At the mont the blade pierced through his skull, in the mont of sensing a mortal threat,
ntis, always obsessed with the novel itself, finally realized that his thoughts as an upper creator had been consistently led astray.
From the very beginning, two people had been fighting against him.
"Taboo... You despicable fellow, you killed the Deputy Prison Warden and even gained endorsent from [Taboo].
You used your winning points to purchase privilege cards, quietly following behind Question Mark's actions.
Whenever any death row inmate encounters Question Mark, you will use the privilege granted by the card to intervene, forming a two-on-one situation.
Such a clever disguise characteristic, even capable of mimicking 'Textual Dinsion Reduction'. You seem very familiar with my ability, and the aura between your brows is also quite familiar... Did you inherit the brain of the Prison Director?"
ntis's thoughts beca unprecedentedly clear, instantly untangling the situation before him and fully understanding his current peril.
Yet ntis remained confident, devoid of the fear of death, with his voice reverberating through the space.
"I know there will always be soone stronger than , soone who could put to death.
To achieve immortality, I have devised many strategies... Other death row inmates may have perished, but I shall never die.
The distant red is about to descend; as its most devout host, I shall welco its arrival, while you all drown in the crimson."
Scene change.
Here it was no longer a basent cluttered with bookshelves, nor was there a fireplace or tabletop gas.
Instead, it reverted back to the 'original creation scene', with ntis reverting to his divine essence as a narrator.
His true form spanned tens of thousands of ters, such hugeness was not fictional but continuously accumulated since his inception, filled to the brim with 'material'.
The two hands designated for creation were actually woven from countless tentacles of fresh at, each tentacle uniformly embedded with dense brains.
Or rather,
His essence was a stack composed of countless creators' brains,
Currently,
Mr. Question Mark and Wu Wen, who had just transford from text into human form, were standing on the vast desk, stepping on the white manuscript papers.
ntis had already sustained a 'Fatal Blow'.
His library-like head was pierced from the center and cut open, revealing within the most genuine brain cluster, also known as [Creator Brain Tree].
The entire universe,
The cultural creativity of Earth's humanity evidently exceeded that of other worlds.
It wasn't entirely because Earth was personally crafted by the Prison Director, but thousands of years ago, almost all civilized worlds in the universe fell victim to ntis's 'plunder'.
He wouldn't, like the Moon God, directly designate an entire planet as a 'festival venue' resulting in either one Moon God believer selected or no survivors,
Nor like Losantos, would he annihilate an entire world through gladiatorial combat.
He only targeted creators, ranging from various zero-fee struggling writers to renowned literary authors from different countries, all were his objectives.
He would claim their brains, adapt their innovations for his own use, and directly plagiarize and modify their works.
This is the essence of ntis.
He was known as [Great Plagiarist, Brain Cluster, Original Sin Library, King of Vileness, Stocking Lover]
He was never truly a writer, but he reached the pinnacle on this writer's path, attained a Divine Status, even achieving the sixth ranking position.
To avoid death,
He long ago conducted 'dinsion reduction' on his Divine Status.
[Divine Status] was dismantled into billions of puzzle pieces in text form,
Each puzzle piece was stored in one of the brains; as long as one creator's brain remained, he would not die.
He could even undergo self-dinsion reduction, temporarily hiding within a certain story or amidst a sentence, waiting for the crisis to pass.
The woman before him could slay the Deputy Prison Warden to seize that exceedingly dangerous [Taboo], coupled with the assistance of soone as intelligent as Mr. Question Mark.
Though ntis was enraged, though he longed for Question Mark's brain, preserving life remained first priority.
He was unwilling to engage in direct conflict.
The universe had reached its final countdown; he had no necessity to struggle so desperately, rely needed to delay slightly, waiting for the deep crimson's descent.
Moreover, being able to hold back such a threatening woman counted as an achievent.
The library collapsed,
ntis's divine true form disintegrated along with it, billions of brains scattered like a tide.
Following closely, an exaggerated scene unfolded.
Each brain inheriting the divine puzzle held 'creative ability'.
Each brain materialized scenes from their proudest life works, various distinct scenes portrayed by these brains.
They grew into high buildings,
Transford into parks,
Beca lakes,
Dyed into grasslands,
...
As if the entire internet's resource library was freely unleashed, chaotically blending and overlaying in a single scene to create a super-large-scale, near-infinite super-dinsional world.
The expansion of scenes completely separated Mr. Question Mark and Wu Wen,
Previously, they were rely separated by two ters, but now exceeded by over ten thousand different scenes.
ntis was both the amalgamation of these scenes and capable of hiding independently within one.
This was his final ans, the ans he devised to continue surviving in face of fatal danger.
But...
Neither Wu Wen nor Mr. Question Mark displayed any change in expression; indeed, a fleeting smile could be discerned on Wu Wen's face.
Before, soone pure like the Deputy Prison Warden, a solitary strong Divine, was indeed difficult to kill; even the slightest mistake could alter the conclusion.
However,
The Sixth Death Row Inmate before her committed a fatal error in Wu Wen's eyes. By dispersing the Divine Status, it effectively self-lowered his rank, thus simplifying matters.
Almost simultaneously,
Wu Wen and Mr. Question Mark took action, their approaches entirely different.
A white long sword structured like a Question Mark was drawn out.
Kneeling on one knee, it plunged into the ground.
A unique ga domain spread outward, instantly enveloping all scenes.
Billions of brains from various creators, all beca ga participants, a True Death Ga, long unhosted, would be held here.
By Mr. Question Mark establishing the rules,
Their creative duels were required, limited to one minute, the victor would absorb the loser's brain tissue and assimilate the scene.
As long as it proceeded in this manner,
In little ti, billions of brains would generate the final victor; ntis would have nowhere to hide.
Just as Mr. Question Mark prepared to comnce the ga,
He suddenly sensed sothing, seeming to hear so kind of sound like flesh wriggling, vast in quantity, apparently conducting a super-large scaling devouring action.
"Mr. Qu, perhaps this spares the need for ga selection; let him feast well."
The white sword was withdrawn,
Mr. Question Mark idled for the first ti in ages, sitting on the ground, reflecting on the entire special duel.
The unique dinsion reduction experience, the distinctive narrative techniques, offered him much insight.
Perhaps his [Death Ga] could also achieve similar magnitude, could ascend to higher-level narration, allowing the ga itself to cover, alter, even dictate reality.
In a trance,
He seed to envision a throne soaring to the sky, denoting [?] upon its backrest, belonging to his upper-level seat.
Though he discerned the seat,
To ascend to it and sit securely was not simple.
This 'ascendant path' for narrators he had yet to fully grasp.
Thus,
Mr. Question Mark surprisingly began questioning actively, "Mr. ntis, how did you ascend to the [Upper Position] rightfully sealed by the Prison Director?
Simple plagiarism, copying, or re quantity should not achieve this extent. Could you disclose it to ?
Of course, I wouldn't have you reveal such crucial information for nothing.
I wager my very being, to engage in a final simple ga with you.
If I win, please reveal the secret within it.
If you win, all of mine becos yours. You can achieve rebirth through my body and might even counterattack my teammates.
Ti is short, before long, Mr. Qu's infinite spread will devour all of your brains.
Therefore, let's play a most straightforward ga, Rock-Paper-Scissors, a single round to determine the victor."
Once words ceased.
The man with a stocking head erged from the wall corner, face suffused with hatred, sat before Mr. Question Mark, clenching his fist.
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