Many scheming figures gathered in New York City, adding a grim, murderous air to the city.
It was not that the Beyonder lacked the ability to notice them. He simply could not be bothered to think about such things. He was trying hard to be an ordinary person.
"My power is the ultimate reason holding me back."
"I never had a process of growth like other living beings. From the moment I was born, I was already at the very peak. I had no need for so-called growth..."
"Without growth, I am not a true living being."
The Beyonder kept pouring fine wine into his mouth, his eyes hazy.
At last, he made up his mind. He would discard something, shatter and divide his perfect self, and turn himself into an imperfect being from then on.
Only then would he be qualified to call himself a living being, only then could he truly experience the meaning of life.
Perhaps normal people would find this utterly ridiculous, but the more the Beyonder thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.
He immediately acted on the thought, deciding to abandon his so-called power. He did not care for power at all.
The Beyonder fell silent for a moment, then raised a hand and pointed. An enormous machine appeared out of thin air.
The Beyonder continuously poured his power into it, and on a level that ordinary beings could not possibly perceive, he had already begun cutting apart the essence of his own composition.
Ordinary gods had no idea what this meant. This was a realm that only Omni-Four beings like Donnie might have a chance to glimpse—a realm beyond the category of life.
Now, the Beyonder was stripping away a domain that only ultimate beings could touch.
He forcibly tore apart his