A few minutes ago.
"God bless America!"
Click—the nuclear launch button is pressed. From six missile bases along the US West Coast, fierce flames erupt as six missiles roar skyward, all streaking at breakneck speed toward The Sovereign, who is strolling across the Atlantic.
The eyes of the entire world freeze on this moment.
"Observation submarine is in position!"
"Confirmed: No friendly vessels within the strike zone!"
One report after another comes in, reaching the ears of both the Commander and the President. The encrypted phone never leaves their hands as they both stare intently at their radar screens, watching six blips race across vast distances toward the computer-calculated target.
The Commander nervously gnaws at his knuckle.
Stacked nuclear explosions require terrifying technical precision—timing the nuclear reactions down to a split second. Too early or too late, if even one nuke malfunctions, the whole blast could be ruined. If the first bomb blows up the ones meant to go off later, well, that would be one hell of a joke.
Six different nukes hitting the same target at the exact same time—this is missile tech at mythic levels. Rumor has it the Zade House sponsored some black-tech to control the timing, turning this attack from fantasy to reality.
Zade House... The Commander never liked the Zade House. Every time he thought of that giant family, he felt a deep unease.
But now's not the time to zone out—the missiles have already closed in on the radar, heading straight for their target.
The only question: Will the Black Death Emperor really just keep strolling along without missing a beat?
"Observation sub has eyes on the target!" a soldier shouts. "Target hasn't changed speed or direction—he's right on the mark, less than fifty meters from the predicted strike point!"
Good!
The Commander clenches his fist. Fifty meters—when it comes to nukes, that's as good as a bullseye.
"Order the observation sub to dive immediately—get clear of the strike zone!"
No sooner is the order given than a booming countdown begins: "Estimated time to nuclear strike—ten! Nine! Eight!"
The Commander sweats nervously.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
The President of the United States was restless, unable to sit still.
"Four! Three! Two!"
All the world leaders who could grasp the situation furrowed their brows in silence, waiting for the outcome.
"One!"
Cobra’s wildly spinning office chair screeched to a halt. He raised his hand, neurotic, cupping his ear as if to listen, and whispered, "Detonate..."
"Detonate—!!"
A booming shout erupted simultaneously in the command center, the Oval Office, and every emergency conference room worldwide. Then, a dazzling flash suddenly lit up the west coast of the United States.
On this day, from Chicago to San Francisco, countless Americans on the West Coast stood frozen, minds blank. They witnessed a sight they'd imagined a thousand times but never truly seen before.
The strongest weapon known to Earthlings—a nuclear bomb—had exploded.
In the Pacific Fleet Command, the commander gripped his cap and slowly rose. Even though he’d taken shelter far beyond Earth’s curvature, he could still see that magnificent sight. This was the largest nuclear explosion ever used in actual warfare in human history, and it even included the Zade Family-sponsored, cutting-edge Thermite Condensation Missile.
If there was any feeling to be had... it was awe.
This was the unrivaled magnificence of ultimate destruction, the indescribable brilliance of total annihilation. The swelling pillar of fire and mushroom cloud shot skyward, the terrifying shockwave swept everything aside. Pacific currents were torn apart, radiation levels on the West Coast spiked like crazy. That monstrous mushroom cloud, like a scar across the planet, ballooned upward, quickly breaking through the stratosphere and spreading into even higher layers of atmosphere.
The commander trembled all over. To be the one to set off such a glorious blast on Earth, he had no idea how to feel.
He just stared, dumbstruck, subconsciously glancing at the satellite images—ferocious waves were spreading fast, and maybe, just maybe, the cities on the West Coast were about to get slammed by a monstrous tsunami.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about that.
"Confirm detonation results!!" The commander roared, his vocal cords nearly tearing.
"Confirming—direct hit!! Repeat, direct hit!!"
"Six warheads stacked and detonated successfully! Initial yield estimate: thirteen million tons!"
The command center instantly erupted in wild cheers.
Yes! Fantastic! The blast was a success!!
Thirteen million tons? That’s even bigger than the projected yield!
Look at that mushroom cloud reaching for the heavens, like a Tower of Babel piercing the sky—mere mortals trespassing in the realm of gods. That’s the backbone of American dominance, the dazzling glory of the Land of the Free!
Now, just one thing left to do...
"Order the observation sub to confirm if the target’s been destroyed!"
"Commander, due to nuclear magnetic interference, it’ll be three minutes before we can contact the observation sub. But according to plan, it should be surfacing right now, getting ready to check the target up close."
That’s what they said, but looking at that monstrous mushroom cloud stretching skyward, almost punching through to outer space, everyone in the command center was riding a wave of giddy excitement. In the face of that kind of attack, nobody could possibly survive. Not even a god—probably vaporized, no question.
Only the commander still had a nagging feeling of dread.
"God bless America... God bless America..." the commander prayed, waiting, hoping the observation sub would bring good news.
But before the sub could report back, something strange popped up on the radar.
"Th-this—this!" The soldier staring at the radiation map looked like he’d seen a ghost. He suddenly shouted, "Commander! The radiation readings are acting weird!"
The command center instantly fell silent. The commander shouted, "What’s the anomaly?"
"The radiation readings... they’re dropping! Dropping fast!" The soldier’s face was ghostly pale, totally lost. "The decay rate is insane, and it’s getting faster—like something’s sucking up all the nuclear fallout!"
"Report!" Just as one crisis ended, another began. Another soldier, looking spooked, yelled, "Electromagnetic interference is collapsing too—we’re back to communication levels!"
"What’s going on? What the hell is happening?" The president bellowed from the other end of the line. "Do you have visuals? Show me, now!"
The commander’s sense of doom grew stronger by the second, but he still yelled, "Get the observation sub’s feed on screen!"
Beep—the screen lit up. It was the observation sub’s footage. At first there was static and noise, but in a blink it all vanished, the feed smoothing out like a CGI movie.
On screen: a sea of fire, hellish, scorching, restless, and terrifying. The observation sub was still underwater; the surface heat could melt its armor and roast the crew alive. Even looking up from below, the sheer power of the nuclear blast was mind-blowing.
But as the camera panned, the commander spotted something even scarier.
A black dot.
In the raging sea of fire, that black dot stood firm, unmoving, unshaken.