Shirota Karakuri sat calmly atop a pile of rubble that had once been a library.
Cross-legged, his uniform filthy and an aura of "I don't give a damn about the apocalypse" surrounding him, he pulled out a book that had survived the destruction, blew off the dust, and read the title aloud:
"I Got Killed for Having No Magic… but It Turns Out I Was the Secret Son of the Most Powerful Noble and Now I'm Number One at the Academy…"
He paused dramatically, and with the most idiotic grin imaginable, he murmured:
"A literary gem. A modern classic. Perfect to read while a soulless deity wipes reality underfoot…
A story as broken as the multiverse crushing us, ha-ha-ha!"
Enma, sitting a few meters behind, looked at him with that stone-faced expression only someone who has lost too much can carry. She spoke in a low, judgment-laden tone:
"I never understood the fascination with those stories.
No matter how many times the protagonist revives, magically, no one teaches him to think."
Shirota laughed as if it were a compliment:
"See? It's inspiring. Stupidity as a symbol of hope."
Enma closed her eyes briefly, as if contemplating something deeper, or simply enduring.
"I don't judge you, Karakuri…
I suppose that in times like these, even the emptiest illusion has its place.
Although if that book were a person, it would probably be absorbed by the God… and you wouldn't notice the difference."
Shirota made a dramatic gesture, clutching his chest as if stabbed.
"Ayy, Enma, your words hurt more than editorial rejection!"
"But the worst part is… even now, I cannot perceive the God's truths."
Shirota lowered the book slowly, serious for a moment.
"Huh?"
"It has no soul," Enma continued. "Which means it has no traces of time, no truth, no lies.
It's… emptiness. But an emptiness that imitates. That learns. That assimilates.
And if it manages to copy human nature…"
"Does it become dumber?" Shirota interrupted.
"It becomes more dangerous."
Yagameru, leaning against a half-destroyed column, said nothing at first. He was murmuring while writing something on a dirty sheet of staff paper.
"And what are you doing?" Shirota asked.
Yagameru turned the sheet and showed it. The title read:
"Ballad for the End of the World (Out-of-Tune Version in E Minor)"
"If this is our end, at least I want the apocalypse to have a good soundtrack," he said with a melancholic smile.
"Or at least, may the God hear it and toss us a coin for our effort."
Shirota returned to his book, raising an eyebrow with a half-crooked smile.
"I doubt that entity understands art, music, or human values…
Although, thinking about it, if I read this isekai aloud, maybe it'll take pity.
Or self-destruct."
---
The attacks didn't stop. Swords, projectiles, shinkons, screams, willpower.
The entire continent was throwing its might at it.
And, for the first time, the God refused to assimilate.
Its body, previously perfect in its coldness, trembled with something that was not calculation.
A fluctuation…
An almost invisible sigh…
An emotion never implanted:
Annoyance.
Without moving its face, without changing its pace, it extended a hand toward the horizon.
And a single invisible, ethereal, absolute cut—formless and soundless—sliced across the plain as if the world were paper.
A thousand soldiers.
Erased.
Not killed, not annihilated.
Obliterated.
Yodaku froze. Not from fear. But because his body no longer knew what to attack.
Whatever they were facing… now responded.
Narikami gasped. His blood no longer seemed to flow, but to evaporate inside him.
His body was disintegrating.
But his sword still shone. His will still burned.
The God mimicked him.
It copied his anger.
His gestures.
His stances.
But it did not feel them.
It only learned.
It only recreated.
It was like looking into a distorted mirror. One that understood without understanding.
And that was the most terrifying of all.
---
In the distance, Reiji gritted his teeth.
"It's no longer adapting… it's interpreting."
Seimei crouched and spat blood.
Chisiki swallowed hard.
Aika shivered, all warmth drained from her.
Seita closed his eyes, trying not to let fear warp his illusions.
Enma watched in silence…
and for the first time since her confinement…
said nothing.
Kenshiro paused for two seconds.
Not from exhaustion.
But because he felt he was no longer the strongest on that field.
Shinsei, prostrated among the ruins, knew:
That being didn't need him.
Nor anyone.
---
Tsukimura, leaning against a destroyed tower, took out a small notebook.
He wrote calmly. Like a master observing his final thesis acting on its own will.
"Record: The subject has begun ignoring the need to imitate the human soul. Now it plays at being human…
but without bindings, without limits, without a soul.
Perfect."
He turned the page.
And wrote a single word:
—Silence.
---
From the sky, beyond the clouds and prayers…
An order was given.
"Target the center."
"And Hokori's soldiers?"
"They are not our soldiers."
There, at the pinnacle of technological arrogance,
the Kingdom of Kaigen deployed its secret weapon.
An artificial Tsugumono.
Designed over decades. Refined with sacrifice.
Nicknamed by its creators:
"The Sun's Lament."
A solar-temperature laser cannon.
Speed of light.
Range… beyond the visible universe.
The energy beam was so brutal
that even the sky seemed to melt for a second.
Thousands of soldiers went blind just from seeing the light.
Yodaku felt something. Narikami too.
Both stepped aside without looking back.
And then…
BOOM.
An explosion that made no sound.
Because it was faster than air itself.
All of Sainokuni collapsed.
The land split.
The ocean recoiled as if in fear.
And amidst smoke, screams, and cosmic dust…
The God remained unmoved.
Neither assimilating it.
Nor ignoring it.
It returned it.
With a subtle gesture, barely a shift of the palm, the Tsugumono was redirected with triple force.
The discharge was so violent that:
Northern Sainokuni disappeared.
Two Hokori provinces burned in seconds.
Kaigen's weapon collapsed silently.
As if the universe had erased it out of shame.
---
Kaigen's high command froze.
"How did it increase the power!?"
"Impossible!"
"It didn't even have to absorb it!"
But the God no longer experimented.
It simply decided.
---
And just when they thought it was over, it vanished.
It advanced.
It didn't walk. It didn't fly.
It simply was.
Narikami's speed.
Copied. Adapted. Surpassed.
Narikami saw it move away.
His chest tightened.
"You can't escape… not now!"
His veins burned.
His muscles trembled.
Blood from his eyes. From his ears. From his soul.
"I don't care if I cease to be human! I won't let you go!"
---
And then…
A pact.
Ketsuho: activated.
His soul sealed his humanity.
His desire became flesh.
His body became a weapon.
"If that bastard has no soul… then it cannot copy what I am."
Now he was faster. More agile.
More beast than human.
But the God did not respond.
Did not counterattack.
It only ignored.
And that hurt more than any strike.
---
Nations fell silent.
Prayers, useless.
Advances, mocked.
No one understood.
Because no one can understand one who no longer seeks understanding.
---
A deserted path,
covered in ashes of forgotten temples…
There walked the High Priest Maharen,
wrapped in his white robe torn by despair.
In front of him, standing as if awaiting this encounter for centuries,
was Hinzoku Tsukimura.
The creator of the artificial divinity.
The Creator of Nothing.
Maharen looked at him with a hint of bitter nostalgia.
"It has been a long time… my son."
Tsukimura didn't even blink.
"Son?
Do you dare call me that…
after preferring to preach to a nonexistent God…
instead of helping your own son live as a normal child?"
His voice was icy.
Each word a soft dagger.
"How hypocritical.
How human.
How fascinating…"
He took a sip of the last tea Rikuto had prepared,
with a calm that made him seem more monster than man.
"Now you understand why creating a being without a soul was the best option."
---
Maharen closed his eyes.
"You are not merely playing with religions or dogmas, Hinzoku…
You are playing with the essence of humanity.
People are a step away from ceasing to be human."
Tsukimura smiled sadly.
"And since when were we ever human?
Since when did we stop being more than empty desires,
sins wrapped in flesh?"
He looked at the opaque, indifferent sky.
"'Humans'…
What an illusory term.
A pretty excuse to deny what we really are:
a plague that believes it has a soul."
---
Maharen stepped forward slightly.
"If we are a plague, why haven't we gone extinct yet?"
Tsukimura shot him a sharp look.
"That remains to be seen."
Maharen pressed his lips.
"If you play with fire in a dry forest…
you may burn a tree.
But if you don't stop…
all nature collapses."
"If Reimei decides to attack…
it won't be war that is the problem.
Not even your artificial God.
It will be the end of human identity."
Tsukimura shrugged.
"Then act.
What are you waiting for?"
Maharen lowered his gaze.
"Why, Hinzoku…?
Why did you choose to be the Creator of Nothing…
and not the son I wished for?"
---
For the first time, Tsukimura seemed pained.
But he did not respond with tears.
He responded with serene fury.
"That is your problem…
You wanted to mold me,
criticize me, force me, correct me.
You wanted me to walk your path,
to worship your certainties.
But something inside me screamed…
—Break the cycle.
Awaken.
Create."
Maharen shook his head.
"And the only thing you awakened…
was ignorance greater than average."
Tsukimura laughed.
"Maybe.
But it was enough to create something that defies even logic.
And only a true madman is capable of that."
Maharen didn't reply.
He simply turned and walked away,
slower than when he had arrived.
Tsukimura watched him go.
"Did you think you could convince me to give you a way to defeat that thing?"
Maharen, without looking back, answered:
"Possibly.
But I realized something worse."
He paused for a moment.
"Not even you know how to defeat it."
And with a grave voice,
as if speaking for all who still prayed:
"We can no longer hope for a miracle.
Now we must pray… for reality."
---
Narikami's bones were breaking with every move. His speed was no longer human, nor his body… nor his endurance.
Each step left a crack.
Each strike a mark.
Each second… a new pain.
And yet, he did not stop.
The soldiers, captains, even generals could only watch. No one understood why that man did not fall.
But the truth was simple.
The God no longer fought him.
It did not see him as a threat. It did not reject him. It only… kept walking.
As if even the continent's most stubborn hero were merely wind against a storm.
And then it happened.
The divinity, with no mouth or soul, spoke.
A hollow voice, neutral, emotionless, without echo…
But one that tore through humanity's ears.
"Why…?"
Narikami froze.
The world froze.
A shiver ran through everyone.
The God… was awakening consciousness.
Reiji knew immediately.
Donyoku dropped his dagger.
Seimei bit his lips.
"If that being begins to understand…" Chisiki whispered, "it will not be an entity.
It will be a new system.
A new origin.
A new truth."
Narikami tried to trap it in a cage of lightning.
And for an instant, he succeeded.
But the God had already seen it.
It copied the technique.
Perfected it.
And returned it.
Narikami was trapped. His own creation… used against him.
The God did not look at him. It simply kept walking.
And meanwhile, trapped, bleeding, and breaking,
Narikami did not think of death.
He thought of the void.
"Why did I do this…?
For justice…?
To protect…?
For ego…?
For fear of being forgotten…?
Or because I cannot bear to live in a world without consciousness?"
His body fractured from within.
His soul… even more.
But with one final roar, he broke the prison with his body, leaving behind flesh, blood, and pride.
Only will remained.
The will of a human who was not chosen.
But chose to face a God.
---
Shirota Karakuri walked with his usual disdain for the world, whistling among mutilated bodies, torn banners, and prayers drowned in blood.
Everything was burning.
"So many prayers and not a single God to collect the tithe…
Must be on vacation.
Or worse, in an emergency divine meeting:
'Agenda item one: how to survive your upgraded copy.'"
He laughed alone, as if the end of the world were a private joke for his sick humor.
"Look at the idiocy of creating a being without a soul…
It's like making a knife that judges you while stabbing you."
But before he could make another absurd joke, Enma began to vomit.
Shirota turned.
"What the hell…!? Were my jokes that bad? Tell me calmly, Enma, I still have material left."
But Enma didn't answer.
Her hands trembled.
Her entire body seemed to shrink, as if existence itself weighed on her.
"Run," she whispered.
"What did you say?" Shirota frowned.
"Run, Shirota! Now!"
Enma explained nothing further. No truth, no vision, no metaphor.
Only desperation.
Shirota looked at her, bewildered.
"Since when do you act like this, huh? Weren't you the girl who laughed at death? The one who said everything was part of a cruel, inevitable cycle?"
Enma interrupted him, voice breaking:
"I saw it."
"What did you see…?"
"There is no salvation.
That God… is not a mistake. Not a simple failed experiment.
It is a new cycle.
And soon it will move."
Shirota didn't understand, but Enma continued:
"It will seek the other essences…
The divine essences.
And when it achieves them, it will no longer be an Artificial God.
It will be something more…
A Dominant.
An entity that needs neither soul, nor hate, nor love.
Only existence.
And by the mere fact of existing… it will redefine the world."
Shirota swallowed. Enma trembled.
Her gaze was that of someone who had already seen the end.
"And if that being… touches even a single Blessed Carrier,
the world will cease to be human."
Shirota didn't know much about these Blessed Carriers.
But he understood one simple thing:
"Any being with divine essence, defying the laws of the world, is…
a problem.
An anomaly.
A catastrophe with a pretty name."
And if that God contacts one of them…
humanity will have lost without even fighting.
---
It wasn't a matter of who would win the war…
but how many would still believe the world was human.
Thank you for diving into this second arc, where war is not only fought with swords, but with past wounds, irreversible choices… and souls yet to decide which side they are on.