Time dragged on.
Slow. Suffocating.
The entire world felt… sick.
Like it had fallen into a post-shock paralysis.
Billions of people waited.
In silence.
Like prisoners in a dark execution chamber—
Waiting for a blade that might fall at any moment.
No one knew when.
Until dawn.
The first light of morning tried to wash away the blood-stained night.
People tried to convince themselves—
A global hallucination.
A mass illusion.
Something cheap.
Something explainable.
Something human.
—
Then—
Every screen lit up.
At the same time.
Like spontaneous combustion.
Planned.
Inevitable.
Black background.
Red text.
Like iron pulled straight from a furnace—
Branding itself into humanity's eyes.
—
[Fate Exchange: Abuser Live Broadcast]
[Fate Exchange · Second Batch Activated]
[Countdown to Broadcast: 02:00:00]
—
A wave of suppressed screams broke out.
Some shut their eyes.
Desperate.
Only to realize—
The words were still there.
Burning.
On the inside of their eyelids.
Silence fell.
Brief.
Unnatural.
—
Then—
The text shifted.
A title appeared above the countdown.
"Guardians of the Forest"
Below it—
A white triangle.
A play symbol.
Frozen.
Like a sealed tragedy waiting to be opened.
Comments flooded in.
Exploding across the screen.
—[What is this…?]
—[A video? To pass time? Or… something else?]
—[Pangolins? "Guardians"? Haha… this has to be healing, right…? Please tell me it's something gentle…]
The video started.
No music.
No narration.
No warning.
Only—
Raw death.
Scene One.
A forest.
Midnight.
Poachers dug deep into the earth.
Violent. Ruthless.
They pulled something out.
A creature curled into a ball.
Dragged into moonlight.
Then—
Thrown alive into boiling water.
Steam rose.
Thick. Blinding.
No screams could be heard.
Only—
Convulsions.
Frenzied.
Desperate.
Until—
Its hardened scales loosened.
And were peeled away.
With rusted tongs.
Skin.
Flesh.
Together.
Scene Two.
Smoke.
Heavy. Choking.
A tree hollow burned.
Wood cracked in the fire.
The pangolins crawled out.
Desperate.
Only to meet—
Cold steel traps.
They were pinned.
Struggling.
Still conscious.
Still alive.
Their scales—
Pried open.
One by one.
Scene Three.
A mother.
Huge.
Impaled.
Beaten.
Her body curled tighter.
Bones breaking—
But she wouldn't let go.
Until—
A flamethrower.
Aimed at her throat.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
They forced her open.
And inside—
A baby.
Pink.
Blind.
Still alive.
The video ended.
Black screen.
Across the world—
People retched.
Some collapsed.
Some cried uncontrollably.
Others stared at their own hands.
Their nails.
Their skin.
Feeling—
For the first time—
That their bodies…
Could be peeled open.
At any moment.
At the same time—
A farce began.
A global escape.
Those with blood on their hands—
Panicked.
The moment the list activated—
They broke.
Some fled through storms.
Some hid in mountains.
Some screamed into phones—
In luxury cars.
"Damn it! Didn't we order everything deleted?! All the videos—why are they still there?! WHY?!"
They didn't understand.
They couldn't understand.
Under Its power—
Nothing could be hidden.
"Release them! Release everything in the warehouse! Not a single one stays!"
Too late.
Far too late.
The chain was too long.
The greed too deep.
When they begged—
Before something beyond them—
Mercy no longer existed.
They fell to their knees.
In mud.
In filth.
Foreheads bleeding.
Begging the sky.
Begging It.
A voice descended.
Cold.
Distant.
Everywhere.
—
"The ones you should beg for forgiveness from… are not Me."
—
Silence.
Then—
"You beg… because you fear pain."
"Not because you feel guilt."
The countdown hit zero.
[B-0001 — B-0165]
[Group File: No.000 — No.164 "Bone Market Syndicate"][Occupation: Transnational Poaching Network / Primary Dealers / Live Butchers]
[Crimes: Systematic slaughter, scale removal, burning]
[Primary Victims: Pangolins]
[Records: Live harvesting, high-heat processing, profit-based killing]
[Judgment: Human rights revoked]
[Execution Scene: Loading…]
[Countdown: 00:00:00]
Morning shattered.
Again.
The countdown ended.
Those same words returned.
Like law.
Like doctrine.
—
[First Execution Group — Confirmed]
[Execution Duration: 4 Days]
[What you gave… you will endure]
[What you ignored… will replay upon you]
[What you thought insignificant—]
[Will become your entire world]
—
This time—
Not a lab.
A warehouse.
Underground.
Rotting.
The air thick with decay.
Lights flickered.
Buzzing.
Dying.
The camera pulled back.
And the world—
Gasped.
Rows.
Endless rows.
Of sacks.
Each one—
Moving.
Writhing.
Something inside scratched.
Hard.
Dry.
Scales grinding against each other—
"shhh… shhh…"
Breathing filled the air.
Heavy.
Slow.
Like a broken machine.
The viewpoint dropped.
Low.
To the ground.
What the audience saw—
Were claws.
Covered in dull, heavy scales.
Dragging.
Scraping.
Every movement—
Friction.
Pain.
That was their new body.
Then—
A flashlight cut through the dark.
Blinding.
Boots.
Heavy.
Crunching on dirt.
Metal clanged.
Traps.
Closer.
Closer.
In those scaled eyes—
Humans were no longer the same species.
They were—
Mountains.
Unknowable.
—
Death.
Billions watched.
No one blinked.
No one dared.
Because they knew—
What was coming—
Was the moment before the scales were torn off.
The camera cut.
Inside a sack.
Darkness.
Pressure.
No air.
Su Qiang opened his eyes.
His body—
Encased.
Rigid.
Heavy.
He tried to move.
Failed.
Curled.
Forced.
"Help!! I'm Su Qiang!! A-Biao! Lao Hei! Where are you?!"
He screamed.
But what came out—
Were layered.
Low.
Desperate breaths.
This—
Was a pangolin's defense.
To curl.
To become a ball.
Once—
He hated it.
It made his work harder.
Now—
He couldn't stop.
He heard a voice.
Familiar.
His right-hand man.
"Mad Dog."
"Mad Dog! It's me! I'm the boss! Get me out!!"
He slammed against the sack.
Again.
Again.
But to "New Mad Dog"—
That sack was just…
Moving a little more than usual.
Then—
A voice.
Shaking.
Broken.
"…This one's big. Thick scales. Top quality."
"Throw it in the pot first. Boil it. Easier to peel."
A pause.
"…Remember?"
"Mad Dog, what are you doing?! I'm Su Qiang!! Listen to me!! LET ME OUT—!!"
Hysterical.
Broken.
Useless.
No one understood him.
Not anymore.
Only—
Those eyes.
Watching him.
Like demons.
Then—
He was lifted.
Still inside the sack.
Through a small tear—
He saw it.
A giant iron pot.
Boiling.
Violent.
White steam pouring out.
The sound—
Was no longer water.
It was—
Hell.
Around him—
Dozens of sacks trembled.
Violently.
His men.
His partners.
Even "Mad Dog."
They used to sit together.
Drink.
Laugh.
Talk about which meat tasted better.
Now—
They lined up.
Waiting.
To be burned—
By the fire they once fed.
Outside the screen—
The world watched.
Every second.
Every detail.
More brutal than the video before.
People vomited.
People cried.
But this time—
Something changed.
They could look away.