Abyss Outpost, Central Plaza.

  The original ruins had been cleared away. Utilizing the Abyss-exclusive obsidian and luminescent crystals, the Spirit craftsmen had rushed overnight to create a magnificent monument.

  At this moment, thousands of Spirits who had just finished their labor gathered here, their eyes flashing with the light of fanaticism and piety. Several Spirit elders, wearing robes that were tattered but washed clean, held rare ores and Spirit Grass for sacrifice in their hands (of course, not for eating, but for offering).

  The Slayer had just returned from the experimental field, still carrying that trace of lingering terrifying baleful aura from seeing the "rabbit."

  The moment he stepped into the plaza, the originally noisy crowd instantly quieted down, kneeling on the ground in unison like wheat being harvested.

  An elder tremblingly pulled down the red cloth on the monument.

  *Whoosh.*

  A giant statue, twenty meters high, was revealed under the dim dome of the Abyss.

  The statue depicted the Slayer. But... it was a "beautified" or even "deified" Slayer.

  He was not depicted wearing that armor covered in scratches and bloodstains, but was portrayed in a streamlined suit of armor filled with divine radiance.

  The shotgun in his hand was carved into a scepter emitting a compassionate light.

  Most ridiculously, the statue's face—although still wearing a helmet, the craftsmen had adjusted his posture to force him to look as if he were looking up at the sky, posing as a "Saint" who pitied the fate of mankind and bore sins alone to save the common people.

  On the base, a line of large characters was carved in Spirit language and Demonic:

  [The Savior · God of Doom]

  The elder knelt on the ground, chanting loudly: "Oh Great God! Please accept our humble..."

  The Slayer stopped in his tracks.

  He stood in the shadow of that statue.

  He looked up at that so-called "compassionate" version of himself.

  That was fake.

  That was a lie.

  That was the most disgusting distortion of everything he did—ripping, tearing, executing.

  He didn't hesitate for a moment.

  The Slayer's right arm suddenly pulled back; it was a standard, no-frills charging motion.

  [Blood Punch] charging.

  A red energy storm instantly exploded on his fist.

  He needed no explanation, nor did he need an altar.

  *THUD!!!!!!*

  A thunderous noise exploded in the plaza.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Slayer's punch landed solidly on the base of that statue.

  *Crack——Rumble!*

  That magnificent statue, which had cost the Spirit Race countless efforts and symbolized redemption and faith, didn't even shake before shattering directly from the base.

  Massive stones collapsed and fell. That head carved with extreme divinity rolled to the Slayer's feet and was then stomped into powder by him.

  Dust rose everywhere.

  The Slayer stood in the ruins, the red baleful aura on his body even heavier than before.

  He didn't look at those Spirits who were scared out of their wits, completely unable to understand why God was angry. He just patted the lime off his gloves, as if patting away some annoying dust.

  Then, he stepped over the ruins and walked straight to his rest area (that corner with the heavy metal record player).

  ...

  Netherworld, Control Center.

  Through the screen, Singularity witnessed this "God-Destroying" farce from beginning to end.

  But he didn't exclaim "waste" as usual, nor did he feel sorry for those building materials.

  He sat in his chair, the cup of tea in his hand already cold, but he hadn't taken a sip.

  In his mind, the scene captured by the Mirror of Retribution in the experimental field just now kept replaying—that rabbit in the cage, and the Slayer's momentary pause when he saw the rabbit.

  Now, he saw the Slayer smashing his own idol without hesitation.

  Two clues converged in Singularity's mind, piecing together a shocking truth.

  "I originally thought he was a warrior fighting for justice, for revenge, or for some noble mission."

  Singularity murmured to himself, tapping his finger gently on the table.

  "But I was wrong."

  "He doesn't care about godhood, doesn't care about worship, and cares even less about how future generations evaluate him."

  Singularity looked at the back on the screen, sitting in the corner, focused on operating solely to fill the chainsaw with fuel.

  "He's just... a 'living-in-the-moment guy'."

  "A guy who lives very purely, very extremely."

  "For him, life is just two things: raising rabbits (formerly), killing demons (now)."

  "The rabbit died, life was ruined, so he wants to kill all demons. It's that simple."

  Singularity gave a wry smile and shook his head.

  "Everyone in the world wants to become a Buddha or an ancestor, wants monuments and biographies. Those eminent monks cultivate 'emptiness' all their lives, but in the end, it's still for 'fame'."

  "But this master..."

  "Erecting a statue for him is insulting him. Because that statue represents 'Redemption', while he represents 'Destruction'. That is a blasphemy against his way of life."

  "He doesn't need believers. He only needs bullets."

  "This state... is actually 'emptier' than Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva."

  Singularity took a deep breath and connected to the Abyss Plaza broadcast.

  The Spirits below were still shivering, and the elder was crying snot and tears, thinking he had done something wrong and angered the Divine Countenance.

  "Get up, all of you."

  Singularity's voice came through the drone, carrying a vicissitude of having seen through the world.

  "Stop crying. God isn't angry. God just... doesn't like fake things."

  The elder looked up and asked desperately, "Then... then what should we do? Should we record God's teachings? Should we write a *Bible of Doom*?"

  Singularity looked at the pile of rubble, then glanced at the Slayer charging the BFG in the distance.

  He was silent for a moment.

  Then, he said only one sentence to these fanatical believers:

  "Better to have no books than to believe entirely in books."

  "Stop with the formalism. If you really want to make him happy..."

  Singularity pointed to the pile of demon corpses in the distance that hadn't been processed yet.

  "Go move those corpses into the recycling furnace, refine them into bullets, and send them to him."

  "That is the only offering he needs."

  Communication cut.

  Singularity leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling.

  "You live truly transparently... Slayer."

  "Since you don't want an altar, then we'll give you something practical."

  Singularity picked up a pen and drew a heavy arrow on the next schedule.

  Pointing to two completely different worlds.

  "The Netherworld has money, the Abyss has mines. Since the idol has collapsed, let's fill this vacancy with real gold and silver."

  *Next Chapter: Bilateral Trade. The Ghost Messengers of the Netherworld and the Spirits of the Abyss are finally about to start doing business. The Slayer won't be a god, but he can be... the biggest arms dealer's (protector)?*