The command dome of M.E.G. Base Alpha rang with the chaotic symphony of battle.
Daniel Voss stood at the center, blood tears streaming down his face as he conducted the vast legion of summoned souls. The fifteen named Party Creators — Alpha through Omicron — fought with coordinated, terrifying precision. Their synchronized laughter clashed against the golden notes of the Symphony of Dominion, while the army of the dead surged forward under Soul Command.
Yet something felt wrong.
Daniel's eyes swept across the battlefield, searching for one specific figure among the white-suited horrors.
He raised the golden baton slightly, commanding a brief pause in the legion's advance. The souls held position, translucent weapons raised.
Daniel's voice cut through the din, calm but edged with suspicion.
"Where is Party Creator 0?"
The fifteen Party Creators paused their assault. Their smiles remained perfectly in place, but a subtle ripple passed through their ranks.
Party Creator Omicron — The Origin — tilted his head with polite amusement.
"Ah. You noticed."
He spread his arms gracefully.
"Party Creator 0 is… not here."
Daniel's grip tightened on the baton. "Explain."
Party Creator Alpha (the blood-covered mutating entity) let out a wet, gurgling chuckle.
"Our beloved progenitor is special. He is the First. The Origin of the Idea itself. While we fifteen can be revived as long as one of us remains… Party Creator 0 is the anchor. He cannot simply be summoned back like the rest of us."
Party Creator Gamma — The Mirror — stepped forward, his form rippling like liquid glass.
"He is currently… resting. Recovering from the Immortal Beam you used on him in Level 188. Even the First needs time to reform after being struck by a weapon designed to injure immortals."
Party Creator Lambda — The Unbreakable — smiled wider.
"But make no mistake, Conductor. He is not gone. He is simply… waiting. Watching. When the time is right, when enough fear and despair has been gathered, he will return. Stronger. More complete."
Vannia's silver aura flared dangerously.
"So he's hiding?" she demanded.
Party Creator Omicron shook his head gently, as if explaining something to a child.
"Not hiding. Preparing. Party Creator 0 is the heart of the everlasting party. He does not need to be on the battlefield yet. We fifteen are more than enough to deal with nine Chosen… and your little army of dead things."
He raised his microphone.
"As long as we exist, he will eventually return. And when he does… the true performance will begin."
Daniel's blood tears continued to fall, but his expression remained steady.
He flicked the golden baton once, sending a wave of golden notes that forced the fifteen Party Creators back a step.
"Then we will make sure he never gets the chance to return," Daniel said quietly.
The fifteen Party Creators laughed in perfect harmony — a sweet, mocking sound that echoed through the blood-soaked dome.
Party Creator Omicron's voice carried over the laughter, soft and confident:
"You can fight us, Conductor. You can even destroy us again and again. But Party Creator 0… he is inevitable. He is the beginning and the end of the party."
The battle resumed with renewed ferocity.
Daniel conducted his legion with grim determination, the golden baton moving through the air despite the blood streaming from his eyes.
But in the back of his mind, the question lingered like a dark note:
Where exactly was Party Creator 0?
And what was he preparing while his fifteen siblings kept the Chosen occupied?
The war for Base Alpha continued, but the absence of the true progenitor cast a long, uneasy shadow over the entire battlefield.