The massive form of the Vanguard clutched the Gate of the Underworld with unyielding strength.
As the ultimate weapon of war, it instinctively understood:
Once dragged into the Underworld, both humans and gods alike would finally have the chance—to defeat it.
Even to slay it.
It was immune to all forms of physical and energy-based attacks, and its power to erode civilizations was beyond comprehension.
If it could just break free—tear apart humanity's final trump card—then it could easily devour the entire civilization of Earth.
But now, the delicate arm of the Evil of Humanity, Tiamat, held it fast.
That arm too contained the same primordial power of creation itself.
Waves of terrifying, overflowing force crashed against it without restraint.
The Vanguard could only watch helplessly as it was dragged into the Underworld.
Bwoom—
A blinding flash of pitch-black light shone, threaded with a pale, deathly glow. Countless wailing spirits seemed to scream as the massive gates slowly closed.
This tyrannical being—this celestial invader who sought to annihilate Earth—was completely dragged into the Underworld under Sanjiro's grand design.
All of it—every move, every reaction—was according to his plan.
From the moment the battle began, to the instant the Vanguard was pulled into the Underworld—barely three minutes had passed.
It was a speed so fast, it defied belief.
====
Egypt.
Inside the Great Temple.
Nitocris, both Pharaoh and priestess, stared at the screen in awe.
"Incredible… How did Nameless even form such a dream team?"
It was staggering.
First, Shikotei took the field—meeting the Vanguard's cosmic artillery head-on, shaking the entire world.
Then came his rousing speech, igniting the battle fervor of the Humankind.
The power of [Dragon of Human Order] surged to its absolute peak.
Thus, Shikotei fully unleashed the might of his EX-class Noble Phantasm, shielding the entire people.
That moment was the spark of Nameless's plan—a plan to protect every single person.
Then Mash and the Evil of Humanity Fou fought together, blocking the enemy's devastating assault.
While the Vanguard was restrained by the little shield maiden, the Chains of Heaven burst forth and bound it.
The Evil God's Apostle Abigail opened the Gate to the Underworld.
The twelve heroic spirit controlling the gundam-like gigantic construct hurled the Vanguard into the Underworld.
A being capable of planetary destruction—yet from its arrival to its downfall, it had not harmed a single soul.
Every world-ending strike it unleashed—was perfectly countered by Nameless's defenses.
Not one person was hurt.
In just a few minutes of battle, Nameless embodied everything he wished to protect—the pure will to safeguard humanity.
Ramses II clicked his tongue.
"Hmph. Nothing special."
Nitocris sighed. "My king, your jealousy is practically filling the whole temple."
Even the self-proclaimed King of Kings, the Sun King himself, couldn't help but taste lemon in the face of such glory.
"How could I envy him?" Ramses scoffed, though his voice weakened. "Do you think I'd envy someone who can gather the Evil God's Apostle, the Mother of Creation, and Grand-class hero into one team?"
His confidence faltered with each word.
"Hmph, let's see him defeat the Vanguard with his own power then!"
"…"
Nitocris chose silence. She didn't dare add fuel to the fire.
Even Gilgamesh had been reduced to a spectator in this fight.
Only that grand beauty could unite so many supreme beings.
Just then, she noticed a new figure appear behind the Sun King—an old man leaning on a greatsword, watching the screen quietly.
"You cannot," he said calmly.
Ever since the last time Ramses II lost his bet against King Hassan, the gates of the Great Temple had been engraved with the phrase:
"My home's always open. King Hassan, feel free to drop by anytime."
Even if he came every day, Nitocris wouldn't be surprised anymore.
Ramses straightened his posture slightly.
"So… are you going to grant it the concept of death again?"
Without Gaia's favor, Nameless defeating the Vanguard seemed nearly impossible.
In the Absolute Demonic Front singularity, it was King Hassan's self-sacrificing strike that granted the Evil of Humanity the concept of death.
"The child is one favored by destiny," the old man said calmly. "I have already passed on my strongest technique. He no longer needs my blade."
"He doesn't need your help?" Nitocris's brow rose.
This old man gave off the aura of a master who had long since achieved everything—now content to watch his disciples flourish.
And indeed—no one dared take him lightly.
Even entering the Great Temple freely was proof of his unmatched might.
Ramses scoffed. "Then I'll see for myself—what makes him think he can defeat the Star Vanguard!"
He still remembered his glory—his legendary clash in the Sacred Round Table, where his grave-spear duel shattered the Lion King's holy spear.
That was his brightest moment—and the last one.
Since then, all eyes had been on Nameless.
How envious...
Even a being as powerful as the Vanguard had now fallen into the Underworld.
The broadcast should have ended there—
However—the true master of the visual arts, Alaya, stepped in. She continued the broadcast, showing humanity the rest of the battle within the Underworld.
As the collective will of humanity itself—she could pierce the veil of realms and even view history across millennia.
A live stream of the Underworld?
For her, a mere trifle.
The Underworld Goddess Ereshkigal cleared her throat softly:
"Welcome, everyone, to my realm."
Her tone carried a trace of nervousness—and understandably so.
She was well aware that the entire world was watching the broadcast — every single move, every breath, every word could be seen.
But that wasn't the real reason for her unease.
What truly made her nervous… was that the Mother of Creation herself stood right beside her.
After all, it was she who once joined forces with Nameless and the King of Heroes to drive Tiamat into the Underworld, sealing her away in the Imaginary Number Space.
But this time—the powerful Evil of Humanity, Tiamat, was on their side.
When she's your enemy, she brings despair to gods and men alike. When she's your ally, she brings peace to your heart.
A child with a mother is a treasure indeed.
Even before the terrifying Vanguard, there was no fear in her.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
As the Vanguard was dragged deep into the Underworld, countless bolts of lightning rained down upon it like divine judgment.
This was the Underworld's automatic defense system—any intruder that dared to trespass would be struck without mercy.
Each bolt of lightning carried power on par with Ishtar's full-strength strike.
Thousands of bolts crashed against the Vanguard's body—but just like before, when it faced the Mother of Creation, it remained completely unscathed.
The red eyes of the Vanguard glowed coldly as it surveyed the surroundings.
"Drag me into the Underworld? I am the final weapon of civilization's destruction — forged to fight on any battlefield. Be it the Underworld or the face of the sun, I shall never cease to fight!"
Its flawless bronze skin gleamed with unnatural resilience—harder than any material on Earth.
Not even the heat of the sun could scorch it, nor could the absolute cold of Pluto slow its movements.
Whether in burning heat, frozen wastelands, hell, heaven, or even the Imaginary Number Space—its form was made to survive all.
That was why it was called the Enemy of Civilization Itself.
Nameless smiled faintly.
"Dragging you into the Underworld was only to avoid harming innocent lives."
If they fought on the surface—not even Shikotei's defenses could shield everyone perfectly.
After all, this was no mere divine conflict—this was a clash between Human Evil and the Destroyer of Civilizations.
One careless exchange could sink continents, killing millions—perhaps tens of millions.
And every life lost would be fuel for the enemy, energy it would devour to grow ever stronger.
It would fight, feed, and evolve endlessly—until the day it could destroy the planet itself, and detonate with enough power to annihilate the world.
Nameless's calm voice cut through the chaos.
"En, fall back for now."
Clatter—
The Chains of Heaven released her hold and swiftly withdrew.
Even strengthened by Tiamat's immense power, Enkidu could not restrain the Vanguard for long.
This was, after all, a true civilization-killer. Any longer, and it would've ripped through the chains by brute force.
Enkidu, drained of all strength, dissolved back into a golden belt and wrapped herself around Nameless's waist—slipping into deep slumber, unable to continue.
But it was enough.
The rest of this battle would not require her aid.
"Hmph. Then let me show you true destruction—and devour the civilization of this planet!"
The Vanguard lifted its Photon Ray, and seven-colored light burst forth from the blade—illuminating the grey, lifeless Underworld in dreamlike brilliance.
Under that radiant yet deadly glow, Mash and Fou immediately stepped forward, raising their shields to protect Nameless.
But before they could, a golden vortex appeared in front of them—and from it, Gilgamesh drew forth a spinning, blood-red sword.
The strongest of all Noble Phantasms—Ea, the Sword of Rupture.
"Vanguard!" Gilgamesh's voice thundered through the realm. "I bear no hatred toward you. You are the enemy of civilization itself—a wall that seeks to halt our march toward infinity."
He raised his sword upward.
"From the moment humanity was born, we've fought tooth and nail through despair to find hope. No one—no god, no weapon—will ever truly defeat us!"
The blade pulsed with blood-red light—and at that moment, the Mother of Creation reached out and touched his shoulder.
A torrent of immense magical energy flooded into him like a tidal wave.
"Too much! It's overflowing—!" Gilgamesh gasped, his composure cracking.
The endless magic, flowing faster than the Holy Grail itself, surged through his body—enough to unleash Ea's full destructive might without draining him dry.
From the end of the Age of Gods in Uruk to his manifestation as a Heroic Spirit—he had never fought with this much power at his command.
Having a mother was truly… a blessing.
Tiamat wasn't just a living mana battery—she enhanced everyone around her, restoring magic, health, and strength, a walking fountain of life itself.
Under her divine empowerment, Gilgamesh roared and unleashed the Sword of Rupture—
"I shall perform this final blow as a parting gift to you! I will tell you of the beginning!"
"Heaven and Earth split, nothingness praised creation, my Sword of Rupture cleaved the world!"
"Mortar of the stars, heaven's hell is the eve of creation's celebration!"
"Let your death bring peace to all!" he cried.
[Enuma Elish: The Star of Creation that Split Heaven and Earth!]
A crimson beam erupted from Ea, illuminating the entire Underworld.
Its world-rending edge clashed violently with the Photon Ray.
The space around them groaned—cracks spreading through the Underworld like shattered glass.
Fragments of the realm broke away, exposing the chaotic Imaginary Space beneath.
A raging flood of energy surged outward, consuming all in its path.
Mash stood firm, raising her shield high.
"Manifest—!"
[Lord Camelot — Castle of Distant Ideals!]
The shining walls of Camelot rose, encasing them in radiant protection—holding back the cataclysmic storm.
At the same time—
Ereshkigal shouted,
"A vast sea in the heavens and a prison upon the land... My heel is the wrath of Kur itself!"
The ground trembled, mountains of obsidian rising to form the Fortress of Kur, a secondary layer of protection around Camelot's barrier.
She thrust her staff into the ground.
"Appear, O scorching shrine!"
[Kur Kigal Irkalla: The Bellows of Kur that Tramples upon Ekur!]
Two barriers now—layer upon layer of divine defense.
As mistress of the Underworld, her power here rivaled even Mash's.
Lest we forget—it was Ereshkigal who once stood against Tiamat's NegaGenesis during the great singularity.
And within these twin shields—Nameless finally moved.
Behind him, a massive forge materialized—like a volcano erupting with molten fire, spilling rivers of light and heat.
Once more, he became the blacksmith of another timeline—standing before the forge, ready to craft.
But this time, it wasn't divine blessings he melted, nor was it to forge a god-slaying weapon.
He was melting concepts—the very essence of the Heroic Spirits' Noble Phantasms—to create a sword worthy of humanity itself: the Holy Sword of the Stars.
He sought neither gods, nor heavens, nor faith.
Only the brilliance of human civilization—a blade forged to stand against the destroyer of all worlds.
Hum—
In his hand appeared a blank Summoning Card, glowing faintly.
But this time, it wasn't to summon another version of himself—it was to connect with every Heroic Spirit.
"I, protector of human civilization, call upon all Heroic Spirits—warriors, kings, saints, and sinners alike!"
"Across the flow of time, through life and death, I call upon your undying resolve!"
He raised the card high.
"Please, answer my call—and fight beside me!"
"Lend me your blades, your shields, your dreams—and let our will become the fire that defies the end!"
It was almost identical to that vow beneath the falling snow long ago.
But this time—he wasn't alone.
He no longer had to face the darkness by himself.
As the summoning began, Alaya transmitted the call across time and space—to every Heroic Spirit in humanity's history.
And the first to answer the call—was none other than the King of Heroes.
Gilgamesh let out a hearty laugh.
"Since it's a request from my dearest friend—this king shall lend you his strength!"
Without hesitation, he burned his own Saint Graph's and forged a conceptual projection of Ea, placing it gently before Nameless.
The projection of a weapon's concept was essentially a blueprint, allowing Nameless to analyze and reconstruct it completely from origin to end.
Once fully deciphered, he could replicate it using projection magecraft—a copy nearly indistinguishable from the true original.
Within the realm of his Reality Marble: Unlimited Blade Works, even the replica could temporarily surpass the genuine article.
A true faker indeed.
And now—before Nameless lay the conceptual projection of Ea, the Sword of Rupture.
It carried the concept of "rending the world itself."
It was said to be the very weapon that once cleaved the heavens and the earth apart—a blade as primal as the axe that split creation itself.
And that wasn't all.
With the full authority of Gate of Babylon supporting it, its power could be magnified beyond all measure.
Golden ripples bloomed behind Gilgamesh.
"I'll even grant you access to the Gate of Babylon itself—use its treasures as you see fit!"
The Gate of Babylon—his pride, his ultimate symbol.
Within it rested the infinite treasures of mankind—objects of envy for heroes and gods alike.
Yet at this moment—a single call from Nameless was enough for the proud King of Heroes to lend everything without hesitation.
Watching this, the livestream chat exploded—
ConstipatedProcrastinator-[Holy crap, the King of Heroes actually being a tsundere again!]
BoobVenerate-[LMAO—forget giving him treasure concepts; if Nameless asked, he'd probably genderbent himself for him!]
AlmightyMiddleFinger-[The artist's drawing it already, stop rushing!]
BobUchiha-[Aaaa I need a genderbent Gilgamesh version NOW—my friend's asking if there's fanart!]
EXRankDegenerate-[I am that friend! Please send it to me!!]
BobUchiha-[...Dude, it was for me!!]
After the King of Heroes, Artoria, too, responded without hesitation.
"In the name of King Arthur, I answer your call! The entire Round Table shall stand beside you!"
The holy sword she once wielded had already been entrusted to Nameless by her own hand.
Now, upon receiving Alaya's transmission, she sent forth the concept of the Holy Lance as well.
And not just her—one by one, the Knights of the Round Table offered up their treasures.
"Allow me to aid you too!" declared Gawain, the radiant Knight of the Sun. He wasted no time in sending over the conceptual structure of his holy sword.
"I'm in! Damn it, I wish I could fight with you myself!" Mordred grumbled, reluctantly offering her own Noble Phantasm's concept.
She truly wanted to fight alongside him—but against a foe capable of ending civilizations, even her power wasn't enough.
She could only stand aside and watch.
Gawain shot her a wary glance.
"Wait—her sword's really safe to hand over?"
After all, her Noble Phantasm, "Clarent Blood Arthur—The Beautiful Rebellion Against My Father," was a genuine dad-slaying sword.
And considering that Nameless could, in a conceptual sense, be seen as her father figure… offering him a father-killing sword was—well, quite the filial gesture.
One after another, the Round Table knights responded to the call—Bedivere, Tristan, Agravain, and more.
The conceptual essence of their Noble Phantasms was transmitted by Alaya straight to Nameless.
At the same time, Shikotei also sent forth the concept of the Heavenly Sword of the Son of Heaven.
This was the sword he had forged alongside Nameless himself—one side representing mountains and rivers, the other the unity of the realm.
The heroic spirits of his empire followed immediately, responding to the call.
Chin Kyu stepped forward without hesitation.
"Take this, Nameless! The concept of my Array! Use it to strengthen yourself!"
Unable to personally assist in the field was his greatest regret—for a strategist like him, direct combat wasn't an option.
Meanwhile, in Academy City—within the Chancellor's office, Tamamo-no-Mae felt the pulse of Alaya's connection, her expression twisting in uncertainty.
"Should we… even help him?" she murmured.
After all, in the Lostbelt No. 3, she had been his enemy—stripped of her solar divinity by a single arrow, utterly defeated, branded "the weakest of the Human Evils."
Helping him now would be quite the humiliation.
"Of course we should!" declared Merry, utterly righteous. "This is the perfect chance to redeem ourselves! We must give our all!"
For once, the ever-playful magus sounded genuinely determined—finally seeking to wash away the title of 'the Shameless Magus.'
She transferred her Noble Phantasm's concept and a portion of her illusionary magic to Nameless.
All across the Underworld, flowers began to bloom once more—just like they had in the singularity of ages past.
An endless field of phantom blossoms covered the realm of death,
turning despair into beauty.
Ereshkigal looked on in wonder, joy lighting up her face.
"…Fine, I'll help too," Tamamo finally sighed.
Ever since the Lostbelt aired, her once-adoring students had looked at her with thinly veiled mockery.
If anything, she needed this to reclaim her dignity as the proud nine-tailed fox.
So, without reservation, she unleashed her divine power of the sun—Amaterasu's Flame—pouring endless solar fire into the forge behind Nameless.
The blazing inferno roared higher and brighter, fueled by true sunlight—the ultimate flame for forging a transcendent weapon capable of defying the Star Vanguard.
And, of course, Tamamo made sure everyone noticed her efforts—as if to say: "See? Totally harmless fox here!"
Though deep down, her thoughts were much darker:
"I just want to steal Nameless away, lock him in my basement, and make enough kitsune babies for a soccer team…"
Under Alaya's coordination, heroic spirits from across Earth answered the call.
Concepts of their treasures poured in—Ea, Excalibur, the Heavenly Sword, Gáe Bolg, the Twelve Labors—a grand exhibition of legends across every age.
It eclipsed even the Gate of Babylon itself—a divine Museum of Noble Phantasms.
Viewers across the globe lost their minds:
PostNutRealityMarble-[This is insane—so many Noble Phantasms at once! Absolute peak hype!]
AlayaRiggedThisShit-[No one but Nameless could ever unite this many heroic spirits!]
LegallyRetarded-[Every single one of them—the shining miracles of humanity—all gathered before him!]
GoatedBalls-[This is beyond epic! The Great Noble Phantasm Expo! I'm looping this after the battle ends!]
And indeed, as the people said—
Only Nameless, the silent guardian of human history, could earn the trust of so many heroes.
From every age, every nation, every legend—they had all come together as one.
It was a miracle beyond repetition.
The forge behind him roared with ever-brighter flame.
It was the fire of countless homes.
The flame of humanity's will.
The blaze of civilization itself.
If the Vanguard sought to devour and erase civilization—then Nameless would use civilization as fuel, forging the Holy Sword of the Stars to oppose it.
No blessing from Gaia or Alaya.
No divine power.
Only the pure strength of humankind—against the destroyer of their own creation.
"It's useless!" the Vanguard spat coldly. "Your civilization is but my food. You cannot defy me! Before my power of extinction, you will despair—watching your own world crumble before your eyes!"
To it, every civilization was livestock.
Shepherded, cultivated, consumed.
"How would you know what we can't do?" Nameless answered calmly.
Around him, countless runes flared to life— his Reality Marble: Unlimited Blade Works expanded once again.
But this time—he didn't wrap himself within it.
Instead, he turned it into a vast, blazing forge.
And as the chant began, his voice echoed like a hammer striking steel—
"Men grow old! Flesh decays, and the soul too will rot!"
"Evil will return again and again, like weeds that choke the sun—but so will we, the ones who dare to cut it down!"
"What now? Swing the hammer — with every strike, forge into the iron your belief that all life can still be saved!"
"What now? Breathe into the bellows — let each breath ignite the hope you once thought was lost!"
"What now? Quench with your own hands — let the searing pain remind you that you are still alive, still human!"
"This body was made to forge swords. If I must burn away to cinders, then let my ashes become the embers of tomorrow! If my name must vanish from the world, then let my will be remembered in every blade yet to be raised!"
From every era, every nation, every legend — the concepts of countless Noble Phantasms began to converge.
A power beyond limit, one that could tear apart all creation, destroy all things, and yet carry infinite hope, slowly took shape before him.
"Give up. I won't let you finish," the Vanguard growled coldly.
As the ultimate weapon of war, it was not one to idly watch its enemy complete his work.
Sensing the slightest trace of threat, it raised its Photon Ray without hesitation.
The blade in its hand unleashed its full, divine might.
Its voice thundered across the underworld.
"In my name—be destroyed!"
[Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God!]
At last, its true power was revealed.
When fully unsealed, a sun rose within the depths of the Underworld, its radiance piercing the endless darkness.
All forces of destruction gathered into one beam—a pillar of light that could evaporate, shatter, and annihilate everything.
It descended from the heavens of the dead, a torrent of apocalyptic brilliance aimed straight at the forging hero.
Ereshkigal gasped.
"We can't stop that!"
The beam carried enough energy to destroy an entire world.
Once the Vanguard devoured civilization, it would gain the power to extinguish the Earth itself—its light could pierce through the planet and ignite its very core.
Even the goddess of the Underworld knew she could not withstand it.
Mash's pale face trembled, yet her eyes were firm. "Fou… I'm sorry. I have to protect Senpai this time. You can still run."
She raised her shield for a final bid of defense.
So long as her will endured, no attack could break it.
As long as she stood, her senior would not fall.
Yet the small white beast only brushed her cheek softly.
"Fou… fou! (I'm the Beast of Comparison — as long as we fight together, we can never lose!)"
Even facing certain death, the young, incomplete Human Evil refused to retreat.
Gilgamesh looked up at the falling sun of destruction, murmuring, "As expected of the enemy of civilization itself… even I could not endure that light."
The Sword of Rupture held the power to cleave Heaven and Earth — yet no one could fully unleash it.
Not even the Evils of Humanity.
For doing so would bring the combined wrath of both Counter Forces upon them — a suicidal attack that doomed even gods.
Still… they had to stand firm.
If Sanjiro fell here, all hope for humanity would be lost.
The Vanguard would devour civilization unchecked, and this planet would vanish.
Then — at that very moment —
A vast black-and-white barrier blossomed overhead.
It drained the world of all color, turning everything into an ink painting of deathly stillness.
It was the ultimate power of Tiamat — NegaGenesis.
A conceptual barrier that overturned creation, evolution, and every prophecy of the world's birth.
It could expand endlessly until it devoured the Earth itself.
But this time, Tiamat herself controlled it — solidifying it into a vast divine shield above them all.
The beam of planetary destruction struck the barrier of inverted creation head-on.
Light met darkness.
The cataclysmic pillar was swallowed by black-and-white ink — and began to erode the barrier in turn.
A collision beyond comprehension erupted in silence.
Before creation itself — there was no sound, no time, no space.
Only Genesis and Ruin.
The beam that could destroy worlds was stopped — by Humanity's own Evil.
All felt their hearts ease.
For now, tragedy had been averted.
The Vanguard frowned slightly.
"You… forsaken mother of creation. Why protect the humans who abandoned you?"
Tiamat's answer was soft — almost a lullaby.
"Aaaaa… (Because they are my children.)"
The same words she spoke millennia ago.
Four thousand six hundred years had passed, yet her answer never changed.
One simple sentence — and yet it moved countless hearts to tears.
Only a true mother could protect her children without hesitation.
Meanwhile—
Under her protection, Nameless's forging was complete.
The concepts of countless Noble Phantasms converged into the holy sword in his hands.
Nameless spoke softly, voice resonating with the forge's dying echoes:
"I forged this blade from the essence of a thousand treasures, fueled by the flame of human civilization. To reach this moment is the culmination of all. To reveal it is the wish of all things. To gather it is the denial of all fate—This is… Humanity's Sword of the Star!"
If the planet refused to bless mankind, then mankind would carve its own path through despair.
With the light of civilization itself — humanity would become its own salvation.
He called forth the sum of all human brilliance, pouring it into his sword.
The Humanity's Sword of the Star — a weapon born not from Gaia's grace, but from humanity's burning will to live.
The Vanguard's eyes widened.
"What!? You forged a Sword of the Star—equal to Gaia's own!?"
It was beyond comprehension.
Humans were but parasites upon the planet. They were never meant to shake the will of the world itself.
Yet now — the smallest of creatures had created something that rivaled the will of the planet.
He had no access to Gaia's power — so he invoked the might of human civilization.
Denied the planet's blessing — he instead kindled hope's eternal flame, and forged from it a flower of infinite futures.
For the first time, the Vanguard felt fear.
An utterly foreign concept for it—it was little, but it was there.
"Impossible! The Sword of the Star is the distilled wish of all life to survive — the planet's ultimate shield!"
Nameless's voice was calm.
"And now, as the guardian of humanity, I bestow upon it new hope."
Whenever extinction loomed, Gaia would grant its favor to one hero — a Sword Bearer to defend the world.
But even without Gaia's blessing, he would forge his own authority to protect it.
After all—
He had once defeated both Beast's of Solomon and Gaia itself.
The final battle began.
Tiamat placed her hand upon his head, whispering:
"Aaaaa… (In the name of the Mother of Creation, I grant you the right to save this world.)"
Her EX-ranked divine treasure unleashed its power—
[Nammu Duranki: O' Child, Abide the Laws of Creation.]
As the Primordial Mother, she was Earth's very foundation — the embodiment of life's origin.
In this moment, she was Gaia itself.
Under her blessing, Nameless's strength surged—his form approaching the strongest form of his peak.
"The long night may never end," he said, raising the sword to the Vanguard, "but there will always be those who burn themselves as torches—to light the sky, ignite hope, and guide the lost home."
Upon his blade flickered countless phantoms—
Heroes.
Ordinary humans.
The warm lights of peaceful homes.
This sword was their collective dream — scarred yet sacred, carried by every soul that fought and fell for humanity's future.
It embodied hope itself—etched forever in the hearts of all.
The Vanguard sneered.
"Futile sentiment. You can't defeat me. Humanity is nothing."
It had awoken from endless slumber for one purpose — to destroy this planet.
And every civilization upon it would be its feast.
The Vanguard once again raised its divine weapon— and the light of annihilation roared into being.
[Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God!]
This time, she would crush them completely.
Before that blinding brilliance—the light that could erase civilizations—
Nameless's voice thundered back, defiant and resolute:
"Because we are human! All our helplessness, fear, and despair—those are the disasters we were born to fight!"
"We are born, we grow, we chase dreams and futures, and we create radiant cultures!"
"That is the flame of our civilization!"
"Even if you are the enemy of all that lives, you cannot take it from us—you cannot extinguish it!"
The holy sword in his hand blazed like a newborn sun—a fire made from every story, every struggle, every life that ever lived.
Heroes and common people alike stood beside him, their spirits united in the brilliance of the blade.
"The song of humanity—is the song of courage!"
Nameless swung his sword in a blazing arc.
"Even when the storm of destruction bears down upon us—we will raise our blades and face it without fear!"
"With this fire—I cut through all that cannot be cut!"
The radiant flame of civilization burst forth—a blade of pure, indomitable light.
The column of annihilation was cleaved apart, shattered outright by the stroke.
The sword's light did not fade—it surged upward, soaring into the heavens.
The Vanguard's body, once thought invincible, was split open like fragile paper—its colossal form, thousands of meters tall, torn asunder by a single strike of that blazing sword.