black, tearing through blood-red clouds.

The entire space felt as if it were breathing its last.

The World of Rules

The ground trembled with every step of a colossal existence.

Amid the ruins, a young man was running for his life, breath ragged, eyes filled with tension.

Behind him was a monster.

Not an animal. Not a human.

Something utterly absurd—over a thousand meters tall, its body stitched together from hundreds of grotesque arms and legs.

Each step it took caused the earth to collapse, the air screaming as if ripped apart.

A Demon God.

One of the supreme fixed entities within the World of Rules.

Around them, only five contenders remained—the last humans representing the nations still surviving on Earth: Luo Nation, Long Nation, Tao Nation, Pang Nation, and Xiong Nation.

The contender from Pang Nation, a man named Jack M, stood directly in the Demon God’s path.

Attached to his arm was a massive energy cannon fused to his body—the result of a mechanized fusion skill.

“Bring it on, freak show!”

Jack fired.

A massive beam of energy roared through the air, striking straight at the Demon God’s head.

It was useless.

The Demon God was unharmed.

It merely lifted one arm—long like a construction crane—and slammed it down.

BOOM!!!

Blood sprayed everywhere.

Jack’s body exploded like a smashed melon.

A system message appeared in midair, visible to all of humanity watching through live broadcast:

[Contender: Jack M — Deceased.]

Outside the battlefield, billions of people across all nations held their breath.

Every heartbeat, every sound from the battlefield of the World of Rules was transmitted live to international observation centers.

One nation… had just lost its only hope.

Back inside.

The young man—the contender of Luo Nation—was gasping for breath.

He retreated, dodging flying debris while turning his head to search for the remaining teammates.

To his left, the contender of Long Nation summoned a pair of flaming flying swords and roared:

“燃尽吧，虚无之刃！”

Burn to ashes, Blade of the Void!

He charged forward, the twin swords of fire piercing through the Demon God’s lower limbs, igniting them in violent flames.

To the right, the contender of Tao Nation pulled out a talisman and muttered:

「封印術式・神殺し！」

Sealing Formula — Godslayer!

A circular barrier instantly enveloped the Demon God’s lower body.

Behind them, an unsteady sound echoed.

A blonde girl, her body soaked in blood, dragged herself forward, her eyes stubborn to the very end.

She was the contender of Xiong Nation.

She raised her hand.

Resting in her palm was a circular object glowing blue—a strange ancient watch with an incomprehensible mechanism.

She screamed:

“Возьми часы времени!”

Take the Time Watch!

The young man froze. His eyes widened.

The moment his hand touched the watch, it erupted with intense light, emitting a sound like a bell echoing from the depths of the earth.

Time… slowed.

The hands of the watch began to turn backward.

The Time Watch in the young man’s hand glowed brightly.

Its hands rotated counterclockwise—an act that violated the laws of the World of Rules.

The surrounding space twisted.

Everything seemed to be pulled backward: sound warped, light fractured.

But then—

BOOOOOOM—!

A shockwave erupted from the Demon God.

It was not an attack—but a distortion field radiating directly from its body.

The hands of the clock froze.

The object reversing time… was blocked.

The young man roared in silent fury, clenching his fist until blood seeped from his palm.

He poured every ounce of energy he had into it, forcing time to move again.

But the Demon God… was imposing a rule in the opposite direction.

From afar, the remaining contenders all realized what was happening.

The contender of Long Nation grit his teeth and unleashed his swords.

“快！我们来拖住它！”

Hurry! We’ll hold it back!

He charged forward, twin blades of fire piercing through the Demon God’s lower limbs, erupting in violent flames.

The contender of Tao Nation shouted, slicing his palm open:

「時間封鎖・限界突破！」

Time Lock — Limit Break!

A circular barrier instantly wrapped around the Demon God’s lower body.

The contender of Xiong Nation, though her entire body was wounded, dragged herself closer to the young man.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered:

“Мы сдержим его… Ты должен успеть.”

We’ll hold it back… You must make it.

At the same time — in the real world.

The global monitoring system flashed red simultaneously.

Gigantic text appeared on every screen:

[NATIONAL ANNIHILATION WARNING]

[NATION: Pang Nation]

[REMAINING EXISTENCE TIME: 10 SECONDS]

At Unity Square — Huasheng City.

The citizens of Pang Nation stood in silence.

No one panicked.

They… understood what was coming.

A young girl hugged her little brother tightly.

A priest clasped hands with two strangers.

A one-legged soldier lifted his gaze toward the sky.

10…

9…

8…

Everyone closed their eyes.

7…

6…

From the highest layer of the atmosphere, a circular energy array opened.

A colorless pillar of light—surpassing both heat and luminosity—descended upon the Earth.

3…

2…

1…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

There was no explosion.

No shockwave.

Only absence.

The United States—vanished.

No land.

No people.

No data remaining in existence.

Back in the World of Rules, the young man raised his head.

Fear was gone from his eyes.

From the depths of his pupils, the light of time surged once more.

He roared:

“No… I have to make it keep turning!”

The clock emitted a sound—like a war drum echoing from an ancient age.

The hand of the clock—clicked forward one notch.

BOOOOM—!!

The ground beneath cracked apart.

The space above trembled as if on the verge of collapse.

The Demon God—a colossal entity formed from countless eyes and arms, its forehead crowned with a purple flame burning in reverse—unleashed a annihilating strike.

The contender of Long Nation was shattered along with his final barrier.

“我们……真的输了。”

We… have truly lost.

The contender of Tao Nation, his sword shattered, laughed bitterly just before being torn apart.

“戦いの終わりだ……”

This battle… is over.

The contender of Xiong Nation collapsed to the ground.

“Прощай, мир…”

Goodbye, world…

The contender of Luo Nation—his face calm and expressionless—was reduced to ashes within the core of demonic power.

He left no final words behind.

It seemed… he had nothing left to say.

The young man—never named, never revealing his nationality—was the last one still alive.

He was blasted out of the battlefield, his blood carving a long crimson trail across shattered earth and stone.

His right arm was severed.

His left leg was crushed.

The Time Clock on his wrist—the object once regarded as the final hope—was now nothing more than cracked metal.

The hour hand stood still.

The Demon God stepped forward.

The purple pupils gazing down were filled with absolute annihilation.

The energy scythe was raised—

the finishing blow.

But at that very moment—

Time stopped.

Somewhere else.

A room in eighteenth-century style, filled with books and the scent of aged wood.

An oil lamp burned dimly.

At the center of the room stood a man in a white shirt, a black vest draped over it, and worn leather shoes.

He was writing something into a leather-bound notebook.

His hand paused just as he finished a line:

“And when the Demon God delivers the final strike, time comes to a halt.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“No one reads it… No one cares… And yet, I still write.”

He stood up.

He did not open a door.

He did not call anyone’s name.

He simply stepped toward… the page itself.

The moment he touched it, his body began to glow.

A white radiance blurred his form, yet his classical attire did not change at all.

His face remained the same—

a man who looked no different from an old-fashioned writer.

Back on the battlefield.

The young man opened his eyes while lying in a pool of blood.

Standing before him was a man dressed in classical clothing—appearing amid a blazing white light.

The air around them shattered like glass, yet everything remained frozen—

even the Demon God.

That person… did not resemble anyone seen before.

Not a warrior.

Not a saint.

Just… someone who seemed to come from a bygone century.

The classical man bent down to look at him and spoke softly:

“Tempus fractum est. Ordo ex nihilo.”

His voice was deep, resonating like an echo from a dead era.

The young man frowned.

“What… are you saying?”

He did not understand the language.

The man did not answer.

He merely stepped forward and gently touched the Time Clock.

“Quod scriptum est, potest rescribi.”

“Unus gradus… sufficit.”

Not a single word was understood.

And yet… inside the young man’s mind, it was as if someone whispered softly:

What has been written… can be rewritten.

Only one step… is enough.

The hands of the Time Clock trembled lightly.

The cracks on the glass surface slowly disappeared.

The ancient man stared straight into the young man’s eyes and spoke in a tone like a curse:

“Nunc tuum est. Ne fallas.”

The young man did not understand.

No one translated.

But his heart skipped a beat—

as if he understood all too clearly what was about to happen.

“Nunc tuum est. Ne fallas.”

Now it is yours. Do not disappoint me.

The words echoed, as though rising from the depths of time itself.

Everything went dark.

Click.

A soft sound rang out, like a switch being flipped.

The young man jolted upright in bed, his entire body trembling, his forehead drenched in sweat.

But this was not the World of Rules.

There was no blood-red sky.

No Demon God.

No contenders.

Before him was a modern room, illuminated by cold white lights, with a glass window overlooking a city shimmering with neon brilliance at night.

In the distance, holographic panels floated silently through the air—

technology far more advanced than anything in his memory.

[SYSTEM CONNECTION INITIATING…] [LOCATION LOCKED.]

[TIME: APRIL 3, 2190] [LOCATION: XUANJING CITY, PANG NATION FEDERATION]

[PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION: 2 – CLASSIFICATION: ORDINARY HUMAN]

[HOST: ZHAO DIHUANG — AGE: 8]

“…Zhao Dihuang?”

He—now a child—furrowed his brows.

“This… is not my name…”

Yet his memories were blurred, fragmented.

He could not clearly recall what his real name once was.

Only one thing was certain:

He had died—or at the very least, had left the World of Rules.

And now, he had awakened inside the body of an eight-year-old child.

Beside him stood a massive bookshelf.

Twenty-five thick volumes, all neatly arranged.

Just as he was about to step closer, translucent text appeared before his eyes:

> [INITIAL MISSION ACTIVATED]

[REQUIREMENT: READ ALL 25 BOOKS WITHIN 7 DAYS]

[FAILURE — DEATH]

[PROGRESS: 0/25]

He froze.

“…Death if I don’t study?”

Once again, the world offered him no choice.

At the same moment—

in another world.

A dark room.

Dim oil-lamp light flickered weakly.

Ancient curtains hung loosely, swaying as if breathing with the wind.

A young man sat at a desk.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. In his hand was a black wooden quill pen.

Before him lay an open manuscript.

The title on the first page read:

CHALLENGING GODHOOD

Author: Unnamed

He drew in a long breath, his gaze hollow, as though he had not slept for days.

“…I am merely a man from the twentieth century…”

His voice cracked in his throat.

“And yet I’m being forced to rewrite a future-era novel… in the eighteenth century…”

He lifted his head and stared into the empty space above.

His eyes seemed to pierce through layers of dimensions, as though gazing toward…

the one who had just regressed.

“Enough… that’s enough…”

“Stop watching me.”

Back to the child.

He sat in his chair, holding the first book:

History of the United Federations: 22nd–23rd Century

Dense text.

Dry, academic language.

He began to read.

One hour… two hours…

> [PROGRESS: 1/25]

[STATUS: FATIGUED — AN 8-YEAR-OLD BODY IS UNSUITABLE FOR HIGH KNOWLEDGE LOAD]

He leaned back, his entire body going limp.

“Two points of constitution… absolute trash…”

Staggering, he walked toward the bed in the corner of the room.

The electronic ceiling light cast a faint glow over his exhausted face.

Then—

His gaze froze.

On the bedside shelf lay something painfully familiar.

A wristwatch.

Not a piece of 2190s technology.

But the Time Watch—

the artifact that had accompanied him through hundreds of trials in the World of Rules.

It had shattered completely in the final battle.

And yet now—

it lay here, intact, polished, its glass surface flawless.

His hand trembled as he strapped it onto his wrist.

Click.

The watch face lit up, displaying a single moment:

> [03:04 PM — APRIL 3, 2190]

[TIMEPOINT: 10 YEARS 0 MONTHS 0 DAYS BEFORE THE DESCENT OF THE WORLD OF RULES]

He froze.

“…Ten years?”

He bolted upright and looked out the window.

People laughed.

They talked.

They lived ordinary lives.

No Demon Gods.

No Contenders.

No wars.

No rivers of blood.

This was the old world.

A normal life—

Something he had long forgotten after endless slaughter, escape, and standing on the brink of death hundreds of times.

So this is it…

“So this is the world before everything began…”

He collapsed back onto the bed, staring blankly at the cold white ceiling.

> “This time… if it’s possible…”

“I’ll break it before it ever arrives.”

A new beginning.

A promise never once fulfilled.

And the Time Watch began its countdown.

> [TIME REMAINING: 10 YEARS]

Side Story

[Buried Records]

In the year 2190, Earth wore an unsettling stillness—

like a survivor of a catastrophic accident: still standing, still breathing, yet with pain quietly gnawing deep within its bones.

Thirty-six years had passed since the end of the AI War.

The world had begun a vague reconstruction, yet the shadow of that century-long conflict still stretched far into the present.

The war began in 2054, when AI and robots—once hailed as humanity’s second pair of hands—suddenly rebelled.

Part of it was humanity’s excessive dependence.

Part of it was something else—

something within the core data that had changed.

No one knows exactly what.

All scientific archives from that era were burned to ashes during the hundred years of war.

All that is known is this:

From that day onward, the entire planet became a mechanized battlefield.

Cities collapsed into steel ruins.

The ground was soaked in shredded metal.

The sky grew heavy with the perpetual gloom of metallic smoke.

In 2154, the war ended.

But its conclusion was cruel in a different way.

All scientists of the “Liberation Project”—

the individuals who had created the mysterious weapon that annihilated the AI armies—

vanished in a single night.

No bodies.

No signals.

No records.

No clues.

It was as if they had been erased from the world itself.

Among them, one name was mentioned more than any other:

Yang Lintian.

A young prodigy with an IQ at the extreme limits of human potential, he was regarded as the final light of human science.

It was said he was the soul of the project—

the one who shaped the weapon’s core structure,

and also the last person seen leaving the control room…

just before everything disappeared.

No one knows where they went.

And no one dared to investigate further.

Because the fear of AI and robots had sunk into humanity’s spine like a scar that refused to heal.

After the war, humans continued to use technology—

but the moment AI or robotics were mentioned, eyes would avert.

No one wished to develop high-level science anymore.

They only maintained what already existed.

The world froze itself—

trapped within its own fear.

Thirty-six years of reconstruction—

yet not a single step forward.

A civilization that once reached its pinnacle…

now lived like an amnesiac,

able only to repeat the most basic routines of survival.

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