"Three hundred million tons!" the representative from the White Bear Nation chimed in. "Calculations show that nuclear weapons with a yield less than three hundred million tons cannot effectively kill Eighth Stage life forms; it must exceed three hundred million tons."
Three hundred million tons—this number weighed heavily on everyone's mind.
Those in the know in the meeting room understood what this meant.
The atomic bomb Hiroshima that year, with a yield of only 15,000 tons, leveled the city.
Three hundred million tons is twenty thousand times that amount.
That wasn't an explosion anymore; it was an artificial sun on the ground.
Within a radius of tens of kilometers from the explosion's epicenter, everything will evaporate, leaving only a charred crater.
Buildings within a radius of hundreds of kilometers will be completely destroyed by the shockwave, and the thermal radiation can cook living organisms tens of kilometers away alive.
Even hundreds of kilometers away, they can be burned by light radiation and overturned by heat waves.
The resulting radioactive dust will drift with the wind, polluting large areas of land for decades or even centuries.
"What about the pollution?" the representative from Sakura Nation asked in a low voice, "With such a large yield, the radioactive fallout will..."
He didn't finish speaking, but everyone understood.
That would mean the entire area would become an uninhabitable wasteland.
For decades, the land there could not grow crops, the water was undrinkable, the city became a ruin, and the survivors were tormented by cancer and deformities.
"What's the point of talking about pollution when all humanity is dead?" the representative from the Taurus Nation said coldly. "That giant beast has only been on the ground for a day, and it has already destroyed two cities and killed hundreds of thousands of people."
If it keeps going, it will kill millions, tens of millions next week. By the time it's all gone, humanity will be wiped out. What's the point of talking about radiation then?
Silence fell over the meeting room once more.
After a long silence, Zhou Weiyong spoke, his voice very soft. "Do we have any other choice?"
No one answered, because everyone knew there was no answer.
With God absent, Ninth Tier enemy looms overhead.
Nuclear weapons are their last weapon.
They had no choice but to bear this catastrophe on their own.
To be on the safe side, the yield was increased to 500 million tons.
This is an unprecedented yield in human history, 30,000 times that of the Hiroshima atomic bomb.
The plan was rehearsed countless times, with aircraft, tanks, and space weapons all mobilized to form layers of cover.
The behemoth's senses are extremely sharp, making it difficult to approach. However, the nuclear bomb's radiation range is extremely wide. All that's needed is to set up an ambush along its path and wait for it to enter the central area.
With careful planning and arrangements, everything was ready.
The behemoth continued forward, crushing a town with each step.
Unbeknownst to it, beneath the ground ahead lay a sun powerful enough to destroy an entire nation.
The moment it stepped into the ambush zone, the pre-set fuse was triggered.
First came a silent flash, then the sun rose from the ground.
A blazing white orb burst forth from the horizon, shooting skyward and turning the entire sky a ghastly white.
Everything within a radius of tens of kilometers was evaporated in an instant, leaving only a charred ring of mountains.
The shockwave swept outwards at supersonic speeds, destroying everything in its path; buildings hundreds of miles away collapsed.
The heat radiation baked the earth until it cracked, and the air was filled with the smell of scorched earth and melting metal.
That artificial sun engulfed the entire area for several tens of breaths.
All the surveillance cameras were glued to that white light—satellites, drones, ground observation stations—countless eyes straining across the screens, holding their breath in anticipation.
The world leaders huddled in the conference room, fists clenched, only one thought on their minds: Is it dead? It must be dead, right?
The white light slowly dissipated, and on the scorched earth, everything turned to ashes.
But right at the very center of that sun, a massive black shadow slowly rose up.
The behemoth's scales were scorched red, several bone spikes on its back were broken, and it had many charred wounds all over its body.
But it did not fall. Instead, it let out a hoarse and furious roar, pushed off with its limbs, and soared into the sky, covered in scalding rock fragments, flying out of the embers.
It's still alive!
The conference room was deathly silent.
The president of the Lighthouse Nation stared at the screen, then slowly slumped into his chair, his lips trembling. After a long pause, he managed to utter two words: "It's over..."
The representative from the Taurus Nation closed his eyes.
The representative from the White Bear Nation buried his face in his hands.
The last glimmer of hope on everyone's faces— in the Sakura Nation, the White Elephant Nation —was shattered before this colossal beast that had crawled out of the nuclear explosion.
Meanwhile, in space, aboard the pitch-black starship, the Kema People watched all this and burst into a shrill laugh.
"Indigenous people are just indigenous people." A Koma general shook his head, a sneer playing on his lips. "They probably think they can harm our War Behemoths with their primitive nuclear weapons. Five hundred million tons? Even five billion tons wouldn't break through this defense."
"This behemoth was specially modified by us," another Kema People added. "It has energy shields embedded beneath its scales, specifically designed to withstand energy blasts. A nuclear bomb? That's just a firework display."
The captain leaned back in the command seat, a faint, cold smile playing on his lips.
He looked down at the blue planet as if he were looking down at an anthill about to be crushed. "These natives will never understand how big the gap is between them and us."
He paused, his tone nonchalant, "Continue. Let that behemoth go down. Use whatever tricks they have up their sleeves. When they're at their lowest point, the 'god' who's been hiding will naturally reveal himself."
Then, the Kema People made another move.
This time, instead of attacking the city directly, they projected a huge phantom image high in the sky.
The phantom covered half the sky and was larger than any city.
In the phantom image, the face of a Kema People is clearly visible, indifferent and arrogant, like a god looking down upon all living beings.
His voice, amplified countless times, traveled in all directions.
The sound had an indescribable penetrating power; almost everyone outdoors could hear it.
The rest quickly learned about the content through radio, television, and mobile phones.
"Listen, natives of Earth!" The voice echoed across the Blue Star and earth. "We are the Kema People. This planet beneath your feet is the ancestral land of our Kema Clan. You uncivilized inferior beings have occupied our homeland for far too long. Now, I will give you a chance."
The Kema People in the phantom slightly raised his chin, his gaze as if looking at a group of ants. "Surrender immediately and hand over Chen Du, the native who killed our people. You may think that the War Behemoth is our entire strength."
You're wrong. Killing it is just wishful thinking on your part. Even if you could actually kill it, there are beings in our fleet that are hundreds of times stronger than it.
Your pathetic resistance is nothing in the face of us.