Chapter 155: The Final Funeral of All Mankind and the Last Man
The gargantuan God-Demon Altar Chariot, under Professor Agasa's manipulation, let out a frenzied roar of "Waggggggg~" and charged forward without looking back.
As it neared Conan, the magical powers of the altar automatically sputtered out and died. The chariot was left with nothing but its inertial mechanical momentum. Agasa's modifications to himself had not only been technological but had woven in many magical mysteries; those mysteries now failed one by one, and what remained was insufficient to sustain his life for much longer.
But it didn't matter. With Science dead, and even Magic and Theology long since expired, Agasa the Inventor could no longer find a meaning for his existence. He naturally wished to pass away with them.
Conan responded to that wish. As the chariot drew close, Conan launched his attack!
The massive machine shattered into flying shards!
"Goodnight, Professor..."
A faint, gloomy whisper echoed in Agasa's ear.
Professor Agasa, who had been insane for many years, experienced a final moment of clarity—a terminal lucidity. He widened his eyes to look. At some point, the darkness had stopped concealing Conan's face. Or rather, in this moment, Agasa remembered what Conan looked like.
That youthful face, unchanged from the past, was now filled with despair and agony, gradually transitioning into madness. Yet behind that madness, there remained a sliver of rationality that he was desperately maintaining. He knew the situation, he knew what had to be done, and he was doing his best to do it. Even if the end was an abyss more terrifying than the current despair.
"Conan... no, Shinichi. May you fall into slumber along with humanity, and end this eternal dream without beginning or end..."
Agasa whispered, then wearily closed his eyes amidst the exploding fire of the altar.
"Does Professor Agasa, as the mad scientist of an evil organization, exhausting his life to stall the detective's steps, suffice? If not... then we, the sinful, are willing to wager all our chips just to ask Destiny to pause for a heartbeat!"
Agasa's death added a layer of sorrow to Ai Haibara's cold tone. The cry of the Bird of Ill Omen grew more shrill. Conan's other leg was now bound by another shackle forged from Agasa's life.
How does one depict the death of a god? First, one must depict the god's "defeat." The Detective must lose to this crime; only with this setup can one attempt to illustrate the death of the "God of Detectives."
The double shackles exchanged for the lives of Vodka and Agasa, buffed by the wailing of the Bird of Ill Omen, truly produced an effect. Even Fate could not directly pull Conan away, though its majestic force did not cease.
Conan ran toward the crime scene! His speed was immense, exceeding the speed of sound. Ran Mouri gave chase, her speed gradually surpassing mortal limits. Her killing blade carried her madness and her will, locking onto Conan; no matter where he ran to the ends of the earth, he could not escape its pursuit.
At that moment, Shuichi Akai raised his rifle and aimed at Conan! Sniping a god moving at supersonic speeds is a challenge for any marksman. But Akai was willing to accept it. This was the final combat mission given to him by all of humanity; it was his reason for living until now.
The shot rang out. Conan's movement was hindered. Ran caught up, wearing a charming smile as she swung her blade. As the battle raged, Shuichi Akai died shortly after—pierced through the head by a supersonic anesthetic needle fired from Conan's detective watch.
"Another villain chasing the fire has sacrificed his life to stop the wheel of destiny. With the third sacrifice offered, will the World Stage be satisfied?"
Ai Haibara did not keep up; she was still pursuing from behind, but her narration as the Bird of Ill Omen echoed through heaven and earth. The sniper rifle lying beside the dead Akai glowed brilliantly, firing an invisible bullet that pierced Conan's left hand.
Next was a chase between Conan and Ran. A ball of fresh blood played out—the story of the Slaughter Princess and the Evil God Prince. Fate tolled like a bell, sounding the dark midnight. In this bloody dance, the Princess held her blade, seeking to mince the Prince into meat paste, while the Prince was hacked until he was covered in wounds.
She chased, he fled. She sought, he evaded. But the Prince was doomed! Increasingly heavy wounds appeared on Conan. They weren't enough to kill him, but that didn't mean they were meaningless. Every wound was a "mark" left on the Detective by the villains following the game rules. Every mark meant the Detective was one step closer to "Failure."
The dance eventually reached its end. Guided by fate, Conan found Kaito Kid. The Silver-Winged Magician had been waiting for a long time.
"Though the nukes are on the rack, the launch button wouldn't go down before you arrived. The 'Fate of the Stage' is truly boring. But perhaps this is my value. Little Detective... the final story of the Phantom Thief and the Detective should begin. Under my grand and solemn curtain-call performance, can you stop me from stealing the button from the shackles of fate and slamming it down?"
The showdown between the Thief and the Detective began! For Kid, this was a mission of impossible difficulty. Fortunately, he was not alone. The three fallen companions had shackled Conan's legs and left hand. He had the Slaughter Princess Ran, the Bird of Ill Omen Ai, the ever-lurking Vermouth, and Gin—humanity's final hope—as his partners.
In that moment, it felt as if the spotlights of the entire world fell on Kaito Kid. As a thief, he had to steal the button of human extinction from the hands of a God of Detectives under the nose of Fate itself. If he succeeded, it would be the most impeccable performance of his life. Akako, Aoko, and Inspector Nakamori—currently resting in the long dream of death—would surely cheer for him. Well, Nakamori might just stomp his feet in frustration. But it didn't matter.
Kid's eyes blazed with a joyous, mad luster as he threw his life into this final act of defiance. Magic has risks, especially against Conan. But the meaning of "companions" manifested here. Ran continued to hack at the Prince like she was mincing meat. Ai was too far away to assist, but a stronger partner struck.
The hem of a black trench coat and silver waist-length hair fluttered as dual pistols fired! The thunderous gunfire produced tons of "output," forcing even Conan to retreat. Gin said nothing, focused entirely on the assault. His eyes were cold, his expression like eternal ice—pure cruelty.
The peerless villain who once focused only on crime had, under the pressure of fate and the plea of humanity, thrown himself into the long road of hunting an Evil God. He had launched offensive after offensive, only to fail every time. He had watched hero after hero march to their deaths in the endless dark. He had raised his glass again and again, only to pour the wine onto the earth in a silent toast to the fallen, for there was no one left to drink with him.
Cases played out. Movies followed. Ordinary people died, heroes died, criminals died, scientists died, politicians were long gone. Yet, the former Great Villain could not find peace, living on as the "Hope of Humanity."
Undoubtedly, that hope was a lie! From the start, Gin knew he was no match for Conan. Compared to an Evil God, a mortal villain was microscopic. The fact that the "Strongest Killer" could trade blows without losing or escape unscathed was merely the World's cruel sense of humor. But the weight of the lie was too heavy for Gin to puncture. Since he had become the hope, so be it!
In this final hour where humanity wagered everything, Gin unleashed a deafening roar through the thunder of his guns. This body was the hope; this gun was the will! The roar was wordless, yet it rose like a dragon. As a villain, he sought his own death. As a hero, he sought the enemy's.
Gin got his wish. Carrying the hope of all mankind, he was kicked in the head by Conan, dying instantly as his head exploded.
"The fourth sacrifice is offered. O Fate, do you hear? The countdown to the curtain call has tolled!"
Ai's cry pierced the heavens. Gin's legacy was not just Conan's riddled body, but the fact that his life had locked the "God's" right hand. This result, bought with blood, established an indelible hope. Under the cover of Gin's sacrifice, Kaito Kid performed an act of history-making thievery.
The method did not matter. Kid, lying on the ground coughing up blood, put a finger to his lips. "Magic is beautiful because it is mysterious and unknowable. Detective... do not expose the trick. Let this 'impossible' magic be the most brilliant swan song of human history. Let it be the epitaph on the tombstone of civilization, narrating that for humanity, all things are possible..."
Conan silently granted the plea. Knowing everything, he said nothing, allowing the magic to remain a supreme mystery. Kid died with a smile of pride, and before his last breath, he slammed the button.
"Under the collective crime of all Distillery members, Kid's theft is a success. With his own body as the fifth sacrifice, the destruction of human civilization is certain!"
The Bird of Ill Omen sang louder. The play had reached its grandest, final act. Thunderous booms followed as nuclear missiles launched one by one, arcing toward every city on Earth. Thanks to humanity's countless attempts to kill Conan, the global nuclear stockpile had been expanded manifold, allowing for this majestic offensive.
"Wandering between despair and madness, the humans clinging to their last thread of sanity once debated if a doomed civilization needed a final gamble. The debate was short. They decided: Civilization deserves a funeral. This is the last glow of human intellect and reason—a mockery of gods and fate that refuses to bow..."
Ai Haibara finally reached the scene. She looked up at the falling "meteors" with a sorrowful smile. How is civilization displayed? The humans of this world gave the answer. The sane had marched to their deaths; only the dazed madmen remained as living dead to play the God's game. To end like that was too ugly. A corpse belongs in a coffin, buried in a proper cemetery with a funeral.
The nukes were that funeral. The liberation of humanity was not just the right of the sane, but of the mad as well. From this moment on, Civilization and Humanity exited the eternal stage together! Reason and madness, romance and cruelty—all were settled. They transformed into a roar of light and heat across the vast world.
"Shinichi... the ball is ending. Have you... still not come back?"
In that final roar, Ran Mouri did not stop. She whispered manically, her blood-red eyes and her killing blade resonating with the destruction! A crimson radiance tore the heavens and the earth, erupting with unprecedented force to pierce through Conan's body!
Conan, impaled by Ran's blade, coughed up blood. The majestic darkness surrounding him finally vanished, revealing his true face and eyes. He lifted his head, looking around instinctively before locking onto Ran. He saw her blood-stained eyes, the two lines of red tears falling from her face, and her smile of absolute madness.
"Ran... you look... even worse than my deductions predicted..."
A whisper of total despair escaped his lips. In this moment, Edogawa Conan—no, Shinichi Kudo—finally "woke up" and saw everything with his own eyes.
"Shinichi... I've looked for you for so long. So long I can't remember when it started. I have so many things to tell you..."
Ran knew who was before her. She whispered, but she gripped the blade tighter and shoved it deeper into his chest.
"Yes, Ran. Don't worry. You've found me. The rest... can be said after the ending..."
Smiling in despair with tears falling, Shinichi's expression mirrored Ran's. The only difference was that he wasn't as mad. Behind his eyes lay something more terrifying than despair: Reason.
Shinichi took a step forward, letting the blade pierce him further. His child-like body shifted, restoring his form as the high-schooler Shinichi Kudo. He embraced Ran and gave her a kiss. It wasn't sweet; it tasted only of blood and despair.
Ran seemed to foresee it. She laughed and cried, hating and thanking fate. She swung her blade horizontally to cut him in two. But before it could land, Shinichi Kudo had already snapped her neck.
In this ball of blood and death, the Princess and Prince met for the first time, and it was destined to be their last. Death was the only salvation on this eternal stage.
Shinichi's gaze—a mix of reason and madness—fell on Ai Haibara. Simultaneously, his form reverted to the child Conan. Ai looked at Ran's slumped body. Her eyes held no more sorrow, only peace.
"Conan, or Shinichi. It's been a long time. Tell me... in this Teitan High Ball Apocalypse Case, the detective has failed to stop extinction. With the crime confirmed and the truth undeniable, when does the God's fated death arrive?"
Conan's eyes were despairing and mad, but he said nothing.
"The Detective protagonist has failed," Ai said calmly. "The villainous criminals are all dead. Humanity is destroyed. If the story can't give us a finale after this, then Fate is truly too despairing. Forget it... let's just wait."
The Bird of Ill Omen, having narrated the end of all paths, fell silent. She looked up. A nuke, trailing a long plume of fire, was falling directly toward them.
Brilliant fire swallowed everything. Mushroom clouds covered the earth, a grand "firework show" for the funeral of humanity.
Eons later, a figure walked through the nuclear dust. Though in a child's body, he was hunched like an old man, weighed down by a mountain of despair. He looked at the world of ash and laughed—a laugh of pure hopelessness.
Ai Haibara, held in his arms, did not laugh or cry. She was numb. "Were we too small? Or was fate too cruel? Is this the ending?"
Conan could not answer. His hand slowly moved to Ai's throat.
BANG!
A gunshot rang out. A bullet struck Ai's head. In her final second, she smiled.
"Fate isn't over. Hope... still exists. The final crime of humanity is not yet closed. I offer my sacrifice to curse you and bless you. May you reach the fated finale!"
The Bird of Ill Omen used her death to cast the final weight onto the scales of destiny.
Then, a cold voice spoke:
"Kogoro Mouri knew the price of that first step. Yusaku and Yukiko knew despair awaited them. In this war, not a single hero who walked the road of no return hesitated..."
"Too many have walked this path. Their final wills ring in my ears, reminding me that I have a task I must complete, even at the cost of everything."
"Though being the 'Final Hope of Humanity' was a lie I never wanted, since things have come to this, I will see it through. Because I swore... no matter the cost, even if the Organization fights to the last man... we will defeat you..."
Gin, in his black trench coat and hat, silver hair reaching his waist, walked through the heat and radioactive dust. The smoke from his gun had not yet cleared. The Super-Killer who vowed to fight to the last man had kept his promise.
He stood as the Last Man of the Organization and the Final Hope of Humanity.
Conan looked at Gin and smiled. "So that was Vermouth [disguised as you]? A perfect disguise; I couldn't tell. So, now... are you the final Mastermind of this case?"
Gin said nothing. He simply raised his gun.
Pointed at Conan.
Resolve, will, every sacrifice, and every life had been chambered into the barrel as a single, pitch-black bullet... capable of slaying a God.
End of Chapter
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