The last winds of the Rift World blew in from afar, accompanied by the roar of collapse and rupture.
As the Workshop crumbled, those broken, mutated creations finally met the end they had dreamed of. Yet in these final moments, it seemed as though a song drifted over.
Scattered and blurred.
So familiar.
"Thinking of home, thinking of home, home is truly lovely..."
As they fell, those shattered humanoids and creations transformed into monsters raised their heads, singing the song that had echoed within their souls since birth: "The sky is clear, the wind is cool, waves of homesickness come... How are the people back home? I can never stop thinking of them... I wish to return home, to my old homeland..."
And so, rejoicing and praising, they fell into the deep darkness beneath the earth.
Embracing their end.
And hoping they would never see tomorrow again.
"..."
Within the Workshop's core, Ji Jue witnessed it all. He did not know whether he should be happy or sad for them, and could only let out a long sigh.
But then something seemed to stir atop his head.
It was the silent, faded crown of thorns.
As though saying farewell, it patted Ji Jue on the forehead. After that final greeting, it turned into a streak of flying light, shot away, and vanished beyond the edge of Ji Jue's vision.
He did not even have time to react!
He stood there blankly.
It felt as though the other party was as practiced as some old john—leaving the moment it was done, unwilling to even toss down a couple bills as a tip. Cold and heartless...
Even though they had just been all lovey-dovey, inseparable as glue!
Ji Jue instinctively wanted to snort coldly in disdain.
But when he recalled that full,