Rebuilding Terra

In that dark and damp prison that seemed to be forgotten by the world, the smell of decay and despair was like a thick haze, wantonly permeating every corner. Ozma was trapped alone in this small and cramped cage. The space of the cage was so limited that even the air seemed to be extremely oppressive. The rough and cold walls around him were like a pair of invisible giant hands, slowly and ruthlessly oppressing his soul, making him almost unable to breathe.

In the prison, the hideous guards looked like demons crawling out from the depths of hell. Their twisted faces were full of cruelty and evil, and every wrinkle and every expression exuded a chilling malice. They took pleasure in torturing Ozma, as if this was the only source of pleasure in their lives. They either wielded whips with sharp barbs and lashed at Ozma's body. The whip drew heart-pounding arcs in the air, and then, with a whistling sound, it mercilessly fell on Ozma's skin. Every lash caused him to feel a sharp pain, and the barbs tore at his wounds, as if they were going to tear off his flesh and blood.

Or they would wantonly rub salt into his already bloody wounds, and seeing Ozma's painful expression, they would let out bursts of cruel, creepy laughter, which echoed in the prison, like sharp thorns, piercing Ozma's eardrums and heart again and again.

Ozma gritted his teeth. Although the pain in his body was like a raging fire, and the pain seemed to devour his consciousness, his eyes were still full of unyielding light. Every torture was like a fierce storm, ruthlessly attacking his body and mind. However, he never gave in, and the flame in his heart was still burning tenaciously. The flame seemed to be the last persistence in his heart, and no matter how cruel the torture from the outside world was, it could not extinguish it.

However, fate did not seem to let him off so easily. One day during those seemingly endless dark days, when Ozma accidentally heard a shocking piece of news from other prisoners' intermittent words full of fear and pity, his heart was instantly pierced by thousands of sharp blades and he completely collapsed.

He learned that his childhood sweetheart, Liz, with whom he had spent countless wonderful times, had been forcibly taken over by the abominable demon king. The woman who had laughed with him and dreamed of the future together, was now in such a miserable situation. What made him even more distressed was that his relatives were also brutally killed. Those once warm and beautiful memories, those times that were once full of love and laughter, have now become extremely sharp blades, deeply piercing his heart and making him almost unable to breathe. Every memory is like a sharp thorn, piercing his heart, making him feel miserable.

Amid the noise of the demons celebrating the suppression of the rebels, the sound was like a sharp noise, constantly hitting his eardrums and heart. Ozma huddled alone in the dark corner of the prison, tears silently falling. The tears seemed to be the release of the endless pain in his heart, falling drop by drop on the cold ground and disappearing in an instant, as if his pain was also ignored by this ruthless world.

His world seemed to collapse completely at this moment, and all his beliefs and hopes vanished in an instant. The demon king, the demon king he once thought he could trust and follow, had been deceiving and using him and Kazan from the beginning. He recalled the scene when he had vowed to follow the demon king at that solemn moment, and his heart was filled with endless regret. The once firm oath had now become a huge joke, mocking his naivety and stupidity.

The feelings he had always cherished, the family, love and friendship that he had once thought were indestructible, had all fallen apart in the face of this cruel reality. The trust that he had once had was like beautiful but fragile glass, which was instantly shattered under the heavy blow of fate, scattered all over the ground, and could never be put together again.

He began to reflect quietly on everything he had experienced, and the scenes replayed in his mind like a movie. The belief that the demon race, which he once regarded as the source of its powerful strength, had completely disappeared in his heart. He saw the fickleness, suspicion and hypocrisy of the demon race hidden under the bright appearance. The ugliness that he had once ignored was now clearly displayed in front of him at this moment, like a huge dark net that tightly enveloped him. He felt extremely nauseous, as if his whole stomach was churning, and the nausea made him almost vomit. He couldn't believe that the demon race he had fought for and protected was so ugly and dark.

"I won't give up, I won't give up!" Ozma kept shouting in his heart, and the sound was like a surging wave, rolling deep in his heart. He clenched his fists tightly, and his nails dug deep into his palms, but he didn't feel the sharp pain at all. Blood slowly dripped through his fingers and dripped onto the cold ground, forming shocking blood flowers, but he didn't feel the pain, because the pain in his heart had surpassed all the physical pain. The pain was like a huge beast, constantly gnawing at his heart, making him almost unbearable.

At this moment, a mysterious woman in a cloak quietly appeared in the prison. Her figure seemed to be completely integrated with the darkness, making it almost impossible to distinguish her outline. She exuded an extremely strange aura, as if she was a ghost crawling out of the underworld.

She walked slowly to Ozma, each step carried a mysterious rhythm, as if stepping on the fear of people's hearts. Her voice seemed to come from the depths of the underworld, with a suffocating chill: "As long as you give your soul, you can gain the power to destroy the world." The voice seemed to carry an irresistible temptation, slowly floating in the air.

Ozma's eyes widened, filled with anger and determination. He roared angrily, "Go away, I won't sell my soul." His voice echoed in the prison with a firm force.

The woman was not angry, but laughed eerily, which was like the laughter of evil spirits from the depths of hell: "Foolish monster, you should be glad that fate has chosen you. I am the god of death, and you will definitely come to me again." Her words lingered in Ozma's ears like a magic sound, which seemed to have planted a seed of darkness in his heart.

Ozma fell into deep contemplation, anger and hatred in his heart constantly intertwined, like two turbulent torrents colliding in his heart. "Fate chose me? The power to destroy the world? Isn't this exactly what I want! The demon race has been corrupted, even if my soul falls into hell forever, I will make all of you demons pay the price." His eyes flashed with a resolute light, and the light seemed to burn with the flame of revenge, hot and firm.

At this moment, there was a sudden commotion in the prison. A group of fierce soldiers rushed in aggressively, their footsteps were heavy and rapid, like the footsteps of death. They grabbed Kazan without saying anything and prepared to take him away. Ozma's heart suddenly tightened, as if it was tightly grasped by an invisible big hand. He rushed to the railing desperately and shouted: "Kazan, listen to me, you must live, I will come back to find you." His voice was anxious and firm, echoing in the prison.

Kazan looked back, and at that moment, time seemed to freeze. He forced a smile at Ozma, which was full of trust and encouragement, as if telling Ozma that he would persevere. That smile was like a ray of light in the darkness, giving Ozma a glimmer of hope and strength. Despite the difficult situation, the friendship between them was still as solid as a rock.