The Godforge wasn't a place so much as a wound in reality—a gaping, pulsating nexus where the raw fabric of existence hung exposed like spaghetti code in a celestial text editor. The air smelled of overheating servers and divine frustration, the walls etched with half-finished universes and abandoned prototype dimensions.
Luo Feng stepped through the threshold, his Eclipse Core humming in sync with the erratic rhythm of creation itself. What he found was... disappointing.
The Pantheon's sacred workshop looked less like a hall of cosmic wonders and more like the aftermath of a hackathon gone terribly wrong. Empty ambrosia cans littered floating desks. Half-baked worlds flickered in unstable test environments before crashing into pixelated oblivion. A sticky note on the main console read: "DON'T TOUCH - LAST UPDATE BROKE GRAVITY" in frantic divine script.
The Fox Spirit materialized at his elbow, her nose wrinkling. "Oh. Oh no. These idiots don't even use version control."
She wasn't wrong. The central creation engine—a massive, jury-rigged contraption of stolen primordial energies and duct tape—was a mess of conflicting commands. The comment lines alone were damning:
*//TODO: Fix smiting accuracy (currently 30% chance to hit wrong target)*
//TEMPORARY WORKAROUND: If mortal prays hard enough, just give them what they want
*//WARNING: DO NOT ENABLE "FREE WILL" SETTING ABOVE 50% - CAUSES REBELLIONS*
Li Qing's frost crept over a nearby terminal, freezing an error message mid-popup: "CRITICAL FAILURE: DIVINE JUSTICE MODULE NOT RESPONDING."
The Death Queen plucked a glowing rune from the air, squinting at its contents. "Darling, according to this, the afterlife queue system runs on a single mortal hamster wheel." She paused. "Metaphorically. Unfortunately."
But the real horror show was the main console—where the Sky Father's personal edits were still visible in glowing, ego-stroked letters:
IF (MORTAL == DISOBEDIENT) {
SMITE(10000);
} ELSE {
//IDK JUST GIVE THEM A CLOUD OR SOMETHING
}
Luo Feng's shadow facepalmed so hard it created a minor black hole.
The Fox Spirit was already elbow-deep in the code, her tails flicking through command lines like a pianist playing a glitchcore symphony. "Oh this is rich—they hardcoded their own invincibility but left the admin password as 'password123'!"
A thunderous rumble shook the Godforge as the Pantheon's security systems finally noticed the intruders. The Sky Father's bellow echoed through the cosmic ductwork: "WHO TOUCHED THE PRODUCTION ENVIRONMENT?!"
Li Qing calmly froze the incoming divine wrath into a buffering icon.
The Death Queen cracked her knuckles. "Darling, be a dear and rewrite reality. I'll handle the complaints."
Luo Feng cracked his fingers and reached for the console.
The Eclipse Core flared to life, its energy intertwining with the Fox Spirit's claws and Li Qing's frost and the Death Queen's poison—a perfect union of chaos and precision.
The last thing they saw before the rewrite began was a lone plush demon planting a tiny "UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT" sign in the cosmic soil.
END OF CHAPTER 85