Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

A slight smile played on his lips.

That wasn't a satisfied smile, nor a relieved smile; it was the kind of smile you get when you see the finish line right in front of you and finally don't have to run anymore.

He waited for twenty years, from the age of twenty to the age of thirty-four.

He tried countless times to break free from this eternal shackle, repeatedly using his will to challenge the chains of life, attempting to completely end the endless cycle of existence. But after each effort, he remained trapped in the same place, unable to witness a true end.

Now he finally realized that his struggles were futile; only by relying on the power of another world could he achieve his wish. He only needed to open a passage connecting to the outer realms, welcome the beings from that world, and let them dissolve his eternal existence.

He will calmly feel his own form gradually dissolve, perceive his spiritual origin slowly returning to nothingness, and complete this final journey.

That will be the last feeling he experiences in this world.

It wasn't pain, it was relief.

"Hurry!" he shouted to the people below, his voice hoarse but powerful. "Faster! The barrier is about to break! The beings from another world are waiting for us! Unleash your full power; the more abundant the energy you accumulate, the faster the passage will open!"

Upon hearing his voice, those people circulated their power even faster. A constant buzzing of surging energy rose and fell, as a continuous stream of primal force converged, and layers of energy ripples spread outwards throughout the world. The energy cluster on the altar grew ever larger, and the primal light cluster within the factory also continued to expand.

Two massive torrents of energy, from different directions, different distances, and different angles, simultaneously struck the barrier between life and death.

The barrier is wailing, not a wailing of sound, but a tremor at the level of rules.

Those patterns solidified by the creative qualities are loosening, deforming, and cracking.

Some small fragments had already broken off the barrier and were floating under the gray-white sky, like snowflakes, feathers, or torn pieces of paper.

Deep in hell, the eyes of those hungry souls shone like red lanterns.

They stopped roaring and stopped crashing.

They are waiting.

Waiting for the moment that barrier shatters, waiting for the moment the crack becomes big enough to squeeze through, waiting for the moment when fresh, warm, and vibrant life force is delivered to my lips.

Kane jumped off the control panel and hopped to the door on his left leg.

He glanced back at the crowd behind him who were unleashing their full power, then turned and walked toward the abandoned altar outside the city.

He needed to rush there to organize the constantly gathering energy clusters at the scene, quietly waiting for the barrier to shatter and for the alien beings to descend.

He walked slowly, limping, the broken end of his leg grinding against the gravel, making the bones creak and groan.

But we won't turn back, we won't stop.

He knew this was the last leg of his journey; once it was over, it would be the end.

On the abandoned altar, a massive mass of life-giving flesh had already gathered.

This is an energy cluster formed by countless people dedicating their own essence, layered and intertwined to form a raised mound.

A rich aura of life flowed and floated among the mounds, slowly spreading along the patterns on the stone slabs, constantly diffusing at the edge of the altar, and settling on the cracked earth below, stirring up faint ripples of energy.

The entire area was shrouded in a thick energy field, and those within it could feel a sense of oppression and stagnation. Everyone present had long since abandoned their original physical forms, and the energy emanating from them was far more concentrated than the energy mound before them.

Old Mo lay quietly at the highest point of the energy mound. His limbs had long since transformed into scattered energy streams that merged into the cluster, leaving only his torso and head to maintain their outlines.

He lay there quietly, his eyes half-closed, his lips slightly parted, surrounded by a thin mist of energy. His consciousness remained clear, waiting intently for the moment the barrier would shatter.

He had already exhausted most of his essence and could no longer give. This remaining outline of his body was his last bargaining chip. He planned to wait for the right moment to completely send himself into the passage.

Eve knelt beside the energy mound, her hands, now distorted, raised high above her head.

Her body had long been eroded and reconstructed by the endless power of immortality, and the original outline of her limbs had completely merged and blurred, with a continuous stream of faint light emanating from her palms.

One side of her body had already been pierced by the torrent of energy, leaving only the ever-flowing patterns of light inside. Her other eye was covered by a hazy light membrane, beneath which fine energy patterns moved back and forth.

She waited thirteen years, and finally the moment she had been looking forward to arrived.

Unconsciously, he kept muttering to himself, "Liberation... liberation... liberation..."

Kane stood beside the energy mound, on one leg, his right hand resting on an iron pipe he had brought from the factory.

One end is sharpened.

He no longer needed to rely on external objects to strip away his own power; all the source energy that could be released within his body had already flowed out.

This iron pipe was merely used to support its own precarious state.

His injured limbs were wrapped in tattered cloth, which had long been stained by the energy emanating from his body, making it impossible to discern its original color.

His mutilated limbs were covered with the energy marks left by time, the lines crisscrossing like the rings of an old tree. His right eye shone with an intense, blinding light, like a lamp about to burn out, flickering violently at all times.

A faint stream of energy slid down her cheek from the corner of her eye, across the old scar that ran from her forehead to her jaw, and fell to the ground, creating a tiny ripple.

A large crowd had gathered around.

Among them, some had deformed and incomplete physical forms, some had twisted and irregular shapes, some had chaotic longevity patterns all over their bodies, and some had dry and stiff bodies with their vitality constantly draining away.

The people were in various postures, some kneeling, some crouching, and some barely standing, their bodies swaying precariously.

Each person held a soft ball of light in their hands, the very essence of life detached from themselves. Some held a wisp of light formed from limbs, some held a stream of light transformed from their bodies, and some held a cluster of condensed spiritual particles.

These primordial light clusters are still connected to delicate energy threads, swaying gently in the air, as if they are still sensing everything around them.

They held the primordial light high above their heads, like believers holding up candles, like warriors raising banners, like followers offering tribute to their sovereign.

No one spoke, but there was a sound in the air.

Those were countless low, indistinct murmurs squeezed out from the depths of their throats.

Some whispered prayers for nothingness, some silently prayed for complete liberation, some called for the arrival of another world, and some repeatedly chanted the names of their deceased relatives and friends—those who were also trapped in the cycle of eternal reincarnation, unable to truly rest, and whose whereabouts were unknown.

The soft murmurs intertwined, like distant rolling thunder, dull and heavy, pressing down on everyone's heart, making it hard to breathe.

The sky grew even darker.

It wasn't that it got dark; it was that the cracks in the sky had increased.

The cracks expanded from the width of a chopstick to the thickness of a finger, and from the thickness of a finger to the size of a fist.

Grayish-white light leaked through the cracks, shining on the flesh and blood, on the faces of the people, and on the severed limbs they held in their hands.

The light was cold, like the reflection on ice, like the whites of a dead person's eyes.

Old Mo opened his eyes.

His eyelids felt heavy, as if they were weighed down with lead, but he forced them open with all his might.

The cloudy eyeballs peeked out from behind the eyelids, the pupils were dilated, the focus was off, and it was unclear where they were looking.

But his mouth was moving, and he was making muffled sounds in his throat.

He tried several times, and finally managed to squeeze out a sentence, his voice very soft, like the wind blowing through withered leaves: "The time has come." Eve heard it.

She lowered her hands, placing them from above her head to her chest, her palms pressed together, her ten fingers touching each other as if in prayer.

She raised her head and looked at Lao Mo with her still-intact right eye, and Lao Mo was looking at her too.

Their eyes met in the air; no words were spoken, but they both understood.

Kane heard it too.

He pulled the iron pipe from the ground, used it as a support, and hopped on one leg to the front of the pile of meat.

He tapped the ground with the iron pipe, making a "thump-thump-thump" sound, like he was ringing a bell.

The people around fell silent.

The low, indistinct murmurs stopped, and everyone's eyes were focused on the three people.

Using the energy flowing around him, Lao Mo supported his body and slowly straightened up from the energy mound.

Despite losing his limbs, he moved by the energy surrounding him, the light patterns and energy mounds around him touching each other, stirring up bursts of fine light dust.

Completely ignoring the surging energy fluctuations around him, he slowly moved to the highest point of the energy mound, sitting quietly like a stone statue that had weathered many changes in its form.

Eve slowly straightened up, her lower limbs having been completely transformed by the power of immortality. Supported by her hardened energy bones, she stood upright in place.

Her figure blurred slightly in the grayish-white light, like a wax figure gradually melting away.

Kane used one foot to propel himself up the energy mound, landing next to Old Mo, and gripped the iron pipe to support his body.

The three stood atop the energy mound, beneath which lay layers upon layers of primordial energy. Their bodies were mutilated and distorted, their faces twisted by prolonged suffering, yet a flame flickered in their eyes.

That fire wasn't a warm fire; it was cold, blue-white, almost extinguished but still burning desperately, a flame of hope that burned even brighter after despair reached its extreme.

Old Mo was the first to speak.

His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against glass, and every word seemed to be squeezed out of his throat with all his might.

"Sacrifice the source, build a bridge with unwavering devotion!"

Eve was the second to speak.

Her voice was hoarse, like a leaky bellows, but it was more powerful than Old Mo's, because there was still some energy left in her body that had not been consumed by the decay.

"Tear the barrier apart, summon the demons!"

Kane spoke for the third time.

His voice was sharp, like fingernails scratching glass, piercing but not unpleasant to hear.

Because there was so much in that voice—twenty years of self-harm, twenty years of pain, twenty years of wanting to die but being unable to.

Those things compressed together and spewed out from the throat, that's the sound they made.

"End of immortality, return to eternal silence!"

Three roars, like three awls piercing the gray-white sky at the same time.

The fist-sized cracks in the sky suddenly expanded, as if someone was pushing them outwards from inside.

The fine cracks also increased at the same time, turning from a spider web into a dense, intricate fabric, as if it had been pierced by countless needles.

The people around the altar also joined in the shouting.

The chaotic sounds were like countless wounded wild beasts.

Some shouted to sacrifice their source, some yelled to break through the barrier, some hoped for the arrival of another world, and some simply opened their mouths wide, using all their strength to let out a long-suppressed cry.

All the sounds converged into a powerful torrent of sound, crashing violently against the gray-white sky.

Immediately afterwards, everyone raised their hands and threw all the primordial light orbs they had condensed into the sky.

They used the last bit of strength in their bodies to unleash their power, and soft orbs of light pierced the air like flying flowers, fallen leaves, and scraps of paper.

The orbs of light streaked across the ground in faint arcs, landing on the energy mound, the altar slab, and the people around them.

No one dodged or brushed away; they allowed the pure primordial energy to envelop them, as if receiving a baptism and bathing in a long-awaited gift.

The ultimate obsession deep within everyone's souls erupted completely, transforming into a torrent of pitch-black thoughts. Like countless shadowy figures rising, entwining, and converging from above, it condensed into a thick, imposing pillar of energy that crashed straight into the gray-white sky above.

The sky trembled violently.

It wasn't the faint, almost imperceptible tremor of before; it was a violent tremor, like being kicked from the inside out.

The gray fog was churning, not blown by the wind, but swept up by that torrent of will.

They were like waves on the sea, one higher than the next, one wave crashing against the gray-white sky, making a dull, thunderous roar.

The cracks began to wriggle as if they were alive.

It is not being passively stretched out, but actively expanding, like a hungry mouth, like a greedy eye, like an abyss yearning to be filled.

They devour each other; the smaller ones are swallowed by the larger ones, and the larger ones join together to become even larger.

Black, thin, scar-like cracks appeared in the sky.

Then, a piercing tearing sound echoed through the heavens and earth.

That wasn't the sound of cloth being torn apart, nor the sound of metal being broken; it was the sound of rules being ripped apart.

The sound bypassed the ears and poured directly into the consciousness of every immortal being, like someone tearing open a zipper in your brain.

Everyone felt it; they felt the barrier that had trapped them for countless years finally reveal its first real crack.

The crack, long and curved, was in the center of the sky directly above the altar, like a wound cut open by a knife.

The edges of the wound were jagged, as if something had been gnawing at it from the inside out.

The light shining through the crack wasn't grayish-white; it was a different kind of light.

It's black, not the kind of black of darkness, but the kind of black of emptiness, the kind of black where there is nothing.

The black light was so cold it seeped into one's bones; the black light was empty, so empty that even one's soul felt nothingness.

Behind the crack lies an endless, pitch-black hell.

Hell has no shape.

It is a void, without up or down, without left or right, without front or back.

There was only darkness, only cold, only hunger. (End of Chapter)