Round 49: Day of Destruction

War. The war had raged into the late night of the third day, perhaps the early morning of the fourth. No one cared about the exact time—this world had no natural sunsets or sunrises. Decades of relentless fighting had long blurred the boundary between sky and earth. All kinds of destructive weapons roared and howled, sending fragments of flesh, stone, and metal soaring into the air, only to shatter again before they could fall. Cluster lasers and high-temperature plasma beams rained down like hail, pounding the front lines like hammers. Amidst the hellish red glow everywhere, the terrifying firepower of steel warriors turned living corpses and ghosts into poisonous vapor, which rose above the boiling battlefield.

The immortal war machines defended their positions firmly, unyielding even as waves of decaying, icy dead surged against them—slamming, retreating, then attacking again. The dead were endless, awakened from the grave worlds after their entire race had been slaughtered, summoned by an uneasy ancient will. Once they had served their former masters with their lives, now they would serve them with their deaths.

Energy beams pierced through the sea of dead, like a knife cutting through torn cloth. After blinding white flashes came shockwaves that crushed the air, with thunderous waves grinding everything to dust. The hard ground twisted like ripples—rising, sinking, exploding, rolling—burying those who couldn’t escape. The mushroom clouds that rose served as a sign of death, causing the returning armies of the dead to stay at a safe distance, avoiding the terrifying core that resembled a small volcano still spewing lava.

Unlike the shrinking forces who had learned their lesson and retreated behind their own lines to control the battle from afar, the steel giants stood at the forefront from the very beginning. They were like gloomy, steadfast mobile fortresses, standing before the vast hordes of the dead, forming the largest and most indestructible links in the defense chain. They stood there, breathing in the smoke-filled air, covered in wounds, yet utterly unshakable. Their overload protection systems operated methodically, gradually cooling the reactors that had just unleashed immense energy, then undergoing lengthy adjustments, pressurization, and reheating of the main cannons—preparing for the next furious barrage.

For a time, the situation even seemed quite optimistic. It seemed that as long as the invulnerable guardians wished to, they could defend forever, until the end of the world.

The end came—faster than anyone had expected.

The first signs were small-scale earthquakes. The Earth’s crust was altered by some inexplicable force, as if a heart that had lain dormant for millennia suddenly began to beat. From the cracks in the ground, massive columns of fire erupted, like the breaths of whales, with greedy flames gushing out like reverse-flowing waterfalls. Metal melted and distorted in the sea of fire, like burning candles—some invisible force controlled the flames, twisting them into strange and absurd shapes, sometimes resembling humans before blurring into a massive storm of molten iron.

The giant robot with scythe-shaped forearms was hit first. The storm clouds lunged at it after spinning twice; the colossus raised its claws high and plunged into the howling chaos—for the first time, the usually effortless super construct showed signs of strain. As its “muscles,” composed of numerous axles, pistons, metal fibers, and electromagnetic coils, tightened and compressed, all the power transmission systems expanded to their limits, and the servo systems failed one after another, though it might not have really needed them after all.
Iron hooves crushed the ground, its clawed limbs struggled against the storm, and the mechanical monster tried to move forward amid a downpour of dazzling sparks. The stalemate lasted only a few seconds before the loser was swept into the sky. The colossus suffered a mysterious heavy blow—its outer armor shattered, its waist and abdomen exploded, and a million pounds of steel lost its balance like trash in the wind. Not only it, but also the undead, metal, flames, and even the swirling clouds were torn apart by an invisible giant blade, leaving cruel marks on the earth and in consciousness—marks as merciless as tombstones.
By the time the colossus crashed from the sky, with dust rising from the shattered earth, it was almost completely destroyed. Its body in the crater was in pieces, constantly exploding, except for the red light still burning in its head’s eyes, stubbornly refusing to go out. This could not have been achieved by a single attack—it was as if it had been battered by a swarm of giants of the same rank.
Everything was chaotic, frenzied, and boiling. In an instant, the storm seemed to expand further; the wind howled sharply, and the smoke-covered sky once again showed colorful hues like spilled paint.
Light pierced the sky. At the same time, the other construct giants fired high-yield death beams at the chaotic storm filling the heavens. The destructive energy beams swept across the storm, causing it to curl immediately, with huge, deep vortices forming where the beams passed through. Lightning bolts darted into the vortices and spread throughout the entire storm. The thick clouds were filled with surging energy flashes—surrounded by unstable flashes, the storm trembled and shrank in pain, as if all its blood had been replaced with mercury yet it still didn’t die—this was a tormenting image that anyone would remember for life, taking it to their grave.
But no massive explosion occurred. The howling wind sounded like pure wailing; the ground cracked, and countless rocks were pushed high into the sky by the pressure released from deep within the earth. A pure, uncontrolled sea of fire rose along the storm, with colorful radiant light spreading across the sky. Rain also fell along with it, each drop tinged with that beautiful yet terrifying glow.

Suddenly, the storm stopped spinning, and the flashes of energy within it vanished. All elements blended into a blood-red chaos without a fixed shape—centered within this chaos, a muffled, hoarse voice arose, its meaning and nature indiscernible, sounding like the delirious murmurs in the dreams of the mentally ill, meaningless babbling. These sounds soon turned into a low, relentless roar that pierced everything, announcing to the world that something had broken through the numerous seals set by the ancient gods.

Finally, it shook its massive body, still not fully stabilized, and opened its eyes—looking in all directions.

The undead scattered in panic. The Withered no longer supplied divine power to the undead army; instead, they fled desperately, seeking to get away. Someone else had arrived to take their place, someone more capable.

The Hundred-Armed One, known in ancient tongues as “Kainthimani,” the oldest and most powerful hatred in the history of the multiverse, stretched out its hundred colossal arms. With an almost indescribable cruelty, like a sprawling, root-bound giant tree, it enveloped the Steel City and its defenders in its mad shadow.

The machines remained indifferent; after all, they still had battles to fight. Just like a mouse click, a right-click—

A torrent of steel charged toward the Hundred-Armed Giant.

“Morril, you’ve made a grave mistake. Do you even know what you’re doing?”

The control hall trembled slightly, proving that the towering city spire had been affected by the war, and destruction might be just around the corner. The Magic Goddess’s expression was grim; pure white magical energy burned and flowed in her palms and around her, imbued with both the intensity of fire and the coolness of water, fluctuating with her words: “Haven’t we agreed long ago? We cannot sacrifice the safety of the multiverse. That is the Hundred-Armed Giant, the child of chaos, the essence of destruction—a monster even the gods cannot match! It’s all over. Stop now—otherwise, it will be too late!”

The god’s voice poured directly into her mind, shaking her soul, more powerful than any spell to control minds, undermining the sorceress’s beliefs. She was now opposing the gods… This thought troubled Morril. She had to firmly drive it away to maintain the fragile threads of magic in the chaos storm—threads created by the Magic Goddess and the only link between the City of Dominators and the multiverse.

Morril concentrated, shattering the goddess’s spell and gripping her staff tightly. If not for being in this Steel City, a realm beyond the reach of the gods… it would have been impossible.

“I’m sorry, Majesty Mistra,” she said cautiously, keeping her distance from the goddess. “But the war isn’t over yet… It’s too early to draw conclusions. Please give us a little more time, will you?”

“Absolutely not. Morril, aren’t you that naive? Can’t you hear the warnings from the Magic Web?” The Magic Goddess stepped forward, her flickering silver flames igniting the air as they surged toward Morril. “You should understand that unrealistic hopes are the beginning of disaster—”

“It’s useless, Mina. She’s made up her mind.” Kaylanwo suddenly spoke, using the mortal name of the goddess. Kaili raised her twin swords; their crossed blades reflected the calm and imposing figure of Death, adjusting with the movements of the King of the Dead to ensure he couldn’t face the female mage directly.
“Let this lesson remind us that mortal hearts are always subjective, and we must never underestimate their power,” said Death. “Let’s go. Once the Hundred-Armed Giant truly enters the multiverse, we must find a way to deal with it.”
“Your Majesty Kaylanwo is right.”
Three pure, holy lights pierced through the metal floor and took human form, with radiant wings fluttering behind the holy warrior girl: “The ancient races have already helped her seize control of my father’s domain gates.”
“Perhaps we should try again,” Mistra said, staring at Moriel. “If necessary, I won’t hesitate to use my avatars. Moriel, don’t forget—I control all magic in the world.”
“And don’t you forget, Your Majesty Mistra—the strongest force prevails,” Moriel replied, meeting the goddess’s gaze.
Led by Philgas, skeleton-like steel soldiers marched in from the doors opened in the hall’s walls. With cold, heavy steps, their war scythes pulsed with deadly energy arcs as they advanced.
“Should we each find our own way out, or perish together now?” screamed the female mage.
A violent shaking shook the hall, accompanied by a terrifying cracking sound from the windows. The entire window was covered in web-like cracks, and the images that seeped in were so chaotic that the whole hall was filled with bizarre colors, as if people and machines were torn into fragmented, disordered pieces. Chaotic winds blew into the hall, carrying a vast, noisy, aimless force that pressured the gods to make a decision.
“You owe me an explanation,” said Milia, the last to leave. Before going, she glanced at Moriel—with her own clear eyes.
“Victory requires no explanation; failure allows none,” murmured Moriel.
Then she pushed aside distractions, focused her thoughts with willpower, and condensed her spirit into substance—a sharp arrow piercing through the endless ocean of chaos, leaving behind glowing stars along its path. This brilliant trail spread through the city via the Dominators, reaching everyone and leaving memories in every controller.
The Hundred-Armed Giant staggered forward. Clumps of dark muscles intertwined, with grotesque, exaggerated tumors filling its exposed tendons. Its head, arms, and rusty ancient armor grew twisted and entangled, forming the giant’s unimaginably terrifying shape. The ground was crushed under its weight, and thick, blood-red pus flowed from the roots of its many segmented body, filling craters and ditches, soaking into soil and metal. The world decayed beneath it, like flesh being eroded by cancer.

Shots flew in all directions. Facing such a towering giant, there was no possibility of missing. Yet even the fiercest artillery fire could only leave brief scorch marks covered in flames and black smoke on the Hundred-Armed Giant, which were quickly filled in by writhing masses of flesh. The damaged parts retracted into the giant’s body, and the filthy, tumor-like protrusions soon grew into new arms. Massive swords emerged from its palms and were swung at will. These swords were also made of twisted flesh, seemingly living entities of their own, trembling, convulsing, and screaming amidst the Hundred-Armed Giant’s fifty mouths uttering incoherent roars, causing the blood-soaked ground to rumble as well. The howling winds amplified these sounds countless times and blew in all directions. The mechanical soldiers struggled against the storm, with blood seeping from the joints—robots collapsed from time to time, their shattered parts spewing large amounts of dark red blood. The foul winds howled, carrying blood clots and metal debris, making the air even hotter.

The Hundred-Armed Giant moved slowly and its reactions were sluggish. Its many minds and limbs exhibited complete randomness, as if chaos itself guided its actions: no direction, no purpose, no enemy. It staggered like a giant slug, its hundred bloody weapons tearing apart anything that dared approach it, even gravity and spacetime. Gradually, even artillery fire and ion beams could no longer hit it, as the stability of these lethal energies had been disrupted. Chaotic clouds of blood-red mist surrounded the Hundred-Armed Giant, as if returning to the beginning of time—a state where anything was possible, where primal energies converged randomly, and elements and matter had yet to take shape.

Despite the machines possessing strength and willpower beyond what living beings could achieve, despite their formidable power to shatter the earth and shake the heavens, they still could not stop the Hundred-Armed Giant’s frenzied and chaotic onslaught. One steel colossus after another was brought down, and once the last one crashed to the ground, nothing could slow the Giant’s advance. It turned toward the city, where the rotten sky crackled with energy lightning like swollen wounds. Large clouds of black and purple gathered above its head, swirling and forming shadowy storm waves.

A blood-red lightning bolt struck, piercing deep into the steel city along the spires. The tall towers trembled, and for a moment, the lightning’s flash illuminated the world—after the flash, the sky above the tower peaks began to spin. At the same time, the Hundred-Armed Giant threw giant stones at the city—each as big as a mountain, stained with blood, like the shattered bodies of gods.

The City of Steel exploded under the assault. White-hot flames rose thousands of feet high, fiercely licking at the clouds. Catastrophic chain reactions triggered successive energy bursts that jumped from one area to another, creating blindingly bright destruction rainbows. In an instant, a curtain of fire spread out, engulfing the city ravaged by collapsing debris in brilliant flames. The effect was far too intense, resembling a violent self-destruction—the city’s burning light reflected in the sky, illuminating the swirling storm clouds and revealing the trajectory of the escaping atmosphere, showing a boiling spatial vortex gradually taking shape.

When the first ships took off, they could hardly be distinguished from the splashing rocks and blood. Then, larger steel warships rose from the sea of fire, their ion engines blasting powerful waves of flame that propelled them away from the collapsing, burning ground. Finally, the main tower broke into several sections and collapsed rapidly, while the city’s core, like the entrails vomited by a sea cucumber to avoid danger, rose high into the air, heading toward the massive vortex with its purplish-red edges.

“The drive is working properly… The star marker’s location has been confirmed.”

In the control room filled with tangled pipelines and instruments, Kaylo sat at the navigation station. After all, it was a realm passage opened by divine power, and she was the one closest to the gods—suddenly, the girl screamed in panic.

“Sister Morriel! Where is Sister Morriel?”

Then she changed her tone. “Damn it, she’s not on the ship! She’s still down there!”

“We have to go back for her!”

Kayli quickly flipped several buttons and levers, but the sensors stubbornly flashed red, refusing to obey the commands to launch the Steel Angels.

“The master has sealed the system,” said Phylgas. “A woman who defies orders—hopefully she won’t drag down the master.”

“How beautiful,” moaned the succubus. “Such a splendid act of martyrdom…”

“What do we do? What do we do? Pipi will perish with her!” The imp flew around frantically.

“You all are bastards!”

Morriel stood on the ruins of the city, gradually sinking into the sea of fire. Magma mixed with the blood flowing from the Hundred-Armed Giant, coloring the flames in thick shades of crimson—the Hundred-Armed Giant continued to move among the burning machinery, while the vortex in the sky expanded, with the afterglow of the ships slowly tracing thousands of long clockwise arcs.

The female mage felt her bodily organs disrupted by the presence of the Hundred-Armed Giant. Blood rushed to her head, blurring her vision; her ears buzzed; her stomach convulsed, secreting stomach acid usually used to digest large amounts of food; her heart beat over 100 times per minute, with occasional ominous pauses. All of Morriel’s magic could only keep her from collapsing, but she persisted. She would not retreat, not escape, not leave—she was determined to be with him this time…

No, she had to get away, at least get away from him for now.

The semi-melted metal roared as it converged into a massive, boiling column of flame that stirred the sea of fire and pierced toward the center of the vortex. All the debris rushed toward the flame column, emitting a chaotic, melodyless noise of steel. They sang in triumph, utterly unaware that they were about to be reduced to slag—the fire and iron quickly filled the vortex, unfolding the thin, terrified wings of a metal giant.

His transformation was too drastic; even seeing this monster formed from countless streams of molten steel and slag with eyes as red as the abyss, Morriel dared not be certain—until he flew above the Hundred-Armed Giant and let out a thunderous roar.

“Come at me, you apes! Do you want to live forever?”

With this absurd curse, every piece of steel was reborn. They returned to attack the Hundred-Armed Giant—endlessly.