Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

The echoes of the baijiu's declaration had barely faded when the long, evaluative silence of the intellectual body was abruptly broken. Not through language, but through a more brutal, more direct spiritual invasion.

“Buzz——!!!”

A high-frequency, scalp-chilling buzzing sound exploded without warning inside Baijiu's skull. Immediately afterwards, countless bizarre and rapidly flashing fragments of images, like an out-of-control torrent of data, forcefully breached the dam of his consciousness and poured in!

This time, the images are no longer just terrifying prophecies of the future, but a cruel jigsaw puzzle that mixes the past, present, and speculation.

The first thing that flashed into his mind was a place he had just seen recently—an abandoned equipment room hidden next to a subway tunnel, covered by thick plastic sheeting.

Old Hei used to carve chips there using high-density instruments. In the video, two workers in gray overalls, whose faces are obscured, are mechanically carrying a metal box marked with a hazard symbol toward the plastic curtain door.

They placed the box by the door, opened it, and inside were neatly stacked blocks of plastic explosives with complex wiring. One person then skillfully began wiring and setting up the detonation device.

The entire process was silent and efficient, with a kind of cold, procedural quality.

Immediately afterwards, Rum's voice, a mixture of madness, triumph, and cruelty, burrowed directly into the white wine's auditory nerves like a venomous snake, synchronized with the visuals:

[Someone you cherish will die tonight.] The voice was deliberately drawn out, reveling in the thrill of announcing death.

The moment the words were spoken, the scene abruptly changed!

A hospital room filled with the beeping sounds of medical equipment and stark white light. Old Hei lay on the bed, his body covered in life-sustaining tubes and monitoring lines.

His face was ashen, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was so faint that his chest barely rose and fell; only the fluctuating numbers and curves on the monitor proved that he was still alive. Around the bed, there was no one, only the cold machines and a deathly silence.

The scene rapidly switches between panoramic views of the ward and close-ups of Lao Hei's dying face, with every detail—his cracked lips, sunken eye sockets, and ominous waveforms on the monitor—filled with hints of despair.

Rum's voice lingered like a persistent, insidious infection, but his tone became unusually "calm," even carrying a philosophical, chilling "insight":

Do you know what humanity must do to change its destiny?

No, you don't know. Or, you refuse to know.

They couldn't stop the inevitable. When the flood came, they felt they had no choice... Ultimately, they chose... self-destruction.

Is this a cowardice deeply ingrained in our genes? Or a desperate clarity?

Just watch, baijiu, see what kind of end result will be brought about by the so-called 'free will' when its lifespan is exhausted.

As if to confirm his words, and to imprint the deepest fear on the soul of Baijiu, the torrent of images that were forcibly inserted suddenly became more violent, more magnificent, and more...destructive!

No longer a singular, individual threat, but a global, panoramic apocalyptic vision, playing out in Baijiu's mind at a breathtaking pace:

In a megacity in East Asia, the once brightly lit and densely packed skyscrapers have collapsed and shattered in large sections, like matchboxes trampled by giants, during a series of terrifying earthquakes exceeding magnitude 10!

The earth's crust tore open a bottomless black chasm, swallowing streets, vehicles, and countless tiny figures fleeing in terror. Dust, flames, and desperate cries blotted out the sky.

On the west coast of North America, a massive tsunami wall, over 100 meters high, resembled a blue grim reaper connecting heaven and earth, crashing inland with overwhelming force. Golden beaches, bustling coastal highways, and iconic port facilities crumbled and vanished like sandcastles before it. Seawater flooded cities, submerged low-lying areas, and brutally erased all traces of civilization.

The plains of Western Europe were no longer struck by earthquakes or tsunamis, but by a bizarre climate catastrophe. The sky turned a sickly purplish-red, and fist-sized hailstones mixed with green, highly corrosive acid rain poured down like the wrath of God. Farmland turned to scorched earth, the facades of ancient buildings were eroded and peeled away, patches of vegetation withered, and animals writhed and dissolved in the rain in agony.

In the Middle Eastern desert and energy-producing regions, a series of unprecedented explosions occurred at numerous oil wells and natural gas facilities, sending flames soaring into the sky and forming a massive black mushroom cloud covering thousands of square kilometers. The leaked energy continued to burn on the sea surface, creating an inextinguishable "sea of ​​fire." Precious resources were transformed into destructive fuel, polluting the atmosphere and oceans.

The polar ice caps and global sea levels are rising at an accelerated rate. Melting glaciers, like collapsing white mountains, crash into the ocean, creating towering waves. Sea levels are rising at a visible speed, swallowing islands and coastal cities. Ocean current systems are disrupted, climate zones are completely out of control, and extreme weather events are becoming the norm.

The scenes flash across streets devoid of order, bloody clashes erupting over the last resources; collapsing financial market figures wildly fluctuating to zero; crowds thronging and trampling in front of tightly closed shelter doors; survivors wandering aimlessly through the ruins, their eyes vacant…

These images are not isolated; they are interwoven and causally linked, depicting an ultimate hellish panorama of complete loss of control, chain reactions, and the utter collapse of the foundations of civilization. Its realism, detail, and grand, brutal scale far surpass any film special effects, directly challenging the limits of humanity's understanding of "apocalypse."

Rum's voice, against the backdrop of this destructive symphony, sounded exceptionally clear and malevolent. He no longer screamed; instead, he carried a chilling sense of satisfaction, as if he had completed an "education."

Behold, the liquor. This is the price of 'freedom,' the inevitable end without the guidance of an 'intelligent being.' Chaos, pain, utter annihilation.

Individual struggles are as insignificant as dust before the torrent of history. Everything you cherish—whether people or beliefs—will vanish in this final outcome.

Old Black will die. Your companions will die. The world you know will die. And what can you do? Your so-called 'breaking the status quo'? Hah… Look at these images! This is the 'future' you insist on protecting!

After reaching a brutal peak, all the visual torrents suddenly vanished like the receding tide.

Inside the cabin, the monotonous, cold, and boundless dark blue light returned.

Bai Jiu's body trembled violently within the shackles, not from the previous spasms, but from an uncontrollable shudder originating from the depths of his soul. His sweat had long since dried, leaving only a cold, utterly exhausted feeling. Inside the mask, his breathing was so weak it was almost stopped, and his face, illuminated by the eerie blue light, was deathly pale.

Those images—Old Black's dying, sickly face, the devastation across the globe—were like the most insidious virus, deeply implanted in his consciousness, constantly replaying and gnawing at his last remaining will and hope. Rum's words, in turn, injected the poison of despair and self-blame into his heart.

After a fitting silence, the intelligent entity's voice rang out again. This time, there were no threats, no inducements, only an absolute calm that almost seemed to state the ultimate truth:

Data doesn't lie. The trajectory is clear.

The chapter of the old humanity is turning to its final page, a page filled with the entropy of self-destruction.

【Choose.】

For that destined-to-be-annihilated, painful 'freedom'.

Or perhaps, it's for a possible, orderly 'future'—even if that future no longer includes anyone or anything you're familiar with.