Chapter 321: Episode 321

Six days passed.

The first phase, the Towers of Judgment, was still underway. The number of towers that had fallen so far was roughly a hundred and twenty. The count had doubled since the first day.

Yet, humanity’s response was nothing short of infuriating.

Even though all we had to do was block the monsters pouring out of the exits, the global consensus was heavily leaning toward following America’s lead: clear the towers first, then safely wait for the next phase.

Japanese Ministry of Defense announces assault on the Nagoya Tower: “Separate from dispatching to the assault team.”

Entry into Canada’s Toronto Tower commences. Commander is Canadian hero, Certified Rank 2 Henderson. Controversy over drafting assault team members inevitable.

Since America had taken the lead and absorbed the brunt of the global criticism, other countries subtly began attempting to clear their own towers as well. The core of their argument was always the same: quickly clear the towers, secure the safety of their citizens, and then dispatch troops to the assault team. But this logic was utterly nonsensical. Because…

America’s top hunter, Hines, still stranded on the eighth floor. Requests a fourth wave of reinforcements from the Association.

Hines exudes confidence: “We are truly almost there. We can clear it 100%.” However, death toll remains undisclosed.

The United States, which had spearheaded the tower assaults, had severely slipped up. Most of the hunters climbing the tower alongside Hines were now either dead or critically injured.

They could have just swallowed their pride and shifted their focus to defense even now, but the problem was the staggering body count. Far too many people had already died in the assaults. It had reached a point where Hines and the U.S. Department of Defense needed to produce tangible results from the tower, no matter the cost, just to save face in front of the American public.

Why did the higher-ups insist on living such convoluted, headache-inducing lives? It was the literal end of the world—was their precious prestige really that important? Humanity was teetering on the edge of extinction, yet they were constantly scheming to control the geopolitical chessboard for a future after Nemesis was gone.

“Tower Master!” Ea suddenly appeared in midair. “It’s a report from the Librarian. The overseas disaster observation department has detected a massive anomaly over the Pacific Ocean.”

“It’s finally here.” I gave a long stretch and stood up from my seat. “Let’s head down to the second floor.”

“Understood.”

Currently, the Grand Library was operating as the Magic Tower’s command and control center. Taking the magic circle elevator down to the second floor, I saw that its entire layout had been overhauled. The towering bookshelves had been pushed against the walls, and the newly cleared space was lined with rows of computers, monitors, and communication devices. Staff members were frantically typing on keyboards and relaying urgent transmissions to various locations across the globe.

“You’ve arrived, Tower Master?” Jeong Seojin approached, sharp in a tailored suit, and bowed in greeting.

“This anomaly in the Pacific—that’s it, right?” I asked.

“Yes. The second phase has officially begun.” Seojin’s face was rigid. “Nemesis will be descending.”

The Towers of Judgment had been merely an appetizer. This was the real beginning.

“I’ve prepared the main screen,” Seojin said. “Let’s watch it together.”

Following his lead, I moved to the center of the command room. A massive, theater-sized monitor displayed a live feed of the vast Pacific Ocean.

The sea was churning violently.

“Mana proton fission reaction detected! Confirming the entry of the disaster!” an observer shouted.

“It’s going to appear any second now!”

My eyes widened at the chaotic scene. It was hard to believe, even as I watched it unfold right in front of me.

It wasn’t a tectonic uplifting of the seabed, nor was it an island rising from the depths. The Pacific Ocean was simply and suddenly overwritten by a massive, smooth stretch of landmass. It was as if someone had selected a chunk of terrain from an editing program’s palette and copy-pasted it directly onto the globe.

Just then, static flared across the monitor as the image quality rapidly degraded.

“All observation devices have gone down!”

“A massive communication jamming wave is spreading!”

I let out a hollow chuckle. “Pull up the satellite feed.”

A moment later, the screen switched to a top-down orbital view.

Gasps of astonishment erupted throughout the command room. Smacked right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, a colossal landmass, easily worthy of being called a continent, had revealed itself.

“Vegetation is growing at an exponential rate,” an analyst reported.

“It’s phenomenal. Small-scale volcanic activity and rapid terrain uplifting are already being observed.”

This new continent that had so abruptly materialized on Earth was one and a half times the size of Australia. Somewhere right in the heart of it was Nemesis—the ultimate boss monster of this apocalyptic disaster.

Now, assault fleets dispatched from all over the world would have to advance into that hostile territory. If we eliminated Nemesis, victory was ours. Humanity would finally be completely liberated from the apocalypse.

However, no planet in existence had ever managed to defeat Nemesis before. I didn’t expect this to be easy.

A sharp transmission tone rang out from my earpiece. It was an urgent call from the Alliance. I tapped it.

“Yes, this is the Commander.”

—”Commander!” Phil’s frantic voice crackled through the comms. “A new continent really has appeared, exactly like the Oracle’s prophecy!”

“Yes, I’m looking at it right now. What’s the status on the assault team preparations?”

—”Ahem… well, there haven’t been any major additions to the roster I sent you last week.” Phil cleared his throat. “In fact, the total force has shrunk even further. Several member nations suddenly decided to pivot to an ’our-country-first’ policy and pulled back more of their troops.”

The global assault team currently had twenty-four fleets on standby. Their designated departure points were scattered completely across the map: Japan, Australia, Papua New Guinea, Mexico, Peru, and so on.

The reason for the fragmented departure locations was largely due to each nation prioritizing its own regional defense measures. Meanwhile, the Alliance’s main vanguard was the First Fleet, currently anchored in Singapore. The combined military might of the Alliance and the European Union was heavily concentrated there.

I weighed the options for a moment before replying.

“If we rush in blindly, we’ll walk right into a slaughter. Nemesis is a highly intelligent entity that alters its strategies and tactics based on the state of the board. I’m going to carefully analyze the maritime situation and the monsters’ movement patterns before I initiate our entry at the absolute most decisive moment.”

“Understood,” Phil replied. “The Alliance will focus all efforts on gathering intelligence.”

The second I ended the call with Phil, another transmission buzzed through. This time, it was Jin Bora, who was prepping out in the field.

—”Yusin! Are you looking at the sky right now?”

“The sky? No, I’m inside the Magic Tower right now.”

—”Hurry up and come outside! Everyone’s going crazy out here!”

Urged by her panic, Seojin and I rushed outside and looked up at the sky.

“What the hell is this…?” I muttered.

Stretching across the vast blue expanse of the sky, massive, glowing red numbers were clearly visible.

[8,121,295,018 : 7,000,000,000]

[47:58:12]

These ominous digits weren’t only visible to us. It quickly became clear that with the onset of the second phase, these numbers had been projected into the sky over every corner of the world.

This never happened with the Nemesis incursions on other worlds.

And the fact that it was generously written in Earth’s Arabic numerals, rather than Erendelian script or the cryptic monster languages commonly found in Dungeons…

Perhaps Nemesis specifically wanted us to be hyper-aware of this count.

“Seojin. What’s your read on this?”

Seojin, who had been quietly lost in thought, finally spoke up. “Let’s examine the top row first. The ’8.1 billion’ on the left is continuously ticking down. The ’7 billion’ on the right is fixed.”

“What does 8.1 billion represent?”

“I believe it’s the current global population.”

I blinked in surprise. “Earth’s population is really at 8.1 billion?”

“Recent official statistics put it at around 7.3 billion,” Seojin explained, “but if you factor in the millions not accounted for in standard global censuses, it lands right around that number. Disasters have always reacted sensitively to population density. Areas with massive populations always had a higher probability of Dungeon breaks or rifts occurring. And as for why that number is steadily decreasing…”

“It’s because violent battles are breaking out all over the world right now,” I finished for him.

“Correct.”

I rubbed my chin, my gaze locked on the ominous crimson projection. “Then what the hell is the 7 billion?”

“I’m not entirely certain myself,” Seojin said grimly, “but if I had to venture a guess… when the global population on the left bleeds down until it hits 7 billion, another massive phase shift might occur.”

“Are you saying it’s a target death toll?”

Seojin let out a bitter, humorless smile. “It’s deeply disturbing to think about, but yes, that’s my running theory.”

“Then what about the numbers below?”

[46:26:52]

Before I’d even fully processed it, the figure had decreased even further.

“It’s unequivocally a timer,” Seojin said, already holding his smartphone out and running a stopwatch app against the sky. “From left to right: hours, minutes, and seconds. Currently, the international scientific community defines one second as the time it takes for a cesium-133 atom to vibrate 9,192,631,770 times.

However, the duration of a second on that projection is slightly off. I don’t know if this discrepancy is a simple margin of error because Nemesis isn’t fully acclimated to Earth’s concept of time, or if it’s operating on an entirely alien temporal system. But regardless of the mechanics, that’s what we’re looking at.”

I gave him a flat look. “…Why do you always have to explain things so overly complicatedly? You’re just saying it’s a countdown clock, right?”

“Yes. Seeing as the numbers are decreasing at regular intervals, I’m absolutely certain.”

I crossed my arms tightly. “Then what happens when that timer hits zero?”

“…Well,” Seojin murmured. “Only catastrophic scenarios come to mind.”

It was a doomsday countdown. A gut-wrenching promise that the moment that clock bled out, something cataclysmic was going to hit us.

Being forced to watch the seconds tick away infused a deep, creeping anxiety into my mind, making me impulsive and impatient. But I quickly realized that psychological pressure was likely exactly what Nemesis intended.

We can’t afford a single misstep when we advance into that new continent.

With heavy hearts, we headed back inside the Magic Tower.

Pulling up the live news feeds on my phone, I saw that terrified debates were already raging across the internet about the numbers projected in the sky.

Another urgent transmission tone rang out in my earpiece. It was Secretary-General Phil again.

—”Yes, Commander speaking.”

—”Commander! You need to get to headquarters immediately!” Phil shouted.

—”I’ll be there in five minutes.”

In principle, the supreme commander of the assault forces was expected to remain on the battlefield or stationed at headquarters. But I had Warp Gates. Completely free from the constraints of physical distance, I could instantly bounce between the frontlines, headquarters, and the Magic Tower whenever I pleased.

I immediately stepped through a spatial warp, crossing continents to arrive straight into the command and control room at the Alliance headquarters in Switzerland.

“Ah, Commander! You got here quickly,” Phil panted as he ran over to me. He was so hyper-agitated that his collared shirt was drenched in sweat, despite the climate-controlled room.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“Yes. Please, just take a look at the screen.”

The feed on the main monitor had changed, and looking at it, I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.

“That’s… a lot of them.”

The ocean was violently churning, swarming with countless aquatic monsters poking their grotesque upper bodies out of the water. The surface was dyed entirely black by their sheer numbers; I didn’t even want to imagine how many more were lurking unseen beneath the crashing waves. The sky above was no different. Dense, suffocating swarms of winged monsters blotted out the clouds.

“This is live satellite imagery taken off the coast of the new continent,” Phil said grimly. “We have to break through that just to make landfall.”

“Half our forces will be slaughtered before their boots even touch the dirt,” I muttered.

Neither the open ocean nor the sky provided favorable battlegrounds for hunters. There were a few rare exceptions, like the Lion Fleet or the Sky Fortress, but they were an extreme minority. For standard hunters to properly utilize their destructive combat power, they needed solid ground under their feet.

“With these satellite images going public, the association presidents are already shaking their heads in despair,” Phil continued. “We don’t have any outright deserters yet, but morale is absolutely plummeting. And…”

I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Another massive problem just arose.” Phil switched the monitor’s feed. “We just received this distress footage from the Seventh Fleet departing out of Argentina, a joint force of the Brazilian and Argentine navies.”

“Ah, those blockheads…” I sighed. “Did they cause trouble again?”

I watched the chaotic footage Phil pulled up. Vicious flying monsters were pouring out of the sky and crashing onto the warship decks like a swarm of locusts, violently tearing into the defending hunters. Aquatic beasts breached the ocean surface, their jaws mercilessly shredding the reinforced steel hulls of the ships. Just watching the visceral slaughter on the screen sent a chill down my spine.

“The Seventh Fleet was blindsided by a preemptive strike from the monster hordes while in transit to the assembly point,” Phil explained.

“…Wait a second.”

“What is it?”

“Could you rewind the footage?”

A headquarters technician quickly scrubbed the video backward and hit play.

“Right there. Stop,” I ordered.

The video froze on a frame of the chaotic battle.

“Zoom in on the far right edge of the screen, please.”

Although it wasn’t fully captured in the frame, I could clearly make out the horrifying image of a massive, pitch-black arm extending out of thin air, its claws violently gripping the side of a warship.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “It’s the Führer.”

*

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