Chapter 78: Necromancer King: Broadcast of the Dead

The emergency sirens blared across every corridor.

Students and teachers poured into the main hall as red warning sigils pulsed through the academy’s walls.
The massive holographic screen flickered to life, broadcasting live images from downtown Shibuya.

Buildings burned.
Smoke rose like dying gods.
Corpses walked under neon lights that now glowed red instead of white.

“No… this can’t be real,” Rinko whispered, clutching Elyana’s arm.

“Sensei… what’s happening to the city?” Elyana asked, her golden eyes wide.

Kanata stood frozen, his fists clenched.

On the screen—M.R.S.U. units fought street by street, gunfire illuminating the mist.

Celestine entered the room with Commander Aine’s feed streaming through her tablet.
Her voice was steady but her eyes were sharp.

“All units, the infection pattern is abnormal. Mana readings off the charts. It’s not natural—someone’s controlling them.”

Kanata’s eyes narrowed.
“Then it’s him.”

“The Necromancer King…” Celestine finished.

The lights suddenly cut out.
The screen went black.
For three seconds, silence reigned.

Then static hissed—
and a voice seeped through the speakers.

“Good evening, citizens of Tokyo.”

The image returned—not of Shibuya, but of a shadowed figure standing before a mountain of corpses.

A porcelain mask.
A twisted grin.
Eyes like dying stars behind the lenses.

“You may call me Masahiro Kirigaya… though the world will soon know me as what I truly am—your liberator.”

He spread his arms as undead soldiers rose behind him, thousands of them.
Each moved in perfect sync, like puppets bound to his will.

“You’ve all been living lies—believing your world is safe, your peace permanent. I will show you the truth: that every civilization, no matter how proud, rots from within.”

Celestine slammed her palm against the console.
“Cut the feed!”

“Negative,” the tech shouted. “He’s hijacked every network frequency—this is going global!”

The figure’s laughter echoed, low and smooth.

“Tonight, Tokyo will join Anvill in the eternal silence.”

He raised one hand.
A single command whispered between worlds.

“Arise.”

The broadcast split into a hundred screens—each showing a different district.
Bodies twitched.
Eyes opened.
From alleys, subways, rooftops, the dead began to rise.

Commander Aine and her strike team were the first to face it.

Dozens of undead soldiers charged through the smoke, their armor cracked, their bones pulsing with violet mana.

“Hold the line!” Aine shouted.
Her blade ignited with golden light as she slashed through the first wave.

Beside her, Reiga unleashed a storm of bullets, each round imbued with holy runes.
“Come on, you freaks! Let’s dance!”

Kobayashi barked orders through the comms.
“Sector Four breached! Evacuate the civilians! I repeat, full retreat in ten minutes or we’re cut off!”

But the undead weren’t alone.
Behind them, massive hulking corpses—stitched together from soldiers and beasts—began to move.
Each step shook the ground.

Aine’s eyes widened.
“Necro-Titans…”

Reiga grinned grimly.
“Guess we skip breakfast again.”

Kanata couldn’t stand still anymore.
He turned to Celestine.

“I’m going.”

“Kanata-kun, no!” she stepped forward, grabbing his sleeve.
“If you go out there alone, you’ll—”

“Die?” He smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Rinko shouted from behind.
“We’re coming too!”

“No,” Kanata said sharply. “You stay here. Protect the academy.”

Elyana clenched her fists.
“Sensei, you can’t—”

“Listen to me!” Kanata’s voice boomed through the hall.
“You protect the future. I’ll handle the past.”

Without another word, he grabbed his coat and leapt from the window.

A gust of mana burst beneath his feet as he shot through the rain toward Shibuya, the sky flashing blue behind him.

Celestine stared after him, heart pounding.
“…That idiot never changes.”

The once-bustling streets were now rivers of blood.

Helicopters circled overhead, firing missiles into the infected hordes—but every time one fell, three more rose.

Kanata landed atop a crushed bus, blue energy crackling along his arms.

He scanned the chaos.
Smoke. Screams. Death.

He closed his eyes, muttered softly—

“Clock Shift — Maximum.”

Time slowed.
Bullets crawled through the air.
Explosions stretched into silence.

Kanata moved through the frozen battlefield like a shadow.

He drew his short crimson blade, the Dragon’s Edge, and slashed through a line of undead.
Each swing cut through three, four, five bodies at once—clean, surgical, unstoppable.

“You monsters never learn…”

A roar tore through the mist—
a Necro-Titan lunged, swinging a twisted arm of bone the size of a truck.

Kanata leapt, flipped over the blow, and slammed his dragon arm forward.

“Draconic Impact!”

The punch detonated like a thunderclap, sending the creature crashing into a building.

But before he could breathe, more emerged—ten, then twenty—marching like an army.

The mist split apart.

Masahiro Kirigaya—The Necromancer King—floated above the crossing, his mask glowing with crimson lines.

“Impressive, Brave Dragon. You survived longer than I expected.”

Kanata looked up, face shadowed by smoke.

“You’re the one who destroyed Anvill.”

“Destroyed?” Masahiro chuckled. “No, no, no… I perfected it. Death is freedom. They no longer fear pain. They no longer suffer.”

Kanata clenched his fists.
“Then I’ll show you what living really means.”

Masahiro tilted his head, amused.
“By fighting me?”

“By stopping you.”

The air split.

Kanata vanished from sight, reappearing above Masahiro with a blade blazing blue.

“<Omega Slash>!”

The swing tore through the sky—
but Masahiro raised a single hand.
The energy bent, reversed, and exploded behind Kanata.

He crashed into the asphalt, the shockwave leveling a block.

Masahiro floated down slowly, almost bored.
“You wield divine power, but lack divine purpose. That makes you just another ghost.”

Kanata spat blood, smirking.
“Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

He slammed his hands together—
runic light spiraled around him, merging the mana of both dragon arms.

“Time to stop running.”

Masahiro’s smile widened.

The ground cracked.
The sky turned violet.
Every undead in Tokyo screamed as the two forces clashed.

Kanata surged forward, his right arm glowing sapphire, his left burning gold.

Masahiro countered with waves of black flame that twisted reality itself.

Each strike shattered the air.
Each clash warped the streets.

Reiga’s voice burst through Kanata’s comm.
“Kanata! The readings—your mana’s off the charts! You’ll burn yourself out!”

“Then I’ll burn with the city if I have to!”

He roared, unleashing a beam of combined light that ripped straight through a Necro-Titan, splitting it in half.

Masahiro laughed in the smoke.
“Magnificent! This is what I wanted—the chaos, the defiance, the proof that even heroes can rot!”

Kanata’s blade clashed with his staff, sparks of light and death igniting the ruins.

The city trembled.

As they fought, the ground split open beneath Shibuya Station.
A fissure glowing with pure black mana expanded outward, swallowing corpses and concrete alike.

Celestine’s voice screamed through the comms.

“Kanata! Get out of there! It’s not just an outbreak—something else is awakening beneath the city!”

Kanata’s eyes widened as the voice of an ancient god-like presence rumbled beneath the earth.

A whisper—
deep, old, and hungry.

“You dare disturb my slumber… Children of Flame.”

Masahiro froze mid-air.
His mask cracked.
Even he looked horrified.

Kanata steadied his stance.

“What… the hell is that?”

The ground erupted—
and something vast and monstrous began to rise from beneath Tokyo.