What kind of monster is this...?
The soldiers of Leithanien were playing their instruments now with a sense of profound despair. Even though the harmony had long dissolved into a chaotic jumble of meaningless noise, they kept playing anyway.
But it wasn't surprising—Leithanien's army had completely lost the ability to perform any coherent piece at this point.
If anything, their futile playing was more like a final, desperate attempt to cling to sanity.
Spores permeated everything around them—lingering in the air, settling on clothes, filling the openings of instruments. Almost a fifth of the Leithanien soldiers had already succumbed to the spores, and all within half an hour.
Once inhaled, the spores brought unbearable itching and stabbing pain. Victims held on through excruciating torment until their bodies inevitably burst apart, scattering flesh and bone before descending into the silence of death.
Yet in The City, a calm and peaceful death was a luxury they wouldn't be afforded.
Here, death was merely the beginning.
When the first [Worker Bee] emerged from a fallen soldier's corpse and devoured it whole, a bone-chilling dread ran through the spines of every remaining soldier.
Nobody knew how many had already been infected.
Within moments, a dozen more [Worker Bees] hatched, each roughly human-sized, with massive front limbs poised for violence.
But even this was only the opening act of a nightmare. In an army numbering tens of thousands, a few dozen discordant notes might have been bearable.
However, when the first soldier was tackled by a [Worker Bee], swiftly infected, and turned into yet another bee amidst his dying screams, the army finally grasped the severity of the disaster.
These things were contagious.
From that moment, morale began to collapse rapidly.
The music dissolved completely into discordant chaos. Each newly created [Worker Bee] shredded Leithanien's orderly lines, tearing holes in their formations. And as their numbers multiplied, the music of war transformed into a chorus of raw, blood-curdling screams.
Within an hour, Leithanien had lost a quarter of its forces. Swarms of [Worker Bees] now ravaged the outskirts, consuming and replenishing their numbers at terrifying speed.
Another hour passed; half the Leithanien soldiers lay dead or dying. The remaining five thousand regrouped desperately, trying to eliminate the [Worker Bees].
In truth, the [Worker Bees] weren't individually strong. But the sheer psychological impact they inflicted upon Leithanien's disciplined musicians was devastating.
In typical combat, losing a few musicians mid-performance was tolerable—like missing notes that could easily be compensated for by thousands of others.
But these [Worker Bees] forcibly inserted jarring notes, disrupting Leithanien's melodies and causing exponentially greater harm than simple death.
Thus, Leithanien's battle became excruciatingly difficult.
After an entire afternoon of brutal fighting…
…Leithanien's army was utterly annihilated.
Hundreds of [Worker Bees] roamed aimlessly across the outskirts. Only a handful of Leithanien soldiers escaped alive, and even then, madness or lifelong trauma awaited them. For years afterward, they'd awaken screaming from nightmares—visions of their comrades being torn apart from within, reduced to grotesque insectoid horrors. The trauma of that day would remain incurable.
Several hundred [Worker Bees] wandered the outskirts now. To their credit, Leithanien's army had fought admirably; they'd prevented many corpses from fully transforming and managed to reduce the Bee population to less than ten percent of its potential.
As the Bees instinctively moved toward their distant queen, countless drones swept across the sky, raining down shimmering green droplets.
Once again, the [Ampoule Rain] poured forth, exterminating most remaining Bees. Shortly thereafter, Hai calmly approached from a short distance away, followed by Hana Association members and a handful of Lobotomy Corporation's employees. Silently drawing his spear, he addressed the group:
"Everyone, prepare to execute the mission. Hana Association members, remember to undergo memory erasure afterward as per confidentiality protocols."
"Move out!"
---
While Leithanien suffered annihilation, Ursus wasn't faring much better.
After barely surviving the [Meat Lantern]'s flower fields, Ursus had only four thousand soldiers remaining. Then, just ahead, they encountered another Abnormality—
—The [Firebird].
With that, Ursus was finished.
No possibility of survival existed. They were quickly and efficiently wiped out by the [Firebird] in an overwhelming inferno.
Previously, capturing the [Firebird] had been relatively easy—but only because Don Quixote himself handled the task.
Against such a large army, a single swooping attack from the [Firebird] was enough to incinerate hundreds instantly. When the [Firebird] leisurely returned to its perch, only around a thousand Ursus soldiers remained alive. With barely any hesitation, these soldiers began preparing to retreat.
But as they turned to flee, countless identical humanoid robots emerged from every direction—numbering nearly ten thousand. Among these mechanical figures stood several towering beings, more than two meters tall, wearing masks and long, black cloaks. Ursus's soldiers froze in confusion as the strange figures' voices rang out curiously:
"Food? Time to weave the fabric? Is it tasty?"
Thus, the bewildered legion descended upon the last remnants of the Ursus army.
---
Pulling his consciousness back once more, Obsidian's pupils were as calm as still waters. He stepped outside the wooden cabin, venturing out into the open for the first time in a long while.
After walking about a kilometer, Obsidian surveyed the scene before him and laughed softly.
"Heh… They certainly died neatly enough."
Before him lay countless Victoria soldiers, mouths grotesquely stuffed with writhing vines, twisted and strangled to death.
Obsidian raised his gaze slowly, locking eyes with the wounded Abnormality that stood amidst the carnage.
[Snow White's Apple].