Chapter 64: Walpurgisnacht
Upon the ruins.
After a brief period of confusion, shock, and doubt, the resurrected had been overwhelmed by a tidal wave of joy and hope at being reunited. Conan's wish had absorbed all their negative emotions and the distortions born from them. The shroud of despair was seemingly wiped away by an invisible hand, and tears of reunion washed away the painful memories of what had just transpired.
They held each other tightly, confirming the other's existence, shouting each other's names. They celebrated this unbelievable miracle. A profound sense of relief after surviving a catastrophe filled the very ruins that had, moments ago, been a landscape of death.
Ran clung to her father, her tears soaking the front of his jacket. The warmth of his embrace was so real it almost made her forget the nightmare she had endured. But from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but glance at the small figure standing not far away.
Conan. Or rather, Shinichi.
He wasn't taking part in the carnival of reunion. He was just standing there silently, wearing a strange outfit and a small detective's hat. What is that?
Wait.
Ran's heart sank. She saw it. The gem on his clothes.
It was a Soul Gem.
It was fundamentally the same as the one she, her father, and all the other Magical Girls once had. But it also seemed… more powerful, and more… ominous.
In an instant, everything connected. Their resurrection. His bizarre outfit. The gem radiating immense power. And his eyes—so empty they no longer seemed human.
This wasn't an illusion. It wasn't a miracle.
It was a wish.
Did Shinichi… make a wish to Kyubey? What did he wish for? To bring us all back?
Ran's body began to tremble. The joy she had felt just moments ago cooled rapidly. She remembered the despair and self-mockery she had felt in the Labyrinth upon learning the truth. She remembered her own resolve to die as she rushed back in. And he, after she had died, had chosen to fix everything in this way?
Was it for atonement? Or…
An indescribable emotion welled up inside her. She opened her mouth, wanting to call his name, to ask him what was going on.
But just then—
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!
The long, soul-tearing blast of a horn sounded from the heavens, heralding the end of the world. Its sheer volume instantly drowned out all the weeping and laughter, shaking the very earth.
Across the skies of Tokyo, and indeed the entire world, countless Witches—the twisted domains festering within the real world—responded to the call of Conan's wish. They began to writhe and expand, attracting and merging with one another.
The sky was no longer the sky. It was a giant canvas, smeared, torn, and kneaded by countless foul colors. The grotesque landscapes representing different forms of despair converged into an indescribable, chaotic flood. Burning city ruins, twisted fairytale forests, cold laboratories, endless spiral staircases, mountains of case files—all of it fused together.
Countless Witches, whether they had once held a small wish or carried a heavy curse, now had their residual wills, powers, and resentments forcibly combined. They let out a chaotic yet harmonious chorus of wails and shrieks as they surged toward the very center of Tokyo—toward the most powerful Magical Girl.
They sought to achieve unification with him. To become one with him.
The earth groaned and cracked. The remaining buildings collapsed like blocks. The sky was torn completely asunder, revealing a deep and maddening void that did not belong to this dimension.
A colossal energy vortex slowly formed over Tokyo, blotting out the sky, seeming to possess a life of its own. It spun, devouring all light, radiating an aura of despair so pure and concentrated that it made every living creature tremble to their very soul, suffocating them.
At the core of the vortex, the darkness was thick and viscous, yet it shimmered with a kaleidoscope of bizarre colors and symbols representing the different Witches. Spinning gears, broken hearts, burning books, wilting flowers, shattered swords… countless emblems of broken hopes and eternal curses churned within it, colliding and screaming.
It had no fixed form. It was the sum of all despair, the collection of all tragedies.
It was calamity itself.
Walpurgisnacht.
Brought into existence by the dark and twisted portion of Conan's wish, it had arrived. It was waiting for Conan's own Witchification. Waiting to merge with him.
The terrifying pressure and energy level emanating from this conglomeration of disasters was far beyond human comprehension. The "Double Despair Corridor" of Kogoro and Ran was like a speck of dust in its presence.
"Wh-what is that monster?!" Dr. Agasa's face was ashen as he collapsed to the ground.
"Dear God…" Inspector Megure gasped, not even noticing as his police cap fell from his head.
Everyone who had just been immersed in the joy of reunion was now completely mesmerized by the mythological, apocalyptic scene. The flame of hope was snuffed out in an instant, and they were drowned once more in a boundless terror. In the shadow of this world-ending event, all struggle seemed pale and futile.
Conan looked up at the slowly rotating Walpurgisnacht. His small figure seemed insignificant before the massive spectacle of doom. But in his empty eyes, there was no fear.
The corruption of his Soul Gem was already more than halfway complete, and it continued to spread with each passing moment. He was out of time.
Since he couldn't destroy himself, he had to act before his mind was completely twisted, before he fully transformed into a Witch. He had to eliminate every other potential threat to Ran and the others. That included this congregation of Witches waiting to unify with him. And it included the mastermind who had been pulling the strings from behind the scenes all along: Karasuma Renya.
This was his final battle, in the name of Magical Girl Shinichi Kudo.
Conan took a deep breath. His deep blue Soul Gem erupted with an unprecedented light, but at the edges of that light, an ominous darkness was also spreading and corroding at a visible rate.
An endless torrent of magic, carrying his detective's power of analysis, his decisiveness, and his current, unyielding will, was forcibly extracted from his Soul Gem and channeled madly into his right foot.
Space began to warp beneath him. Light was pulled by the gravity, forming visible ripples. The deep blue magical energy was compressed, and compressed again, condensing from a brilliant glow into a singularity of power. It was still the size of a soccer ball, its surface crackling with unstable arcs of electricity, but this was no longer a simple energy ball. It was a weapon that forcibly fused "deduction," "truth," and "destruction" with an immense amount of magic. The pressure it emitted was so great that the very ground beneath him began to sink. The surrounding air let out a tormented scream.
Conan lifted his small right foot.
No hesitation. No wasted motion.
With all his might, he kicked the "ball" of condensed power toward the Walpurgisnacht in the sky.
"Go—!" (Ike—!)