The world was dim, the sky pitted like a scarred rind. The land mirrored it—an apple gnawed in bites, wounds everywhere.

Under Xia Zuo’s lead, Xiao Bayat and the others finally found the cracked spatial corridor. They wanted to slip through into that nameless world like shadows.

Then a steady stream of Devourers crawled out, like ants boiling from a nest. Their plan died the moment those maws kept coming.

After that, learning how to fight the Devourers became a grim lesson, a blade honed on fear.

They tried hurling forbidden spells, a storm of ruin meant to clear the swarm. The spells got eaten, bite by bite, like sugar cubes tossed to wolves.

Facing that kind of madness, everyone tasted helplessness, a bitter wind in the throat.

In the end, Jaste the Abyss Walker slid into shadow like ink and ambushed them, carving a path with darkness and steel.

They slipped into the spatial rift—then the world beyond showed them what true lunacy looked like: teeth had written on the sky.

This birthplace of eat-everything monsters was the most ravaged. The heavens were punctured by holes, gnawed like bread left to rats.

From that, Xia Zuo and the rest understood—Devourers truly ate sky, earth, and air, a hunger that wore the world like a cloak.

“I thought that was just dramatic talk,” Kloyi whispered, fear cold as rain. “They even ate space…”

No wonder the god who scouted this realm had said nothing lived here but monsters. The sky was chewed to shreds.

The ground was worse—great pits bit into the crust, and deep below, firelight glowed like embers breathing.

Xia Zuo watched in silence, brows tight like drawn bowstrings. The leader had hit a wall, a hard knot in his thoughts.

“Remember those monsters we fought?” he said, voice steady as stone. “Strong, yet weak—and none swallowed space.”

“Look at those black gouges in the sky—bite-marks, clean and cruel. That means the heavens were likely chewed by monsters.”

“But the ones we met couldn’t do that. So there’s a hierarchy—what we saw were grunts.”

“In this world, there may be beasts that bit the sky into that wreck.”

Everyone hissed in a breath, cold as a blade. A Demigod could fracture space, but the World Will mends it like a careful seamstress.

And a Demigod could only shatter an area about the size of a soccer field. Then they’d need years to recover breath and blood.

To gnaw the sky into that rat-chewed mess, a Demigod would need centuries, grinding time like bones.

Who would waste centuries on a thankless wound, bleeding the world just to make holes?

“And those bite-marks haven’t healed,” Xia Zuo went on, eyes like flint. “Two possibilities.”

“First—whoever made them is so strong even the World Will can’t mend the wounds.”

“Second—the World Will has died. Without it, the sky won’t heal.”

“If it’s the first, that level of power would’ve noticed us the moment we entered. We’re still breathing, so I doubt it.”

“I lean toward the second. Either way, the cliff beneath us is thin.”

Xia Zuo’s view cut through fog, and the others felt the ground better beneath their feet.

Xiao Bayat’s stomach knotted first, fear tight as wire. He didn’t understand this World Will thing—but monsters chewing the sky weren’t small fry.

“Aren’t we in serious danger? Is it still not too late to retreat?” His voice shook like leaves.

“No…” Xia Zuo shook his head, thoughts steady. “If it were the first, we’d already be pinned.”

“If it’s the second, we have a shot. This world birthed a terrifying monster that ate the World Will.”

“But such monsters have glaring flaws—low intellect, weak defense. Their teeth are legend; their armor is rags.”

From the look in his eyes, Xia Zuo meant to hunt it, a spear aimed at a giant’s throat.

Xiao Bayat glanced at Kloyi and Jaste. Both were flexing fingers, sparks itching to fly.

“That thing ate the World Will,” he protested, dread cold as night. “That’s… huge.”

He wanted to plead with them—life is hard, treasure it, don’t charge at storms for fun.

Kloyi slapped the back of his head, grin bright as a lantern. “Junior, if we finish this summer homework, we’ll be famous.”

“An epic-tier mission! We might even meet the legendary Demon Kings!”

Xiao Bayat muttered, hope and despair tangling. “Weren’t you assigned a reflection essay by the Tenth Demon King?”

“Yeah, but think about it,” she laughed, eyes blazing. “If I crush this epic summer homework, would Uncle Dufei still dare ask for an essay?”

So… after all that, Kloyi was still worried about her summer homework, a kite string tied to her wrist.

They followed Xia Zuo’s plan and headed for the underground world, heat rising like breath from a sleeping giant.

By Augustine’s theory, to use Extreme Compression and unleash instant ruin, you must get close to the world’s heart.

If they could appear at the core, perfect. They couldn’t—so they’d find a way down, like water seeking a crack.

They’d compress a forbidden spell near the core, pressing it tight as a coiled spring. When the pressure was right, it would explode.

The blast would crack the rock above the core. Magma would rush that wound, and compressed air would turn the earth inside out.

“There are plenty of holes chewed open,” Kloyi said, eyes hunting like hawks. “Let’s find one that drops to the deep.”

She kicked off and jumped, body slicing the air, a falling spark hundreds of meters down.

Xia Zuo and Jaste followed without a blink, three shadows diving, leaving Xiao Bayat alone on the rim.

Cold wind licked his back, fear prickling like frost. He shivered and stared into the dark.

“Senior, Senior—don’t leave me!” His shout fell into the pit like loose stones.

As he called out, the three seniors vanished into a bottomless maw, a hole that swallowed echo and light.

“I knew it…” Xiao Bayat groaned, realization sour as brine. They had looked reliable—an illusion painted on glass.

At the cliff’s edge, true colors showed—each walked off, and he was left like driftwood on a barren shore.

He studied at the Demon King Academy, but he was just a first-year, a blank page with shaky ink.

If he jumped, he’d be paste on rock. He decided to find a roundabout path down, then track their trail like a cautious fox.

Chewing sounds rolled from not far away, wet and steady, like bones grinding under teeth.

He turned, trembling like a reed. A Devourer was chewing a boulder, jaw working like a millstone.

Instinct kicked first—he flung a basic fireball, a small sun streaking over dust. While it chewed, it couldn’t swallow the spell.

Regret tugged his gut—he remembered their fights before. But the boulder in its mouth felt like a window.

If it couldn’t swallow, and its defense was poor, maybe one fireball could carry it away like ash.

Whoosh—the creature flicked a long claw, snuffing the fireball like a candle, shredding his hope in a swipe.

Devourers weren’t just mouths—their claws were long scythes. One lazy swipe killed the spell, and it kept chewing, step by step.

Realizing he’d failed, fear sprinted first—then his legs obeyed. He ran, stacking buff spells on his calves like cords.

He ran until the world blurred and the wind burned his lungs. When the buffs faded, he didn’t know where he was.

He’d shaken the monster—that was enough. As for Xia Zuo and the others finding him, there was no time for that weight.

Panting, relief washed over him like cool rain—then dread flooded back. He’d blundered into a nest.

Monsters ringed him, tongues lolling like ropes. From above, liquid dripped, thick and slow as sap.

He glanced up at a forty-five-degree angle. A long tongue swayed over his head, a pendulum ready to drop.

“How can this be? Seniors—don’t set me up like this!” His cry cracked like dry wood, swallowed by the cavern.