On the first day, God created himself.
On the second day, God created the world.
On the third day, God decorated the world with beautiful stars.
On the fourth day, God created the concepts that govern the world.
On the fifth day, God filled the world with various creatures.
On the sixth day, as God rested from his hard work, he was killed by his own creation.
On the seventh day, God was…
†
The long and treacherous war that had lasted well over a few centuries had finally come to a close. In this case, the term "close" didn't refer to the end of an act—like a play or anything. It meant that the war that had claimed hundreds of millions of lives had finally reached its goal. Or rather, the one responsible for starting this war had reached his goal. One of them at least.
Cornered in their own home and judged by the absolute authority of several higher gods, Ceprun stood at the edge of annihilation. The troops united underneath the banner of the Ceprun army stood no chance whatsoever.
Anywhere you looked you could see it. That wretched golden light sweeping through the kingdom like wildfire. Each flash illuminated the desperate faces of the citizens as they scrambled through the streets they had once called home. Blood pooled in the cobblestone cracks, spreading like spilled wine across a banquet table. The air grew thick with iron and smoke and death. Death that even now, still had a raging appetite.
In one corner of the kingdom, a flashing light erupted from the ground. Any who were caught in its jaws simply vanished from existence, any memory of them gone with them.
Having steeled themselves for certain death, they plunged into its jaws with twisted grins and battle cries. Though it's not like they had a choice—escape was virtually impossible.
Archers coiled back their heavy bows with the last of their strength, hoping and praying a single arrow would connect. Warriors gripped their bloody and battered hunks of steel and charged with the cries of wild beasts. Mages who had already run out of mana long ago mustered anything, their own life force if needed, in a last desperate gambit. All the while, their kingdom, their home, roared with the screams of the many as they were massacred before their families.
There were half a dozen of them, give or take. Contrary to the soldiers of Ceprun, there were no fancy weapons gleaming in their hands, nor any proud banners. Only their cold and merciless crimson glares.
Eyes more crimson than the blood now staining every corner of the kingdom.
Eyes more crimson than even the sky above.
"You cursed deity… Is this fun for you? Is crushing our lives so damn fun?!"
Bellowing a question that stirred from the depths of his soul, was a man barely standing amongst a sea of corpses. He wasn't a general of this once great army or anything. Honestly, he wasn't anyone important in the grand scheme of things. Not because of his rank, wealth or background, but because of the simple fact that no matter who or who you think you are, once you stand face to face with a higher god, you are effectively… no one.
"Well? What's so fun about genocide, you sick twisted fucks!?"
Rather than the angel who had personally destroyed his fleet, the soldier's rage was aimed at the one floating above even them. Though the lone soldier might as well have been an ant trying to get a response from a mountain.
The angel's presence radiated a kind of confident glow you'd find only in an ancient king. Not the kind of king that is simply praised, but worshipped as a god. Many angels were referred to as higher gods, but he alone went by the epithet of "God".
"ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!!!"
For a moment it seemed as if the supposed leader of these angels was committed to ignoring the worm beneath his feet, until…
"Fun…? Fun… Fun." Something resembling a smirk played on the angel's lips.
In that moment, the wind caught his snow-like hair, tossing it about with casual indifference to the suffering below. His wings burned with divine fire, and his crimson eyes reflected nothing but simple amusement. For him, that's all this was. Amusement of the highest order.
"I suppose this could be considered fun, couldn't it?" He pondered as his chin tilted to the heavens.
Although he had technically answered the warrior's question, it was clear that he wasn't who he was talking to.
"I wonder what you would think about this… Would this be fun for you, Michael? What about you… father?"
In an instant, the slight grin on the angel's face disappeared. Currently, he had an expression that could only be described as melancholy. Even as the war that had raged on for many generations met its end, symbolizing his plans had finally reached a sort of climax, he looked as bored as someone forcing themselves to birdwatch.
"I want to see you two again. I want to see you two so badly I can't stand it… Michael. Father. The day will soon come when we three stand face to face."
Realizing he was being ignored, the warrior gripped his sword, coiled it back and launched it at the angel at frightening speeds. The blade carved through smoke and ash as it passed three angels. It's not as if it were moving so fast that they couldn't react, they just knew it was a waste of effort to stop it. After all, it was aimed at the supposed leader of the angels. The one who went by the epithet of "God".
Before it could even reach him, a golden light enveloped the blade mid transit. In seconds it was erased from existence. With a mere breath, the soldier joined his fallen allies. The only thing he saw before utter darkness was golden radiance. The color of God.
At that moment the lone soldier muttered something…
"How beautiful."
He didn't mean it in the sense of a model or icon, but in the way that natural disasters were beautiful. The way he said it was like a double-edged sword. Like how cavemen would find a volcano awe-inspiring yet devastating at the same time. It made one wonder… Could such a thing still be considered war? If not, then what the hell would you call this?
What would you call a beautiful war?
High above the dying kingdom, in a throne room that had stood for seventy generations, that very question haunted the mind of Ceprun's last king. Each explosion from below sent tremors through ancient stone, shaking dust from rafters that had witnessed coronations and celebrations, now bearing witness to an ending.
The king slumped against his throne as another impact rocked the palace foundations. Crystal chandeliers swayed like hanged men, their gentle chiming a macabre counterpoint to the screams drifting through shattered windows.
Zhu Bajie's massive frame, once imposing in its royal regalia, now seemed diminished by the gravity of their situation. The crown that had passed through those seventy generations sat heavy on his brow, each jewel a reminder of the legacy about to be snuffed out.
From his composure, one might assume that he was a worthless king who cared not for the cries of his people.
They'd be wrong. So very wrong.
His right-hand man, Sha Wujing, knew how much the situation was eating away at his king. He'd seen that same stoic mask during their many journeys together. He vividly remembered the moment Zhu Bajie took up the throne during the kingdom's most desperate time of need. He was wearing it then too. That same stoic mask.
"What are your honest thoughts, brother? Do we have a chance?"
Sha Wujing glanced out the palace windows and immediately grimaced.
"Not a snowball's chance in the nine hells. She's not just any god, Bajie. She's one of the twelve angels. Heaven's Royal Deck."
The palace groaned once more. Somewhere below, support beams collapsed with a sound like breaking bones. The cries of the masses rose and fell like waves, each wave fainter than the last.
Bajie's snout twitched—an old nervous habit Wujing had noticed during their thirty years together. That same twitch had preceded every impossible decision over the years.
"Do you remember when we first met?" Bajie asked. "You thought I was just another corrupt noble."
Despite their situation, Wujing found himself smiling as he reminisced.
"The only lazy one was that Wukong. Him and that blasted cloud. Sometimes he would even beg to ride my back. Do not get me started on the trouble he caused for the other realms. The number of times I had to apologize for him. Honestly, what was Buddha thinking when he sent us on that journey?"
The beast-man named Zhu Bajie released a sound that could be considered laughter. It rumbled from deep in his chest, defiant against the apocalypse outside.
"Yes, he did have a habit of causing trouble, didn't he… But it's times like these he always came through. I can't help but wonder... did the gods plan this from the very beginning?"
At the mention of those celestial puppet-masters, Wujing's entire body went rigid. The gods had been a thorn in his side since the moment he'd drawn his first breath.
"Those bastards probably did. I swear, heaven must be a terribly boring realm if you need to orchestrate genocides for entertainment."
"Boring indeed."
Bajie rose from his throne with the slow dignity of a king who knew his reign was ending. Each step echoed in the trembling chamber, a drumbeat marking the last moments of an era.
"Well then. I'm off to handle the angel."
"You will die."
As blunt as they were, Wujing's words carried no disrespect. Just truth.
"I harbor no illusions of victory, brother. I don't even dare hope for it..." Bajie moved toward the great double-doors. "But I must fight for my people. For the children crying in their mothers' arms, for the elders who remember my days as a general, for every soul who has called this kingdom their home."
Wujing watched his king march towards death. He wanted to stop him, but he knew he couldn't. After all, he'd known this moment would come. Like him, Zhu Bajie was born under a star. That meant he was something people call a "Saint".
People like them had a habit of finding themselves in impossible situations.
"And what of me? What would you have me do while you're busy getting yourself killed?"
"Find the AntiGod."
"!"
Wujing's staff clattered to the floor.
"This kingdom is finished…" Bajie continued. "And many more will join it in the flames. The cycle will continue, realm after realm, until every world has burned. But if we plan on winning this war against the gods, then he is our only hope."
The Prophecy of the AntiGod.
It is said that every millennium, six heroes are chosen by the world itself and are each granted the power of an angel. It is the duty of a Saint to gather and guide those heroes.
By itself, that tale wasn't that unbelievable. While they hadn't once met one of these supposed heroes, they met more than a few Saints. In fact, they themselves were Saints.
However, the legend went further.
It spoke of a final cycle. A last desperate gambit by the cosmos itself.
According to ancient texts, during the very last cycle a truly special hero would be chosen. One who was destined to slay the evil gods and become the greatest hero in history.
The nightmare of all gods. The hero among heroes…
The AntiGod.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Wujing's voice cracked like a whip. "The AntiGod? That children's tale? It wasn't even a year ago that you called such beliefs the 'desperate delusion of the powerless.'"
The memory hung between them. Sanzang—a companion of theirs—had been so young, so full of hope when she'd spoken of prophecies and destiny. Bajie had crushed those dreams with the cold logic of a general who'd seen too much of the world's cruelty.
Now, facing the end of everything they'd built together, those same dreams seemed to be his only salvation.
Bajie turned, and for a moment, Wujing saw not the confident king he'd served for decades, but a desperate man clinging to the last thread of hope.
"I am dead serious."
Wujing staggered backward, then collapsed to his knees.
"Even if–if–such a person exists, where would I begin to look? The prophecy claims the AntiGod can be born in any realm. Nine realms, Bajie. Nine entire worlds. And six heroes scattered among them. Do you understand what you are telling me?!"
"Yes. I do."
A bitter laugh bubbled up from Wujing's chest. Both his gaze and arms gave out and fell to the floor.
"Have we really fallen so low? Are we truly chasing children's stories now? Like desperate old fools grasping at myths and legends?"
"Let me be clear, this isn't an order. I won't force this burden on you, brother. This kingdom will be ash and memory long before you could complete such a mission. I have no right to ask you to carry this weight."
"You speak as if I actually could complete such a mission."
"Because I know you can."
Zhu Bajie's eyes held the same unwavering faith that had gotten them through every impossible battle over the years.
"I believe in you, Wujing. No matter how impossible the destination, you've always found a way. You're the most persistent runner I've ever known. And the most loyal friend any of us could ask for. So I ask you, my dearest brother... Will you do this?"
Wujing remained silent for a long moment, his hands pressing against the cold floor. Or maybe it was his body that had gone cold and sensitive. Whatever the case, it wouldn't change the fact that two choices stared him in the eyes. Though for people like him, there was only really one.
When Wujing finally spoke, his voice was steady and resolved.
"I can't promise I'll find this mythical savior. The nine realms are beyond vast. But I can promise to try my damnedest." He looked up, meeting his king's eyes one final time. "So yes, you stubborn pig... I'll do it."
A grin split Bajie's lips, transforming his battle-worn face into something almost boyish.
"I knew you would."
In that moment, blinding light erupted from Bajie's back like a star being born. The radiance took the shape of a perfect circle containing the image of a crystal-clear river flowing through the cosmos. The same divine symbol blazed on his elongated ear. That birthmark was proof of what he was. A Saint.
"Constellation Art! Unique Star: Eridanus!"
Golden light bloomed beneath Wujing's feet, rising to engulf his entire form. Power flowed through his legs, spreading throughout his body like warm honey. But it wasn't just divine power coursing through him.
It was trust. Hope. The unbreakable bond of brotherhood forged over three decades of shared struggle and triumph.
"This power will let you traverse the realms safely. It should protect you from the Crossroads between worlds." Bajie's voice grew distant as the light intensified. "Godspeed, my brother. May fortune smile upon your impossible journey. May you find what this world needs most… May you find the AntiGod."