Chapter 733: The Symphony of Victory (Part Two)

At the edge of the Marvel Universe, after the Cube and Shi Ler inside it vanished, Eternity froze in place.

At his level, he could not perceive the existence of the DC God, so he had no idea what had happened.

Logically, Shi Ler's disappearance should have pleased him, yet for some reason, he felt a chill down his spine.

With no other option, Eternity asked OAA for guidance, but OAA intended to leave immediately; Eternity hurried after him, anxious: "Aren't you going to do anything about Shi Ler?"

"Leave it to you," OAA replied.

"But… what about the Cube?"

"I gave it to him," OAA replied again.

Thus, in silence, Eternity watched his boss depart, never before feeling the wind in the universe so cold, chilling his face to pallor and leaving him disheveled.

Suddenly, he shivered—a familiar presence reappeared in the universe, and he heard Shi Ler's voice echoing through it:

"Eternity, I'm here to negotiate terms!"

」

Eternity now knew for certain he had blood pressure; otherwise, he couldn't explain the explosion in his mind.

Eternity suddenly felt he had a respiratory system—he took several deep breaths, then seized Shi Ler and dragged him into the Eternity Temple, asking: "What exactly do you want?!"

"Don't be angry, calm down. I know you want to kill me right now—but you can't. Try it if you doubt me."

"I am the universe itself—I can erase you from existence!"

」

Eternity's body flashed with light; Shi Ler's body flashed too—and nothing happened.

A halo suddenly lit up above Shi Ler's head.

He extended a hand, pointing at the halo: "This is the payment from a grieving father to his pitiful son—for psychological therapy. Allow me to reintroduce myself: a newly arrived angel… who just settled in Heaven."

Eternity imagined—if he had lungs, they would have burst; he couldn't fathom what kind of god would ever contract Shi Ler.

"I sacrificed so much just to secure the basic condition to speak with you safely, Eternity—I hold you in the highest regard, for you are the most fundamental cornerstone of this universe."

"I know, I know—your workload is endless, your tasks never finish. Perhaps before, you had colleagues and superiors you could rely on—but now…"

Shi Ler shook his head, showing a look of pity: "Colleagues are useless—either they vanish without a word, or they drag you down. Your boss is dissatisfied, exiling you to this remote corner, refusing even spiritual support…"

"My God, have you seen this? This is the face of capitalism—every tedious, menial task falls to you, yet no one remembers your effort; they only think you're troublesome."

Eternity opened his mouth to speak, but Shi Ler cut him off: "Also, I think you've realized by now—your boss knows nothing about what Death has done? I doubt it. As such a high-level entity, how could he not know Death's little schemes?"

"Death created a mountain of messes and troubles, yet he did nothing to stop it. But you? You didn't even make a mistake—you diligently resolved every problem. And what did you get in return?"

Shi Ler's final words finally silenced Eternity. He looked at Eternity and said: "Why don't you ask yourself… is he even worthy?"

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Eternity asked.

"Since you're omniscient and omnipotent, you must understand human conditions. Simply put—it's just a job. When pushed too far, there's no need to endure. If your boss is terrible, why not find another?"

"You're insane," Eternity concluded. "Have you heard what you're saying? You're a human—you're telling a god to change bosses?"

"Precisely because I'm human, I'm here to advise you, Eternity. No being in this universe understands you better than humans—we possess profound emotion and compassion; we sympathize with all life, even gods."

Shi Ler wore a faintly sorrowful expression as he said:

"Since the dawn of all things in the universe, humanity has sought to unravel the mystery of Eternity. If every life in this universe believes your labor is merely natural, then let me speak for humanity: we do not believe that."

"We have always held that all life in the universe has the right to seek fairness, and we have always fought for it."

"Human strength is feeble, yet our spirit is unyielding. Eternity, mortals love gods—and our way of expressing love is to accept their pursuit of a better future."

Eternity stood silently in the Eternity Temple, finding all this absurd. Reason told him this madman was spouting nonsense—after all, he himself had caused all these troubles.

But deep down, did he truly have no resentment?

Even without Shi Ler, Death's messes would have eventually erupted. When cosmic order collapsed, who would clean up the mess?

Eternity, with his conscience, admitted: in work ethic, ability, and results, was he truly inferior to Death?

Then why did OAA ignore Death's errors, yet dumped every mess on him?

Any being with personality inevitably feels this way.

It's not terrifying when one colleague does more work—it's terrifying when another does less, constantly causes trouble, and the boss turns a blind eye, fully enabling it.

"I cannot leave here," Eternity said, his tone now calm. "I am the universe; the universe is me. Everything you see here… is me."

"Yes, I never asked you to leave the universe," Shi Ler nodded.

"Then what do you want?"

"I mean—why not take your home with you?" Shi Ler asked casually.

"What exactly are you saying?!" Eternity realized he understood the words, but never fully grasped their meaning.

"I mean, since things are how they are now, why not take the entire universe and go for a walk? Clear your head, maybe even look for a new job."

Eternity finally understood. He slowly descended, standing before Shi Ler, and looked down at him:

"So… you have some recommendations?"

Shi Ler smiled: "Do you know why your boss finds it troublesome when I release different characters into the multiverse?"

Eternity stared at him: "Why?"

Eternity truly didn't know—he only knew OAA considered it a major problem, but OAA never explained the mechanism.

"You've surely noticed—beyond the world's barrier, there are countless other universes. I can tell you plainly: far beyond, there are even more."

"The characters I released are actually from other universes. For certain reasons, once they leave their own universe and enter another, the supreme entity of that universe must pay a price to employ them."

"If payment isn't made, serious disputes arise—sometimes leading to universe destruction."

Shi Ler explained this as clearly as possible for Eternity to understand.

After hearing Shi Ler's explanation, Eternity turned his gaze toward the endless space beyond the universe—beyond the barrier of the Marvel main universe, there stretched infinite space.

There might exist countless universes just like the Marvel main universe.

For humans, quitting means losing income but gaining freedom to chase poetry and distant horizons. For Eternity, no salary was no issue—he never had one anyway—but he had never known freedom. Wherever the universe went, he went.

Work was his duty, his instinct—he was born for it. Yet any being with emotion and personality would feel curiosity and longing for the unknown.

This incident made Eternity feel even more clearly: diligent daily labor brought no reward.

Infinity and Oblivion slept daily; the Silver Surfer hunted for food; Death did nothing but cause messes and fall in love—they all slacked off. Why couldn't he?

"Eternity, I know you think I'm stirring trouble—but I'm simply offering you a chance to pursue a new life. Without this, would OAA ever let you out?"

Shi Ler spread his hands: "You're trapped here, working until the universe dies. Will your colleagues and boss thank you? I believe you've already seen their attitude."

"I need time to think," Eternity did not answer directly—but Shi Ler smiled. He knew Eternity was swayed.

Humanity is complex. No one knows whether the fierce longing for freedom is a unique emotion evolved over humanity's long history.

But unquestionably, in every human literary and artistic work, all life seeks freedom—regardless of meaning or cost.

"Of course, you have infinite time to consider this," Shi Ler did not press further, but said:

"Communication is the best solution to all problems. Look—we've already resolved most of them. But frankly, one problem still troubles me."

"What problem?"

"Death," Shi Ler replied.

"I've banned all unauthorized transactions," Eternity said. "All resurrections are forbidden."

"Yes, that's fair and impartial," Shi Ler tapped his fingertips together. "But beyond law, there must be mercy. In such a vast universe, a few resurrections won't cause great harm—they can be negotiated…"

"And now, you and your siblings have left your old company. You can only rely on each other. If you're too harsh now, won't you alienate them?"

"What do you want now?" Eternity had learned Shi Ler's speech pattern—every word carried meaning.

"I mean, since no boss is watching, you don't need to demand perfection from your colleagues. A little flexibility might serve your future choices better."

Eternity fell silent, staring at Shi Ler's smile.

Two days later, at dawn, Shi Ler, still asleep, heard a buzzing sound.

He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was exactly 6 a. ., his wake-up time.

Shi Ler sat up—and realized it wasn't his phone. It was the obelisk he'd thrown into the cabinet, vibrating incessantly.

He opened the cabinet, took out the obelisk, and held it to his ear: "Hello?"

"This is Death. Come now. No extensions," came Death's voice.

"I'm on my way."

After hanging up, Shi Ler collapsed where he stood—his heartbeat and breath ceased; his soul arrived in the Realm of Death.

He had barely entered Death's back garden when she threw a contract at him: "Your Valhalla."

Shi Ler flipped through the contract: "This is vastly different from what we agreed! You can't break your word like this!"

Death snorted: "Times have changed. Resurrection demands are now extremely strict—even Asgard's Valhalla has only three slots per decade. Entities like the Egyptian pantheon have lost resurrection rights entirely."

Shi Ler looked down—the contract stated: ten resurrections per year, but with conditions.

First, the resurrected must have died within the past ten days; those dead for decades were ineligible.

Second, each person gets only one resurrection. If they die again, they cannot be revived. Resurrection restores life only—not healing. If death results from severe injuries, no further resurrection is possible.

The restrictions sounded numerous, yet they were extremely generous—Asgard had fewer slots and harsher limits.

Shi Ler closed the contract casually: "Fine. I'll take it. I'm leaving."

Death narrowed her eyes, watching his fading silhouette, and felt a chill down her spine.