"Any moves left?"
Makoto took a slow sip of hot tea and slid his gaze toward the camera.
In that single moment, every person on the planet who opposed him, whether openly or in secret, felt nothing at all.
Not contempt for the power he'd displayed. Not defiance.
Just numbness.
When a single humanoid creature tanks a swarm of nuclear warheads capable of leveling a major city and walks away without a scratch, not merely surviving but utterly crushing the assault, there is no emotional response left to give. Numbness is all that remains.
Even the proudest Americans and Europeans had no choice but to bow their heads.
Fine. You win. You're the boss.
In that moment, even the Wall Street elite were reduced to a single, pitiful prayer: Please, just let us keep what we have.
...
A few minutes later, Chika Fujiwara came scrambling to Makoto's side, breathless. "Nishikado-san! The US President is willing to surrender."
Makoto nodded toward Nayuta. "Let's go. Get Reze on comms."
Nayuta's lips curled upward as she stretched lazily. "Perfect timing. I just ate. Could use a walk."
Alice raised her hand. "Makoto, can I come too?"
Kokoro chimed in right behind her. "B-big brother, me too! I wanna go find my sister."
Sonoko Suzuki added, "I'd like to check on Ran, if that's alright?"
Makoto didn't bother turning around. "Sure."
"Hehe~"
Alice bounced after him, sticking her tongue out triumphantly at Erina as she went.
Erina's face went scarlet.
The survivors at the scene watched Makoto's retreating figure in stunned silence. Most of them had witnessed his power before, during the last instance of the Reincarnation Game.
None of them had imagined it could grow even further beyond that. Not by this much.
Their gazes drifted to Alice, Kokoro, and the others trailing happily behind him, and envy clawed at every heart in the crowd.
Boss, got room for another lackey?
Yotsuba Nakano instinctively moved to follow, but she noticed her sisters standing frozen beside her and forced herself to stop. They were all still rooted in place. Walking off alone would feel wrong.
"He's so... so cool," Nino murmured under her breath.
Yotsuba's internal alarms blared.
She knew her sister's type all too well. Nino lived for that kind of dominant, overwhelming confidence in a man.
...
"AAAAAGH! AAAAAAGH!"
Makoto and his group had barely vanished via Flying Thunder God when blood-curdling screams erupted from the school gates.
Eri Kisaki, who'd been standing in a daze, went pale. She recognized one of those voices. It belonged to her husband, Kogoro Mouri.
Everyone rushed to the gates, and the sight that greeted them froze the blood in their veins.
Kogoro and a cluster of people who had fled the school moments earlier now lay writhing on the ground, moaning in agony. Some had skin splitting open, weeping blood and rotting flesh. Others were losing hair and teeth at a horrifying rate. A few were vomiting blood from both ends, bodies refusing to obey them.
"Darling!?"
Eri spotted Kogoro among the fallen. The man had never been handsome, but he'd once carried himself with the pride of a former police sharpshooter. Now that muscular frame had withered into a shriveled heap. His hair was reduced to a few lonely strands, and when he groaned, she could count the teeth he had left on one hand.
"Don't go near them!"
Yukiko Kudo's shout cut through the panic. "They've been hit with radiation! If you get close, you'll be exposed too."
Eri flinched.
If I'd left with them earlier, that would be me right now...
She couldn't stop her mind from superimposing Kogoro's condition onto herself. A shudder rippled through her.
Thank god I stayed.
Hachiman Hikigaya exhaled a long breath. "If we'd walked out with them back then, we'd look the same."
A wave of horror swept through the crowd. Among those shaken were Shiro Suzuki, Senzaemon Nakiri, and Maruo Nakano, all of whom had considered running. They'd been held back only because their daughters had stopped them.
If his youngest hadn't been there, Shiro Suzuki would have gotten on his knees and begged Sonoko to let him go.
"AAGH! Eri! Save me! Please, save me!"
Kogoro, looking thirty years older than he had five minutes ago, thrashed and rolled across the ground in agony.
Eri's expression twisted with helpless pity. "Isn't there anything I can do?"
"His whole body is a walking radiation source right now," said Maruo Nakano. As a hospital director, his instinct was to save lives, but he understood all too well that the priority was preventing new casualties. "If you go near him, I'll be treating you next."
A few seconds passed before an idea struck him. He turned to Senzaemon. "Director Nakiri, is there a fire hydrant nearby? If we can hose the radioactive dust off their bodies, it should ease their symptoms and improve their chances."
Senzaemon blinked, about to answer, when a girl stepped forward.
"Water Release: Wild Water Wave!"
Yukino Yukinoshita formed her hand seals, and a surging tide erupted from the ground at her feet, washing over Kogoro and the others, sluicing the contamination from their skin.
Hachiman, Saika Totsuka, Hayato Hayama, and the other players who'd retained their ninja abilities from the game joined in without hesitation. Not all of them knew water-style jutsu, but they could at least channel their Chakra to bolster Yukino's output.
"You should have trusted Makoto," Ayano Yukinoshita said with a cold smile. "Then none of this would have happened."
As far as she was concerned, those people deserved what they got.
Yukino and Haruno exchanged uneasy glances.
Their mother had changed.
...
The livestream continued, though the split-screen feeds had merged into a single frame.
Under the eyes of the entire world, Makoto's forces, previously deployed across various military installations, converged on a single location.
The White House.
The supreme symbol of American power, and arguably the seat of global authority itself.
The US President and his cabinet stood shoulder to shoulder at the entrance, lined up like schoolchildren awaiting inspection, obediently waiting for Makoto's entourage to assemble.
Once everyone was in position, Makoto strode forward at the head of the column.
Us President and his people bowed in unison, parting to clear a path.
Across the globe, citizens of nations that had suffered under American hegemony for decades felt a surge of vicious satisfaction watching the scene.
After everything you did to us, it's about time you got yours.
Inside the Oval Office.
Makoto dropped into the chair that symbolized the most powerful seat on Earth, kicked his feet up on the desk without a shred of decorum, and leaned back.
Nayuta perched on the desk beside him, legs crossed, wearing a catlike smile as she surveyed the row of trembling dignitaries.
The US President swallowed hard. "S-sir, do you... do you want this position? I... I have no objections..."
"Who'd want this dump?"
Makoto's voice dripped with mockery.
He shot Nayuta a look.
Her smile widened. Golden eyes locked onto US President. "Repeat after me. Say you're willing to enter a contract."
The US President and his cabinet hesitated.
But under the crushing pressure Makoto radiated, they complied. "I'm willing to enter a contract."
The instant the words left their lips, every viewer on the planet noticed the same thing.
US President and his circle of untouchable elites now stared with glassy, unfocused eyes, heads bowed like puppets on severed strings.
It wasn't only ordinary people who recoiled. Megumi Kato, Utaha Kasumigaoka, and everyone else seeing Nayuta's ability for the first time stood slack-jawed, staring at the scene in disbelief.
Nayuta's smile never wavered. "I, as President of the United States, representing the American people, hereby enter a contract with Nayuta."
He repeated it in a flat monotone. "I, as President of the United States, representing the American people, hereby enter a contract with Nayuta."
Even casual viewers who weren't players of the Reincarnation Game sensed something deeply wrong.
Americans in particular felt ice crawl up their spines.
Representing the American people? What kind of contract is this?
"Good. The contract is now in effect."
Nayuta swiveled toward Makoto. "Makoto, hurry up! Let me test my power!"
He smirked. "Test it how?"
"Anything works! Come on, come on."
She spread her hands impatiently.
Makoto obliged. His eyes shifted, irises blooming into the eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.
"Genjutsu: Sharingan!"
"GAAAAAAH!"
One of the cabinet members beside President collapsed to his knees, shrieking as though his insides were being torn apart.
Viewers worldwide jumped in their seats.
What the hell just happened to that guy?
"Lives up to the rumors," Reze murmured. "The Control Devil really is terrifying."
Ran Mouri, Sonoko, and the others turned to stare at her, bewildered.
"The... Control Devil?"
Wasn't that the final boss of the Chainsaw Man world instance?
"Did Nayuta make a contract with a devil, like Kotonoha did?" Megumi asked. She'd fought alongside Kotonoha long enough to know her power was called the Katana Devil. Was Nayuta the same?
Pochita, sprawled on the far side of the presidential desk, licked his paw and offered the explanation. "She didn't sign a contract with the Control Devil. She is the Control Devil."
Every woman in the room went rigid.
Beam let out a low whistle. "Scary stuff. Any damage she takes gets automatically redirected to her contract holders. She's basically invincible."
The world heard that, and the world went pale.
Most people still didn't fully grasp what a Control Devil was, or the exact mechanics of the contract.
But "automatically redirected" landed with perfect clarity.
Nayuta had just signed a contract with the US President on live television, invoking the American people by name. Combined with what the Shark Fiend had said... did that mean every injury the girl suffered would be transferred to a random American citizen?
That would explain the congressman's sudden collapse.
America erupted.
Sure, the population was over three hundred million, and the odds of being chosen were slim. But nobody wanted to play those odds.
...
"Alright, let's get down to business."
Makoto spoke again, and the world held its breath. "What I'm about to announce are the policies every nation will follow going forward. You're free not to listen, but I wouldn't recommend finding out what happens next."
World leaders watching the broadcast instinctively reached up to wipe sweat from their foreheads.
Resistance wasn't even a consideration. If the most powerful nation on Earth had been reduced to this, what chance did anyone else have? All they could do was pray the policies weren't too extreme.
Makoto continued.
"First: a wealth tax. Annual income exceeding one million dollars will be taxed at ninety percent. Income exceeding ten million, ninety-five percent. Income exceeding one hundred million, ninety-nine percent."
Across the globe, on the trading floors of Wall Street, in penthouse offices and private estates, an untold number of billionaires fainted on the spot.
"These parasites couldn't spend their fortunes in a hundred lifetimes," Makoto said, his tone almost bored. "And yet they still squeeze every last drop out of the people beneath them, forcing them to break their backs for pennies. When disasters strike and ordinary people donate what little they have, these same leeches siphon off the charity funds without blinking."
"It makes me sick."
"Effective immediately, every nation must enforce a strict five-day, eight-hour workweek. Those eight hours will include one hour for meals, one hour for rest, and the final hour dedicated to exercise and mental health support."
"That's the minimum standard. If a country already operates on a four-day or three-day workweek, they're welcome to continue."
"All charitable donations must be fully transparent. Every single dollar must be publicly disclosed. Anyone caught skimming will answer for it."
Around the world, moguls who'd built empires on backroom deals shifted uncomfortably. Certain sleazy old geezers who laundered charity money to launch their daughters' entertainment careers felt the noose tighten around their throats.
On screen, Makoto wasn't finished.
"Furthermore, starting tomorrow, every head of state and senior government official will report here and sign a contract with Nayuta."
The smug grins that had been spreading across the faces of foreign leaders watching US President's humiliation froze solid.
"And if you refuse..."
Makoto smiled.
Yu Ishigami's body erupted in transformation, flesh and bone reshaping as he became the Gun Feind.
The roar of gunfire shattered the air.
Countless demon-enhanced armor-piercing rounds rained down. The Treasury Building. The Executive Office Building. The Washington Monument. Everything within sight crumbled and disintegrated under the barrage.
Ten seconds. That was all it took.
Every monument to American supremacy was reduced to a wasteland of rubble and ash.
Ishigami touched down, and Makoto's voice resumed as though nothing had happened.
"Within three years, every nation will implement universal free healthcare and education."
"If you can't manage it in three years, I'll kill you all and find people who can."
"Now, I know what some of you are thinking. My people can't be everywhere. There'll be cracks to slip through. Those parasites will cling to any shred of hope that they can cheat the system." He smiled. "That's fine. The one thing I have plenty of is time."
Makoto tilted his chin toward Nayuta.
She returned a gentle smile, then turned to one of the congressmen standing beside President. "Epstein."
The name that had detonated across international headlines not long ago. The congressman flinched, but obediently repeated it. "E-Epstein."
Nayuta smiled, raised both hands, and pressed her palms together in a slow, kneading motion, like she was folding dumplings.
The congressman's eyes rolled white. He dropped dead on the spot.
Minutes later, the phone on the presidential desk rang.
Makoto hit the speaker button. A panicked voice blared through:
"M-Mr. President, we have a situation! Epstein... Epstein just exploded in his cell! He's dead!"
As the world watched in horror, Nayuta pointed at the congressman's corpse. "That one was a regular visitor to the island, by the way."
Makoto ruffled Nayuta's hair, then faced the camera.
"Every individual earning over a million dollars annually, whether you're a CEO, a celebrity, or a government official, you have three days to report to Nayuta. Don't bother trying to lie under her power. Every parasite who's been grinding the common people under their heel, no matter where you run, will be found."
One by one, Nayuta repeated her gesture, and one by one, the officials flanking US president collapsed.
Breaking news alerts cascaded across every network: infamous criminals and untouchable elites, dropping dead simultaneously around the globe.
She can kill from across the world.
That's scarier than the damn Death Note.
Watching Makoto's proclamations, watching Nayuta work, watching the powerful and the corrupt burst like overripe fruit, ordinary people everywhere felt something crack open inside their chests. A fierce, blazing satisfaction.
Millions of voices rose up, knowing full well that Makoto couldn't hear them from across the ocean, unable to stop themselves:
"Lord Nishikado! We love you!"
"Long live Nishikado! Long live the god!"
"Loyalty! Loyalty!"
Countless throats roared his name at the sky.
Others flooded the livestream's comments and scrolling text with their devotion.
Long live Lord Nishikado! Long live Lord Nishikado!
Watching the barrage of messages roll past, Yu Ishigami wore an expression of satisfaction deeper than anything he'd ever felt.
These are the kind of people who deserve to live in the new world.
"Senpai, don't you want to say something back?"
Makoto considered it, then looked into the camera.
"Long live the people."