"They're gone…!"
"W-We won!"
Cheers erupted. Fists pumped into the air. To them, it was victory. A few thousand lives sacrificed… for humanity's survival.
Even Kocho Shinobu and their comrades...people who had never seen such a terrible weapon—were shaken to their cores.
Compared to this, no jutsu, no alchemy, no breathing technique could compare. This was power beyond imagination.
But not everyone celebrated.
Those who knew Yami Tsukishiro best… did not share in the joy. Their gazes lifted toward him.
He remained unmoved, his expression unreadable, as though he had seen this outcome long before.
"…Wait! Look! The fog—it's back!"
Jade Chan's trembling finger pointed at the screen.
White mist was rising again.
Every heart clenched tight.
A suffocating dread spread through the command room as the smoke cleared… and the "truth" revealed itself.
The fog thinned, and from within emerged a sight that silenced the world.
The undead legions—unharmed.
Rank upon rank stood proud upon the scorched ruins, shadows rolling beneath them like tides of darkness.
And towering above them, four colossal beasts, unshaken, unbroken, standing tall once more.
"…Nuclear bombs didn't kill them?!"
"It's over! Humanity is Cooked!"
"This has to be fake...it's a trick! A sick prank!"
All across the world, people screamed in disbelief. Humanity's most powerful weapon had failed to even scratch the monsters. What could be more despairing than this?
[Heh… it seems you've lost this game.]
Yami Tsukishiro's low chuckle echoed like a death knell, heavy with mockery.
"…We… we're not dead?"
Takagi Saya, who had reappeared in the square beneath the pale light, blinked in confusion. She touched her own chest. It was warm. Her heart still beat. Her body was whole.
But she remembered. She remembered being consumed by the blinding fire, her flesh burning away, her consciousness torn apart. She knew what it felt like to die.
Saeko Busujima, Miyamoto Rei, and the others felt the same. They stared at each other in disbelief, memories of death still fresh in their minds.
[Adventurers are my property.]
Yami Tsukishiro's voice dripped with amusement as his fingers tapped against the throne. [How could I possibly let my property die so meaninglessly?]
A playful glint lit his eyes as he leaned forward.
[Saya Takagi, your little proposal has done well… it has driven this world's despair perfectly.]
[Crystal of World Origin]: Apocalypse
[Source Pollution Level]: 48%
The fleeting joy humanity felt after the nuclear blast—followed by Ella leading the undead's return—was despair forged into its purest form.
From heaven to hell in a single breath.
Hope had been shattered, and despair now spread like wildfire. Across the globe, countless people lost their will to fight.
"…."
Saya lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain to hide her face. Her body trembled as guilt gnawed at her.
She had failed to bring hope.
Instead, she had delivered despair.
The image of Yami Tsukishiro shimmered, then vanished from the square.
"Master!" Ella bowed deeply as he appeared before her.
Yami Tsukishiro gave only a faint nod, his robe fluttering as he ascended into the sky.
With a single motion of his hand, shadows spread outward like a flood. In the blink of an eye, they drowned the entire nation in darkness.
[Arise.]
His voice resounded across the land—not a request, but a king's command.
From every corpse, shadows writhed and tore free, twisting into form. Each chaotic shade reshaped itself into a soldier—loyal, unwavering, eternal.
One by one, they fell to their knees. Tens of millions of shadow soldiers bowed as one, their eyes burning with dark light.
Their king had called.
Their king had answered.
The Shadow Monarch.
[Ella.]
Yami Tsukishiro's voice rumbled like thunder.
[Erase civilization.]
Yami Tsukishiro's eyes swept across the earth.
Cold. Indifferent. As merciless as winter's deepest ice.
After delivering his final order to Ella, he turned away and departed this world, leaving behind only his command… and his shadow army.
The soldiers of darkness—his legacy—were now hers to command.
"Yes, Master!"
Ella's form rose into the sky. Her arms spread wide, and her blood-red eyes gleamed with razor-sharp intent.
"Undead… heed my call."
Her whisper was soft, almost tender, but it carried a power that slithered into every crevice of the ruined city.
Crack!
On the shattered ground, a withered arm suddenly thrust upward, clawing through rubble.
"A survivor…?" someone muttered in false hope.
The answer was no.
The arm twisted unnaturally, fingers digging into the earth, pulling free a gray-black husk of flesh.
Thud!
A half-rotted body forced itself upright, its chest heaving once before it unleashed a guttural roar that no longer belonged to anything human.
"Roooaaaar!!!"
"Z-Zombie?!"
But this was only the beginning.
The sight of one rising had triggered a chain reaction.
All across the ruins, corpses stirred. Bones rattled. Decayed claws tore through rubble.
Not just zombies—skeletons, mummified husks, twisted humanoids, even beastly forms crawling on all fours.
The ground itself became a womb of horrors, birthing millions of undead that clawed their way into the blood-red night.
Ella's ability was not limited to conjuring undead from nothing.
She could also use corpses as mediums, transforming them into lesser undead.
This method demanded far less power. But the cost was quality—these creatures had no special abilities, only the raw strength they carried in life.
Cannon fodder. Nothing more than pawns in an endless tide.
Yet even cannon fodder, when piled into millions, became a nightmare.
The sea of corpses stretched endlessly across the ruins, surging like waves of decay.
For the survivors, the sight alone was enough to drown them in fear. And with that fear, the world's despair deepened—feeding the pollution of the source crystal.
Every death now strengthened her.
Each fallen human or monster added another soldier to her growing ranks.
Piece by piece, corpse by corpse, her army would swell until it rivaled even Yami Tsukishiro's shadow legions.
A natural disaster.
A plague of undeath.
An apocalypse with no end.
[The stage play's finale has been decided.]
The voice that echoed was calm, theatrical, and mocking indifference.
[Everyone… please enjoy the last act of this world.]
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