“Iron Man, my friend,” Miller said, staring straight into Wyatt’s eyes. “Miller received revelation. Miller is only descendant of the true god. All gods other than Miller are false gods—including the one Iron Man mentioned.”
“No,” Wyatt said. “That one was fighting the false god before you and I were even born. My friend, it isn’t your enemy. It’s your ally. Iron Man asks you—don’t make it your enemy. If you don’t, you can destroy the false god faster.”
“No.” Miller paced in tight circles, breath hissing through his nostrils, agitation rising for no obvious reason. After a few seconds, he snapped his head up. “Iron Man not understand. Iron Man didn’t get it…”
“Come,” Miller said at last. “Come with Miller. Miller show Iron Man the truth of this world.”
Miller turned and went down the slope. Wyatt followed, and the two of them entered a stone cave not far away.
At first the cave seemed ordinary. After about a hundred meters of winding passage, the space widened. Wyatt felt a faint tug of memory—he knew he’d been here before, but nothing looked familiar.
Along both sides of the main tunnel were countless side caverns, big and small. The largest could fit a medium transport ship. The smallest could barely hold a few people.
Every cavern had railings—and inside were living animals.
Some were rare: blind otters, twin-tusk beasts, lion-baboons, spiny rats, long-tailed sand mice. Others were more common: kun-geese, river oxen, spike-horn lizards, cats, cross-tooth rabbit-deer, shield-faced antelope, sheep-porpoises…
Wyatt recognized most of them. They all belonged to the world from before the apocalypse.
What shook him wasn’t the names. It was the fact that this wasn’t a dream.
These were real, living animals.
Miller saw the question on his face and spoke first. “Miller made them.”
“How?” Wyatt asked.
“Because Miller is the true god.”
Miller glanced back with a secretive smile and kept walking, talking as he went.
“These animals are this planet’s natives—its original owners. Most are gentle. Then outsiders arrived. They thought they were superior. They exterminated and domesticated the natives. Some they even kept as food. Iron Man didn’t know, right?”
They happened to pass the sheep-porpoise pen. A cluster of giant-toothed ants crowded the railing. Each ant held a chunk of grass-green, translucent paste in its mandibles. One by one, they dropped the paste into the enclosure.
The sheep-porpoises swarmed in, scrambling to eat.
Miller watched for a moment, then continued deeper.
“Miller can’t create plants yet. But Miller has the Origin Tree. Crystals from one giant tree can feed hundreds of thousands of animals.” He snorted. “Still, those animals can’t fight. Miller needs an army that can stand against a false god. So Miller created these…”
As they went on, the creatures in the caverns grew larger—and uglier. The farther they descended, the more “animals” became “monsters.” Wyatt saw beetles like the ones he’d fought before, bat-dragons, and several species he’d never seen—but one glance was enough to know they weren’t harmless.
“These can fight hard battles,” Miller said, pointing.
He turned a corner. The passage became more orderly. Stone steps appeared underfoot; the walls returned to clean-cut rock.
After more than ten minutes of descent, the side caverns vanished. The flow of giant-toothed ants disappeared as well. Wyatt felt they’d gone hundreds of meters underground. The whole world seemed to narrow until only he and Miller remained.
He was about to ask where they were going when the ground leveled and the space squared off. In the stone, there were unmistakable traces of human construction.
“We’re here,” Miller said.
He pushed open a heavy steel door, stepped inside, and threw a breaker.
A corridor as wide as a street lit up from near to far.
Wyatt recognized it at once. Hidden beneath the earth was a human shelter.
Compared with the Doomsday Fortress that could hold hundreds of thousands, this place was much smaller—no bigger than a mothership—but it was a shelter all the same.
“Miller found this by accident,” Miller said as he led Wyatt forward. “Miller received revelation here.”
They entered a vast hall, stadium-sized. Steel-and-glass cabinets stood in neat rows. Inside them were paintings and books, carefully arranged. The seals had held; everything had been preserved in perfect condition.
The hall wasn’t a single level, either. Above, three more floors ringed the space, connected by stairways—and every level was lined with shelves.
A library.
Miller walked straight to the far wall and yanked down a massive drape. A relief map—nearly ten meters long and four meters tall—filled Wyatt’s vision.
“This is what this planet used to look like,” Miller said. “Never seen it, right?”
Wyatt had seen the old world in dreams, but this still caught his attention. The map was three-dimensional and absurdly detailed: mountains, oceans, islands, rivers, cities—all reproduced with precision, all labeled in text.
***
“Now look at these,” Miller said, moving to the next row.
The cabinets held huge landscape paintings: grasslands, mountains, seas. Every scene was luminous.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Miller said coldly. “Compare this to what we’ve now. Doesn’t it make you angry? The two false gods did this.”
“Phantom Forge started it,” Wyatt said, gesturing at the map. “I know some of the history. If it hadn’t been for Phantom Forge, I’m sure the planet would still look like this.”
“I know who started the war.” Miller’s voice sharpened. “But does Iron Man know who created the two false gods?”
“Humans,” Wyatt answered, though he wasn’t sure where Miller was going.
“Right.” Miller’s agitation rose fast. “One species made both of them. Humans. A species that thought it was superior. A species that treats other life as food, raw material, or less than dust.”
Miller’s hiss became a roar. “They were thieves—evil invaders. A vile species that would even slaughter its own kind!”
Wyatt had no response. After a few seconds, he said, “…Humans had good and bad. They brought culture, technology, and they lived in peace with the native species for centuries.”
“Peace?” Miller sneered. “Only for the few species that didn’t get in the way of their pleasures. The rest survived in cracks. Look, Iron Man…”
BANG.
Miller slammed a book—thicker than a handspan—onto the table in front of Wyatt.
“It’s written here. To remake the planet into an environment they could survive in, they exterminated countless innocent species. And they recorded every one like trophies—like medals. The words drip with pride. Not a hint of guilt.”
Wyatt looked at the title.
The Complete Record of Extinct Species on Lansen Planet.
“And that so-called technology!” Miller shouted. “The life on Lansen Planet never asked for it. They only wanted to live free—in blue oceans, green grasslands, forests without end. They thrived for billions of years in balance. Humans arrived for only a few centuries—and everything ended in catastrophe.”
“Humans died for their stupidity,” Miller said, voice trembling with fury. “There’s no revenge left to take on them. But the two false gods they left behind… must die!”
Miller leapt onto the table and let out an animal hiss.
For a moment, Wyatt felt like he was looking at a beast, not a leader. The frenzy in Miller’s behavior made something cold stir in his calculations: the odds of killing Miller right here, right now.
Then another part of him admitted the more uncomfortable truth—some of Miller’s arguments were hard to refute.
Miller fell silent. When he spoke again, he was suddenly calm.
“So Miller finally understood why the true god guided Miller here.”
“Why?” Wyatt asked.
“Look at these paintings,” Miller said, pointing. “Look at these complex colors. Does Iron Man know what they’re made of?”
“Paint,” Wyatt said automatically. “Pigment.”
“Yes.” Miller’s red eyes glowed. “With just three pigments, you can create endless colors. Endless colors can create endless paintings.”
“And what does that have to do with god?”
“Iron Man still not understand.” Miller tapped his own chest. “Inside Miller’s cells are chromosomes from almost every species. Like colors. With the right combinations, Miller can create endless species—including those already lost.”
“What are you saying?”
Miller’s crimson eyes blazed hotter. He pointed at the map.
“The true god’s meaning is this: Miller must restore this planet to how it was before humans ever came.”