The monsters came like the end of the world itself. From every horizon, they advanced—a living tide that swallowed the earth. Hundreds of millions of monsters, their bodies a writhing mass of scales and fur and claws, moved in perfect order, obeying the command of their emperor.
Ocean leviathans, land titans, winged predators from the sky—an entire ecosystem of annihilation converging on a single point.
They advanced in disciplined ranks: first the warrior-level beasts, then the Masters, then the Grandmasters, then the Kings and Emperors at the very rear. This was not a mindless beast tide. It was like a war between two intelligent species.
The colossal octopus was watching with calm eyes, its vast tentacles drifting across the waves like drifting mountain ranges. Its crimson eyes regarded the scene as though observing ants squabbling at the edge of a campfire. For it, this was not war. It was extermination.
And the sheer magnitude of it struck even the most hardened veterans numb.
The martial artists who only hours ago had felt a surge of bravado now stood paralyzed. Their weapons shook in their hands. Tears slid down hardened faces—this was instinct. When standing against such an overwhelming force, your body just didn’t want to listen anymore.
All the training, the faith, the hope—crushed under a single truth: They were not enough.
In every shelter, millions of civilians were watching the broadcast with wide, hollow eyes. Children clutched their mothers. Old men pressed trembling hands to their mouths. Somewhere, a woman let out a quiet, broken sob that echoed through the silent bunkers.
Humanity is finished.
Who could fight such a thing? Who could stand against an army that blotted out the horizon itself?
Even Dragon, Leon, and Alexander—men whose names were legend—had no words. They understood exactly what the lower-ranked martial artists felt in that moment. The hopelessness. The certainty that nothing they did would matter.
Ethan stood at the forefront, his face lit by the rising dawn. He looked at the monsters. If those things reached the army, there would be no time to scream. Millions of warriors would be shredded into red mist before their minds could register death.
He didn’t intend to let that happen.
He closed his eyes, and in the hush before the apocalypse, he breathed once.
Then he gave the silent command.
His thousand avatars, which were hovering in the air, each clad in armor that caught the morning light and threw it back in brilliant flashes, moved.
It was already dawn. His attributes doubled again.
[Master: Ethan Hunt
Physique: 11.61856 billion
Spirit: 11.61856 billion
Talent: Infinite Comprehension]
His clones’ attributes also doubled.
Now each of them was comparable to a Level 4 Emperor. That was enough. More than enough.
The clones raised their hands, and with a flick of their collective will, conjured swords that shimmered with lethality. Their edges glowed pale gold in the dawn.
And then, as one, they struck.
The air erupted with a thousand lines of searing light. The blades didn’t merely slice the monsters; they fell on them like judgment from the sky, each strike splitting the ranks of the beasts and vaporizing them by the hundreds of thousands in number.
In a blink, entire columns of creatures ceased to exist, their bodies reduced to drifting motes of ash.
The martial artists stared, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.
Before the shock could settle, Ethan’s clones extended their hands again. This time, five hundred knives materialized around each one—half a million blades arrayed in a perfect lattice.
The knives shot forward with a shriek like a world coming apart. They tore into the monsters, slicing them as easily as grass beneath a scythe. Flesh and bone fell away in clean, impossible cuts. Blood vaporized into pink mist.
But the clones did not advance alone. The Nova Sentinels also moved.
Five hundred armored giants surged forward, each piloted by three Grandmasters working in perfect unison. Their footfalls shook the desert floor like distant artillery.
The sky split with their war cries as the Sentinels crashed into the monsters too.
The optimus prime with it’s big blade, which was being piloted by one of Ethan’s clone, started cutting the monsters in minced meat.
Even with all this, the tide didn’t even decrease a bit. They were still coming forward. Moreover, to confront Ethan’s clones and those Sentinels, from the mass of monsters, two thousand five hundred Emperor-ranked beasts advanced directly.
Sentinels met the monsters in a cataclysm of force. Behemoths roared and lashed out with claws and jaws that could pulverize skyscrapers.
Ethan’s avatars met them blade to flesh and bone, each clone wielding a sword at once while maintaining the telekinetic storm of flying knives.
Each clone was now battling with two level 6 or higher level emperors.
But the clone could also use 360x amplification. Those monsters didn’t stand a chance against his clones.
One after another, the colossal bodies were carved open, their cores shattered, their life force extinguished.
The monsters died by the millions, the battlefield transforming into a graveyard of titans in mere minutes.
But the enemy had no shortage of life to throw away.
From the ocean and the skies, the remaining Emperors and Kings poured forth. Ten thousand Emperor-ranked monsters joined the fray in a single, thundering charge. The pressure that rolled across the desert was so heavy that even the most seasoned warriors stumbled to their knees.
Dragon’s expression turned grim. Leon wiped sweat from his brow. They were also fighting. Just as they felt they might have a chance, those Emperor beasts shattered that dream again.
Alexander closed his eyes for a heartbeat, steeling himself.
Ethan watched in silence. He felt the shape of the battlefield in his mind, every movement of every lifeform etched into his awareness like a living map.
If I let them continue, this army will be annihilated.
His gaze passed over the ranks of lower-level martial artists, still frozen in place. None of them could survive what was coming.
He needed to step forward.
"All clones—fall back."
A silent command was sent to every clone.
The clones disengaged in perfect coordination, blades retracting. In an instant, they vanished from combat. The Emperor-ranked monsters howled in confusion, their colossal heads sweeping the sky to find where their prey had gone.
Ethan’s clones reappeared across the battlefield, each beside a stunned martial artist. One by one, the avatars placed hands on their shoulders. Without warning, they vanished, flickering from the desert as if they had never existed. They used teleportation now.
Dragon turned to Ethan, bewildered. "What are you planning?"
Ethan didn’t answer. He simply stepped into the air, rising higher until every eye—human and monster alike—could see him.
Then a horrendous pressure released from his body. It enveloped almost all the monsters on the battlefield.
It hit like the sky collapsing. The monsters shrieked and reared back, their bodies instinctively trying to flee from a force they couldn’t win.
Ethan had enveloped them all in his mental domain. Every beast—except the handful of creatures which were clustered around the Octopus—was caught in its crushing grip.
Claws scraped furrows into the sand. Wings beat the air in futile panic. But there was no escape.
He raised his sword,it was just a normal sword conjured by his metal element and in that gesture, countless monsters felt the moment of their deaths somehow.
They roared in collective defiance. Countless King and Emperor beasts lunged toward him at speeds that blurred the air. But Ethan was faster.
He gathered his light energy, infusing it into his sword intent. Then he focused, drawing every particle of power into a single, perfect line.
In that breathless second before the end, his voice rang out:
"I am atomic."
A blinding light ignited in the sky. The cameras in the bunkers flared white, every lens overwhelmed by the radiance.
For an instant, it was like a new sun had appeared.
The light spread outward, rolling over the monsters with the quiet inevitability of dawn.
They screamed—thousands of overlapping voices, high and ragged with primal terror. All their power, all their numbers, all their instincts meant nothing. The light touched them, and they ceased to exist.
Hundreds of millions of creatures—Warriors, Masters, Kings, Emperors—swallowed by a radiance so complete it erased even their shadows.
The light kept expanding, bright as the birth of the world. For a single heartbeat, even the Octopus on the horizon turned its massive eyes away.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the brilliance vanished.
Silence fell, ringing and absolute.
The desert was exactly as barren as it had been the day before. Not a single monster remained. No bones, no blood—only scorched sand, cooling in the morning breeze.
Ethan lowered his sword, his breath slow and even. The attack had carried nearly four trillion tonnes of force, laced with pure light energy. Against that, those monsters didn’t have a chance.
Far away, in the shelters and bunkers, the feed returned. Civilians stared in mute awe.
The martial artists were looking at the scene like they were in a dream.
Dragon watched the scene. With the force weapon in his hand, he could create an attack stronger than this, but that would be a single attack. At most, thousands would die with the residual energy. But this? What the hell was that? And what the heck did he say before attacking?
The other people’s thinking, however, was not complex. There was only one emotion in their hearts at that time—and that was awe, nothing else.
Ethan breathed out air. "Huff. That felt so good. Maybe I should use the Rasengan or Kamehameha next time?" He was grinning ear to ear. The attack felt exhilarating.
But then he noticed the look on the octopus. Those eyes didn’t have fear. Only disdain and ridicule.
Seeing the ridicule,Ethan somehow felt thrilled. That beast was the only one who could now give him a real taste of battle.
Ethan also smiled. Come then. Let me see what you are made of.