The castle had three floors.

We were on the third, climbing to the second.

Erect and Sexis were behind me, turning guards into chunky salsa. From the front, more guards arrived like unpaid extras in a Bollywood war scene.

I handled them easily — until I saw it.

A bright red light.

Round. Glowing. Suspiciously anime.

It came from one guard who stood far away, palms cupped, eyes glowing like he'd just discovered a shonen transformation arc.

"Hame… Kame… Haa?"

My brain short-circuited.

Was that Goku's illegitimate cousin?

No way was I letting this man vaporize me into protein powder.

The red sphere grew bigger with every passing second. He was charging it up like Wi-Fi in rural India.

Meanwhile, his buddies kept coming at me with their discount swords.

I had to act fast.

[ Skill – Hiroshima Activated! ]

The System's voice echoed in my skull.

A smile crept on my lips. The System did it again. He again used a skill and at the right time. He knew all the skills that I had and seeing the situation, he used it right away.

That name is questionable, I know. But I think I know what this skill will do.

My stomach churned. My heart felt like it was microwaving itself. Every organ in my body screamed "bro, this ain't yoga."

Heat surged through me — unbearable, all-consuming.

It felt like I'd been left inside an Indian kitchen during summer, next to a tandoor, wearing a wool jacket of regret.

I stopped moving, my katana trembling in my hand.

Erect and Sexis noticed.

"My lord? What happened?" Erect asked, reaching toward me.

He touched my shoulder — and immediately yeeted his hand back.

"What the hell?! You're burning! You've got a fever!"

Fever? But I was good a few seconds ago.

Wait… Could it be.

Before I could explain, the guards realized I'd stopped fighting.

They smelled opportunity — like hyenas sensing a buffet.

Dozens of them rushed me.

And behind them, Red Orb McKamehameha finished charging his planet buster.

I didn't panic.

Because I knew exactly what was about to happen.

I spread my arms wide — like Jesus with anger issues —and whispered:

"Alright then. Let's go nuclear."

BOOOOOOMMMM!!!

The world turned white.

The sound alone could've killed small talk for miles.

I blew up.

Literally.

Not metaphorically. Not "I'm so mad" blew up.

Like, Hiroshima-level detonation.

When my senses rebooted, all I heard was a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Then — silence.

Then… birds.

I opened my eyes.

The sky.

The actual sky.

Wait—wasn't I inside a castle a few seconds ago?

I sat up like a confused man after a blackout party.

No heat. No flames. Just mild itchiness and a faint smell of roasted regrets.

My white karate outfit was now brown and depressing.

But that wasn't the surprising part.

The surprising part was—

The entire damn castle was gone.

No walls. No stairs. No structure.

Just debris, dust, and what looked like an all-you-can-eat corpse buffet.

Bodies everywhere.

Guards stacked like Tetris blocks.

Limb count? Negative.

I blinked slowly. "Oh… I really did it, huh?"

"What the hell was that, my lord?!"

I turned my head.

"Erect!"

He was alive.

Covered in dust, coughing like an old engine, but alive.

"Sexis?" I called.

A grunt answered. He was fine too.

Wait—my allies were all fine.

I vaporized a castle, killed hundreds of guards, and somehow, none of my people even had a scratch.

That's efficiency. That's art.

They slowly stood, brushing off rubble.

Erect approached, coughing out a small rock.

"That was… something, my lord. Care to explain why you turned into a human bomb?"

Sexis walked up beside him, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we were literally winning. Why go full self-destruct mode? Trying to impress someone?"

They both offered their hands. I took them, stood, and started patting dust off my body like a man who just respawned mid-boss fight.

Everyone else was alive too, though one guy was still trying to dig his sword out of a pile of corpses. Classic Tuesday.

"That was a skill," I said flatly.

Erect nodded like that explained everything. "A… great skill."

Sexis raised an eyebrow. "Name of the skill?"

I looked at him. "Hiroshima."

His expression changed immediately.

A long blink.

A slow exhale.

Then a dry laugh that carried both fear and respect.

"No wonder you nuked."

He knew about Earth. He knew the reference.

Erect didn't. His brain probably filed that word under 'some fancy sword technique.'

He wisely didn't ask for details.

"So," Erect continued, "why did you even use it? You suddenly stopped climbing, then stopped swinging your sword, and boom — castle turned to confetti. Why?"

I sighed, still staring at the wasteland I'd created.

"My system activated it. I didn't do it manually."

Sexis frowned. "Without your permission?"

"Yeah. A guard was about to unleash something dangerous. He had this glowing red orb in his hands—like a chakra ball of midlife crisis. He was charging it forever, and I was surrounded. So before he could use it, the system activated Hiroshima."

I looked around, kicking a burnt helmet aside.

"And here we are."

Erect squinted at me, his face caked in dust and admiration.

"I see. That seems fair," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "Your System is something else. And we didn't get hurt because this skill only hurts your enemies. Not your allies."

I looked at him. For once, the man actually connected the dots faster than Wi-Fi.

"Yeah," I muttered, nodding slowly. "Guess even the apocalypse has filters."

We stood there, surrounded by what used to be architecture and ambition.

The air was thick with smoke and victory — smelled like burnt hopes and overconfidence.

Dust danced in the air like it was auditioning for a tragic music video.

Pieces of armor lay scattered around, still sizzling from my unintentional genocide.

And yet… There was silence.

Too much silence.

No screams, no footsteps, no sarcastic villains doing dramatic slow claps.

Just the wind whispering, "You really blew it, huh?"

I scanned the ruins, eyes darting over what used to be Malthus' empire.

If the castle was gone, where was he?

He should've appeared already — like every final boss with a superiority complex does the second you think it's over.

But no.

Nothing.

Five years.

I'd waited five long, miserable, soul-eating years for this red bastard.

And I wasn't about to wait even one more goddamn second.

My blood boiled.

Every nerve screamed like an overworked orchestra.

I inhaled — deep, heavy, the kind of breath heroes take right before destiny, or death, or a really bad one-liner.

And then I let the rage loose, voice echoing through the ruins like thunder having a meltdown:

"MALTHUS, YOU RED BITCH! COME OUT AND FIGHT ME!"

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