On some inconspicuous planet in the vast universe, there had once been a beautiful environment and a certain level of civilization. Now, however, only sandy ruins remained. It had completely become a Wasteland Planet.
Although everything here looked utterly dreadful, with the atmosphere and sky both gray and murky, and PM2.5 levels high enough to give someone pneumoconiosis, life was resilient. Even under such terrible conditions, it had not been completely wiped out.
But all of them had evolved into grotesque, malformed lifeforms in order to survive and adapt to this damned environment. Most of the time, they hid beneath the sand or in water sources. Yet among the many lifeforms on this planet, one individual was particularly special.
He was now inside a hidden cave entrance beneath a mountain range. It was not hard to see that he had retained a basic human form. However, his skin was blue-gray, and although his face still had features, there was not a single hair on it. Nine constantly writhing tentacles grew from the back of his head.
He wore tattered clothes and leaned against the cave wall as he cautiously poked his head out, nervously looking left and right. Judging from his awkward posture, he seemed ready to dive straight back into the cave at the slightest disturbance.
But despite how he looked now, he had once enjoyed considerable glory. After all, he had brought about this planet's end, destroying its civilization and ecosystem. For more than three thousand long years, he had stood at the top of the food chain. Not to mention that people had once worshipped him as a god.
And even after he had left his followers, their faith in him had never ceased. Every so often, he could still receive sacrifices offered by them. That alone