War is not about the victor becoming king. It is about whoever remains becoming king.
Only those who manage to survive are the winners.
Kamurocho had now become a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. Under the merciless assault of the shadows, the cultists were torn to pieces one after another, even though they had completely submitted to the Outer Gods and sworn to serve them in every way.
But... idealism of the will could not solve practical problems.
If you could not win, you could not win.
The shadows' true forms were not in the 3D world, but in their flat, shadowy bodies. If the cultists could not realize this, then no matter how desperately they tried to attack and kill the enemies before them, they were being just as foolish as someone trying to smash a reflection in the water.
Unfortunately, these cultists clearly no longer possessed the ability to think normally.
Duanmu Huai strode through the streets that had been reduced to ruins and arrived at the plaza in front of the theater. This was one of Kamurocho's more famous locations. At least, whenever people visiting Kamurocho wanted to arrange a meeting point, they would come here.
And now, it was here too.
"I never expected you to be this persistent about me."
Standing before Duanmu Huai was a woman dressed in an office-lady uniform. She held a briefcase under one arm and pushed up her glasses with the other hand.
"Is there some inevitable connection between us? Or is there another reason you're chasing me?"
"..."
Duanmu Huai said nothing. He had no interest whatsoever in chatting with someone who loved to run their mouth. Duanmu Huai was the sort of gamer who would immediately skip a cutscene that appeared before a boss fight—after