Chapter 16: The Final Battle

The Orc Lord, Orga, raised his hand. The obsidian throne behind him pulsed with hot, red veins of corrupted magic. The thurible’s light was the true center of power, spilling smoke like bleeding ink that warped the air and choked the magic.

"It couldn't be..." Monica's voice began to drain, her face paling at the gruesome sight.

"Is that a heart?" Allen whispered, the shock sickeningly apparent.

The thurible settled gently in the Orc Lord’s massive, clawed hand. Within the ornate metal cage, a gruesomely shaped human heart, now glowing with an unnatural, sickly green-black.

"This was me," the Orc Lord rumbled, his voice a guttural echo of lost memory.

The Orc Lord held it up, his thick fingers obscuring the hideous details, yet unable to mask its constant, wet thump.

"This was useless vessel of former life," he recounted, a sneer twisting his features. "Khaos took heart—thing that held pity and doubt—reforged it into something better. Source of true power. It fuels the destruction. No more useless feelings once felt."

The energy of the thurible spread around the battlefield, and the orcs inhaled the mist. A crystalline crust of Malice instantly grew over their skin, augmenting their strength as their eyes burned with a primal, focused rage that was no longer their own.

Monica raised her wand, her voice trembling slightly. “Please Orga. You can still stop this. You don’t have to become his Conduit.”

Instead, he laughed—a rasping sound of triumph.

Orga snarled, his voice a guttural echo. “Empathy is for weaklings. I am greatness. This world bends to me.”

Allen stepped forward, his wand glowing with a soft, defiant light. Monica stood beside him, her Aura Focus Locket flickering but steady. Her voice was quiet, but firm.

Allen nodded. “You got it.”

“You think belief is strength?” he roared. “Belief is weakness. It makes you predictable!”

He slammed his fist into the ground. The earth cracked. Pillars of corrupted stone erupted around him, forming a twisted cathedral of his own making, fueled by the Malice Flux. The thurible pulsed, and the smoke thickened, warping the battlefield into a nightmare.

Monica’s eyes narrowed. “Just like every predictable bad guy.”

***

Across the city, soldiers charged in with spears as they fought against the surrounding orcs, whose rage was amplified by the same Malice Mist rolling in from the ruins.

"Men, raise your spears!"

Seeing their severe injuries, Protag-kun rushed to move Mei and Miyu away from the danger. They were quickly taken away by healers to recover somewhere safer.

"Please save her. Save Monique..." Miyu cried out, her voice raw.

The name hit Protag-kun with unexpected force. He was focused on Allen saving Monica, but this Monique sounded like a different person entirely.

"When Miyu and I fought the General, she said she could hear the voice of a woman," Mei said, her voice strained from the impact. "A voice screaming from inside the thurible."

The Orc General was a different beast entirely. His eyes, unlike the mindless drones, burned with a cold, unsettling intelligence. He didn’t charge; he didn’t roar. He simply stood there, dragging a second, smaller thurible against the stone, leaving sparks in its wake.

"There is a woman trapped inside that thurible. Before we could defeat him, she cried out, calling herself Monique," Miyu recounted, fear tightening her voice. "He is using her captured soul as a Secondary Anchor to shield his mind. Please, save her trapped soul."

Protag-kun knew the general's power was in the thurible. Now he had to figure out how to take out a Soul Cage and rescue a woman's soul trapped inside it?

“This world is sicker than I thought,” Protag-kun glared, his eyes wide but steady.

He darted out, tossing a broken lantern toward the General’s feet. The orc didn't flinch—instead, a shimmering blue tendril of soul-mist lashed out, cutting off Protag-kun's intended escape path, proving its tactical intelligence. Protag-kun used the new opening to dart past him anyway. He needed to get closer to understand the Soul Cage's mechanism.

"I know that I wanted to be Isekai'd to another world but isn't fighting a boss-level threat with no cheat codes a little too cruel," Protag-kun whined, ducking under a swing.

Even so, he didn't run. He took a step forward, grabbing a discarded metal crate. He used it as a shield, pushing it forward as he inched his way toward the general. The orcs, confused by his tactic, rushed at him, but he used the crate to block their blows.

“Go, Cinnamon!” Protag-kun shouted.

While his partner went left, Protag-kun then rushed to the other side with the dire wolf blade and pierce the armor. With one last parting gift, he launching a small jar that struck the General’s chest. It didn’t do much damage—but it distracted him.

"Too bad for you," Protag-kun grinned.

As the General charged in, he raised his hand. A flicker of unstable magic sparked at his fingertips—wild, chaotic, unrefined. But it was his. He hurled it downward, and the rubble beneath the General’s feet exploded, sending him stumbling.

***

"You could have had it all!" Orga bellowed, his voice filled with venom.

The corrupted cathedral twisted around them, its spires reaching like claws into the sky. The Orc Lord stood at its center, his body swelling with dark magic, veins glowing like molten iron. The object pulsed violently, each breath of red mist warping the air, distorting color, sound, and the very narrative of reality.

"Blah, blah, blah... how were you able to handle his boring ranting for three days straight?" asked a staggered Allen, his Yumeko form slowly flickering weaker.

"It helps when you jiggle some keys," rebutted Monica as she caught him before he fell.

The ruins were filled with orcs, two appearing for every one eliminated. It was an endless, overwhelming swarm.

“How can we get rid of all of the orcs protecting him?” she said, desperation creeping into her tone.

Allen looked at her, breath ragged. “Then we need a special move.”

She raised her wand. Allen followed. Their magic surged—not from spellbooks or incantations, but from a shared history and a joint commitment to the heroic narrative.

Monica nodded. “Together.”

The air shimmered. Their magic fused—ribbons and resolve. A new spell emerged: not Yumeko, not Monica’s usual magical girl persona, but something forged from both.

The mass army of orcs roared, charging.

They didn’t move.

They spoke in unison: “Super White Nova.”

The spell struck the ground. A shockwave of pure, reality-altering energy erupted, erasing the corrupted cathedral and carving out a gigantic crater. The army of orcs didn't just crack; they vanished, their bodies dissolving into harmless, fading ash.

The Orc Lord’s body was full of scorches and burns. He groaned in pain, seeing his twisted creation collapse around him. Seeing his corrupted cathedral destroyed, the unthinkable happened. With a guttural cry, he gluttonously devoured the thurible, the metal dissolving as the heart pulsed one last time before dissolving into his blood.

As Monica and Allen looked on, their eyes could not believe what they were seeing.

The Orc Lord was already disgusting, but this new transformation—a Chaos Manifestation—was taking it to another level. Its skin began weeping an oily black fluid that immediately fractured into razor-sharp Obsidian Shards. Its hoof-like hands became sharper. Its tusks grew wider. Its veins bulged as the raw, uncontained Shadow Magic ripped through its frame.

"Allen..." Monica screamed, her voice breaking.

In a flash, Orga moved like a blur, slamming his palm into Allen and blowing him into a shattered column.

"YOU COULD'VE HAD IT ALL! You and your pitiful rules choked the life out of the only path to salvation! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Orga screamed as he walked closer to her.

***

"The boy did it!" cheers erupted from the soldiers as they saw the shockwave of white smoke engulf the crater.

It was a last-minute attempt. Allen had collected explosive slime fluid in case of emergency, and Protag-kun had used the last of his explosive magic to detonate it, reducing the General to a smoking crater.

"Holy crap! I almost thought I was going to turn into deep-fried tonkatsu," said Protag-kun, wiping the sweat off his forehead. The attack had drained him.

Unfortunately, the General’s thurible still glowed ever bright. As if hearing its call, the red mist slowly poured back into the crater.

A loud, wet growl could be heard.

A chill froze the soldiers as the General rose from the rubble, his armor dented, his eyes burning with renewed fury. Then, the unthinkable began to happen: orcs around them started moving towards him, not in defense, but as prey.

The General began devouring its own comrades, the red mist of the dead streaming into his wounds. He was cannibalizing their very Aura to fully recover.

"Damn it..." Protag-kun panted as the lingering effects of his last attack began to take their toll.

The General gave a low snarl, almost as if mocking Protag-kun’s persistence.

Hopelessness filled the hearts of the soldiers. Each orc was difficult to defeat, and now they faced an Orc General who could heal endlessly as long as his minions remained.

"The monster wants the thurible!" a man yelled out. "Don't let it have the thing!"

That warning brought the men back to their feet. They fought off the creature as it tore through the ranks, desperately trying to get back to the Soul Cage.

Protag-kun knew what he had to do. He needed to get to the thurible first.

As the beast charged at him, its desire for revenge at what Protag-kun had done compelled it to focus its attention. That moment of hesitation was all Protag-kun needed, but a man—the man who yelled the warning—chose that instant to step forward and protect him.

"Café owner!" Protag-kun reacted with stunned horror.

The owner, a man who had provided work and sanctuary for everyone, was flung across the town square. Protag-kun rushed to him, seeing his armor bent in an unnatural way. Still, he smiled through the blood running down his head.

"Hey kid... you don't need to cry for an old man like me," the owner struggled to say. "Just run away before the Orc General gets closer."

Tears ran down Protag-kun’s face as he held the man's weakening hand. The Orc General stalked toward them, ready for the killing blow.

Then, a miracle occurred.

The thurible, which had once glowed with sickly red malice, started to shine with a brilliant, silvery light—the Aura of the Hope.

"Protag-chan..." Mei called out as she held Miyu as she raised her Kitsune Jewel. The sacred soul-channel relic reacted to the light, glowed brightly.

The thurible that once screamed in pain started to shine as it hovered to Protag-kun as if it reacted to his tears.

Monique’s light spread, and the small sparkles didn't just close wounds, they rewound the physical damage, momentarily rejecting the Shadow Magic’s influence. The horrific wounds on the café owner recovered.

"Alright then," Protag-kun grabbed the thurible. "Ignite."

With that word, the silver light of Monique's spirit magic merged with the familiar, wild spark of his magic. His arm pulsed with Soul-Charged Force, a power that wasn't about raw strength, but about striking a blow where reality was weakest.

Standing up, he stared directly into the General’s eyes. This was one on one.

The Orc General gave a grin of Completion, accepting the challenge. They traded blows, a brutal fist fight. Protag-kun, clutching the thurible, used the Soul-Charged Force to finally break through his opponent's defense, hitting the General’s heart directly. The General smiled as his monster's ashes were scattered.

As everyone cheered, Protag-kun focused his remaining strength and crushed the thurible.

As everyone cheered, there was one more thing for Protag-kun to do. Using all of his strength, he destroyed the thurible.

"Thank you for releasing me..." a voice slowly faded away.

Protag-kun looked toward the ruins, wondering how Allen and Monica were faring.

***

Before she could defend herself, Orga’s sheer presence—bolstered by his new form—shattered Monica's will. This caused her Locket to revert and undoing her transformation. As he continued to walk closer, her feet collapsed as she stared at the monstrous Chaos Manifestation.

What can I do? she wondered, despair settling in.

"Any last words?" Orga grabbed a massive, fractured column as a makeshift club, patiently waiting to crush her. "Your pity and your sentimentality have brought you to this pathetic end."

The words Monica tried to say got stuck in her throat as she began to accept her death. Before she could succumb, Allen crawled to her, clutching a jagged stick.

"Magical Girl Yumeko won't give up, and either will we!" Allen screamed, pushing himself up. "There's still a better ending to be written!"

Just as the Orc Lord prepared to swing, the air snapped. The oppressive darkness, the choking red smoke, the very illusion of the corrupted cathedral—everything flickered and reverted to the mundane, ruined stone of the lair. A surge of clean, clear magical energy rushed back into the environment.

The Orc Lord roared, not in rage, but in agony and shock.

The Chaos Core in his body withered instantly, turning from a pulsing horror into dry, corrupted dust. The Primary Conduit had died.

“This can't be… my greatness!” the Orc Lord shrieked, looking at his empty hand. The psychic link to his power had been irrevocably severed by the destruction of the Secondary Anchor in the village.

"It must be Protag-kun!" Allen gasped, seeing the shift in the ambient mana flow. "He broke the link! Catch, Monica!"

Tossing a spear at her, he managed a tired smirk.

Monica wrinkled her nose, but she still held it high. "We are magical girls, Allen. Magical girls do not poke things with sticks. But just this once I'll make an acceptance."

“Blasting radiant beams of love and justice is great, but there’s nothing you can do about it if you have no power,” Allen replied.

With Orga's power unstable, they worked in tandem, keeping the brute on the defensive. Every hit with the spear against his body—specifically where the leftover of the Chaos Core still remained—caused him intense pain.

With one last synchronized thrust, they pierced through the husk of his body and finally broke the grotesque Chaos Manifestation. The monster collapsed, its ambition reduced to nothing.

***

From a high vantage point, Kon watched both battlefields—the ruins and the alley, the heroes and the aftermath. She turned to the horizon, where the sky shimmered unnaturally. A crack pulsed in the clouds—thin, jagged, glowing faintly red.

She closed her eyes.

“The story’s changing,” she whispered. “And Khaos won’t like that.”

Behind her, a figure stepped from the shadows. Cloaked. Hooded. Eyes glowing faintly gold.

“You said they were ready,” the figure said.

The next chapter was already writing itself.

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. Work has been crazy. I hope to finish the epilogue soon but the long battle is done.