Cain pleaded earnestly, "Is it really worth it, going this far for just one truth-seeker? The Ark, the Ice Age, the Black Death, two World Wars… You've fought him across countless cycles. Can't you just… coexist?"
Every historical event he mentioned had nearly driven humanity to extinction.
Ordinary people dismissed them as myths or relics of the past—but Cain remembered. These were the prices paid whenever "God" sought to erase the "truth-seeker."
Countless lives had been sacrificed to buy temporary peace.
Yet, with each world reset, the new "truth-seeker" grew stronger, more relentless.
And "God," after cycles of conflict, became more volatile, more ruthless.
One day, the truth-seeker would win.
So why not use this reset—while the truth-seeker's memories were still lost—to forge an alliance? To protect the world together?
"God" glared coldly. "No. This is my purpose. You wouldn't understand."
"You're right—I don't! But this fight is pointless! No matter how many cycles you burn through, you'll never kill him for good. All I see are lives, endless lives, wiped out again and again because of you!"
"If he doesn't perish, I will. No more words. However many times it takes, whatever means necessary—he dies."
With that, "God" strode into the Unit and slammed the door.
Cain stared at his retreating figure, silent.
Meanwhile: The 15-Minute Mark
Across New Europa and the Americas—still reliant on 4G networks—communications collapsed.
Bodies dropped in streets, in homes, everywhere.
Only two regions remained standing: Africa, with its low smartphone saturation, and Huaxia, shielded by its advanced 5G infrastructure.
5 minutes later: Global deaths would surpass 1 billion.
10 minutes later: Even Huaxia's 5G would buckle under the flood of memetic SMS.
15 minutes later: Over 50% of humanity would be gone.
The carnage wouldn't stop until survivors—mostly the phone-less poor and children—dipped below 10%. Only then would the memetic texts, now hitting dead recipients, lose momentum.
Whether "God" succeeded in killing Luo Shu this time didn't matter. The world would reset.
Unlike the last partial reboot (limited to a single capital), Anomaly-2000 would now run at full power, requiring years to clone back the lost population.
Luo Shu's Last Stand
Amid the global SMS apocalypse, Luo Shu fought on—in his mind.
He'd survived this long thanks to Effect #2 of his Anomaly Buster milestone: a 10% memetic resistance. The weakened kill-switch SMS couldn't instantly erase him, forcing a war of attrition.
But the odds were dire.
Physically, he relied on Jianjia's mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. What if she exhausted herself? Let Aiolos take over? Hard pass.
Mentally, the memetic storm was a losing battle. Earlier, he'd drained his psyche using cognitive distortion (for interior decorating, of all things). Now, he couldn't last 60 seconds, let alone 10 minutes. Huaxia's 5G would outlive him.
He'd tried antimeme abilities, but in the mental realm, concepts like unobservability and perceptual isolation didn't apply. The SMS meme's psychic whirlpool was an AoE attack—it didn't care if he erased himself.
Then came his last hope: the newly acquired Antimeme Seal, a natural memetic counter.
Problem? It couldn't hold.
The SMS meme was too vast, too replicated. Every death spawned a new psychic whirlpool—a symbiotic node. Sealing one in his mind meant nothing when millions thrived globally. The meme would spread; his sealed whirlpool would eventually break free.
Total annihilation required sealing all whirlpools simultaneously.
Luo Shu had attempted the seal minutes ago. It worked—for 60 seconds. Then a fresh death wave birthed new vortices, reigniting the storm in his mind.
This was a lesson in raw power.
Water extinguishes fire—but a inferno vaporizes water.
Antimemes suppress memes—but only with superior will.
The SMS meme grew stronger with each death. Luo Shu's antimeme? Static. His psyche had a ceiling; the meme didn't.
Jianjia's Limit
Five minutes of CPR had left Jianjia dizzy, her breaths ragged.
Standard protocol: 30 chest compressions (100/min) + 2 breaths (10–12/min), repeated every 2 minutes. Beyond 8 minutes without revival, survival odds plummeted.
Jianjia had done three cycles. With Luo Shu's initial 5-minute apnea, they'd blown past the golden window.
A normal medic would've declared him dead.
But Jianjia was his Anomaly-Comrade—a bond enforced by memetic rules. She couldn't stop, even as hypoxia blurred her vision.
Luo Shu, though detached from his body, knew the truth:
Every minute weakened him.
Every minute empowered the meme.
No turnaround. No hope.
What now?