The world did not end in a single moment.

It ended in flashes.

In fire.

In silence.

Then screaming.

Hours after the nuclear launches, entire continents had transformed into burning graveyards beneath rising mushroom clouds and collapsing skies.

The atmosphere itself looked wounded.

Dark smoke columns stretched upward across the planet while ash drifted through the air like black snow. Communication networks had collapsed almost everywhere. Satellites stopped responding one by one as electromagnetic pulses crippled infrastructure across entire regions.

Human civilization had been decapitated in less than an hour.

In what remained of Washington D.C., the capital no longer existed as a functioning city.

The White House was gone.

The Capitol Building was gone.

Entire districts had been flattened beneath the blast wave while fires continued burning through shattered ruins. The streets were buried beneath debris, ash, overturned vehicles, and bodies burned so badly they no longer looked human.

The Potomac River carried floating wreckage and corpses through radioactive water glowing faintly beneath the burning skyline.

Some survivors still wandered through the ruins.

Not many.

Those who remained alive stumbled blindly through smoke-filled streets with burned skin hanging from their bodies. Others simply sat motionless beside collapsed buildings, too shocked to even scream anymore.

Then some of them began turning.

The infected had survived the nuclear war too.

In Moscow, snow mixed with ash beneath a sky permanently stained dark gray.

The Kremlin had vanished beneath the nuclear detonation while entire sections of the city remained engulfed in uncontrollable firestorms. Russian military survivors attempted organizing evacuation zones inside underground metro systems, but panic and radiation sickness had already begun spreading rapidly.

And worse—

The infected were inside the shelters now.

The same thing happened in Beijing.

In London.

In Paris.

In New Delhi.

Everywhere.

The nuclear war had not stopped the apocalypse.

It only made it worse.

Entire refugee populations trapped inside underground bunkers quickly became feeding grounds once a single infected entered containment zones.

The collapse accelerated beyond control.

Inside Cheyenne Mountain, the Japanese man calmly watched global feeds disappear one after another across the tactical displays.

Static filled most surviving channels now.

Emergency frequencies.

Distress calls.

Military communications.

Screaming.

Then silence.

The possessed President remained kneeling beside the nuclear football with blackened eyes fixed blankly toward the glowing command screens.

Kaguya stood nearby while blood from earlier killings slowly dried across the corridor floor.

"The world governments are collapsing faster than projected," she said calmly.

The Japanese man smiled faintly.

"Fear speeds up extinction."

Outside the bunker, the world burned.

Across Europe, NATO command structures ceased functioning after multiple strategic headquarters vanished beneath nuclear fire. Fighter aircraft sat abandoned across damaged runways while surviving soldiers deserted positions trying to find their families.

Most never reached them.

In the Middle East, entire cities descended into violent chaos as governments disappeared overnight. Refugees flooded ruined highways while infected packs hunted through collapsing urban centers.

In India and Pakistan, surviving military forces attempted restoring order despite massive casualties from both the nuclear strikes and the infected outbreaks spreading through evacuation zones.

It failed.

Too many people.

Too much panic.

Too much death.

The same scenes repeated everywhere across the world.

Hospitals overwhelmed.

Power grids dead.

Governments gone.

Cities burning.

Humanity reduced to scattered pockets struggling to survive beneath poisoned skies.

Somewhere beneath the Pacific Ocean, entire naval fleets drifted silently after losing command coordination. Several submarines never received updated communication orders and remained submerged blindly while the world above them died.

Elsewhere, surviving air force pilots landed aircraft at ruined airbases only to discover there was no nation left to report to anymore.

No command.

No government.

No chain of authority.

Only ruins.

Deep beneath the mountains of Colorado, the last remnants of organized American leadership had already ceased to exist.

Inside the blood-covered corridors of Cheyenne Mountain, emergency alarms still echoed faintly through damaged hallways while infected wandered across sections of the underground complex feeding on corpses left behind during the massacre.

The bunker smelled like blood and burned electronics now.

Bodies littered nearly every corridor.

Secret Service agents.

Military personnel.

Government officials.

Scientists.

All dead.

Some torn apart by Hunters.

Others ripped open by infected.

A few had simply shot themselves after realizing the facility had fallen.

The possessed President still remained kneeling beside the opened nuclear football.

Motionless.

Black eyes staring blankly at the glowing command interface.

The Japanese man quietly observed him for several seconds while the tactical screens continued displaying the destruction spreading across the planet.

Entire nations collapsing.

Military networks going dark.

Nuclear fallout spreading through the atmosphere.

Human civilization unraveling in real time.

Kaguya slowly stepped beside him.

"The launch sequences are complete," she said calmly.

The man nodded once.

"Yes."

The President remained silent.

No emotion.

No movement.

Only an empty shell obeying the last command given to him.

The Japanese man slowly walked closer toward him.

For a brief moment, the corridor became strangely quiet despite the distant screams and alarms still echoing somewhere deeper inside the mountain.

Then the President finally spoke mechanically.

"Awaiting further instructions."

The Japanese man looked down at him calmly.

And smiled faintly.

"You served your purpose well."

The President’s black eyes remained fixed forward.

No reaction.

No humanity left behind them anymore.

Then the Japanese man raised one hand slowly.

Black tendrils immediately began moving beneath the skin of his arm again.

The flesh pulsed unnaturally.

Kaguya quietly looked away slightly.

She already knew what was about to happen.

The President did not resist.

Could not resist.

The tendrils suddenly erupted outward violently from the Japanese man’s palm and pierced directly into the President’s face, throat, and chest.

The corridor filled with wet tearing sounds.

The President’s body convulsed once.

Then again.

Blood poured down his suit while the tendrils spread rapidly beneath his skin like living parasites.

His bones cracked loudly.

Veins darkened further.

The blackness in his eyes deepened completely until even the pupils vanished into endless darkness.

Then the tendrils tightened.

CRACK.

The President’s neck snapped instantly.

His body went limp.

But the Japanese man did not stop immediately.

The tendrils continued moving inside the corpse for several more seconds as if consuming something deeper than flesh itself.

Memories.

Knowledge.

Fragments of identity.

Then slowly, the black strands retracted back into his arm one by one.

The President’s corpse collapsed sideways onto the blood-covered floor beside the opened nuclear football.

Motionless.

Dead.

The final President of the United States had just died deep beneath the mountains of Colorado after launching the destruction of the modern world with his own hands.

The Japanese man stared at the body silently for a moment.

Then he sighed softly.

"Humans are fragile."

Kaguya calmly cleaned blood from her blade nearby.

"But useful," she added.

The man smiled faintly hearing that.

"Yes."