The chapter begins with Kazuki who gives Hirito the signal. The Red Walkers charge the northern gate. Tension builds as Drondaya prepares to break through enemy lines.
The battlefield trembled under distant thunder not from the skies, but from the approach of thousands of cursed feet.
Kazuki leaned toward Hirito, voice calm but urgent. "I need you to create the space for me to use my ability."
Hirito gave a low grunt, his eyes scanning the open terrain ahead. "No problem." He turned slightly, lifting his arm, but didn't act yet. "But you do know your technique's damn near useless out here. In a confined space, you're lethal. But out here?" He clicked his tongue. "It's like swinging a sword underwater."
Kazuki said nothing. His expression didn't shift, eyes fixed straight ahead as if imagining the precise moment his ability would come alive.
Hirito didn't press the point. Instead, he stepped forward, raised his right hand—and his voice boomed like a war horn.
"WALKERS, MOVE!"
His command cracked through the chaos like lightning. The Red Walkers stationed at the northern gate—hundreds of them, each gleaming with their eerie, crimson energy—exploded into motion. The ground pulsed beneath them as they surged forward, a red tidal wave racing toward the crumbling horizon.
On the front lines, Drondaya's sharp gaze locked onto the incoming storm. He didn't flinch. Instead, he turned slightly, addressing the group of young hunters gathered behind him—Vincent, Chiro, Wei, and others, their faces set with tension.
"I'm going after those two," Drondaya said, nodding toward Kazuki and Hirito in the distance. "You hold the line. Do not let them cross into Suha."
Each hunter nodded, not just in obedience but with resolve. Chiro's grip on her ribbon tightened. Vincent's fingers twitched near his coat's edge. Wei cracked his neck, a grin stretching across his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I trust you to do your best," Drondaya added. "I'll create the opening for you all. Now."
He blurred forward.
One moment, he stood among them. The next, the air cracked, and he was gone—a streak of white fury tearing toward the horde.
As he moved, a wooden sword manifested in his hand with a sharp whine of summoned energy. His grip shifted naturally, fluid, as if the blade had always belonged there. Without breaking stride, he swung once, then again—each strike clean, efficient, parting red walkers like brush. A narrow path opened in the chaos, bodies splitting, unraveling at the coil.
He didn't stop.
Ahead, Kazuki waited in the growing light, his aura beginning to stir.
Drondaya cuts through the Red Walkers with supernatural precision, heading for Kazuki and Hirito. Meanwhile, the Walkers close in on Chiro, Vincent, and Wei, and the battle truly begins.
The last red walker crumpled beneath Drondaya's swing, its body collapsing inward like ash folding on itself. The knight's feet didn't slow. His wooden sword gleamed strangely in the air—grainless, pure, like it had been carved from the memory of a tree rather than from wood itself.
Behind him, the roar of battle had risen.
Chiro's voice broke the air, sharp and clipped. "They're here."
The front ranks of red walkers had closed the distance in seconds. They hit like a storm wall—no formation, just an overwhelming, mindless drive. But the hunters didn't hesitate.
Chiro's red ribbon flared into existence with a hiss, slithering beneath her boots. It coiled tightly, then lifted her into the air, elevating her just above the fray. From above, her view widened—and her control sharpened.
With a flick of her wrist, the ribbon whipped forward. Not soft like silk, but sharp—like it had weight and will. It sliced through the walkers with impossible grace, unraveling their cores in fluid arcs. She moved like a dancer, twirling midair, the ribbon carving crimson chaos below.
Wei stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his heels digging into the cracked stone. His voice dropped into a gravelly chant, barely audible over the din.
"Shen Transformation… Three-Legged Twin Toad."
His body convulsed as it shifted. His skin darkened, growing mottled and glossy. Muscles thickened grotesquely, limbs contorted outward. His torso expanded, ballooning in unnatural rhythm. Only his face remained mostly intact—recognizable but twisted with amphibian strength.
His throat pulsed outward, a massive bulge inflating slowly as air gathered. It looked like it might explode.
The red walkers kept coming.
Vincent moved last. Calm. Detached. His eyes slid shut, fingers tracing an invisible sigil in the air.
His voice was almost bored. "Hallucination Technique Genesis Phasmon ."
A pulse swept out from him not visible, not loud. But instantly, the red walkers faltered. Dozens of them slowed. Their heads jerked in odd directions. Some began veering off course, claws swinging at shadows only they could see. Others simply stopped, frozen in confusion as the illusion took hold.
From above, Chiro's voice cut in again. "They're still moving. It's not enough."
Below her, Wei's transformation reached its peak. His swollen throat shuddered and then burst outward in a concussive shockwave.
BOOOOM.
A deep vibration erupted from his mouth, echoing like the call of some ancient swamp beast. The sound hit the front line of red walkers, knocking them back in waves. Some crumbled entirely. Others disintegrated into spiraling frost.
But within seconds—they began to pull themselves back together.
Their bodies twisted and reformed like cursed wax—bones knitting, flesh rewrapping around black cores. And they kept coming.
Vincent opened his eyes, watching the regeneration. "Yeah… that's new."
General Soren's military forces arrive with tanks and heavy firepower, providing momentary support. But the Red Walkers adapt—and retaliate with terrifying, inhuman tactics.
The ground shook again—but this time, not from the walkers.
Over the ridge behind Chiro and Vincent, the low hum of engines roared to life. Black tanks crested the slope, each marked with the sharp insignia of Suha's 3rd Armored Division. Military trucks followed close behind, wheels grinding over loose gravel.
Chiro blinked. "Reinforcements?"
Vincent's gaze sharpened. "Soren's people."
The lead tank slammed to a halt, its turret swinging into position. Behind it, soldiers in obsidian armor disembarked in synchronized motion, rifles raised and aimed.
"OPEN FIRE!" came the command.
Muzzle flashes burst like strobe lights. The red walkers were torn apart by withering lines of gunfire. Some exploded into ice fragments. Others were obliterated mid-sprint. Rockets followed—lancing through the air in bright arcs, striking the ground with thunderous blooms of flame.
For a moment, it looked like the tide had turned.
Then Chiro's stomach twisted.
A soft crackling sound reached her ears. It wasn't from the gunfire—it came from beneath the tanks.
From the dirt.
A hand shot up.
Twisted and red, too thin to be human, it erupted from the ground directly under one of the soldiers. It wrapped around his leg before he could scream.
And then—he froze.
His scream shattered in his throat, replaced by a horrific crack-crack-crack as frost surged over his body. Within seconds, his limbs fractured like glass. He fell in jagged pieces, eyes still wide with horror.
"DOWN!" another soldier screamed, opening fire directly into the ground.
It was too late.
More hands burst from the earth—grabbing ankles, calves, thighs—pulling men down. One screamed as teeth sank into his leg; his voice was cut off as his entire body turned blue and shattered.
Chiro hovered higher, eyes wide. "They're coming from the ground!"
One truck exploded as a red walker tore through its engine block from beneath. Soldiers scattered, firing blindly. But for every walker gunned down, two more surfaced—teeth snapping, ice coiling from their claws like living breath.
Vincent snarled. "They're not even dying—they're just restarting."
From below, Wei growled, his toad-like chest expanding again. But even he paused as the chaos unfolded around them.
Chiro's voice, tight and furious, echoed over the comms.
"These things—they don't die. Not unless we stop the core but where's the damn core ."
Then—static.
A new voice broke into their channel.
At the southern gate, President Zichen's knuckles tightened around the receiver in his control tent, eyes locked on the live feeds pouring in across a dozen screens. Soldiers screaming. Red walkers tearing through steel. Frost blooming on bodies like fast-moving rot.
He slammed the mic's switch. "Minister Tenzy—do you see this?"
Tenzy's voice crackled back through the speaker, weary but sharp. "I'm watching it live, President Zichen. The red walkers are regenerating… No matter how many times they're destroyed."
Zichen's voice dropped. "It's impossible to hold the lines like this."
"I agree," Tenzy said. "But I've been running models. We've seen regeneration patterns like this once before… remember Kenzo's incident?"
Zichen's eyes flicked to a private screen—sealed archives. "You're saying they're not biological anymore."
"They're vessels. Manifestations. You can't destroy the energy they reform."
Zichen leaned in. "Then what?"
Tenzy didn't hesitate. "We seal them."
Zichen paused. "Can we?"
"It worked once," Tenzy said. "And if it doesn't—there's one man left."
Zichen narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"Madagascar."
For a moment, even static seemed to hesitate.
Zichen sighed. "Understood. I'll relay the sealing strategy now."
Tenzy didn't wait. He reached for the master mic the one that patched into every hunter, unit, and war-tech on the battlefield. He pressed the button, and his voice boomed across the frequency.
"To all active forces: this is Minister Tenzy. The red walkers are not conventional enemies. Direct fire is not a permanent solution. Repeat: killing them will not stop them. They are reforming through unknown methods. Effective immediately, all units switch to sealing techniques. This is now a containment operation. Do not engage unless you can seal."
Up above the chaos, Chiro smiled faintly as the words crackled into her earpiece.
"I can do that."
She spun midair, arms wide. Her ribbon—already stained and slick from combat—flared upward into the sky. It shot straight into the clouds, then arched and spiraled downward in a vast, sweeping motion.
"Ribbon Technique: Spiral Bind!"
It coiled with impossible speed, racing along the ground, weaving an intricate pattern beneath the red walkers' feet. They staggered as the coils wrapped around them—not flesh but essence, memory, spirit. Dozens of them stumbled into the trap before they realized they were being corralled.
Then the circle snapped shut.
From above, the ribbon dove, completing its loop—SLAM—and a sigil burst outward from its center. The walkers within screamed—not in pain, but as if something deeper than their bodies was being ripped away.
They froze.
Then dropped, inert, locked in place like frozen statues.
Chiro's breath caught in her chest. "That's one group."
But the rest were still coming.
At the southern front, Zichen stepped forward and raised a small, black bell from his side. It hovered upward, almost gentle—until he gave the word.
"Expand. Seal."
The bell erupted into size—growing from palm-sized to massive, its mouth yawning wide as ancient glyphs lit its surface.
CHONGGGG.
The sound that followed wasn't audible. It hit in the bones.
All across the field, red walkers jerked—pulled toward the bell's gravity. One by one, their bodies stretched unnaturally, pulled into the air, into the bell's yawning mouth. As they vanished, the glyphs glowed brighter, sealing each fragment.
Zichen stepped forward, his coat flaring in the updraft. His eyes were locked ahead—toward a new confrontation forming at the edge of the gate.
Where Mujin and Andrei waited.
Wind howled across the battlefield, carrying the stench of scorched soil and frostbitten flesh.
Mujin stood with one arm extended, fingers pointed like a gun.
Twelve glowing cubes of golden energy floated around him in perfect symmetry, each etched with Roman numerals from I to XII. They orbited slowly, humming with power—then, at once, they surged forward.
The air shrieked as the Roman Cubes tore through it, leaving streaks of white heat in their wake. Each cube raced toward the two figures ahead—Huey and Julius—who stood calm and unmoving, as if they were watching the rain begin.
Huey didn't blink.
His voice was calm, reverent.
"Come forth… my First."
His skin rippled as something ancient stirred beneath it. Black crosses burned along his arms, chest, throat. His fingers stretched wide, palms glowing.
"Creation Order: Devouring Rods."
From behind him, the ground cracked—and then shot upward as dozens of black rods launched from thin air, like spears from a forgotten dimension. They moved with unnatural intelligence, intercepting the Roman Cubes mid-air.
CRACK. CLANG. BOOM.
The collisions sent shockwaves in every direction. Golden cubes shattered and scattered like crystal, deflected from their intended path. Rods twisted and turned midair, seeking more targets.
Huey lowered one palm, then raised the other with a smooth gesture.
The Devouring Rods reversed direction.
They didn't fall.
They dived toward Mujin.
On the far side of the skirmish, Andrei remained on one knee, breathing hard. His coat was torn, blood soaking through his left sleeve. His lips moved silently, eyes locked on the incoming threat.
Mujin acted fast.
"Tobu."
His body flickered and disappeared.
The rods struck the earth, piercing stone, dirt, and steel, but Mujin was already beside Andrei. His hand clamped around the medic's shoulder.
"Got you."
FLASH.
Tobu
They vanished again just as more rods struck where they had been, cratering the ground.
They reappeared a moment later, twenty meters away right in front of Zichen.
Andrei rose, clutching his ribs. "That last hit… knocked me out for a second. Julius' technique—it disrupts consciousness. Your body shuts down, even if it doesn't look fatal."
Zichen turned sharply. "Can you still fight?"
Andrei gave a bitter laugh. "I'm a medic hunter. I can stand. But if I take that hit again, I'm done."
The three of them stood now in a line.
Zichen, the bell still hovering behind him like a silent titan.
Across the open field, Huey and Julius stared back—unmoving, untouched. Light shimmered faintly behind their shoulders, as if something divine was just beginning to stir.
The final confrontation had begun.