Chapter — Monarch's Fall
The air in Egypt was heavy with smoke and dust, hanging over the broken city like a funeral shroud.
Amid the ruins, two lone figures stood Knight Óðr and Anzeyt, breathing heavily, their bodies battered and worn from the relentless fight.
Their enemy floated above them atop a gleaming silver coin—the legendary Coin Master, Napoleon. Despite their combined strength, they had barely scratched him.
Óðr wiped blood from his mask, glaring up at the untouchable figure.
"Nothing gets through those damn coins," Óðr growled through gritted teeth.
Anzeyt, his ancient robes torn and stained, gave a grim nod.
"That's why he's called the Coin Master," he said, voice hoarse. "Those very coins were what he used to dominate his era. But… I have one last shot left."
Óðr turned toward him sharply.
"What are you talking about?"
Anzeyt's eyes were solemn, filled with a warrior's resolve.
"We're both running out of Shen. He's toying with us and if we keep playing his game, we die for nothing."
"There's something I want to try… but it's dangerous. I need you to give me distance. I can't control it perfectly once it starts."
Óðr hesitated.
"What is that ?"
Anzeyt smiled faintly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.
"A technique passed down through generations of Egypt's guardians."
"SUHA forbade its use… but today, it's necessary. I won't survive it."
Óðr clenched his fists.
"Then why use it?!"
Anzeyt placed a firm hand on Óðr's shoulder.
"Because it will save Egypt. Go—"
"That's an order."
Above, Napoleon chuckled, standing effortlessly atop his hovering coin.
"What do you fools think you can pull off now?" he mocked, his voice rolling across the battlefield. "Scheme all you want. Nothing changes your fate your death is certain."
Óðr gave a silent nod.
FWIP!
In a burst of crows, he dissolved into the air, reforming atop a shattered building far from the epicenter, watching.
Anzeyt turned to face Napoleon, planting his feet into the cracked earth.
He roared into the broken sky:
"Napoleonnnnn! How would you like to meet your maker?!" He asked
"I always despised SUHA's idea of mercy… I believe in execution. The threat they failed to eliminate has returned and today, I shall finish the job!"
He clasped his palms together with a heavy thud.
Inside the Egyptian Association facility, behind thick glass walls, Osiris sat stiffly, eyes closed.
The ground trembled beneath him.
A hand rested gently on his shoulder — it belonged to one of the Hunter Army Generals.
"Your father has chosen his path, young Osiris," the general said gravely. "One day, it will be your turn… to save this nation too."
Osiris swallowed hard, fists trembling on his knees.
Back on the battlefield, Anzeyt's Shen flared wildly.
Golden streams of ancient energy wrapped around his body, etching glowing hieroglyphs into the air.
He muttered:
"Shen Transformation: Monarch Pharaoh."
FWWOOOOOM!
His body transformed in a radiant explosion.
Now, Anzeyt stood adorned in ancient Egyptian royal attire a striped nemes headdress crowned his head with a golden band, a broad jeweled collar shimmered around his neck, and a white-and-gold pleated kilt swayed at his legs, lined with sashes of crimson, sapphire, and emerald. In his right hand he held a scepter, and in his left, the divine ankh, the symbol of eternal life.
He embodied kingship, divinity itself, risen from the sands of history.
Napoleon's amused smile slowly faded.
"So… this is your hidden strength."
"An ancient power passed down your bloodline."
"No matter. I'll kill you—and erase every last remnant of it."
Anzeyt didn't flinch.
He tightened his grip on the scepter and spoke a single command:
"BEFALL!"
The sky ripped open.
A massive golden pyramid emerged from the heavens, its shimmering form so vast it blotted out the sun. It descended with the force of a falling god — colossal, unstoppable.
Napoleon's eyes widened in shock.
The pyramid's base was the size of Jupiter impossibly huge.
"W-What trickery is this?!" Napoleon shouted, instantly willing his silver coin platform to accelerate.
"You can't outrun destiny!" Anzeyt roared.
Napoleon zigzagged through the sky at breakneck speeds, but no matter how fast he moved, no matter where he fled—the pyramid loomed above him, shadowing his every movement.
Its descent was inevitable.
The air vibrated with sacred power.
"It's a godly technique, Napoleon." Anzeyt declared. "You can neither dodge nor escape it. Your era ends… now!"
The golden pyramid crashed into Napoleon's silver platform.
CRRRUUUNNNCHH!!
The coin shattered under the unbearable force. Napoleon threw up his arms to catch the pyramid's edge, his hands pressing desperately against its golden surface — but the divine material burned his flesh instantly, eating into his bones.
"AAAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!"
He ripped his hands away in agony, but it was too late.
The pyramid slammed him downward, crushing him into the earth with an earth-shattering impact.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The entire city shook. Buildings disintegrated into clouds of debris. A shockwave of dust and golden energy blanketed the horizon, swallowing entire neighborhoods.
The roar of the impact echoed for miles.
Egypt trembled.
Meanwhile, in a secret underground facility of The Ten —
Kazuki and Hirito slid the second Yggdrill box across the polished stone floor.
Huey caught it lazily, lifting it with a smile.
"Amazing job, boys."
He placed the box atop a stone altar where the first box—retrieved by Silas—already rested.
Huey dusted off his black gloves, turning to another figure waiting in the gloom.
"Now… I shall go retrieve the third box myself."
"Would you accompany me, Mr. Silas Moraku?"
Silas bowed slightly, his bloodstained cleaver resting across his shoulders.
"With pleasure, my lord."
Together, they stepped toward the next chapter of conquest.
In America, within the battered ruins of Washington D.C., Team Madagascar had gathered the injured soldiers and survivors into makeshift triage zones.
The air was heavy with the stench of blood and smoke.
As Madagascar helped lift a broken beam, he spotted something beneath it.
A woman's body, twisted and shriveled as if her life had been eaten away.
Her skin was dry, cracked—like a hollowed husk left to rot.
"Wait—DON'T TOUCH HER!" Madagascar shouted.
But it was too late.
One of the medics had already reached out to check her pulse.
CRACK.
The moment her fingers brushed the woman's corpse, her body began to wither in seconds. She screamed, her skin peeling away as her body dried up and crumbled into dust.
"Oh my God…" one other nurse gasped.
From the corpse, Asger slowly stirred.
She rose from the ground, her healing now complete.
The dry, dead skin sloughed off her body like a serpent shedding its skin, revealing her restored form.
Asger flexed her fingers, gazing down coldly.
"My brother's abilities… are sick." she said softly.
"I'm sorry you had to witness this."
The surviving nurse staggered back, pale as a sheet—before fainting outright.
Asger simply adjusted her blood-streaked hair, stepping into the ruined city, her eyes burning with the desire for vengeance.
End of Chapter.