On the first day, God created himself.
On the second day, God created the world.
On the third day, God decorated the world with beautiful stars.
On the fourth day, God created the concepts that govern the world.
On the fifth day, God filled the world with various races.
On the sixth day, as God rested from his hard work, he was killed by his own creation.
On the seventh day, God was…
†
The king slumped on his throne as another tremor shook the palace walls. Through the clear windows, he could see it. That wretched golden light sweeping through his kingdom like a fierce storm. Each flash illuminated the desperate faces of his citizens as they fled through streets they had called home.
All because of a single woman.
She had come alone. No gleaming weapons in her hands, no army marching beneath proud banners, and definitely no flags of diplomacy. Only her cold and merciless crimson glare—eyes more crimson than the blood now staining their streets.
Zhu Bajie's massive frame, once imposing in its royal regalia, now seemed diminished by the gravity of their situation. The crown that had passed through 70 generations of kings sat heavy on his brow, each jewel a reminder of the legacy about to be snuffed out.
One might assume that he was a worthless king who cared not for the cries of his people.
But his sworn brother, Sha Wujing, knew better. He knew how much the situation was eating away at Zhu Bajie, his king.
"What are your honest thoughts, brother? Do we have a chance? Can we win this?"
Wujing glanced out the palace windows and grimaced.
Her hair breezed like fallen snow, catching the light of the burning kingdom and transforming it into radiant gold. The same transformation played across her six wings and the perfect circle of light that crowned her head.
She was beautiful. Not just like a model or icon, but also in the way that natural disasters were beautiful. Like how cavemen would find a volcano awe-inspiring but devastating at the same time.
Every movement of her delicate hands swept over the kingdom like a gust of death, turning buildings to dust and lives to memories.
Only one answer existed for Zhu Bajie's question.
"Not a snowball's chance in the nine hells. Even if I threw myself into that maelstrom, I would only add one more corpse to the pile. Our enemy is not just a god, Bajie. She is one of the only twelve angels. A member of Heaven's Royal Deck."
The palace shuddered again, more violently this time. Somewhere in the lower levels, support beams groaned under pressures they were never designed to bear. The desperate cries of the masses rose and fell like waves against rocks, each wave fainter than the last as more voices were silenced.
As they did, Bajie's snout twitched—a nervous habit Wujing had noticed during their many journeys together. That familiar twitch heralded every tough decision during their 30 year friendship.
"Do you remember the day we first met, brother? You were convinced I was just another corrupt noble, and I was convinced you were nothing more than a lazy oni-horse."
Despite their situation, Wujing found himself smiling.
"The only lazy one was that damn Wukong. I cannot even muster a singly memory of him going anywhere without that cloud. Sometimes he would even beg to ride my back. Honestly, what was Buddha thinking when he sent us on that journey."
Even as Zhu Bajie reminisced, his eyes never left the destruction unfolding in his kingdom.
"Tell me, brother. In the 30 years we've stood together, have you ever seen me run from a fight?"
"Never. Not once."
Seventy generations of kings had witnessed wars, plagues, and the whims of evil gods from this very throne room. But no kingdom, no matter how enduring, could stand against a deity of the highest order.
"If only that mad monkey were still with us... I can't help but wonder... did the gods plan this from the very beginning?"
At the mention of those celestial puppet-masters, Wujing's entire body went rigid. The gods had been a thorn in his side since the moment he'd drawn his first breath.
"I would not put it past those bastards. Heaven must be a terribly boring place if you need to orchestrate genocides for entertainment."
"Boring indeed."
Bajie rose from his throne with the slow dignity of a king who knew his reign was ending. Each step echoed in the trembling chamber, a drumbeat marking the last moments of an era.
"Very well, Wujing. If it has come to this, I'll handle the angel myself."
"You will die."
The words came out harsher than Wujing had intended, but he couldn't soften them. What he said was simply the honest truth.
The beast-man named Zhu Bajie released a sound that could be called laughter, though it held no genuine joy.
"I harbor no illusions of victory, brother. I don't even dare hope for it. I'm not naïve enough to believe our kingdom will survive what's coming." Bajie moved toward the great doors that would lead him to his final battle. "But I must fight for my people. For the children crying in their mother's arms, for the elders who remember my days as a general, for every soul who called this place home. Besides…" he paused, his hand resting on the ornate door handle. "If I sat here cowering with my tail between my legs, I'd never be able to face him when we meet again."
Wujing could do nothing as he watched his king march to his death.
It's not as if he didn't want to stop him, he just knew he couldn't. He'd known this moment would come. After all, like him, Zhu Bajie was a person born under a star. A saint. People like him had a habit of finding themselves in impossible situations.
"And what of me? What would you have me do while you are busy getting yourself killed?"
"Find the AntiGod."
"!"
Wujing's staff clattered to the floor, the sound echoing through the chamber like a death knell.
"This kingdom is finished…" Bajie continued. "And many more will join it in the flames. The cycle of suffering will continue, realm after realm, until every world has burned to the ground. But if we plan on winning this war against the gods, then he is our only hope."
The AntiGod.
It was said that every millennium, the world bestowed the power of an angel upon 6 heroes.
By itself, that tale wasn't unbelievable. The evidence stood before them in the form of their own Constellation Arts, the divine power that marked them as saints.
However, the legend went further. It spoke of a final cycle, a last desperate gambit by the cosmos itself. According to the ancient texts, a truly special hero would be chosen. One who was destined to reach the seat of God and become the greatest hero in history.
One who would end the cycle of divine tyranny once and for all.
This tale was as old as creation itself. But it was nothing more than just that—a tale. A story. A desperate dream of the powerless.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Wujing's voice cracked like a whip across the chamber. "The prophecy of the AntiGod? That children's tale about some mystical hero who will save the world from the evil gods? The same bedtime story that speaks of him being hailed as the greatest hero in all of history?"
"Sounds like I don't need to explain it then."
"Don't you dare get clever with me! The AntiGod is a myth, Bajie! A fairy tale we tell cubs when they can't sleep! Gods above, it was not even a year ago that you told Sanzang such a person was nothing but fable and wishful thinking. By your own words it was 'the desperate delusion of the powerless.' And now you're ordering me to find him?"
The memory of that conversation hung between them.
Sanzang had been so young, so full of hope and determination. She had spoken of prophecies and destiny with the fervor of a true believer, and Bajie had crushed those dreams with the cold logic of a king who had seen too much of the world's cruelty.
Now, facing the end of everything they had built together, those same dreams seemed to be his only salvation.
Bajie finally turned, and for a moment, Wujing saw not the confident king he'd served for decades, but a desperate man clinging to the last thread of hope in a world gone mad.
"I am."
Wujing staggered backward as if he'd been struck in the gut, then collapsed to his knees.
"You are serious..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Even if–if–such a person exists, where would I begin to look? The prophecy claims that the AntiGod can be born in any realm. But there are nine realms, Bajie. Nine entire worlds. Do you understand what you are asking of me?"
"Yes. I understand clearly."
A bitter laugh bubbled up from Wujing's chest. His gaze drooped to the floor, and he could almost see his broken expression in its reflection.
"Have we really fallen so low that we are chasing children's stories? Is this what we have become? Desperate old fools grasping at myths and legends?"
"I won't force this burden on you, brother. After all, this kingdom will be nothing but ash and memory long before you could complete such a mission. I have no right to ask you to carry this weight."
"You speak as if I actually could complete such a mission."
"Because I know you can."
"!"
Bajie's eyes held the same unwavering faith that had gotten them through every impossible battle over the years.
"I believe in you, Wujing. No matter how impossible the destination, you've always found a way to get us there. You're the most persistent runner I've ever known. And the most loyal friend any of us could ask for… I'm certain they would agree with every word. So I ask you, my dearest brother–no, my most trusted friend. Will you do this? Will you find the AntiGod? "
Wujing remained silent for a long moment, his hands pressed against his face. He was desperately trying hold back the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and resolved.
"I can't promise I'll find this mythical savior. The nine realms are beyond vast. But I can promise to try my damnedest." He looked up, meeting his king's eyes one final time. "So yes, you stubborn pig... I will do it!"
A grin split Bajie's lips, transforming his battle-worn face into something almost boyish. His snout flared as he looked down at his oldest friend.
"I knew you would."
In the next moment, blinding light erupted from Bajie's back like a star being born. The radiance took the shape of a perfect circle containing the image of a crystal-clear river flowing through the cosmos—the constellation Eridanus, marking him as one of the chosen few. A Saints.
The same divine symbol blazed on his elongated ear, like a glowing birthmark.
"Constellation Art! Unique Star: Eridanus!"
A similar light bloomed beneath Wujing's feet, rising to engulf his entire form in gentle, protective radiance.
A similar radiance bloomed beneath Wujing's feet, rising to engulf his entire form in gentle, protective light. Power flowed through his legs, spreading throughout his body like warm honey. But it wasn't just divine power coursing through him.
It was trust. Hope. The unbreakable bond of brotherhood forged over 3 decades of shared struggle and triumph.
"This power will allow you to traverse the realms just like the gods. It will protect you from the void between worlds."
The light intensified, preparing to carry Wujing across the boundaries between worlds.
"Godspeed, my brother. May fortune smile upon your impossible journey. May you find what this world needs most. May you find the AntiGod."