Far away in Washington, D.C., the White House was in emergency session.
The President sat at the head of a long conference table. Around him gathered the Secretary of Defense, the CIA Director, senior generals, and members of Congress.
On the screen before them played the Apache gunship's final footage.
They watched in silence as the mysterious youth shrugged off a Vulcan cannon, lifted a car, and used it to swat a helicopter out of the sky. When the final explosion consumed the screen, no one in the room spoke.
At last, the President broke the silence.
"Gentlemen, any suggestions?"
The Secretary of Defense spoke first.
"Mr. President, this… thing is too dangerous. We cannot allow him to exist. He should be eliminated, and his body turned over to the military for research."
The President's gaze sharpened.
"And how do you propose to kill an invulnerable monster?"
The Defense Secretary hesitated, then said heavily, "We have nuclear weapons."
The room erupted.
A congressman shot to his feet, slamming a fist on the table.
"Are you insane you bastard!? Millions live in New York! Do you plan to slaughter them all for one man!?"
The Defense Secretary paled, instantly regretting his words.
"That was only a suggestion…"
"It's rejected," the President cut him off, voice cold. "We'll find another solution."
The risk of a nuclear strike on New York was unthinkable. No one wanted to shoulder the weight of such a decision.
After a tense silence, another official suggested, "Deploy our most elite special forces. Arm them with every advanced weapon we have. If anything can stop this monster, it's them."
With no better options, the proposal was accepted.
—--
Back in New York, the sky darkened unnaturally. Clouds rolled in, thick and heavy, laced with veins of lightning.
Boom!
Thunder cracked, shaking the air.
Fenric's eyes narrowed. Is Death planning to strike me with lightning?
The thought sent a chill through him. With Thor's Hammer in hand, he would be immune — but he couldn't summon it here.
Could his body withstand divine thunder? His Armament Haki was formidable, but it specialized in defending against physical force. Lightning might pierce even that.
To be cautious, he darted into a tall building nearby.
Rumble…
The earth shuddered violently. The entire city quaked as if the apocalypse had begun.
"An earthquake too?!" Fenric cursed. "F@ck, I just cursed you a little and you're overdoing it!"
Concrete groaned. Cracks split the walls as the skyscraper tilted.
Panic spread among civilians. Screams echoed as they poured into the streets.
Fenric stayed where he was. Between the falling rubble and the wrath of the thunderclouds, hiding inside still seemed safer.
Moments later, the building collapsed completely, burying entire blocks beneath tons of steel and stone.
Dust billowed. Amid the ruins, Fenric lay pinned beneath slabs that would have crushed any ordinary man to pulp.
But beneath the debris, his eyes opened. His body, sheathed in Armament Haki, was unscathed.
Fenric drew a breath, calm and unbroken.
'Death' storm had failed.
"In this wave, at least a few hundred people must have died… To hunt me down, has Death cast aside all restraint?"
Fenric muttered under his breath, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
He never imagined that Death itself could twist the weather, wielding the very forces of nature against him.
With a grunt, Fenric shoved the massive slab of concrete above him aside, carving out a small cavity large enough to breathe in.
"Three hours," he calculated quietly. "This space should hold enough oxygen to last me that long. I'll wait it out."
As he resolved this, the horizontal bar on his wrist began to fade from red.
But fate offered no reprieve.
Barely two hours later, the earth trembled again.
This time, it wasn't an earthquake. The rumble of armored tracks thundered through the streets.
Tanks.
Moments later, the rubble around him was torn away. Fenric's wristband flared crimson once more.
"Target found!"
"Confirming life signs!"
"The target isn't dead—appears unconscious."
Fenric's eyes snapped open.
"Sh*t!"
The young Delta Force operative had only enough time to scream before Fenric's psychic grip twisted his neck with a sickening crack.
In an instant, Fenric tore free of the ruins and charged toward the nearest tank.
Boom!
A shell roared from the left, striking him head-on.
The explosion blasted him off his feet, hurling his body through the air.
But when the dust cleared, Fenric stood unscathed.
The special forces froze, their faces etched with terror.
"Goddamn… he's like Superman!" one muttered.
Their commander gritted his teeth.
"Superman or God—it doesn't matter. Open fire! Everything you've got!"
The battlefield erupted.
Missiles, grenades, and bullets rained down in a storm of firepower. Yet none could pierce Fenric's Armament Haki.
Even the blistering heat of detonations only made him sweat.
Against such might, elite soldiers were no different from civilians. A flick of his wrist, a pulse of psychic force, and hardened veterans dropped like flies.
For ten relentless minutes, Fenric carved through the squad until the survivors broke ranks and fled.
In the end, he claimed a tank for himself, slipping into its insulated cockpit. His wristband still glowed red.
Through the viewport, he spotted storm clouds swirling again in the distance.
At least the tank would shield him from lightning.
Time dragged on.
In a single day, Fenric endured calamities beyond imagination.
Earthquakes.
Thunderstorms.
Tornadoes.
And finally—a meteorite plummeting from the heavens.
Death had unleashed everything, shattering all pretense of balance.
Only Fenric's reflexes saved him. Had he been struck directly, even his unmatched Armament Haki would not have spared him.
The meteor's shockwave alone left him bruised and reeling.
By the time night fell, his body bore wounds from fire, debris, and pressure. Exhaustion gnawed at him. Yet he still endured.
He glanced at his wristband. Its glow deepened once more.
Only thirty minutes remained.
If he survived until ten o'clock, he would leave this cursed world.
Meanwhile, in Washington, the White House brimmed with unease.
"Ten straight hours," an aide reported grimly. "New York has been battered by earthquakes, storms, lightning, tornadoes… disasters unseen in centuries!"
A white-haired scientist rose, his voice sharp.
"Gentlemen, this defies science! Supernatural researchers believe the invulnerable youth is no man at all, but a devil. And what you've seen in New York? God Himself is striking to banish him!"
He slammed his hand on the table.
"I propose we assist God—by eradicating the devil. Launch a nuclear strike!"
The President's expression darkened.
"A nuclear strike? Do you understand the weight of what you suggest?"
"Most citizens have already evacuated," the old man pressed. "The city is nearly empty. Even if we strike, the casualties will be limited. Only a nuclear weapon can end this!"
Silence fell heavy over the room.
At last, one congressman stood.
"I support the use of nuclear arms. Enough of this farce!"
Others quickly followed.
"I agree."
"I agree as well."
The tide shifted.
The President closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled.
"…So be it. Prepare for the launch."
Back in New York, Fenric sat in the stolen tank, frowning.
Hours had passed, yet Death's attacks had suddenly ceased.
It was already nine o'clock.
When he first entered this dungeon world, he remembered clearly: the plane had exploded at ten. That was when his mission began.
One more hour. Ten minutes, even. Then he would leave.
His wristband pulsed, the glow a deep, bloody red unlike anything he had seen before.
From above came the shriek of something tearing through the sky.
Fenric's head jerked up.
On the horizon, a fighter jet streaked past. It never slowed—only released a single missile before vanishing into the night.
The warhead arced downward, trailing fire. It struck a building only blocks away.
BOOM—!!!
The world ended in light.
A miniature sun blossomed over New York, its brilliance searing the heavens. A mushroom cloud clawed into the sky.
For the first time, true fear crossed Fenric's face.
Even the 'Heart of the Brave' could not mask it.
The shockwave roared toward him, devouring all in its path.
Buildings. Cars. Streets.
Matter itself unraveled into dust and particles.
And then the wave reached him—