It stood motionless for a brief moment too quiet, too still. The Second Rookie Puppet towered above the broken battlefield of bodies and blood, its horns brushing against the stone ceiling of the underground base. The void where its face should have been remained unchanged. Featureless. Soulless.
Then it moved.
With a sound like cracking worlds, the creature lurched forward, its massive foot slamming down, shaking the entire chamber. Rubble fell from above. People screamed, some ran, others couldn't move at all frozen not by magic, but pure terror.
Angus stood with his legs trembling, his left eye useless, leaking blood down his jaw. His grip on the longsword tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"I won't… let this happen."
He moved.
Charging with a warrior's cry, sword raised above his head, Angus sprinted at the beast with everything he had. He struck once twice again and again. The blade sang with each swing, slashing into the Puppet's obsidian hide.
And then… it happened.
The monster shuddered, but not in pain.
Its body rippled.
And grew.
Every strike, every attempt to wound it? It. only. made. it. larger. Stronger.
Its arms, already massive, thickened. The void pulsing in its face deepened. Its form distorted the air, like a sickness in reality.
Angus staggered back, sweat mingling with blood, breathing ragged.
"What…?"
The creature moved like a blur.
One swipe.
Angus was thrown like a ragdoll.
He crashed into a stone wall, the impact shaking the foundation. His sword clattered across the ground, far out of reach.
Bones shattered. He gasped, coughing blood, unable to stand.
Still, he reached out. Crawling. Shaking.
"I can still… fight. I can still—"
A colossal foot slammed into the ground inches from his head. The monster stood over him, void face staring down at its broken prey.
He didn't know if it could think. If it felt anything. But Angus felt something.
Failure.
The pain didn't matter. Not really.
What mattered was that he couldn't live up to it the legend he had based his whole life around.
That hero who had saved his family from the Stoor Worm. Who had stood tall, blade flashing in the sunlight. Who had died for others.
Angus wanted to be just like him. But now, bleeding into the ground, broken and powerless, he realized the truth.
He wasn't a hero.
He never was.
And the worst part Nightmare Zero wasn't even fighting.
She watched.
Hidden among the shadows of collapsed structures and shattered pillars, Yara crouched silently, completely still.
Not a word left her lips. Not a single sound.
She observed everything.
How the monster twisted with each hit. How it absorbed violence. How it thrived on it.
Every act of aggression every desperate attempt to harm it only fed its growth.
A trap.
A punishment for those who thought brute strength could overcome everything.
Her dark black eyes narrowed.
She remained hidden. Not out of fear. But calculation.
The air around her reeked of ash and burning nerves. The screams in the distance blurred into white noise.
And in that chaos, something surfaced.. unbidden.
Memories.
Flash.
A face. Laughing. Inside a mech
"Don't worry, Yara. I'll blow up anything in our way with my tech and mech!"
Flash.
Another one. Quiet. Stern. A hand on her shoulder.
"We've got your back. Always."
Flash.
A battlefield.
Smoke.
Silhouettes of allies her comrades collapsing one by one.
Screaming her name.
All of them, from different mangas, different manhwas, everything..
All of them… dead.
Because everything combined.
Worlds. Memories. Realities.
All forced together.
And she was the constant.
The one who never died.
The one who had to keep watching.
Yara blinked. The moment passed.
She exhaled silently, slow and measured. Her heartbeat never rose.
Those memories haunting, but familiarity could not break her anymore.
She would feel them. But she would not be moved.
Not now.
Especially not by this thing.
The monster howled.
A soundless shriek echoed through the underground chamber. Pressure erupted from its form like gravity collapsing inward. Magicians nearby who had only just begun to recover were dragged into the ground, the nullification field warping their very existence.
Magic failed. Talents failed. Hope failed.
But not Yara.
Still she watched. Still she remained in the dark.
Waiting.
Thinking.
She saw how its arms moved not wild swings, but calculated. Purposeful. A pattern. Its structure wasn't mindless it was controlled.
By something.
Or someone.
Far away.
Beyond that crumbling hell, the Narrator leaned back in their velvet chair, eyes watching the screen with visible amusement.
Zephyra remained curled in their lap, asleep.
The Narrator's smile widened.
"So she's not rushing in. Good girl."
A finger ran through the girl's hair, slow and deliberate.
"She understands it now. This isn't just a battle. This is a lesson."
Fingers snapped.
"...I'm glad I was right putting her in this fictional world."
The screen zoomed. Closer. Onto Yara's eyes.
Those quiet, deadly eyes.
Back in the base, Angus groaned, forcing his body upright. His bones screamed. But his heart screamed louder.
He had to fight.
He couldn't just watch.
Even if he was broken.
Even if it would kill him.
He staggered toward his sword, fingertips grazing the hilt.
The monster turned again.
Angus braced.
But the creature didn't strike.
It didn't need to.
Because with every second it was alive, it consumed more of the world.
Like a virus.
Like a void.
It didn't want to kill. It wanted to erase.
And there, in the back, still untouched, still silent…
Yara moved.
Just slightly.
A shift in her stance. A glint in her eye.
She wasn't ready to strike.
But she was getting close.
Observing everything. The angles. The timing.
She didn't need to be a hero.
She didn't want to be one.
Heroes died.
She remained.
Unshaken.
And as the monster continued to grow…
As its darkness twisted the very shape of the world around it…
Nightmare Zero calculated.
Measured.
Prepared.
Because she had seen this before.
A different enemy. A different war.
But the same principle.
No emotion. No rage.
Only precision.
The battle wasn't won with strength.
It was won with understanding.
And Yara understood one thing above all else.
If it grows when struck…
Then the only path forward…
Was to never strike at all.
Not directly.
Not yet.
Not until it was ready to fall apart on its own.
And when that moment came..
She would not hesitate.
Not for the whispers.
Not for Angus.
Not even for the past.
Because the only thing left that mattered…
Was the end.
And Nightmare Zero always saw the end.
Even when no one else could.
The base continued to shake with each step of the creature. The monster's void-like face pulsed with nothingness, emitting a pressure that warped the air. Pieces of the ceiling dropped in chunks, flickering lights above swinging from the intensity of its presence.
Nightmare Zero, Yara, stayed hidden in the fractured edge of a broken platform, her body perfectly still. She didn't even flinch when the wall beside her cracked from the monster's aura alone. Her eyes narrowed, scanning its every move, her hand still on her gun's holster but not drawn. Not yet.
Her heart was calm. Her breathing steady.
Wait. Wait.
She HAD to wait.
Then, a voice. A scream small, high-pitched, terrified.
A child.
Yara's head snapped in the direction of the noise. Just outside the chaos zone, near the broken vending stalls of the base's common area, a little girl stood frozen. No more than eight or nine, her dark gray dress torn at the hem, with long pale legs shaking under her kneesocks. Her face was soft, fragile, with wide eyes like reflective amber glass. Her white hair was tied into two uneven twin braids, streaked with pink ribbons. Her hands clutched a half-burned stuffed fox, one ear missing.
She didn't scream anymore. Just stood there. Staring at the beast approaching her, lips trembling.
No one else had noticed her. No one else could move.
Yara's eye twitched.
The monster turned.
It didn't see her. It couldn't. It had noeyes.
But it felt her. Like prey.
It moved.
No slow build-up. No dramatic leap. It lunged a mountain of cursed muscle and magic nullification descending like the collapse of a planet.
Yara bit her tongue.
No. This wasn't the time.
She had to wait. She had to wait. The monster would grow stronger if she struck.
But the girl-
The others-
They'd DIE
Her fingers trembled. Just slightly.
Then her instincts kicked in.
Two swift shots rang through the base.
Bang. Bang.
The bullets screamed through the air, crashing into the monster's shoulder, creating a concussive crack that sent it staggering sideways. Not because it felt pain
But because it didn't know where the shots had come from. It had no eyes. No face. Only void.
It couldn't detect intention only motion. Sound.
Yara dropped from the ledge like a shadow, landing hard behind the girl. She scooped her up in one arm without a word and twisted around, blasting the ground behind her with a tiny shaped charge. Smoke erupted.
"Go! MOVE!" She barked finally breaking her silence as she kicked through the debris toward the remaining survivors.
The side characters three spellcasters, a mechanic, and an injured commander turned just in time to see her silhouette emerge from the smoke with the girl tucked under her arm. For a moment, the image burned into their minds dark cloak, glowing red eye, and that expressionless stare.
It was her.
Nightmare Zero.
And she was saving them.
The magician woman with burned hands was the first to move, dragging another to his feet. The others followed. Confusion, fear, awe all in a single breath.
Yara tossed the girl to the mechanic with careful strength.
"Take her. Go down tunnel D-17. Don't stop. Don't speak."
He nodded in shock. "Wh-What about—?"
Yara was already gone, vanishing into the smoke again.
And then the monster turned, confused, swinging one of its massive arms blindly into a pillar, crushing it instantly.
Angus coughed blood into his arm as he stood barely. His vision blurred, ribs broken, leg probably fractured. But he still stood. He had nothing left. No magic. No enhancements. Just his sword and his will.
He charged again.
Steel met void.
The sound echoed louder than thunder.
The creature swiped. Angus dodged by the skin of his teeth, dragging his blade across its leg, watching as it grew again fatter, stronger.
Still, he didn't stop.
He moved like a storm. His body was battered, but his form remained precise trained. His footwork was still correct. His grip, flawless. His stances were clean, even when limping.
From the sidelines, survivors huddled behind collapsed shelters, bleeding, drained.
"He's still fighting…" one of them whispered.
"He's not even a magician. How is he not dead yet?"
"He shouldn't even try to be a main character like everyone else in their world.. there's no protagonists in this hell world.. there's no.. Hope."
They watched him with pity yes. But beneath it, a strange admiration. He fought knowing it was hopeless. Not because he believed he could win… but because someone had to keep the thing distracted.
A distraction Yara had just used to save their lives.
He roared again, his voice raw, more pain than defiance.
Another hit.
Another growth.
The monster no longer cared for him. It turned toward the tunnel the girl and survivors had escaped to. That's when Yara struck again.
A flashbang grenade landed on its neck.
A sharp detonation. Lightless, but full of pressure. The creature staggered sideways, one massive claw crashing through stone as it thrashed.
Yara reappeared behind it for a second only a second before darting into the shadows again.
She wasn't fighting to win. Not yet.
She was guiding it. Herding it. Buying time.
Every move was planned. Calculated.
And still, Angus remained standing.
As if refusing to let himself be less than what the hero who saved his family had once been.
Even if it killed him.
Even if he'd never be remembered.
He had to try.
---
End of Chapter seventeenth.