Chapter 738

There was a strange magic in the words New Year.

The excitement of beginning another year. The vague hope that things would be better than they had been the year before.

But one day in January, before people had even turned the first page of their new calendars, that excitement and hope collapsed in an instant.

“Breaking news. Just one hour after our report from Paris, a second Monster Wave has struck London, United Kingdom. Central London is in chaos, and King Philip II of the United Kingdom has…”

“More breaking news! Another Monster Wave has struck Mumbai, India! This is the third Monster Wave in a single day, something unprecedented since the Great Cataclysm…”

“Oh my God. Can you see this? Rio de Janeiro’s landmark, Christ the Redeemer—Cristo Redentor—is falling!”

It was the beginning of a catastrophe.

First, France’s Luxembourg Gardens were stained with blood. Then London Bridge, which had stood through a long and storied history, collapsed. And Brazil’s colossal statue of Jesus, weighing over six hundred tons¹, toppled over, crushing buildings and people beneath it.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

The ground shook with a deafening roar.

Beyond the flames that surged up from the explosion, those who could barely keep their feet heard something growl.

—Grrr…

Monster Waves.

The name had become synonymous with disaster. Legions of monsters tore through space and swept in every direction like a wave.

—Kraaaargh!

“M-Monsters!”

“Get away!”

“Aaaah!”

Screams filled the forest of skyscrapers that civilization had raised.

Some people fled. Some were seized by monsters, torn apart, and killed. Others raised shining weapons and fought against creatures that did not belong to this world.

“Formation! Don’t retreat!”

“Ranged units, fire!”

Boom! Boom! KABOOM!

Humans and monsters. Monsters and humans.

The two species, incapable of coexisting from the start, charged at one another. The flames that had begun in Paris spread across the world.

[Red Square in Moscow stained with blood by monsters]

[Disaster strikes China once again—the Forbidden City engulfed in flames]

[Five Monster Waves in a single day. Upon hearing the news, Pope Urban VIII says, “O God.”]

[The sixth Monster Wave strikes New York. Wall Street in shock.]

[Tokyo Tower seized by flying monsters. Crashed Air Self-Defense Force aircraft cause secondary damage.]

[Odin Guild Master Michael Silbert, who swiftly suppressed the first Monster Wave, releases CCTV footage obtained in Paris: “This is not merely a disaster. It is clearly a terrorist attack with a purpose.”]

Major cities home to millions—some to more than ten million—were thrown into chaos.

People watched one shocking report after another on their televisions and smartphones, too stunned to speak.

Disaster.

It was the only word for what was happening.

At the same time, the fear spreading like a plague paralyzed people’s reason.

“Hello? You saw the news, right? I’m coming to pick you up from school right now, so…”

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Can’t you see? Packing my things.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve still got hours before you can leave work.”

“Fuck, does that matter right now? I’m going to make sure my family’s safe.”

“Hey, hey! Manager Kim!”

No one could predict a Monster Wave any more than they could predict a natural disaster. People dropped what they were doing and moved as if in a daze.

Toward the homes where their families waited. Or toward emergency shelters where they might have a slightly better chance of surviving.

Offices emptied, most work and road traffic ground to a halt, and people crowding onto the subways could not put down their phones.

What weighed them down now was an extreme fear and anxiety they could not see.

A Monster Wave might strike right where they stood. They—or someone they loved—might die because of it.

Wheeeeeeeen.

“Temporary state of emergency. This is a temporary state of emergency. Residents living nearby are advised to prepare for any eventuality and proceed to an emergency shelter…”

Countries around the world declared states of emergency at the same time.

Sirens sounded without pause in the streets. Soldiers armed with heavy weapons and Hunters called up on short notice waited tensely for instructions from their governments.

They waited until the sun—or the moon—disappeared from the sky above them, according to each country’s time zone.

At last, their governments made another announcement.

“The temporary state of emergency has been lifted.”

Only twenty-four hours had passed since the first Monster Wave struck Paris. The disaster that had seemed as if it might last until the end of the world finally ended in Cairo, Egypt.

It left behind a horrifying, unprecedented record: ten Monster Waves in a single day.

Then the hero who had successfully stopped five of them stepped before countless cameras.

“Odin Guild will continue to do its duty as your sword and shield.”

Michael Silbert.

As people watched him shed hot tears while mourning the souls of the fallen, they cried along with him.

They cheered for the hero who had saved so many lives, and for Odin Guild.

No—not everyone.

Bang!

More than a dozen holographic televisions crumbled to dust with a deafening crash.

I stared at the empty air where a man’s face had appeared only moments ago. Then I suddenly opened my mouth.

“Should I apologize?”

Team Leader Choi shook his head from the nearby sofa.

“It’s fine. If you hadn’t stepped in, I would have smashed them myself.”

He wasn’t exaggerating or being polite.

I looked at his clenched fist, white with the force of his grip. Drops of blood fell from it, along with the green monster blood he had not yet wiped away.

Drip. Drip.

The white wool carpet was gradually becoming stained red and green, but no one in the room cared.

Everything around me felt cold and empty.

They got us. Completely.

Ten.

Ten Monster Waves, and we hadn’t stopped a single one. No—perhaps it was more accurate to say we couldn’t have stopped them.

They planned it that way from the start.

It was impossible to stop Monster Waves in major cities thousands, even tens of thousands, of kilometers² apart.

Even if Magic Johnson had been with us, it would have made no difference.

The Monster Waves that occurred today had been planned terrorist attacks from beginning to end—bombs detonating without regard for either time or place.

By the time we heard the news and arrived, all that awaited us were more ruins and more bodies.

There was one slight difference between the Monster Wave in Paris and those that followed: where they struck.

They weren’t targeting Ares Guild’s overseas branches.

The terrorists working with Michael Silbert had gone to all kinds of places. Tourist attractions packed with crowds. The headquarters of major corporations everyone knew by name.

But more often than anything else, they had targeted branches of major Guilds like Ares.

“Why?”

Team Leader Choi looked up at my abrupt question. I added one word.

“The targets.”

That was explanation enough. Team Leader Choi stared into empty space with hollow eyes, then suddenly opened his mouth.

“Isolation.”

“Isolation?”

“Yes. Isolating Ares Guild. That must be what Michael Silbert wants.”

“But why do it like the Paris branch…?”

I stopped.

Thoughts raced through my tangled mind. Somewhere among them was an answer I had missed.

The Middle Eastern terrorist group.

The men working with Michael Silbert had not finished their mission.

The final strike that would bring this horrific day to a close—the keen, ice-cold blade that would isolate Ares Guild from the entire world—was rushing toward us.

Perhaps even now.

Step. Step.

Footsteps echoed unusually loudly through the darkness.

Perhaps it was because there were several dozen people. Perhaps it was because they were crossing a dark cave. One thing, at least, was certain.

No one knew this place existed, and no one could find their way here.

Step.

The footsteps, which had seemed as though they would go on forever, stopped together.

Something stirred in the pitch-black darkness.

“Inshallah.”

The word sounded as though it had been whispered into their ears. Several dozen people dropped to their knees and prostrated themselves.

Then they opened their mouths and answered in unison.

“Inshallah.”

God willing.

It was an invocation that bound them together and a prayer that reminded them of God’s greatness. The figure stirring beyond the darkness finally emerged.

Swish.

A long robe brushed the ground. The people bowed their heads lower and murmured as one.

“This lowly servant of Allah humbly greets the great Prophet.”

The Prophet.

To them, even the title of a being whose face they dared not look upon was sacred and untouchable.

“Raise your heads.”

The voice gave no hint of age or gender. The people trembled.

Then they pressed their faces to the ground and answered.

“How could these lowly servants dare look upon the great Prophet?”

“Please withdraw your command.”

Whoosh.

A gust of wind came from somewhere and enveloped them.

Then the Prophet’s voice, mingled with the wind, reached their ears.

“What became of them?”

Everyone knew whom the Prophet meant.

The old man prostrated at the very front opened his mouth.

“They completed the missions entrusted to them and returned to God’s embrace.”

The Prophet gave a slight nod.

“Inshallah. As was only right.”

“Inshallah.”

Ten warriors had crossed the desert and scattered across the five oceans and six continents. As warriors of God, they had completed their missions and returned to the embrace of God.

Now it was time to claim the blood price.

The Prophet spoke in a mysterious voice.

“Let the whole world know what brought about all this disaster.”