“Lost…?”
Zeheriel propped himself up, his pale face smeared with dust and his own blood, the once-elegant tailcoat now in tatters.
He repeated the word softly, as if savoring a ridiculous joke.
Then, a low, guttural laughter welled up from his throat, growing more and more deranged, until it erupted into hysterical cackling.
“Haha…hahahaha! Lost? Godwrought, do you think it’s over?”
He lifted his head, crimson eyes blazing with annihilating madness.
“You destroyed my Work, trampled on my Art…do you think I’ll wag my tail and beg like a stray dog?”
Zeheriel flung his arms wide, as if to embrace the entire night sky.
He no longer looked at Falushir, but instead threw back his head and howled, chanting loudly in a twisted, ancient tongue.
It was an ultimate contract—an Abyssal Pact, forged with the abyss, offering up himself and all his creations as sacrifice.
“In the name of Zeheriel, the apostle’s authority…”
His voice grew hoarse and hollow, as if countless voices echoed from his throat at once.
“I offer all my creations, all my flesh, all my soul!”
Black magical runes erupted from beneath his feet, spreading wildly until they covered the entire rooftop.
Then, as if an invisible command rang out, it swept across the sky above the entire Arslan royal city.
On the streets, the monsters still fighting the magical girls and City Guard—whether the lowly Drownswamp Frog or the mightier Horned Demon—froze in unison.
Their bodies began to convulse violently, shrieking in agony beyond the realm of living things.
Their flesh seemed to lose all restraint, melting, liquefying, transforming into filthy, blood-red torrents that surged skyward against gravity!
Eileen, still evacuating civilians, looked up in shock to see hundreds of bloodlines shooting from the ground, forming a grotesque crimson forest converging toward the tax office.
Within those streams of blood, she could still make out twisted faces and struggling limbs of the tormented monsters.
“This is…the Summoning Taboo—All Spirits as One!”
Falushir’s pupils contracted sharply.
She recognized the forbidden art, only briefly and ambiguously mentioned in the oldest taboo tomes of the Church.
It was said to be the summoner’s ultimate self-destructive ritual, forcibly stripping the essence of all summoned beings and forging it into oneself, granting destructive power rivaling a deity for a brief time.
But the cost was eternal ruin—the caster’s soul shredded by the malice of those it devoured.
The flood of flesh and blood gathered above the rooftop, forming a writhing, maddened vortex.
The screeching from within was enough to unhinge even the strongest warrior’s mind.
They spiraled, shrieking, then suddenly poured downward, flooding into Zeheriel’s expanding body!
“Ahhhhh—!”
Zeheriel’s scream was inhuman.
His skin tore apart inch by inch, bones splintered with sickening cracks, and new limbs and organs burst savagely from within.
It was no longer a living creature, but an Abomination Aggregate, forcibly pieced together from the corpses and grudges of countless beings.
Falushir’s face was graver than ever.
She could sense the monstrous magical pressure emanating from that misshapen horror—a suffocating force even greater than that of the Abyssal Lord!
Boom—!!!
With a thunderous crash, the rooftop of the tax office collapsed under the unimaginable weight.
Debris and dust exploded outward.
As the haze settled, a colossal figure stood at the center of the royal city.
Its height spanned dozens of meters, its body a mountain of writhing flesh, carapace, and bone, chaotically fused together.
In the chest of the gigantic form, Zeheriel’s original body was encased in a translucent layer of keratin, like an insect trapped in Amber.
His face was frozen in a grotesque blend of agony and ecstasy, eyes wide open but lifeless.
He was dead—his consciousness torn to shreds by the malice of countless summons.
Now, only the purest instinct to destroy everything before it animated this monstrous body.
The creature slowly lifted its head—a mass of piled skulls twisted together—over a hundred eyeless orbs locking onto Falushir, who stood atop the ruins.
“ROAR——!!!”
A deafening howl swept through the city.
The roar became a tangible shockwave, shattering the glass of nearby buildings into dust.
Falushir instantly conjured a thick Ice Wall before her, but it shattered in less than a second.
The force hurled her backward, feet skimming the rooftop railing before she flipped and landed lightly atop another building dozens of meters away.
She had barely steadied herself when a massive shadow loomed overhead.
The monster’s arm, a monstrous limb forged from the intertwined arms of countless monsters, descended with a scream that tore through the air, smashing down on her previous position.
Boom—!!!
The five-story building shuddered violently, its rooftop crumbling as if struck by a siege hammer.
Rubble and choking dust shot skyward.
At the last possible moment, Falushir leapt again, rolling through the air to dodge the flying debris and landing atop the spire of a distant clock tower.
She looked back.
The sturdy stone building had been flattened by the blow, leaving only a bottomless crater.
The monster’s assault did not stop.
It seemed to revel in pure destruction, unleashing wild howls.
Awkwardly, it turned, countless eyes locking onto Falushir once more, while its other arm rose high, preparing to strike again.
—
Beside the ruins of the street, a figure appeared oddly comical and out of place.
Finance Minister Barto was clambering out of a pile of debris blown over by the shockwave.
His luxurious silk dress robe was coated in dust, his fat face streaked with snot and tears, making him look like a plump clown who had crawled from a chicken coop.
He had been knocked out by the battle’s aftershock and only just regained consciousness, his mind buzzing.
He had no idea what was happening—only that all his domesticated drakes had escaped, a loss that made his heart ache unbearably.
He glanced around, spotting the blue figure atop the distant rooftop, like a snow sprite, and…the culprit who had destroyed his precious assets.
“Falushir! You damned bitch!”
Barto’s reason was consumed by greed and rage.
He pointed at the Godwrought in the distance, shrieking, “Pay for my drakes! Those were my money! Mine! When this is over, I’ll make sure the king—”
His tirade cut off abruptly.
Not because of conscience, but because the light around him seemed to dim.
A vast, indescribable shadow engulfed him completely.
Barto stiffly raised his bloated head.
He saw a foot.
Larger than a carriage, its gray-green skin wrinkled and oozing with pus, five deformed toes dripping nauseating slime.
Barto’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, his mind blank.
It was the mountain-like monster.
And he was nothing more than an ant in a giant’s path.
“Ah…ah…”
He choked out meaningless noises, utter terror stripping him of all words.
He wanted to run, but his legs were jelly, refusing to move.
He could only watch helplessly as the massive foot descended, impossibly slow yet unstoppable, filling his entire vision.
The last thing he saw was a gigantic eyeball embedded in the sole, writhing and filled with cruel mockery.
“Splurt—”