Mystica: Reincarnated Into A Novel As A Villain With 3x Reward System
Chapter 40: Second World War [03]

Chapter 40: Second World War [03]

A Few Minutes Ago...

The ritual had ended. The once lifeless body twitched. Its skin cracks disappeared as new flesh grew.

Then—a quick motion.

Suddenly, as though waking from a centuries-long dream, the figure stood. His hands moved, feeling, testing, proving he was there.

Then his eyes slowly rose.

He fixed Zephyraen with his gleaming silver eyes, which seemed to be able to see right into his soul.

A moment of silence. And then—

"Are you the kid, Zephyraen?"

Zephyraen’s breath hitched. He had been ready for this, but it still chilled him to hear that voice again.

"...Yes, Malgrath Master... You recognized me?"

Malgrath’s lips curled slightly. "Hah... Of course. I had already seen the future."

"You knew about the Second World War, then?" Zephyraen asked.

Malgrath’s expression was unreadable as he cocked his head. "Huh... Second World War?"

Zephyraen nodded. "Yes, and you know you can’t win it alone... How fortunate for you."

Malgrath smirked. "Fortunate, huh?"

Meanwhile, on the Battlefield...

It was one-sided now.

The disparity between the numbers was too great. A small group of warriors could not contain an entire army, no matter how strong they were.

Dareth’s movements slowed as he struggled. Jaxyn, who was supporting him, had already been badly wounded.

The other 2 Velnoctenes? Gone. Dead.

Declan was still alive and engaged in a ceaseless conflict with Darius, the Dravarnian leader. Even he, however, was beginning to falter.

There was no hope left for the Velnoctenes. They were fighting to stay alive, not to win. They turned their movements into a retreat and retreated.

The world took notice.

Once fighting in desperation, the warriors were now cheering. Some had given up fighting entirely as they watched their adversaries run away because the battle had changed so drastically.

It was a near-certain victory.

Then, however, everything was different.

Out of nowhere—

The battlefield echoed with a presence.

A change in the atmosphere.

It felt like the sky itself was collapsing under the weight.

And just like that—

Silence.

The soldiers in the middle of the battleground then began to feel uneasy.

It was subtle at first, a weird unease creeping through their bodies. They shifted uneasily, twitching, and their hands moved naturally over their chests and arms. There was a problem.

Then, the pain struck.

They twisted inside.

As though their very organs were being crushed and rearranged, a searing, excruciating pain ripped through them. Nothing could stop it, even though some people gripped their chests and others clutched their stomachs.

The first scream followed.

Then another.

And another.

One by one, they fell. Their bodies broke, twisted, and collapsed.

Nearly 50,000 fighters writhed in agony in the centre of the battlefield, their cries of agony trembling the earth beneath them. The once-proud battlefield had become a terrifying scene of death, and the air was heavy with the smell of blood.

The fighters who had engaged in combat froze.

They looked, and they were terrified.

Their confidence was shattered, even the strongest of them. The cheers from before? Gone.

Now, there was only terror left...

The battlefield was covered in blood, which soaked the ground like a deep, red sea. While the cries of the dying continued to reverberate, bodies lay strewn about, dead.

And then—he appeared.

In the heart of the slaughter, a figure appeared.

The wind blew long hair. He was wearing an old, battle-worn outfit that looked like it belonged in a different era, and his arms were crossed. He had a keen, piercing gaze. His gaze extended beyond the battlefield. He was evaluating it.

For a moment, silence.

Then—panic.

The warriors swung around and fled for their lives. Their former self-assurance was gone. Something far beyond their comprehension had arrived, and even the strongest of them sensed it.

Not everyone ran, though.

Some remained, too bold or too stupid to back down. Their bodies trembled as they tightened their grip on their weapons, but they refused to give up.

Then—another person showed up.

Zephyraen.

He entered the battlefield and stood next to the figure, his face unreadable. Velnoctene’s final hope had come.

Darius and Declan felt it too, far away, on the opposite side of the battlefield.

They sensed the change in energy and heard the screams despite the battle that rocked the sky.

Declan’s monstrous arms and nine glowing eyes twitched in response as he transformed into a Nyxian.

Darius’s eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists in his full power form.

Something had changed.

There was something much worse on the horizon.

"Hah... so these are the so-called warriors of the world?" Malgrath snorted, disappointment evident in his tone. "I expected something interesting... but this? Let me end this quickly—without even using my powers."

Then—he vanished.

In the blink of an eye, Malgrath was back on the battlefield, standing composedly among the surviving fighters amid the blood-soaked ground as a sudden gust of wind rushed through it. His face was unreadable, but there was only icy amusement in his eyes.

The fighters made no hesitation. With swords, spears, and magic aimed directly at his body, they all sprang at him at once.

Malgrath, too, moved.

And then—chaos.

In mere seconds, bodies flew, bones shattered, and blood sprayed through the air. Yet not a single scream was heard—because before they could even process the pain, they were already dead.

His motions were fluid, his blows accurate—like a master manipulating delicate dolls. He waited to give them an easy death, not out of compassion.

To him, this wasn’t a battle.

It was a massacre.

Then—the earth trembled violently.

Even Malgrath, with all his strength and insight, was taken by surprise. His instincts cried out to him, and he immediately retreated, drifting far into the sky.

Then—it arrived.

A loud roar.

It was not just any roar, though; this was something incomprehensible.

It was intolerable.

An earth-shattering, deafening scream that tore through the world.

Every living thing heard it, regardless of where they were—in the darkest oceans, the highest mountains, or the deepest caverns.

There was more to it than just noise. It shook the soul. Reality itself seemed to be disintegrating.

Then—light.

A brilliant, blinding white light exploded across the entire world.

Nothing could be seen.

Everything was swallowed by the endless, pure white.