Apocalypse Gachapon

The music suddenly became intense, and the movements of a figure accelerated with the rhythm.

“Hehe, perfect timing—they must be furious.”

Watching the images transmitted from a screen, this person waved their hands even faster.

Behind them, hundreds of people watched this young man “acting crazy,” but no one dared to make a sound.

In their eyes, this seemingly mentally unstable young man was far too terrifying in terms of strength.

To be precise, it wasn’t his own power that was terrifying, but his ability to control metal puppets.

He commanded an entire army of metal puppets!

Among them were towering steel warriors, their massive swords swinging like ancient behemoths; ferocious beast puppets covered in weapons, acting as mobile war fortresses; and small, adorable metal animal models that were actually deadly assassins—capable of mimicry, flight, ambushes… almost anything.

The survivors now captured were those who had clashed with him and lost. As for the rest, they had already died at the hands of his metal puppets.

The images this person was watching on a screen embedded in one of his puppets showed none other than Cloud Peak and Cannibal Chain.

“How do you like my Snowflake Bombs? Teasing you always brings me joy.”

He muttered to himself, yet didn’t find it boring at all. One hand danced while the other manipulated a keyboard, shifting the screen’s view.

With each turn, a different passage’s situation appeared. Aside from Cannibal Chain’s, all the others were displayed.

“Oh? This one’s being dominated by Governor Spade? Let me see, let me see… Hmm, his opponents aren’t weak. Seems he still needs some time.”

“And this one… Huh? Who’s this? Kinda like me, but not as strong. Hehe, whatever—let’s give them a little surprise since they dare to resemble me.”

As he spoke, his fingers tapped lightly, and from one of the nearby metal puppets, a swarm of bee-like objects shot out. On closer inspection, they were all mechanical, crafted with such precision they could almost pass for real.

“Try my Electromagnetic Bees!”

His face brimmed with excitement. After releasing the bees, without any visible manipulation, they flew toward their target as if guided by radar.

Soon, they reached their destination. After a brief hover, they descended.

Their target? Gyanendra’s team.

This sage from West Asia was leading his squad in battle, currently holding a passage. Though attacks came intermittently, he had repelled them all. Now, he had already thwarted four assaults—one more, and he would secure ownership of this passage.

Jianan Dela was proud. He had observed the strength displayed by Cloud Peak and Cannibal Chain along the way, taking mental notes. His desire to compete with these two factions burned fiercely.

Having arrived late, he was eager to prove himself. Being the first to secure a passage would be a small victory.

But before his satisfaction could last three seconds, he discovered that his recently acquired modern mechanical forces had suddenly gone out of control.

This had never happened before.

Gyanendra controlled his mechanical troops through the vehicle’s command console.

Now, the screen was nothing but static.

Almost simultaneously, a tremor ran through the vehicle, causing the West Asian sage to float swiftly to the window.

Now, this was his only way to observe the battlefield.

The attacking force seemed to sense Gyanendra’s predicament and unleashed their trump card. In mere moments, three or four machines had been destroyed in explosions—the tremors came from their demise.

Gyanendra now had two choices.

First, he could personally intervene, using his overwhelming combat prowess to compensate for the loss of his mechanical forces.

But this came with a problem: the danger he’d face would multiply drastically.

This wasn’t West Asia, nor any ordinary region—it was the special space of the wheel. Outside, Gyanendra was a supreme expert, one of the few who could stand as his equal in his entire territory. For thousands of miles, he was king.

But here? In this cramped circular mountain path?

Seven-star experts were as common as dogs, eight-stars roamed everywhere!

Most of North America’s top elites had gathered here.

Gyanendra couldn’t just flick his sleeves and wipe out enemies like before.

His reclusive nature meant that while he had followers, few were true experts. He had to rely mostly on himself.

In peaceful times, it was said that the richer and more powerful someone was, the more they feared death—because they valued their lives too much.

The apocalypse was no different. At Gyanendra’s level, unless absolutely necessary, he was unwilling to take reckless risks.

He didn’t want to resort to this method.

That left the second option: temporarily retreating from the steps, removing himself as a target.

But this was a shame—just one more repelled attack, and he would’ve passed this trial.

Gyanendra hesitated.

Then two more machines exploded, forcing his decision.

Retreat, regroup, and find the cause of the malfunction. Better than staying as a sitting duck.

The West Asian sage immediately gave the order. His subordinates loaded the main combat machines onto transport vehicles and withdrew from the steps, while autonomous units and evolved provided cover.

Seeing their retreat, the enemy slowed their assault. They, too, had no desire for meaningless slaughter. Even if they’d be attacked later, fighting on the steps was far more advantageous.

The two sides soon swapped positions. Though still engaged, losses were minimized, and both achieved their goals without further chaos.

Watching this unfold on screen, the young man burst into laughter, reveling in the thrill of manipulating others like puppets.

“Now, who’s next?” he chuckled, his excitement uncontainable.

“And what about you?”**

A voice suddenly spoke up from among the prisoners behind him.