The Chariot Crosses the Sky, the Army Loses Its Nerve, and Blood Stains the Street Without a God Lifting a Finger!

Late at night in Ward 20, cold rain and fierce winds battered the streets. Sheets of rain struck abandoned concrete and steel, while dim streetlights reflected in muddy puddles. More than ten thousand Bronze Tree Ghoul fighters marched through the water.

They wore matching reddish-brown cloaks and savage expressions. Their cloaks snapped in the wind and rain. They gripped an assortment of specially made weapons—steel blades and iron clubs that glinted coldly in the dark.

The whole column reeked of blood. They ruled Ward 11, and now they meant to seize Ward 20. At their head walked Yakumo Oomori, the notorious Special Grade Ghoul Yamori.

He wore a slightly rumpled white suit. His vicious Kakugan glowed red in the darkness. Crack. Crack. Crack.

He kept squeezing his knuckles until they popped. The sound cut sharply through the wind and rain. At his side,

Ayato Kirishima stood with his hands in his pockets and an arrogant sneer on his face. Tatara wore a loose white robe and a cold red mask. Leading more than ten thousand fearless Ghoul elites, they pressed steadily toward Anteiku in Ward 20.

"Hmph. Ward 20 is nothing but a pack of cowards." Ayato Kirishima spat. His voice sounded shrill and arrogant against the howling wind.

"Today, we'll flatten that so-called Anteiku café." "And that stranger? I'll kill him myself."

Yamori gave a sick, rasping laugh. "That bitch Rize will be mine, too." "I'll use my steel pincers to break her bones, one by one."

"I'll listen to her scream while I feast on her flesh." Their voices seethed with brutality and arrogance. But then,

the instant they entered the heart of Ward 20, rumble! The black sky overhead was violently torn apart by an unimaginable golden light.

Vast cracks spread across the heavens. Golden lightning raged