The city was no longer a place.
It was a corpse.
Yukanda—once alive with noise, ambition, and fragile hope—now existed only as a reminder of what happens when the world turns its back on itself. The streets lay shattered like burned bones, split open as if the ground itself had tried to flee from what happened above it. Buildings leaned against one another, wounded and exhausted, frozen in the posture of their final moments.
The air was heavy.
Smoke drifted slowly, mixed with ash and the bitter scent of destruction. There was no wind strong enough to carry it away. Every breath felt thick, as if the city itself was choking on its own remains.
Silence ruled Yukanda.
Not peace.
Not rest.
The kind of silence that arrives only after screaming has failed.
It felt as though the city was trying to speak—to accuse, to beg, to curse—but had lost the strength to do so.
Every broken stone seemed to whisper the same words:
"You came too late."
Akuma stood at the center of it all.
His clothes were torn, stained with dirt and old blood. Ash clung to his hair and skin, yet his posture remained upright, unshaken. His eyes were calm—terrifyingly so.
No grief.
No anger.
No hesitation.
Only a cold, bottomless stillness.
He looked at the ruins for a moment… then turned away.
"What is already dead," Akuma said quietly, "doesn't need tears."
His gaze shifted toward the heart of the city.
Toward the thing standing there.
The Giant Monster.
It was something beyond human understanding. Its massive body looked as if it had been carved from mountains and soaked in blood. Its skin was cracked like ancient stone, glowing faintly from within. Its crimson eyes released beams of destructive light that cut through the earth itself.
Wherever that red glow touched—
The ground split open.
And from those wounds, smaller creatures crawled out.
Mindless.
Hungry.
Violent.
They did not think.
They did not hesitate.
They only destroyed.
Akuma inhaled slowly.
"You too," he said, staring at the monster, "are a mistake created by this world."
Then—
He stepped forward.
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Elsewhere in the ruins, Max was fighting the final moments of his life.
His body had already given up. Every breath burned his lungs. His vision blurred, the world tilting violently around him.
The Leader stood before him.
Calm.
Untouched.
Unconcerned.
As if Max's death was nothing more than an administrative task.
"You people always misunderstand strength," the Leader said coldly. "You believe courage is enough."
He placed his foot on Max's chest.
"But the world doesn't reward courage," he continued. "It obeys power."
Blood filled Max's mouth. His bones ached from within—internal damage that could no longer be ignored. He knew the truth.
This was the end.
With what little strength remained, he lifted his eyes.
Akuma's face flashed through his fading thoughts.
"If you're still alive…" Max whispered, barely audible. "Don't stop…"
The Leader raised his hand.
And the sky flashed with light.
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High above the city—
Nova hovered in the air.
Gravity had no hold on her. A transparent barrier surrounded her body, bending space itself. Her breathing was uneven, her hands trembling.
She was afraid.
But not of the monster.
Her fear was focused elsewhere.
On Akuma.
"If those two collide," Nova whispered, "nothing will survive."
She watched him move through the ruins—calm, focused, unstoppable.
"Who are you…?" she murmured. "And where does your power end?"
Her fingers clenched into fists.
"I need to see it myself."
In the next instant—
She vanished, moving faster than light itself.
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The Giant Monster sensed Akuma.
Its massive head lowered. Crimson eyes locked onto him.
A beam of destructive energy fired forward.
The earth shattered.
The sky trembled.
Ruined buildings collapsed as the blast tore through the city.
But Akuma did not stop.
He raised one hand.
And the beam froze.
Suspended in the air.
As if time itself had been forced to obey.
The monster hesitated—for the first time.
"You…" its voice echoed like collapsing mountains. "You are not human."
A faint smile touched Akuma's lips.
"Human?" he repeated softly. "I abandoned that lie long ago."
He stepped forward.
The ground screamed.
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Far away, inside a sealed war room—
The President stared at the screens.
Monsters multiplying.
Cities flashing red.
The death count climbing every second.
And one name blinking repeatedly:
YUKANDA.
The President closed his eyes.
"Erase it," he said without emotion. "Remove it from the map."
"No survivors."
No one questioned the order.
Fear had already killed hesitation.
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Missiles launched.
Fire streaked across the sky toward the ruined city.
Akuma looked up.
This time, there was anger in his eyes.
"You still don't learn," he muttered.
His fist tightened.
The sky cracked.
Nova, now dangerously close, felt it fully.
His presence.
His weight.
His existence.
Her knees weakened.
Her body reacted before her mind could—pure terror overwhelming her control.
Then—
Visions flooded her consciousness.
She saw a younger Akuma.
Fifteen years old.
Cold eyes.
No hesitation.
She saw her sister—screaming, helpless—her fate sealed by a boy who felt no mercy.
The memory shattered Nova.
Her heart raced.
Her soul shook.
Suddenly, Akuma's gaze shifted.
Straight toward her.
Nova froze.
In the vision, her sister's voice echoed:
"If you don't run… you won't survive."
"Run."
Nova gasped, snapping back to reality.
She was too close.
Too late.
Below her, Akuma had reached the Giant Monster.
Two beings born from destruction stood face to face.
The city held its breath.
Yukanda had already died once.
What came next would decide whether the world would follow.