Fate's Choice: Livestream at the Start Summoning Billions of Ravens

At this moment, the headlines of major news media outlets achieved an astonishing unity within just ten minutes.

Bold, large black font occupied the entire page:

"The Day of Rebirth!"

Human civilization has abruptly stopped at the edge of a precipice.

History will remember this day, the heroes who filled the abyss with their flesh and blood, the sword formed from the countless stars, and the blazing white-gold sun that burned everything.

The wave of revelry came to an abrupt end on the outskirts of Yokosuka Naval Base.

As the first destroyer of the Combined Fleet, trailing thick smoke, slowly entered the harbor in a nearly paralyzed manner, broadcast cameras around the world simultaneously switched to it.

There were no flowers, no red carpet, and not even a welcoming military band.

Only the pungent smell of gunpowder, mixed with the salty tang of the sea and the heavy stench of blood, assaulted my senses.

The steel behemoth that once symbolized the pinnacle of human industrial achievement is now nothing but a broken skeleton. Radar antennas have been torn off, close-in weapon system barrels are twisted into pretzel shapes, and large areas of the outer armor of the island superstructure have peeled off, exposing the charred cables inside.

But what truly silenced seven billion people worldwide was the scene on the deck.

Rows of stretchers were neatly arranged, covered with glaring white cloth.

Occasionally, a charred arm or half a tattered identity tag would peek out from the edge of the white cloth. The surviving soldiers supported each other, their uniforms tattered and their faces covered in mud and blood. They showed no joy at surviving the ordeal; deep in their empty pupils, the extreme fear of facing the abyss remained.

The noisy Earth has been silenced.

People who were raising their glasses in celebration just a moment ago are now staring blankly at the screen, unable to utter a sound. The price of victory is so heavy it sends chills down their spines.

"Quickly! Medical team, follow up! Level A life support system ready!"

The silence was shattered by a desperate roar. A team of top medical experts, dressed in full-body protective suits and bearing the emblems of the five major nations on their chests, pushed a life support pod and rushed frantically onto the battered deck of the "Fujian" aircraft carrier.

Surrounding them was an entire battalion of fully armed special forces soldiers, their guns all pointed outwards, forming an impenetrable human wall.

All the cameras, with their long lenses and short lenses, were desperately trying to zoom in.

Beneath the transparent bulletproof glass of the life support pod lay a petite figure.

The water goddess, Funina de Fontaine.

That supreme deity who, hanging upside down over Tokyo Bay and judging the abyss, single-handedly reversed the course of the battle.

The savior who forcibly terminated the Holy Grail wish to prevent any flaws in the performance, thus locking destruction in the Mirror World.

But now, she's so quiet it's unsettling.

The magnificent blue and white morning dress was now soaked in blood, turning into a glaring dark red.

Her signature white and blue highlighted short hair was messily plastered to her pale cheeks.

The wound on his right shoulder, pierced by the abyss blade, still oozed wisps of black mist despite emergency treatment, hindering the healing of the flesh.

Without the lofty divine halo, without that feigned pride and playfulness, this body is so fragile that even breathing becomes a luxury.

Beside her pillow lay three tiny, palm-sized figures—Lord Uther, Lady Hevima, and Miss Shabelida.

These three once-mighty deep-sea behemoths could not even maintain their physical form and could only lick their master's cold cheeks in vain, relying on the faint water element.

The online comments remained silent for a full half minute.

Subsequently, an unprecedented explosion occurred.

"Oh my god...she's bleeding so much..."

"Why does she look so small? Isn't she a god?"

"That wound... the pollution of the abyss is still there! Please save her!"

Countless people covered their mouths in front of their screens, tears streaming down their faces. This extreme contrast pushed human empathy to its peak. A girl who carried the fate of the world on her shoulders paid the price of severe injury and death to bring them a better tomorrow.

The grief and prayers of the outside world cannot disrupt the rules of the game at the top of the power pyramid.

Geneva time, 3 a.m.

A top-secret video conference between the five permanent members of the UN Security Council is underway, with intense debate taking place over an encrypted network.

There was no celebratory drink, no mutual congratulations, and the air in the meeting room was so cold it felt like ice crystals could fall out.

All eyes were fixed on the report on the vital signs of "Living Goddess Funina" in the center of the screen.

Li Bai vanished, Newton sacrificed himself, Joan of Arc turned to immortality, and even that extraordinary being from the East who wasn't a heroic spirit is gone.

Funinna became the only tangible, transcendent specimen left behind in this epic war of gods.

"Gentlemen, we must face reality." The American representative broke the deadlock first, his hands crossed on the table, leaning forward, his tone filled with undisguised greed, "The energy circuits within this water goddess, and the mechanism by which she summons her subjects, completely defy the existing framework of physics. This is the only key for human civilization to achieve a leap forward."

He paused for a moment, then presented the proposal he had prepared long ago.

"I propose that we immediately shift our focus to the Alpha-class underground biological laboratory in Geneva, where the five nations should jointly send their top scientists to conduct 'protective research' on it. Analyzing the structure of the gods would be a contribution to the future of all humanity. After all, no one can guarantee that the threat of the abyss has been completely eliminated."

"Conservation research?"

A cold laugh interrupted the long-winded speech by the representative of the United States.

The Chinese representative slammed his pen heavily on the table, his eyes wide with anger.

"To dissect and study the heroes who saved the world like lab rats? Is this what you call civilization? This is blatant betrayal! This is blasphemy!"

The voice of the Chinese representative echoed in the hall, resounding with conviction.

"We strongly object! Ms. Fu Ningna must receive the highest state guest treatment! China possesses the world's most comprehensive traditional Chinese medicine system and top-notch modern medical equipment. She should be sent to the capital to receive the best possible treatment and recuperation. Any attempt to use her as an experimental subject will be considered the most serious provocation by China!"

"Oh, come on." The representative from John Bull slowly picked up his teacup, blew on it to cool it down, and said, "Send it to the capital? Everyone knows what you're up to. You're trying to monopolize the strategic advantage brought by the gods, which doesn't align with the interests of the 'community of shared future for mankind'."

"I second that." The French representative tapped the table. "The name of the water goddess has obvious characteristics of French culture. Historically speaking, she should stay in Paris. We have safe and secure rest facilities in the Louvre's underground."

The Russian representative snorted and interrupted in a gruff voice.

"Stop talking nonsense. Power is only truly secure when it's in your own hands. The depths of the Siberian ice fields offer the perfect environment for recuperation. Since none of us trust each other, let's each rely on our own abilities."

The atmosphere in the meeting room plummeted to freezing point.

Tensions.

The bodies of the soldiers at the front are still warm, and all of humanity is still weeping for the heroes' sacrifice. Yet, in this conference room that will determine the fate of the Earth, the most primal greed and the struggle for power are already eagerly unfolding.

Everyone is using lofty pretexts to conceal their ambition to possess that extraordinary power for themselves.

The gods have fallen, and those who survived want to become gods themselves.