Flame stood at the doorway, blocking any escape for the terrified office workers. A few managed to slip past him, but he was relentless, striking down anyone who dared to flee.
In a nearby room, the remaining workers huddled together as they encountered Justice gang members.
“Please, don’t shoot!” one of the workers pleaded.
“Wait! Hold on, guys! They’re unarmed. Who are you?” Chrome shouted, raising his weapon but keeping it steady.
Meanwhile, as Flame focused on blocking the door, the maid seized her chance.
“Ha! Watch your back, big guy!” she shouted as she lunged with her scythe.
Panji rushed in right behind her, swinging his fist at Flame’s helmet, but the blow barely phased him.
“Uhh, uhh! Damn it! I can’t feel my hands!” Panji grunted, struggling to regain his footing.
“Are we done here?” Flame taunted, delivering a brutal kick that sent Panji sprawling and then tossing the maid aside like a rag doll.
Panji and the maid found themselves cornered against the wall, both breathing heavily.
On the other side of the building, Chrome was trying to rally the gang members.
“Who here can use a fire extinguisher?” he asked, looking for any volunteers.
Blank stares met him as everyone shook their heads.
“Great… useless,” Chrome muttered in frustration.
“Uh, I can!” a hesitant worker finally spoke up.
Back with Flame, the villain laughed, drawing a Molotov cocktail from his back pocket. He flicked a lighter with a grin, igniting the bottle with a flick of his fingers.
“You two are a cute duo, but you chose the wrong opponent,” he said, raising the flaming bottle above his head.
Just as Flame’s arm arced back, ready to hurl the Molotov, Chrome lunged, tackling him around the legs. They crashed to the floor, the Molotov skittering away. Chrome scrambled to his feet, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the wall and spraying a jet of foam into Flame’s faceplate. The foam obscured Flame’s vision, causing him to stumble back, roaring in frustration
“Watch out, General! He’s not finished yet!” Panji warned, as the two men continued to grapple.
The maid’s eyes widened as she watched the struggle unfold. “This guy can’t be beaten…”
Flame regained his footing, shrugging off the foam, and lunged at Chrome, landing a few hard hits. The gang members opened fire, but their bullets had little effect.
“You idiots have no brains!” Flame taunted, advancing toward them menacingly.
“Wait! He’s starting to tire! Keep hitting him!” the maid shouted, rallying the remaining gang members.
But they hesitated, unsure of their next move.
“Why are you all standing around? Ahhh!” the maid yelled, frustration boiling over.
With a sudden burst of courage, she rushed at Flame again, and this time, other gang members joined her, attacking in unison.
Panji, desperate for a solution, pulled out his phone and dialed Techno.
“Haah… hey, Eye Six…” he panted, trying to catch his breath.
“Panji? What’s going on? I’m not in the mood for phone pranks,” Techno replied, sounding annoyed.
“Stop joking! Look at this!” Panji said, showing Techno the scene of Flame in his exo-suit. “How do I defeat this guy?”
“Is that a live feed? Cool. You’re really on top of things,” Techno remarked.
“For God’s sake, just tell me how to beat him!” Panji snapped.
“Give me a second…” Techno said, his voice trailing off.
As the battle raged on, Flame grabbed the maid by the neck, throwing her toward Panji.
“Having fun, are we?” he taunted, raising another Molotov cocktail.
“Enough!” Panji shouted, trying to protect the maid.
“Okay, enough of this! I’ll burn you all!” Flame declared, igniting another bottle and preparing to unleash hell.
Outside the building, Nara sat in a taxi, peering out at the chaos ahead.
“Get closer to the location!” she urged the driver.
“Hey, there’s a gang war going on! I’m not getting any closer!” he protested.
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Ignoring him, Nara tossed money at the driver and bolted from the car.
Inside the building, Nara brushed past some gang members, narrowly avoiding their grasp.
“Get away from here, idiot!” one of them shouted.
Nara weaved through wreckage, spotting charred bodies left in gruesome states.
“Ugh… this is grotesque…” she muttered, her stomach churning.
She rushed toward the elevator, but when the doors opened, a half-burned corpse tumbled out.
“Oh my God! Ueekkk…” Nara gagged, stepping back in horror.
Meanwhile, back in the office, Flame had just finished incinerating several gang members.
Chrome lunged at him, but Flame’s fiery defense sent him reeling back, the ceiling catching fire.
“Ahhh! My eyes!” Chrome screamed, blinded by the smoke.
Just then, Nara burst into the room, silent and fierce. Without hesitation, she charged at Flame.
“Wait! Nara, don’t!” Panji shouted, horrified.
Flame turned toward her, raising his flamethrower, but Nara managed to slide down and kick him hard in the stomach.
“Ahhh! Hot!” she cried, tossing her singed jacket aside.
“Hey! How did she survive?!” Panji exclaimed, bewildered.
“She must be wearing a bodysuit like mine,” the maid remarked, impressed.
Panji’s phone rang again.
“Hey, hey! Are you still there?” Techno’s voice crackled through.
“Sorry! Have you figured out how to beat him?” Panji asked, urgency in his tone.
“There’s an emergency button on his chin. It’ll release his helmet,” Techno replied quickly.
Panji nodded at the remaining gang members, who were now regaining their courage.
“Let’s attack him from different directions!” he shouted.
As they charged at Flame, he swung wildly, igniting a few gang members but becoming increasingly overwhelmed.
One brave gang member tried to grab Flame’s chin to find the hidden button, but Flame retaliated, burning his face in the process.
While lying on the ground, Chrome managed to shoot Flame’s device, causing the liquid to leak.
“Agh! It’s leaking!” Flame howled, losing control of his flamethrower.
The maid seized the moment, swallowing some pills for a boost of adrenaline, and rushed to strangle Flame from behind. The others grabbed his arms and legs, holding him down.
“Now!” the maid shouted, pushing the hidden button on Flame’s chin.
With a hiss, his helmet popped off, revealing a furious face beneath.
“Now!” Panji yelled, as he grabbed his axe and hurled it toward Nara.
She caught it and swung at Flame’s face, landing a solid hit that sent him crashing to the ground.
Flame slumped to the ground, his final words a weak, broken plea: "I fight for freedom and...liberty..."
The maid stared down at him, her face a mask of disgust. “a sick bird think flying was illness.. a abused wife in toxic marriage will think his husband best of the world, hah”
The room fell silent, the only sound the crackling of the nearby flames, the remaining gang members stood around, exhausted but victorious, while Nara stood tall, the axe glinting in her hand.
that was a awkward reunion. Panji, however, couldn't quite meet her gaze. panji nothing to say to nara.
he just Moving on, Panji and the gang ushered the rescued office workers into a secure room. The atmosphere was thick with a nervous energy. They huddled around a table, remnants of the chaotic battle still fresh in everyone's minds. The truth of the Free World was slowly unraveling before their eyes
“Look at this,” one of the workers said, pointing to a document filled with alarming details. Panji snatched it up, scanning the contents. His expression hardened as he read about the seven committee goals that justified the Zion presence under the guise of stability. Each point painted a chilling picture of manipulation and control:
1.Radio Committee: Panji scanned the document. "Radio Committee, huh? Sounds like they're blasting war tunes 24/7. No wonder everyone's so hyped for the Colosseum."
2. High School Contest Committee: Organizing competitions that promoted military values and preparedness, like marksmanship training and essays praising war heroes.
panji rub his hair “huh? panji noticed a poster on a desk, depicting a group of smiling teenagers in military uniforms, holding rifles. The caption read: "Red Nation Youth: Forging the Heroes of Tomorrow."
3. Book Burning Committee: Eliminating books deemed anti-war or subversive, controlling narratives and promoting loyalty to the regime.
maid then popping in her hair is mess, then comment “lord had nice books you never see in his library. “panji then nodded. and continue
4. Library Committee: Curating libraries with pro-war literature and educational materials, shaping young minds toward acceptance of militarism.
"Looks like someone took 'curate' a little too seriously. 'The Glorious History of the Red Nation', huh? Bet that's one heck of a bedtime story."
5. Game Committee: Designing video games and interactive media that glamorized war, making violence an attractive option.
panji and maid Synchronize “Colosseum”
6. Shop Committee: Offering discounts and privileges to veterans, creating a social hierarchy that rewarded military service.
panji and maid shared glance. then look at the nearby nerd worker, he then muttered
“we plan to make veteran discount “he then forced smile then mutters something about "adjusting the policy."
7. Movie Committee: Producing pro-war films that indoctrinated citizens to normalize conflict.
TV hung on the wall, displaying a still image from a propaganda film. It showed a group of Red Nation soldiers rescuing civilians from a burning city, the soldiers’ faces illuminated by the heroic glow of the flames.
panji then comment “yeah. sometimes i forgot if that kind of movie is a propaganda”
Panji narrowed his eyes, disgusted by the revelations. Before he could absorb the full impact of the document, a low rumble filled the air outside.
Suddenly, a fleet of military helicopters descended, surrounding the area. The Justice gang members dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender.
“Stay calm,” Panji urged, scanning the skies as a towering figure disembarked from one of the choppers—a Magog, an elite soldier known for their brutal efficiency and imposing presence. The massive soldier began capturing all members of the Justice gang, his eyes cold and calculating. Some stubborn members attempted to fight back, but their bullets bounced harmlessly off the Magog's armor.
Panji, still fixated on the document, was unaware of the danger creeping up behind him until he felt a heavy tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find the Magog towering over him, a beastly mask obscuring his features.
Before he could react, the Magog delivered a crushing punch to his face, and everything went dark.
Panji jolted awake, finding himself at a desk in a dim, isolated room. A voice crackled to life over a speaker, smooth and dripping with condescension.
“Impressive, Panji. You've stirred quite the chaos. I am the Minister of Free World Media.”
With a primal fury, Panji slammed his fist on the desk. The sound reverberated like a gunshot in the silence.
“Don’t play coy, Minister. You know what I’ve uncovered. I found the truth.”
“Now, now, Panji. No need for theatrics. We can discuss this rationally,” the Minister replied, as if Panji were a petulant child.
“Rational? There’s nothing rational about brainwashing kids and turning them into cannon fodder for your sick games!” Panji shot back, rage igniting his chest.
“The Colosseum is a glorious tradition, Panji. It instills honor, discipline, and strength—qualities you clearly possess. Freedom is a luxury. In the Red Nation, we offer stability and purpose. You could have that. Join the Blood Khaganate. Put your skills to good use.”
“Become another pawn in your twisted game? No thanks. I’d rather die free than live as your slave.”
“Is that so? Then prepare to die, Panji. Silencing you is the only way to ensure the stability you crave.”
Panji’s heart raced as the room plunged into darkness.
When the lights flickered back on, a bald man in a suit loomed over him, flanked by a hulking super soldier. The Minister smirked, a cruel twist of his lips.
“Just kidding. We don’t want to kill a famous celebrity like you. And about your dream of defeating Zion… do you really think killing him will end the war? I don’t think so.”
He gestured toward a monitor displaying a timeline of civilizations rising and falling—from Uruk to Rome to the USA.
“What the hell do you mean?” Panji demanded, frustration boiling over. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Don’t bore me with history.”
The Minister snickered, clearly enjoying himself. “I actually just like Kassandra…” He straightened, adopting a serious tone. “If we kill Zion, it will only bring more chaos.”
Panji felt his anger simmering, but he held back. “Stop that bullshit. I’m not pro-war anymore. You can peddle your nonsense about the luxuries of a free nation built on war, but I don’t buy it!”
“No, you don’t understand. Do you think this is all about one man, Panji?”
Panji paused, the weight of the question sinking in.
“Yes,” the Minister nodded, revealing a tattoo of a tusk on his arm. “Mammoth, … so you see.”
Panji’s breath caught in his throat. “the White Nation ....”
The Minister quickly covered his tattoo with his suit. “Yes, let’s work together. I’ll make you the new leader of this world.”
Annoyance flickered in Panji’s eyes, his fists clenching. “What’s your angle?”
“The celebrity rules in this nation. It doesn’t matter if you have brains or not, if you have popularity, you have power. A homeless person in the sewer might recognize you more than I or even Kassandra.”
Panji narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mind churning. “Just tell me how.”
The Minister’s smirk deepened, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Zion doesn’t even know about you. He’s too focused on his next campaign. That boy is blind, but you… you know everything.”
Panji's voice echoed in the room as he shouted, “Just stop being cryptic! What do you want?”
The Minister’s expression turned serious. “If you want to defeat Zion, it’s by overcoming his popularity. The people’s hearts are with you right now. You must gain the soldiers’ loyalty. That is how you defeat him.”
“Wait, you want me to become a war hero?” Panji asked, incredulity spilling from his lips.
The Minister’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. “The cycle is inevitable, Panji. But you can choose which side you’re on when it turns. You can be a part of the next great empire, or you can be crushed beneath its wheels.” He paused, his eyes fixed on Panji. “The choice is yours.”
Panji stared at the Minister. He understood now. This wasn’t just about Zion, or the Red Nation, or even the war. It was about something much bigger, something that had been repeating itself for centuries. And he was now being offered a role in that grand, tragic play.