For a fraction of a second, the world truly feels as though it has stopped.
I stand with my sword raised, the tip of my blade still directed at the point I have just cut. I feel it clearly. The strike is clean. The angle is precise. The force is neither excessive nor lacking. Every requirement of a decisive blow is fulfilled.
Yet there is no sound of a body falling.
No thud of flesh striking the ground.
No final breath escaping dying lungs.
I sense something amiss even before I turn. The instinct comes before thought. I rotate my head slightly—just enough to confirm without fully opening my stance.
He is still standing.
His body remains upright, barely swaying. The armor across his chest is split open, blood flowing through the gap in metal and cloth, yet his breathing remains steady. Far too steady for someone who should already have collapsed. The focus in his eyes—concealed behind bandages—continues to press toward me, as if pain is merely additional information, not a threat.
Then he moves.
Even before his body fully turns, his sword is already in motion.
WUSH—
I twist my torso, lower my shoulder, and raise my blade to block.
CLANG!
The impact is heavier than before. There is pure pressure behind his attack—not anger, not emotion—only function. His sword retracts abruptly, baiting my reflex.
My balance shifts forward by half an inch.
A minor mistake.
WISH—
His thin blade slices across my shoulder. Not deep. But enough for heat to spill with my blood and remind me that even the smallest distance remains lethal.
I leap backward, sliding my foot to reestablish space.
Our breaths are heavy now.
Dust swirls around our feet, following the increasingly unstable wind, as though the battlefield itself senses that something decisive is slowly taking form.
He raises his sword again.
I lower my center of gravity.
Albert's style is too frontal for someone like this. Too honest. Too direct.
It is time… for Jiza's technique.
I draw my sword slightly back, crossing it before my body. My wrist is loose, my shoulders relaxed. This stance is not meant to destroy. It is meant to read—to provoke a reaction, to allow the opponent to reveal intent before the attack is born.
The wind moves between us once more.
We advance almost simultaneously.
I see him charge from the left.
I shift before the strike exists.
I see a slash rising from below.
My body is already angled when the blade passes.
WUSH—WISH—WUSH—
The attacks come in succession—fast, efficient, lethal. Yet each one touches only air. I move between possibilities, not reactions. Every step I take is born a fraction of a second before the strike meant for me.
Dust splits beneath the arc of his sword.
I need a single moment. One opening. I will end this battle.
Then I see it.
I lower my sword slowly.
My feet align—straight, simple.
Jiza once stood like this—calm as still water before a storm—and Oliver nearly did the same.
I draw a long breath.
The entire field seems to freeze.
"Impossible," Johan murmurs.
The marshals along the horizon fall into silence.
Isabelle stops.
Her body stiffens, exposed, her sword raised halfway—this is the end.
Within a single breath, I step forward.
Not fast. Not slow.
My sword moves once.
Only once.
There is no violent clash. No explosion—SLASH—only a soft whisper through the air.
I open my eyes, standing behind her.
Isabelle's body remains upright for a moment, then slowly loses its tension.
I do not need to turn around.
This is finished.
I begin walking toward Johan. He stands motionless, his face clouded with deep gloom.
"Huft. You have completely won. I have completely lost," Johan says, exhaling heavily.
Hiro stops before him. The wind blows softly. His brows are now visible—slightly thin and short. Johan stiffens, suddenly reminded of the Mad Fighter's face.
"You are the Mad Fighter's son, aren't you?!" Johan asks.
"Hmm?" I murmur.
"Huft," Johan exhales once more. "I do not know. If you wish to kill me or do anything to me, then do it."
A faint smile forms on my lips.
"I will not end your suffering so quickly, bastard. Is not life itself already suffering? I will let you endure that suffering for the rest of your life. Should you rise again, I will come for you—and cast you down once more," I say.
I begin to turn away, raising one hand into the air.
"Disappear from the face of this earth, wretch!" Hiro says, waving his hand lightly.
---
Olivia is set free. Oliver has already been executed. The others are spared. The government collapses entirely. The truth is revealed. Victory belongs to the heroes.
---
WORLD HORIZON DAILY Special Edition — Day of Truth
THE REBELS FREED, THE WORLD FUGITIVE EXECUTED
THE GOVERNMENT HAS COMPLETELY FALLEN, THE TRUTH REVEALED — VICTORY BELONGS TO THE HEROES!
The world's horizon has finally witnessed the collapse of a regime that stood for years upon manipulation, fear, and structured deception. The central government that held power for so long has officially been declared fallen after the full extent of its secret operations was exposed to the public.
The rebels who were once branded as traitors, terrorists, and enemies of global stability have now been formally released and rehabilitated. The World Emergency Tribunal has ruled that their actions constituted resistance against inhumane practices carried out by the government.
The truth that had long been buried has finally risen to the surface.
And the world has been shaken.
---
The Rebels Are Heroes
A cross-regional investigation involving marshals from multiple nations has confirmed that the group long labeled as "rebels" had, in fact, been attempting to halt the government's systematic crimes.
The official narrative that they sought to overthrow the world order for power has been proven false.
On the contrary, they were striving to stop prohibited practices conducted in secrecy by the ruling elite.
Those practices are now confirmed as one of the gravest moral violations in modern history.
---
Raising the Dead for Political Interests
The most horrifying revelation concerns a clandestine program dedicated to the resurrection of special soldiers.
Behind closed doors, the government systematically revived the dead—not to restore their lives with dignity, but to weaponize them.
Their bodies were used.
Their wills were disregarded.
The peace of their deaths was taken from them.
Individuals who had fallen in the past—including legendary war heroes—were resurrected without consent, without voice, without rights. They were transformed into instruments designed to resolve global conflicts through absolute force.
This policy had long been justified under the pretense of global stability and international security.
The world now agrees: that path was wrong.
To commodify death for the sake of power is a violation of humanity's most fundamental boundary.
---
Execution of the World Fugitive
In a climactic event that shook the very center of power, one of the old regime's foremost symbols of strength was officially executed before authorized witnesses.
That execution marked the turning point in the collapse of the central government's structure.
Without its resurrected special forces, the regime lost its fangs.
Within days, its internal defense system crumbled. Support from satellite territories vanished. High-ranking officials were arrested or surrendered.
The world changed in a matter of days.
---
Johan: Wanted Dead or Alive
Amid the widespread exposure and upheaval, one name has become the focus of an international manhunt:
Johan
Johan has been identified as one of the principal figures behind the resurrection program of fallen soldiers. He is described as the strategic architect, the interregional liaison, and the operational controller of the clandestine missions.
His status is now official:
WORLD FUGITIVE — WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
All borders have been sealed. Regional alliances have issued a global arrest warrant. Any information regarding his whereabouts must be reported immediately.
Authorities have declared that Johan's capture is the highest priority to prevent remnants of the former network from rising again.
---
The End of a Regime, the Beginning of a New Order
With the fall of the old government, the world now enters a transitional phase. A provisional council has been formed to reconstruct the global leadership structure based on principles of transparency and accountability.
The former rebels—now recognized as heroes—are expected to participate in shaping the new system, serving as a symbol that truth ultimately triumphs over manipulation.
The sky that was once filled with propaganda now carries a single shared sentiment:
Relief.
And hope.
For the first time in a long while, the world is no longer governed by shadows.