Donkey Conjecture

In the boundless super-prison, the grim-faced prisoner flew rapidly, trying to find something that could break the deadlock.

His clothes were somewhat tattered, his messy white hair hanging loosely around him. His aged face was dark and gloomy, and his eyes, as though covered by countless dimensions, stared fixedly ahead, trying to glimpse a flaw in this endless prison.

But unfortunately, there was none.

At least, he had not yet found a way out.

Even the Spectre, one of the supreme beings, needed time to escape after being trapped in the Speed Force Prison.

With a slight lift of his foot, he could instantly travel from one end of the multiverse to the other. With a slight raise of his head, he could see the joys and sorrows of countless beings across countless dimensions.

But now, trapped in the Speed Force Prison, he could only keep company with nothingness—oh, and with someone even more ghostlike than the Spectre himself, who lingered relentlessly, watching him with cold, mocking eyes.

"You've been flying for who knows how many tens of thousands of years. Aren't you going to stop and rest? Those eyes of yours, blinded by sin, won't find the weakness of the Speed Force Prison. This isn't the Source Wall."

Donnie struggled to keep up behind the Spectre. As a fragment of a Unique God's divine spark, catching up to the Spectre was an exhausting task for him.

The two had been trapped here for far, far too long. In their senses, time had long since lost all meaning. All that remained was a void where even time did not exist.

How long had they wandered through this damned place? Perhaps only a second. Perhaps ten thousand years, or a hundred million. If someone told them the multiverse had already restarted