Welcome to Rewind World Game

Su Ming'an's mind briefly blanked out.

He lost his words for a moment and halted the action that would lead to annihilation.

As if drawn by an irresistible, invisible force, a coldness spread throughout his body unconscious and pale, his vision nearly out of control, shaking uncontrollably.

...What?

...What does the deity know?

The shell shattered abruptly, and he stood alone in the snow like a naked person, faced with an endless cold wind that poured into every corner of his body, even suppressing his breathing.

The situation spiraled beyond his control, and his instinct was to rewind to cover it all up—because this is what he has always done, almost instinctively.

Right now, it's another situation where "things have spiraled out of control." Instinctively, he wants to act accordingly—trigger a death rebound to overwrite the deity's words.

But like a flash of lightning in his mind, he suddenly realized—that even the rewind couldn't be used this time.

He could no longer cover everything, could no longer redeem his actions, could no longer reverse causality, all can't go back. Once lost, it is truly lost, even the chance of self-rescue is gone. In the most dangerous and difficult plotline, his error margin would reduce to zero. He dared to confront the deity because he knew deep down that even if he failed, he could restart, but now the rewind has been banned, there would be no possibility of revocation.

In a split second, his expression nearly lost control, but his consciousness dragged his lips to speak without pause, adjusting his state, he retorted: "...Suicide?"

His tone was steady, without a trace of tremor, as if it was some kind of instinctive reaction—a type of emergency response keeping himself calm rapidly, even knowing things might spiral out of control.

His exterior was seamless, seemingly separated from his panic-stricken inner self, becoming two unrelated parallel lines. He appeared to be at a distant place, coldly watching himself perform, orchestrating a puppet show starring himself.

The deity's gaze was cold as moonlight, looking at Su Ming'an like a porcelain piece that could easily be shattered. Su Ming'an just stared back at Him, their eyes met under the faint moonlight, only the crisp sound of the clock could be heard.

It was as if an invisible stream of time flowed between them, the evening wind drifting between their staring gazes.

Su Ming'an could feel he was being meticulously observed, the deity's gaze seemed like "observation" or "depiction," capturing every facial tremor and pupil micro-movement, from eyebrows and eyes, to nose bridge, to lips.

—Is it a probe?

Su Ming'an's heartbeat still steady.

Only his mind racing with thoughts and his heart a chaotic mess of emotions, like a constantly surging tide.

—Or is it the deity simply fearing his death?

Su Ming'an still maintained eye contact with the deity, within a short three seconds, no one could see what flashed in their depths of minds.

Su Ming'an's retort hit the ground like a stone, garnering no response.

The deity straightened up, His hair as white as the moonlight. He seemed to lose interest in continuing the conversation, lightly saying, "You stay here."

He turned around, seemingly about to leave.

Su Ming'an quickly calmed down.

If the deity hadn't directly pointed out the death rebound, it couldn't be assumed the deity knew this information. Maybe this was just a warning from the deity, maybe it was just a test, otherwise he'd face the organizers' difficulties, just like Noel before.

"...I can't stay here, I need to participate in the first relics in two hours." Su Ming'an raised his voice.

Whether for the seal on him or for the elevation of positional rank, he needed to attend the relics. Su Luoluo, Xiao Jingsan, Li Yuxuan, Mizushima Kawa Sora, Yamada Machiichi, and others would surely go to the relics, it's one of their few opportunities to connect with each other.

However, the deity seemed not to hear, stepping slowly outward, his back like a streak of snow on a mountaintop.

Su Ming'an stood, took out the Sword of Yarman, and stabbed toward his own chest.

"Clink."

A light sound.

The blade fell to the ground, moonlight casting over it, as if a piece of moonlight was captured on the sword.

The deity who had initially walked away appeared beside Su Ming'an in an instant, cold as jade, His hand clasped firmly around Su Ming'an's sword-wielding wrist. His brow slightly furrowed, His eyes filled with distinct confusion, reflecting Su Ming'an's figure within, as if wanting to lock something in place.

"You so desire death." The deity's voice grew less steady: "What are you threatening me with?"

Su Ming'an remained unflinching.

No matter what, the deity indeed feared his death. This could become his leverage; thinking from a normal perspective, even without death rebound, he could use his own life as leverage to threaten the deity.

"I must participate in the relics." Su Ming'an slightly moved his hand; the deity's hand didn't budge, as if an iron clamp.

"You want a perfect pass, I can give it to you." The deity's voice was calm, gentle, and indisputable. Although not harsh, it carried an impulse that drove people to subconsciously comply:

"Stay here."

"Here is absolutely safe, others will substitute for your destiny."

...

[Perfect Completion Progress: 55%]

...

The moment he heard the progress increment notification, a fear like creeping frost rose up Su Ming'an's back, a chill like fine vines tightly choking his throat.

He looked at the pure white deity in front of him, like a most exquisite porcelain, making him feel something must be filling it. Whether fresh roses, pure white frost, or exquisite candies, there should be something inside, yet in reality, He resembled an empty shell.

Empty.

This made Su Ming'an feel, the deity was empty.

"I hope you stay here. Whatever you want, I can give you. I can set a contract with you, I will respect your every action as long as you 'recognize' me." The deity said slowly, "What I want is merely your 'recognition'."

"Recognition?" Su Ming'an echoed.

Previously he thought the deity wanted to know the real position of the special medicine for the Black Mist Disease. Now he discovered—the deity truly desired his "recognition"?

A child winning an award wants recognition from adults. But the deity is this world's strongest being, omniscient and omnipotent—such an existence desires recognition from a human like him?

Although Su Wensheng's recording stated he was the Old God, this matter wasn't fully confirmed. He himself didn't possess the strength and authority that belonged to the Old God. Besides that useless white tendril, he had nothing.

"I wish for you to become my archangel, my agent in the mortal world," the deity said, "as long as you 'recognize' this, I will let you go."

Su Ming'an said: "A thousand years ago you usurped my divinity, made people forget me—and now, today, you tell me you want me to become your archangel. Is this charity, or humiliation?"

Su Ming'an's tone was fierce, but there was no excess expression on the deity's face.

Suddenly, the deity seemed to think of something and added:

"If you agree to become my Archangel, we can form a bond of connection. Marriage is not impossible, under my teachings..."

"Stop." Su Ming'an's face was full of black lines.

"You are very resistant to me. Is it because of that recording?" The Deity said, "You just heard Wensheng's recording. But you didn't hear something like— 'Ding-dong! Obtained Su Wensheng's recording. Gained 100 Exploration Points!' such system sounds—how can you believe that was a real recording? How can you be so certain about 'being your own Old God'? Preconceived notions are a major taboo for a perfect pass; you should use all the strength around you, including collaborating with me."

For a moment, Su Ming'an felt a cold wind sweep over his heart.

—The Deity knows the World Game too well. Such a degree of understanding is astounding.

Su Ming'an felt like he faintly touched upon some clue.

"You're not... one of my Originals, are you?" Su Ming'an said softly.

He gradually discovered that although he and Su Wensheng were similar, like similar solitary courage, similar determination. But there were many such solitary and determined people in the world. If Su Wensheng was not actually his Original, and his Original was someone else...

The Deity just shook its head: "Since you refuse to become my Archangel, you will stay here until you change your mind."

It turned around. This time it didn't pause, leaving directly.

Su Ming'an stood up, pushed open the window, this place was located dozens of floors high, below was a pure white jade-like circular plaza, similar to the Western Xi Country's sacrificial site or a religious pilgrimage site. During festivals, believers would worship, the Pope would recite doctrines under the sunlight. But at this moment it was cold at night, and the plaza was empty, certainly no help would come.

He vaguely detected the fluctuation of space, seemingly unable to leave through teleportation.

At this moment, he heard noise from the doorway, and when he turned to look, the Deity had returned.

The Deity was holding a basket of fresh roses in one hand, and an oil lamp in the other. The burning oil lamp cast a deep yellow glow, soft and profound, spilling over its clean face.

This beauty transcended the positions of both sides, and Su Ming'an was momentarily curious about the Deity's gender, but he did not delve deeper.

Separated by a distance, the Deity did not come closer. It only adorned the room with fresh roses all around. Then it continued to come and go, decorating the room with various flowers and placing small cushions, sugar cookies, tea on the small round table, constantly adding a sense of life, filling this space little by little until it was complete.

"What flowers do you like? I'll put some more." On the sixth return, the Deity was holding an oil lamp and a huge cat plush toy in one arm, seemingly thinking that Su Ming'an liked cats very much.

Through the steam of the tea, its face appeared somewhat softer.

Su Ming'an watched the Deity's actions in surprise, the Deity seemed to truly believe that he would live here permanently, as the room had become quite cozy from its previous monotony. Even on the piano in the corner were some plush toys placed.

Under the glow of the oil lamp, their two shadows cast on the wall, of similar height, vaguely overlapping.

"I like flowers from the relics." Su Ming'an said.

The Deity seemed thoughtful, nodding: "When tonight's first relic ends, I will pick some flowers for you."

It seemed determined, not wanting Su Ming'an to participate in the relic.

The Deity stuffed the huge cat plush into Su Ming'an's arms, nearly toppling him.

After the Deity left, Su Ming'an picked up the Sword of Yarman from the floor and directly cut towards his own neck. The next second, the Deity instantly appeared and held his wrist for the second time.

This confirmed for Su Ming'an that it was indeed difficult to commit suicide.

"I will not harm you." The Deity's voice was very calm: "But if there is a third time, my stop will not be so gentle."

"Understood." Su Ming'an's response was equally calm.

These two suicide attempts were not abrupt because he held back, and to an outsider, even if the Deity hadn't stopped him in time, he would stop his suicide motion, as if testing the Deity's attitude towards him.

When the Deity started pasting posters on the wall, Su Ming'an, sitting on the bed, asked, "Deity, what have you been doing for the past thousand years?"

The Deity's answer was simple: "Observation, maintenance, annihilation."

Su Ming'an said, "You bury history, forbid people from singing past ballads, forbid people from painting past pictures, is it because you don't think those music, literature, arts hold value?"

The Deity said, "From the perspective of expressing emotions and suppressing negative feelings, they hold some value. But that's all there is, no more significance."

It glanced at the clock, there was only an hour left until the relic opened. It seemed to be a very time-conscious individual, looking at Su Ming'an it said, "It's eleven o'clock, goodnight."

So it left with the oil lamp, leaving only the scent of fresh flowers and sugar cookies indoors.

Su Ming'an got up, walked around the room, he was already sure he couldn't jump out the window to leave, there was a shield outside the window.

"Su Rin!"

"Pajama God!"

"If you don't come, I won't give you the doll."

No response.

Unable to reach friends, even calling out to Su Rin yielded no reaction. This assured Su Ming'an he was completely isolated from the outside.

Watching as the distance to midnight grew shorter and shorter, he began to hesitate whether to attempt suicide for the third time.

He sat in front of the mirror, staring at his own face.

At this moment, he discovered something in his pupils, flickering with the light.

Approaching the mirror, looking carefully, small letters appeared in his pupils—

Su Ming'an widened his eyes, gradually making out the words.

…

[Do not believe this world line. It is not true.]

…

The next instant, the writing disappeared, his pupils returned to normal, as if it was just his illusion.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Su Ming'an felt as if enveloped by some invisible coldness, the heavy confusion and unease pulling him into a deep abyss.

And at this very moment,

he heard a very faint call.

"...Su Ming'an."

He turned around in astonishment, seeing strands of brilliant golden hair peeking through the crack in the door from outside.

Vaguely seeing a pair of eye like the heavenly sea, gazing at him through the door gap. The golden-haired young boy seemed to be trying hard to unlock and squeeze in.