Egypt, Cairo.
Underground space, Obelisk organization headquarters.
Pharaoh strides into a spacious barrier area, candles automatically lighting along the way, accompanied by floral fragrance.
After walking about a hundred steps, the view opens up—an underground botanical garden. Overhead cos into view a massive wooden ship, surpassing aircraft carrier volu, bound and suspended by puppet threads. It looks both worrying regarding safety and shocking at ancient era power.
It radiates amazing energy, seeming to actively fuse and resonate with Great Catastrophe aura. Indeed blooming a glimr of hope within doomsday, as if truly capable of surviving destruction.
"It's useless now. If you want to risk boarding, I can help."
"No need, Lady Anemone. I'll cooperate with Holy City Association's disaster relief activities while dealing with infected bodies, leaving here long-term."
"Fine."
Both suddenly fall silent then look at each other, unsure what to think. Their affiliation began inexplicably, even mixed with control and coercion, but now before doomsday it doesn't matter.
Originally just mutually beneficial interest exchange:
As an Ancient Holy Relic, Pharaoh hoped to reduce relic erosion pain and restore Sleeping Beauty to normal—naturally best if surviving crisis. While Anemone needed the forr's theater commander identity as cover, helping build Obelisk organization—getting the ark sufficed.
Carefully thinking, hostile elents between them might be greater, after all a certain puppet miss used control skills upon eting.
"...Holy Relic Pharaoh might die on battlefield, so consider this eternal farewell—fate exhausted."
"I don't think so. Currently you have more vitality than in the past, full of life." Gothic dress girl points at eye corners: "Look in a mirror—your dark circles are gone."
"Please don't joke, my lady. I'm prepared to die."
"Then your death will also be good, avoiding evaluation: Pharaoh long dead, just now buried."
He imdiately laughs heartily.
"Very fitting Lady Anemone's joke style. Then I won't disturb. Your mission is important—attacking the Disaster Beast world, right? I represent the Holy City Association blessing Salvation Church with martial fortune. We will definitely win."
Saying this, Pharaoh strides away, even carelessly waving while walking, leaving a dashing silhouette—he absolutely lacked this deanor before.
Anemone watches montarily then continues adjusting the ark, regalia extending several arms for connections, like performing clinical surgery.
Must carefully inspect once before confidently delivering.
After all, Hyacinth's task is bringing the ark completely intact to Hermit Island headquarters.
Though both belong to determined death-fighting realists, one more trump card is never wrong. Better unused, at least boosts morale.
Ordinary Magical Girls lack their will. Creating "we actually have retreat routes" appearance is important—simple psychology ga, always useful.
Inspect first.
"I thought you wouldn't easily let him go."
Magical Girl Ageratum eats chips while observing Pharaoh's departure direction, tentacle-like dark green hair agitated, ready to silence targets anyti—after all, a complete outsider not even counting as Magical Girl knows too much Obelisk information.
Comparatively, Lycoris beside her remains silently sleepy as always, maintaining domain projection is tiring.
Rabbit-ear Umbrella and Erena teleport over. The painting fairy miss indeed distinguishes from the main body—that Erena gives full freedom believing characters have their own lives.
Obelisk's backbone assembles for upcoming ark transport, plus they have final gathering feelings.
"Before doomsday, grudges don't matter much. Are you interested in boarding it? Though not guaranteeing ark effectiveness—might crash midway—dying suddenly in hope is more humane than dying in despair."
Huh?
Anemone's weighing pros and cons makes people lose composure as always.
Everyone shakes heads.
Closest Ageratum clearly states: "Anyway I won't board ships. Let's live and die together—my fate with yours will connect until the final mont."
Hearing this, Anemone pauses puppet thread manipulation, smiling charmingly without answering but changing topics: "Guess where such powerful relics as arks were created?"
"Since it was discovered on the moon, definitely the moon—sounds romantic too."
Erena's answer gains companions' approval.
"No, it was built in an unknown era's Egypt region, thus retaining massive spaceti energy, also chosen by as a sleeping location."
"Being on the moon was because it got blasted up. Past Anti-Disaster Beast wars in the Hermit Island region had soone trying to use the ark evacuating everyone, but aftershocks sent a relic flying skyward, deeply buried in the lunar surface. This is also romantic, right?"
Obviously her romantic definition differs. Fruition Stage Magical Girls can't imagine how to blast arks from ground to moon.
If multiple Withering Stage exist mixed with permanent magic effects, theoretically should work, but describing as aftershocks ans what? Not deliberately doing so, but indirectly pushing out!
What scale of war?
Crack!
Suddenly Anemone fiercely pulls puppet threads, forcibly lifting the ark.
"Inspection complete, let's go—to Hermit Island." Next mont she appears at bow: "I declare Obelisk officially disbanded. We fight to the end in the Church."
Magical Girls imdiately nod—everyone long made choices, following Hyacinth to the final mont.
Simultaneously, the do automatically opens a door. Under dual control of Puppet Show and Valley of Kings, it leaps from underground space, fully loaded with all materials from Obelisk's developnt—luxurious relocation worthy of historical records.
The ark appears in Cairo sky without psychological preparation, blocking sky and earth. Citizens look up witnessing spectacle.
Openly without slightest concealnt.
Initially people think it's Disaster Beasts and panic, then suddenly feel sothing manipulative missing from bodies, accompanied by magic nourishnt like farewell blessing.
Though unclear about that thing's true identity, harmonious magic reactions are genuine.
"Goodbye! Bon voyage!"
Sohow spontaneous wishes erge. Children bounce and jump, gazing far to witness the ark rising higher, soaring above sea surface into twilight colors.
"Only Salvation Church could do this—what action are they taking, like previous defense battles."
"Are we saved?"
No one knows the answers, but just knowing so people remain steadfast against the Great Catastrophe provides comfort. World's final hope lies in Hermit Island.
❀⋆｡°✿☆❀✿°｡⋆❀
Catastrophe pollution gathering place.
Adjacent to spaceti turbulence, imnsely distant from any stable world with chaotic coordinates difficult to locate—even catastrophic Disaster Beasts must exert effort to reach.
Their body strength suffices for star-sea crossing through long years, yet still must stay alert facing this world.
A skeletal deer treads through sky, swimming turbulence, crossing stars. Two massive antlers drag rainbows leaving scattered light, colorful. Surrounding Disaster Beasts frequently glance, silent as cicadas.
It's back.
Phantom replacing Gray Fire as fairy attack commander, even superior, sufficient to force Queen's Guard Captain into action—apparently uninjured.
Probably because Gray Fire's originally planned Magical Girl attack line failed, requiring contraction.
They sense Phantom's furious atmosphere.
Understandable—after all, repeatedly alternating attack lines with partners cultivated considerable coordination, counting among few wild tribe mbers who see eye to eye, yet facing life-and-death separation naturally provokes towering rage, even neglecting World Tree attacks.
"Who did it?" Phantom's ntal power sweeps, targeting Disaster Beasts returning from Planet Gaia.
This defeated remnant appears very dispirited, mostly missing limbs, slowly healing using natural magic, eyes lacking fighting spirit, even deeply fearful.
Extrely ugly.
If not for small fry still having harassnt value against ordinary people, it would kill them now. Otherwise keeping them demoralizes troops? Even frenzied Disaster Beasts consider organization during peaceti—cannot ignore.
"Sir, Magical Girl Hyacinth did it. Though many participated, she's the main culprit—extrely guilty."
"Right, right! She killed Profound One very cruelly."
"Not only that, those Magical Girls are very strong, coordinating rivaling fairies. We couldn't break into low altitudes."
"The strongest magic holders all reached the Withering Stage—no weaknesses exist."
"You must be careful too."
Disaster Beasts recall trembling, expressions panicked, as if Hermit Island raid aftershocks haven't passed. Since returning they constantly mutter how scary, how terrible—many comrades also affected, continuously raising combat assessnts for Magical Girls.
However, in Phantom's eyes this is just excuse-making for failure, avoiding punishnt—a bunch of waste. They caused Gray Fire and other catastrophic disasters' crushing defeat.
Thinking this, its gaze sweeps panic-stricken ones.
Next mont, targets suddenly wail as ntal entities separate from bodies—extrely strong ntal attribute pulling as if digging out souls, scene very horrifying.
Excluding Pollution Saint Dragon, Phantom has strongest ntal attributes, sufficient to separate soul from flesh with one thought.
mory reading!
After glancing, it says coldly: "Clearly you were arrogant, missing optimal timing. Damn."
Judgnt-like words instantly drain life from thousands of remnants, leaving only bodily shells—eerie corpses other monsters dare not devour, only serving as garbage.
After this, Phantom calmly heads to the pollution center.
"Laetitia, what coincidence—you're here too!"
"Originally I'd serve as Gray Fire's backup, having been to Magical Girls' world, but unfortunately Door-Key interfered with spatial fluctuations requiring repositioning. Will you bla ?"
"Of course not. We're equals—no need for fratricide. Just maintain the current pace, attack again during the Great Catastrophe."
"You must guard against the strongest magics."
"Just 11-elent Magical Girls—still insufficient for final battle participation. We have trump cards."
Phantom glances at the central region where considerable catastrophic disasters still sleep. Their advantage lies in scale—years accumulating countless frenzied monsters. As Pollution Saint Dragon recovers full strength awakening them equals an army.
Moreover, absolute advantage exists: comprehensive attack burst using Great Catastrophe energy tides.
Then fairies and Magical Girls will struggle adapting to new environnts, definitely collapsing en masse, rapidly disintegrating. Conversely, Disaster Beasts and Dark Fairies will embrace victory like fish to water.
"Wrong."
Suddenly low voice cos from pollution cloud center—
Massive Pollution Saint Dragon lies on satellite fragnt resting, blackened scales gradually recovering luster, repairing wounds from Fairy Queen battle.
More importantly, quickly regaining Great Disaster Beast's proper peak strength—after all, long slumber affected condition.
"...Very long ago, so long I don't rember when, I alone fought a group of Magical Girls and Critical Fairy squads, leaving one survivor—or two maybe. Anyway, active today is then-leader Lilith. That battle, she protected one magical civilization's remaining fruits: Hermit Island."
Information overload!
Neither Phantom nor blasphemous angel ever heard this, unexpectedly such past exists.
Grudges belonging exclusively between era-spanning beings.
"Her hatred for supported such long confrontation, always working secretly. I haven't confird specific principles, but one legacy is Hermit Island."
"Massive permanent magic traces exist there—simply entire product of permanent magic, older from top to bottom. In several eras after that battle, discoverers invariably filled power, suffered catastrophe baptism and burial, cyclically."
"Can you imagine? Persistent enemies' successive inheritance threats—not swearing to kill you, actions themselves are revenge."
Truth revealed!
Originally they suspected whether preventing Salvation Church strengthening was complete battle objective. Probably world's strongest also harbors heartache, hoping to bury Hermit Island—this era missed another chance.
Destroying it—how easy is that? Unknown how much permanent magic protection exists. At most kill people above.
But even secondary retreat missions failed.
Inevitably produces psychological fluctuations toward Pollution Saint Dragon, feeling targeted again.
Phantom tentatively answers: "You needn't worry. Anyway, ultimately we'll destroy these guys—aningless before era change natural phenona."
"I can't imagine weakening thods unless killing you to make Great Catastrophe energy tides lose guidance—but extrely difficult." Laetitia says.
"...Only the greatest of enemies understand . Don't worry anymore—go prepare. Also, don't always consider yourselves attackers—prepare defense too."
After Pollution Saint Dragon's instructions, it closes eyes sleeping—won't wake until the Great Catastrophe.
But other deep-sleeping catastrophic disaster auras activate.
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