Apocalypse Gachapon

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with silence.

Chilian and the maidservant both gave the Saintess a strange look.

Shouldn’t she have refused outright? Chilian was even prepared to fight—if the Saintess made a move, she would follow, even if she was no match for these two despicable men! At worst, she’d die trying!

Chilian was one of the few in Saint Light Hall who fully supported the Saintess’s decisions—whether it was the patricide, the subsequent compromises, or the choices made since arriving in West Asia. She believed the Saintess had done nothing wrong and had always acted in the temple’s best interests. That was why she remained loyal.

The young maidservant felt the same.

Her strength was modest—at best, a six-star evolved by Earth’s current standards. Faced with these two new leaders earlier, her powerlessness had been painfully obvious.

But that wasn’t an excuse to cower. To her, the Saintess was not just a revered figure but also her dearest friend. Even if it cost her life, she wouldn’t let these disrespectful men walk away unscathed.

Yet—

The Saintess didn’t act. Even her earlier anger seemed to have vanished.

Zheng Xi and Duo Yan exchanged glances, excitement—and a hint of disdain—visible in their eyes.

“This matter is too significant for an immediate answer. We’ll await your decision. By tomorrow evening, we hope to receive your final reply.”

With that, Zheng Xi and his partner Duo Yan gave another perfunctory bow and turned to leave. At the door, Zheng Xi paused and added, “Your Grace, cooperation benefits us both. Our temple’s situation is precarious. Frankly, even in West Asia alone, we rank only second. The city lord hasn’t yet reached the Holy Father’s level, but he’s close. Now is the best time to merge. If we miss this chance, as others grow stronger, the outcome may change entirely. Beyond West Asia, we’d likely rank outside the top fifty globally. Our sensitive status means that without strength, we risk being swallowed whole. Since we can’t rapidly upgrade our warriors, allying with nearby powers is our best option—it prevents us from being devoured.”

“May Your Grace find peace.”

This time, Zheng Xi’s bow carried slightly more respect.

Soon, only the Saintess, Chilian, and the maidservant remained in the room.

“Saintess!”

Chilian called out urgently—she could see the Saintess wavering!

Yes, even if Zheng Xi and Duo Yan weren’t entirely wrong, forcing the Saintess to marry an outsider was something the temple’s followers could never accept.

Better to fight to the last than let the Saintess suffer such humiliation!

That city lord? One glance was enough to see he was a debauched man.

Of course, Chilian knew that in this world, no one rose to power on vice alone—yet her instincts screamed that he was bad news.

“Enough. I know what you’re thinking.” The Saintess’s gaze drifted to the impenetrable darkness outside, her voice almost ethereal.

“Perhaps Zheng Xi is right. If I sacrifice myself, maybe I can steer the hopeless hall back on course. Maybe an alliance with the Holy City will make us strong enough to contend with other factions on this planet. Maybe… this is how we truly integrate into this world.”

Chilian and the maidservant exchanged helpless glances, unsure how to dissuade her.

……………………………………………………

After darkness, light must come.

As sunlight bathed the planet as it had for millennia, the land seemed to awaken.

The Holy City was a city that never slept—or so its residents believed. Yet while nights were filled with revelry and wine, daylight brought a semblance of normalcy.

It was one of West Asia’s rare havens, seldom troubled by mutated creatures. Occasional sand beasts or aerial threats did little to diminish its status as a sanctuary for the region’s evolved.

Stability bred prosperity. Shops and stalls crammed every corner—this was the Holy City’s reality.

However, many merchants felt uneasy today.

Because goods were scarce.

Not what they already had, but what should have arrived—and hadn’t.

This included supply teams for faction-run shops, delivery crews for trade organizations, and even individual hunters who usually clamored to sell their wares. Few came.

Normally, this would cause shortages—the city’s size and population guaranteed massive daily trade.

Yet as goods dwindled, so did customers.

At first, no one understood why—some didn’t even notice. But after days, the pattern became undeniable.

The news traveled upward, initially ignored by the Holy City’s leaders, still basking in their victory over Janandra and preoccupied with an impending grand wedding.

But soon, they too recognized the issue. A brief investigation revealed its staggering scale.

The same gilded banquet hall from the night before now stood empty of guests and finery, occupied only by the city lord and his inner circle.

“Investigations confirm the situation is worse than reported,” said a middle-aged man in traditional dress, his beard thick. “Far worse.”

The city lord sipped water, crunching ice between his teeth.

“Yesterday marked our first full day of data collection. Only thirty-odd trade caravans entered, with around two thousand evolved—a drastic drop to just 30% of previous numbers. Two-thirds have vanished.”

His voice grew graver. “As West Asia’s largest—and only—trade hub, this anomaly defies explanation without beast tides or zombie hordes. Scouts have been dispatched, but answers may take days.”

Trade meant taxes. Fewer transactions meant dwindling revenue and jeopardized the lavish lifestyles of the city’s armies and elite.

Without ample taxes, the Holy City and its ruler would lose their path to rapid growth.

“Spare me the details. Just tell me—why?”

The city lord set down his cup, his cold gaze sweeping the room.

Silence. Finally, the bearded man ventured uncertainly:

“My lord, absent natural disasters or undead surges, only one possibility remains…”

“Someone is purging our territory.”

………………………………………………………………

“Little Leaf! The Rusty Tong Hu and Stinky Yun’s forces will reach their position in three hours!”

Yangos landed triumphantly before Ye Zhongming, its massive wings stirring a sandstorm.

“Looking for a beating?” Mo Ye snapped at the dragon.

This creature truly thrived on the slightest leniency.

“Woman, silence! This is a unique communication between me and my most revered master—beyond your comprehension!”

Yangos knew Cloud Peak wouldn’t punish minor insolence, so it retorted haughtily.

Ye Zhongming chuckled. “How long was your flight back?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Nodding, Ye Zhongming did quick calculations before turning to the assembled—Mo Ye, Xiao Hu, Liang Chuyin, Xia Bai, Red Hair, Guang Yao, Tang Tian, Lu Yi, Park Xiuying, Ah Tao, Gan Lan, Mei Na, Ah Yang, Xiao Peng…

And the Death King Tree and Talking Lady…

“These past days, we’ve only cleared the Holy City’s outskirts.” His voice carried clearly.

“Next, we take their two largest remaining oasis strongholds within the hour, encircling the Holy City. In three hours, the Western Offensive begins in earnest.”

His words were simple, yet they set every heart ablaze.

“I’ll soon depart for a time. To avenge our fallen and ensure the villa’s peace, I must take action. And I believe fear is the best way to silence our enemies!”