The threads that had penetrated deep into the Bug God’s body suddenly exploded, splitting into countless finer threads like an old tree’s roots or a spider’s web.
They tried to entangle the “core” hidden deepest within the remains, which emitted a faint purple glow.
Sizzle sizzle sizzle.
The moment the threads touched the purple light, they instantly burned and snapped, like hair meeting a raging flame.
Then, a backlash force ten times stronger than before erupted.
“Pfft!”
Jiang Jian Yue threw her head back and spat out a mouthful of blood, crashing heavily into the ground.
Boom!
Her body punched through several abandoned buildings before finally slamming into the earth, creating a massive crater.
Dust filled the air. After a long moment, a trembling hand emerged from the rubble.
Jiang Jian Yue climbed to her feet with difficulty.
Her combat suit was tattered and torn, and the exposed skin was covered in cracks, like fine porcelain about to shatter.
“Cough… cough…”
She coughed violently, spitting out blood clots mixed with fragments of internal organs.
Failure. Another failure.
‘Still… no good?’
White mist swirled around her. Jiang Jian Yue’s body rapidly recovered, and her combat suit quickly regenerated.
Even after so many attempts, the Bug God’s remnant remained powerful.
She slowly stood up from the crater, surrounded by dust that had not yet fully settled.
From the surrounding ruins came a rustling sound.
Those alien creatures—humanoid monsters with multiple limbs, beasts with enormous maws, and nameless lumps of flesh—were drawn by the bloodlust emanating from this place.
They had no reason, only an instinctive craving for the flesh and blood of a higher being.
“Roooar—”
She didn’t look up. She simply tapped the ground with her toe.
Boom!
Countless sharp, blood-red earth spikes burst from the ground around her, like a madly growing forest of thorns, instantly covering several kilometers of ruins.
Every single spike precisely pierced an alien creature, hanging them in the air like skewers.
The ruins of what was once Seoul’s most bustling commercial district fell utterly silent.
Within several kilometers, not a single living creature remained.
……
Afghanistan, south of Kandahar.
The scorching sun baked this ancient land. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and dust. The former site of the “Crimson Plan” had now become a bottomless pit. Yellow warning tape was strung around the perimeter, and fully armed soldiers guarded every intersection, mercilessly driving away any unauthorized personnel trying to approach.
At the bottom of the pit, several heavy engineering machines bearing the “SAAC” logo were clearing the wreckage from the great battle a few days ago.
“Report to Captain. The passage has been cleared. The rock structure here is strange—it looks like it was melted by some extreme heat and then solidified again.”
A soldier in an exoskeleton armor suit put down his detector and spoke into his communicator.
“Roger. Continue deeper. Keep an eye on the radiation levels.”
A steady, powerful male voice came from the other end: “A place that could destroy GPRI might have any number of traps. Be careful.”
“Yes, sir!”
The soldier waved his hand, and several team members followed him cautiously into the newly cleared underground entrance.
As they went deeper, the surroundings grew increasingly eerie.
The walls, which should have been made of concrete, were now covered with vein-like red patterns.
Occasionally, huge, dried-out cocoons hung from the ceiling.
“This place… is really damn creepy.”
The soldier swallowed hard, gripping his electromagnetic rifle tighter.
“Wait! Life sign ahead!”
The detector suddenly emitted a rapid beep.
Everyone stopped immediately, their gun barrels all pointing at the dark corner ahead.
“Who’s there! Come out!”
From the corner, a pile of debris that looked like discarded pipes shifted.
“Don’t… don’t shoot…”
A ragged, bony old man crawled out from behind the pipes, trembling.
He looked at least eighty or ninety years old, with sparse hair, skin clinging tightly to his bones, and deep-sunken eyes.
But there was a strange will to survive in those eyes.
“I’m… human… alive…”
Thirty minutes later, inside a temporary command tent.
The SAAC frontline commander, a middle-aged man with the codename “Tie Bi,” was frowning at the old man, who was wolfing down nutrient fluid.
“You’re saying you were a logistics staff member for GPRI’s ‘Crimson Plan’?”
Tie Bi looked at the identity verification report in his hand.
Although the photo showed a man decades younger, the iris scan matched.
“Yes… yes.”
The old man set down the empty nutrient pouch, burped, and a fearful memory flashed in his eyes.
“So what exactly happened back then?” Tie Bi pressed. “According to intelligence, GPRI committed almost all its members to this plan—even that mysterious leader was present. Why did everyone end up missing?”
At the words “everyone missing,” the old man’s body jerked violently. He grabbed his head with both hands, as if plunged into extreme panic.
“Not missing… they… they fell in…”
“Fell in?”
“Back then… the leader assembled almost everyone in the organization, even used forbidden weapons, just to hunt that… that ‘Guardian’ lurking deep underground.”
“The battle lasted three full days and nights… In the end, many of us died… but we barely won.”
Tie Bi held his breath. The recorder nearby scribbled frantically on paper.
“Then what?”
“Then… deep inside the monster’s lair, we saw… an egg.”
“An egg?” Tie Bi frowned.
“Yes… a giant red egg, beating like a heart.”
The terror in the old man’s eyes peaked. His pupils dilated, as if he were seeing the scene again.
“But that egg… seemed alive. It knew we had intruded. In that instant…”
“The ground—no, space! Space split open!”
“It was like a huge mouth suddenly opening under our feet! Countless black passages appeared around the egg, generating enormous suction!”
“The fighters closest… didn’t even have time to scream before they all fell in!”
“I… I was always a coward, hiding at the very back of the team… When I saw that, I was terrified. I ran back for my life…”
“But by the time I reached the entrance, the passage had already collapsed.”
“So I was trapped… in a crevice between two rock layers. I survived using my ability… in this damn place… for years.”
The tent fell into dead silence. Everyone was processing this shocking information.
The destruction of GPRI was because of an egg and a suddenly appearing spatial passage?
“Do you know what that egg really was? What was GPRI’s ultimate goal?”
Tie Bi asked in a low voice.
The old man shook his head blankly: “No idea… that level of classified information was only known to senior members. I was just logistics…”
“But…”
The old man seemed to recall something, hesitating: “I vaguely heard someone mention it once. If everything went well, it could end all supernatural incidents. If it failed, the world would be destroyed. So they had to go all out…”
“But the world didn’t end.”
“Yeah… why not…”
Tie Bi took a deep breath and stood up.
“This intelligence is too important. It must be reported to headquarters immediately.”
He turned to his adjutant: “Notify the excavation team. Stop all deep operations at once! Seal the scene!”
“Captain? We’re not digging anymore?”
“Dig what…” Tie Bi pointed downward. “Now that Comrade Shadow Girl has sacrificed herself, do you think we’re stronger than GPRI back then?”
“This level of supernatural anomaly is beyond our ability to handle.”
Tie Bi walked out of the tent and looked east—toward his home country.
“Wait. Wait for those ‘Guardians’ back home to free up their hands.”
……
Japan, Tokyo, Sugamo Post-war Resettlement Area.
The warm spring sun shone on the narrow streets.
The cherry blossom trees along the road were already scattering pink petals.
The trio, carrying gift boxes of what looked like fairly high-end wagashi, stood in front of a familiar detached house, blank.
“Uh… Kazama.”
Kagegaya Tsubaki blinked, making sure she hadn’t taken the wrong path. “Did we… come to the wrong place?”
Kazama Yin looked down at the navigation on his phone, then at the clear “Amuro” nameplate on the gate. He scratched his head. “The address is right… but…”
The house before them was completely different from the gloomy, rundown one they remembered.
The exterior walls had been repainted a warm beige, the peeling and mottled plaster gone.
The yard, which had been overgrown with weeds and dead plants, was now clean, replaced by neatly trimmed shrubs and a few pots of brightly blooming pansies.
The windows, once dusty and always shut, were now clear and bright, with light blue curtains through which a warm glow could be seen.
Even the musty, deathly atmosphere around the door had been replaced by a faint aroma of home-cooked food.
“The change is… too much.” Hanyu Suoluo pushed up his glasses, incredulous. “It’s like someone cast a magic spell.”
“Anyway, let’s ring the bell first.”
Kagegaya Tsubaki took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
Ding-dong.
A crisp chime rang out. Soon, the door opened.
“Coming—”
With light footsteps, Funae Amuro appeared at the door. The moment they saw her, the three were stunned again.
The Funae Amuro before them, though still simply dressed, seemed reborn.
The formerly ever-present furrowed brows, worried expression, and exhausted look that seemed to carry the weight of the world had vanished.
Her complexion was rosy.
Her silvery-pink hair was no longer casually tied up but carefully braided into a side ponytail, with a cherry blossom hairpin at the tip.
Her eyes, once dull and lifeless, now sparkled with bright, hopeful light.
“Oh! It’s you!”
Seeing Kazama Yin and the others, Funae Amuro’s face immediately broke into a radiant smile—a smile of genuine joy.
“Please, come in! Long time no see!”
“Th… thank you for having us!”
The three stepped into the genkan somewhat hesitantly. The air was filled with a fresh lemon scent.
“This is too…” Kazama Yin muttered. “If I hadn’t seen the nameplate, I’d think we’d walked into some model home.”
Just then, the sound of chopping came from the kitchen.
“Funae, do we have guests?”