Rebuilding Terra

Not long after, a shocking and sad news like a bolt from the blue, like a sharp arrow, pierced Ozma's heart with lightning speed. Kazan, the partner who had fought side by side with him and shared life and death with him, died on the plain outside. That vast plain was once the battlefield where they shed their blood and wrote glory. Every inch of land witnessed their countless fierce battles and glorious victories.

The land that was once full of ambition and passion has now become Kazan's cold resting place. The moment Ozma learned the news in the dark, damp, and decayed prison, he felt as if the whole world had collapsed at that moment. His originally resolute face turned pale in an instant, his eyes were red like burning flames, and tears kept rolling in his eye sockets, as if they would burst out at any time, but his stubborn heart suppressed the tears and did not let them fall easily. The anger in his heart was like a volcano about to erupt, rolling and surging in his chest, and the hot magma seemed to break through all constraints and burn the whole world to ashes.

After the tempting and dangerous deal with the god of death, Ozma's fate also took a huge turn. He resolutely accepted the proposal of the god of death, which seemed to carry endless darkness. When he activated the dormant power in his body, a force that was enough to destroy the world instantly surged in his body.

Originally, the power he possessed as an apostle was of the Heavenly Dao level, a formidable force that seemed to be able to shake the entire order of the universe. That power was like a raging tsunami, capable of destroying all obstacles in its way. However, at this moment, he was in a mysterious and unpredictable prehistoric world, a world with its own unique and powerful rules. Under the suppression of these rules, his originally earth-shaking Heavenly Dao-level power was ruthlessly suppressed to the Saint level.

But even so, for the prehistoric world where there are currently no saint-level existences, the power he possesses is still enough to destroy the entire world and turn everything into nothingness.

Ozma's figure had undergone a huge change, as if he had instantly transformed from an ordinary being into a demon full of evil. Black flames, like a savage demon, swirled around him like crazy, and the flames seemed to come from the deepest part of hell, carrying endless anger and hatred.

His originally handsome face became hideous and ferocious, and his sharp fangs flashed a chilling light in the darkness, making people shudder at the mere sight of him. He appeared in the once familiar but now disgusting territory like an avenger returning from hell, carrying endless hatred and anger that seemed to devour everything.

He began to spread the blood curse, which was like an invisible plague, to the demons. The curse was like an invisible demon, spreading rapidly among the demons like an unstoppable disaster. The weak-willed demons were unable to resist the powerful erosion of the curse and immediately turned into terrible pretenders. These pretenders looked no different from ordinary people, but their hearts had been corroded by darkness and were extremely thirsty for blood.

They are like demons hiding in the darkness, quietly waiting for the opportunity, ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey at any time. Once a demon is attacked, the victim will be swallowed by the darkness in an instant under the strange effect of the curse, becoming the next perpetrator and continuing to spread this terrible curse.

Ozma laughed wantonly above the territory. The laughter seemed to be a mockery from hell, full of the pleasure of revenge and ruthless mockery of the demons. His cold eyes overlooked the chaotic scene in the territory, without a trace of pity in his heart. In this land that was once full of vitality and order, children now attack their parents, and husbands also attack their wives mercilessly. Family affection and love collapsed in an instant in the face of the terrible power of the curse and became fragmented. There are even some demons with ulterior motives who use the name of pretenders to exclude dissidents. The entire demon race fell into unprecedented chaos and panic, as if the end of the world has come.

In this chaos, Ozma began his difficult journey to find Kazan. He walked through every corner, with determination and perseverance in every step. The plains, valleys, and forests that were once familiar to him all left his hurried footsteps. Finally, on the plain that once witnessed Kazan's death, he found Kazan's cold body.

To his great surprise, perhaps because of Kazan's strong obsession, his soul did not leave his body. Ozma did not hesitate at all, and immediately used his powerful strength to start the difficult process of resurrecting Kazan.

The dark magic power surged wildly in the air like a surging tide, and the mysterious runes flashed continuously in the sky like shining stars. Ozma concentrated on casting magic, with fine beads of sweat on his forehead. After a lot of hard work, Kazan's tightly closed eyes finally opened slowly. He exuded an incomparable power, like a reborn god of war.

He became the God of Destruction. Although his power could not reach the shocking Heavenly Level that Ozma once had, and was only a saint-level power, in this primitive world where no saints existed yet, it was also top-level combat power, enough to shock everyone.

Ozma looked at the resurrected Kazan, with the flame of revenge in his eyes. He said excitedly: "Kazan, come with me to avenge all the demons! Let them pay a heavy price for what they have done, and let them tremble in our anger."

However, Kazan waved his hand gently, and then slowly put his hand on Ozma's shoulder. His eyes revealed a deep fatigue and indifference, and he slowly said: "I am tired and don't want to fight for anything anymore. Thank you for resurrecting me, but I am really tired of this endless fight. As a brother, I remind you, be careful of the person who gives you power, he must have some plan." After saying that, Kazan turned around and left here, slowly flying away. His back looked particularly lonely and determined in the afterglow of the setting sun.

Watching Kazan's departing figure, Ozma suddenly realized that he had lost something extremely precious. That was the pure brotherhood between them that was not blinded by hatred. That was the deep affection they had accumulated in countless battles, and the testimony of their mutual support and common progress and retreat. But soon, Ozma came back to his senses.

Revenge, this is his only goal now, and it is also the belief that supports him to continue. He told himself that he can't give up revenge because of a momentary emotional shake, and those monsters must pay the price for what they did.

In the days that followed, Ozma continued to spread fear and chaos among the demons mercilessly. He was like a cold-blooded avenger, watching the demons struggling in agony under the torture of the blood curse. Their wailing and their fear seemed insignificant in his eyes. He had no sympathy in his heart. In his opinion, the demons were a dirty and disgusting race. What they had done was unforgivable. They should be eaten away by their own shortcomings. This was the punishment they deserved. He watched the demons kill each other in the chaos, and his heart was filled with only the pleasure of revenge and deep disgust for the demons.

He wanted to let this dirty and disgusting race be consumed by its own shortcomings. If anyone was wrong, it was definitely not him, but the world.