Chapter 156: The Final Battle Between the Saint of Slaughter and the Evil God Detective
The final person on earth and the Distillery's strongest killer. The last hope of humanity and the mastermind behind the extinction of human civilization. The first and last enemy of the Evil God Conan!
None of these titles were mere empty labels. When Gin stood before Conan—no, even earlier, when the global nuclear explosions erupted one after another and the terminal fate of humanity was sealed—everything Gin carried collapsed into his status and power. As the destroyer of mankind, it was impossible for a more "evil" character to be born on this eternal stage than Gin. His existence itself had become the incarnation of the concept of "Slaughter"! Yet, a faint radiance bloomed upon him, narrating that Gin's status was not that of a demon, but a saint. Because every ideal, the hope of the masses, and all grand aspirations were entrusted to him, engraved upon his gun. In this world, there could be no existence more "righteous" than Gin. Gin's "righteousness" transcended all morality and law. Though a killer, Gin had accepted the magnificent vow bestowed upon him by all of humanity; because the direction in which Gin's muzzle pointed was the collective will of mankind, and the slaughter he created was the collective promise of humanity. The Saint of Slaughter was not born in the second loop, but at the end of the first loop, birthed by the blessing of all mankind!
"Conan... or rather, Shinichi Kudo. Tell me, will the end of the story fall with the death of a god?" Raising his gun, Gin stared coldly at Conan, the final enemy he had hunted for a long lifetime. "Perhaps. So, do you want to try?" Conan also stared at Gin, the initial enemy who had drawn the curtain on all these stories. Accumulated despair made his voice increasingly gloomy and low, no longer the crisp, bright tone of the past. Yet, he too held a sliver of expectation and hope. The story, at this point, surely had to reach its conclusion!
Seeing this scene, Mo Yu's first reaction was not realization, but profound confusion. The moment Ai Haibara died, every object and living thing in the world withered further, losing color and form, leaving only abstract lines. This dream bubble replaying the story of the first loop was built upon the residual information carried by the "Magical Girls." Kogoro and Eri, Professor Agasa, Ran, and Ai had all exited the stage. This first-loop world had long since lost all its "perspective" support points. The question was: from "whose" perspective was this final battle between the Saint of Slaughter and the Evil God Conan being viewed?
Mo Yu pondered, and soon realization struck: "So, from the very beginning, the truth of all the light was within me?" Conan's voice, deeply saturated with despair and growing gloomy, was remarkably similar to the voice Mo Yu produced when manipulating the Xiao Hei body of Moriarty, lacking only a degree of ferocity. Based on this evidence, even without the Omniscience Authority, Mo Yu already sensed the truth. The first-loop information of the other characters remained in the deepest parts of their souls, but Conan's first-loop information was not within Conan—it was within Moriarty, the ultimate Xiao Hei, or rather, within that vast "Heavenly Killing Intent." Since the construction of the first-loop dream bubble relied on both the Magical Girls and the Moriarty fragments, the "perspective" supporting this world was no longer the girls, but Conan himself!
Though he sensed the final outcome, Mo Yu did not wish to intervene at this moment. In this god-slaying war where all humanity had wagered every chip—all reason and madness, romance and cruelty—a war so vast it exceeded the limits of human intellect, a war whose very existence was a miracle, there should be an ending, regardless of where it led. In the face of such a magnificent and tragic war, all God could offer was his gaze and remembrance. At least until everything was settled.
Gin and Conan had little interest in conversation. The battle began instantly. Gunfire roared; bullets flew. Though Vermouth's disguise as Gin was nearly perfect—even fooling Conan for a time—there was one thing she could never imitate: that ultimate, concentrated killing intent! It was the harsh cold of an age pressing down beneath a vast frozen ocean; it was the searing hardness of a blade tempered and sharpened a thousand times beneath raging flames! The mere eruption of this killing intent manifested a peculiar property. All light in the world was swallowed by it, nearly swapping heaven and earth, turning day into night. A terrifying majesty rolled across the mortal realm.
The bullets fired, infused with all of Gin's killing intent, were even more horrifying. To put it another way, Gin's pistol had long been empty of physical ammunition. Every "bullet" fired now was pure killing intent, so concentrated it had collapsed into a solid entity. Every shot transformed into a streak of pitch-black light that pierced all things at uncalculable speed! This black light of killing intent started like a laser, but as it flew, it expanded into a light cannon of extreme ferocity. This scene reminded Mo Yu of the Bleach world. If Ichigo Kurosaki, in his Full Hollow form, unleashed a Cero Oscuras at a frequency of hundreds or thousands of rounds per second, it would look much like Gin's current all-out bombardment!
The Gin of the second loop and the Gin at the end of the first loop both held the status of the Saint of Slaughter, but the power they unleashed was worlds apart. The second-loop Gin was a powerful, nearly unanswerable killer; the first-loop Gin was a human "Final Decisive Weapon." To this, Mo Yu could only say that in a world-bubble like Conan's, which was driven by Law-Settings, status was far more important than cultivation. The "Setting" was the ultimate power. Of course, this didn't mean training was meaningless. If the same Saint of Slaughter status were given to someone else—even the mad Ran Mouri who reached the peak of physical might in the first loop—they could never be as terrifying as Gin.
This situation was a double-edged sword. Gin possessed extraordinary power through his status, but it also verified just how difficult Conan was to deal with. Conan, carrying the status of the Eternal Protagonist, did not dodge or resist Gin's black bullets much. He simply shifted and turned in impossible ways, evading the projectiles with ease. It couldn't even be called "dodging." As long as he moved even an inch, the Protagonist-tier Laws took effect. Even if a nuke exploded beside him, it couldn't wound him; at most, it would leave a "bloodstain" on his cheek or shoulder like a scratch, indicating that while he dodged, he decided to give the Laws of Physics some "face" to avoid total embarrassment. Conan didn't even want to dodge. It was an instinct, an inertia, a destiny. The Protagonist Law of "remaining unharmed through a hail of bullets" never required the protagonist to act intentionally; it was natural. He was even trying his best to stop this instinct and fate, but the effect was minimal.
Gin's expression did not waver. Not because his heart was iron, but because over these vast eons, he had experienced firsthand how terrifying and unsolvable the Evil God Conan was. But Gin did not give up. To kill Conan, humanity had wagered all its chips and reached the absolute limit of what mankind could achieve. If he gave up now, how could he face the title of "Humanity's Last Hope"? If the limit created by humanity's total effort was not enough to touch Conan's fire of life, then he, carrying everything humanity was, would take the step beyond that limit!
He raised his head, stepped forward, and reached the side of the God. Grip tightening on the gun, the world gradually lost its color, form, and existence in Gin's eyes. He even began to forget his own existence. The only object his eyes could reach was Conan! Conan's appearance, his physique, his expression—these surfaces emerged and faded. What resurfaced in their stead was Conan's will, his despair, and his past life. With his gaze, Gin touched and locked onto all of Conan, piercing the surface to find the root hidden in the abyss. Finally, Gin saw it: Conan's fire of life and soul! It was a radiance more brilliant than the sun. What the world had given Conan was fundamentally different from any mortal. But Gin ignored this. He stared deeply at Conan, and then began to press his entire being into the chamber of his gun.
First into the chamber was the "Regret" from his early days as a Distillery cadre, when he fed the A-drug to Shinichi Kudo. If time could flow backward, the first thing Gin would do would be to turn his gun on his own head and fire. Though researchers later concluded the Evil God's birth was unrelated to the drug, in the dead of night, Gin always wondered: If not for that day, would this despairing story have ever happened?
Second into the chamber was the "Fear" that had haunted him since becoming the Evil God Investigator commissioned by the nations of the world. After several clashes where he escaped unscathed, Gin knew the gap between mortal and god was unutterable. He knew his survival was not due to his effort, but the whims of Fate and the God. To escape once was luck; next time, he might become another one of the living-dead puppets performing endless detective plays in Beika.
Third into the chamber was the "Regret" (Lingering Sorrow) distilled from everything experienced in Kogoro Mouri's Movie. It was there that Gin first witnessed the true nature of humanity: lurking beside a god in eternal torment without giving up, continuing to think and prepare, and finally taking a decisive gamble. Though Gin had failed his vow to snipe the god in that Movie, he had personally delivered the ending and farewell for Kogoro. In that moment, he made a life-long oath: No matter the cost, I will defeat Conan!
Fourth into the chamber was the "Gloom" coiling in his heart after seeing hero after hero off on their final missions. Not one ever returned. There was never anyone left to share a drink with him; he could only pour the wine onto the earth in a remote toast. As a mere villain, why had he lived while the righteous died? Why did he carry the fake name of "Humanity's Last Hope"?
Fifth into the chamber was the "Resolve" born while carrying that unearned name and marching forward. Humanity, having exhausted all possibilities, had marched to death with absolute certainty. Gin had said his final goodbyes to them all, promising them over and over: Humanity, even to the last soul, will defeat Conan! This was his reason for living after everyone else was gone. This was the source of his killing intent.
Having pressed everything into the chamber, Gin raised his gun once more. His lips moved slightly, as if narrating something only he could hear. He pulled the trigger. In an instant, heaven and earth went dark. All light vanished. In this pitch-black void, Conan witnessed an unprecedentedly shocking sight. Faint, transparent figures leaped into existence within the darkness—vengeful spirits with savage, glaring eyes, reaching out for him. One appeared, then a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, until they were uncalculable. In this heartbeat, every human evaporated by the global nuclear fire surfaced as a ghost in the dark, reaching for Conan. Billions of souls grabbed Conan's legs, hands, and torso, rendering him immobile. They seized his brain and every nerve, freezing his thoughts and instincts. They even froze his subconscious. Finally, they gripped Conan's fire of life and soul, fixing the very foundation of his life.
Then, a figure stepped out from the darkness! The black trench coat merged with the infinite void; the silver hair was the only light. The flesh—the symbol of all desires in this "Five-Defilement Evil World"—had long since rotted away and vanished. Only the skeleton forged from conviction remained, like eternal metal. Billions of human souls flickered like wings behind him, screaming and roaring. The Saint of Slaughter had stripped away all mortal masks, walking through the dark in his essential, savage form.
The Saint stepped through the void toward the frozen Conan and thrust a skeletal hand into his heart. Fate, as always, tried to intervene, attempting to make Conan "avoid" the strike. But the absolute Laws were no longer so absolute. The power of a single soul was microscopic, but the combined power of billions who had endured eons of despair was boundless. They forcibly dragged the Laws back! With the hands of all mankind, they stopped the rolling wheel of destiny and locked down every fated variation on Conan's body.
This strike: Must hit. The Saint's palm plunged into Conan's chest, into his fire of life, seeking to throttle the high and mighty Eternal God. This strike: Must kill.
The darkness did not last forever. The unutterable phenomenon soon receded. Light returned to the earth, revealing a scene that was remarkably plain. A single bullet from Gin's gun had struck Conan in the chest. Conan sprayed blood, was blown back by the force, and collapsed onto the ground. Gin did not lower his gun. He watched in silence. Eons passed, or so it felt. Conan remained motionless. Blood flowed from his chest in a widening pool. He wasn't dead yet, but his breaths were growing shallow and far apart. Under Gin's gaze, the fire of life that was once brighter than the sun grew dimmer and dimmer. Finally, Conan exhaled his last breath. In that final second, a faint smile appeared on his despair-ridden face. Then, Conan died. The sole protagonist and the only deity in the world died without any fanfare, looking exactly like an ordinary human killed by a gunshot.
Gin lowered his gun and stood in silence, as if in mourning. At that moment, the first-loop dream bubble world grew more fragile and withered, appearing as if it would collapse from the loss of its supporting "perspective." Mo Yu frowned; this development was wrong. It didn't match his estimates. But in the next heartbeat, the collapse stopped. Because Conan's extinguished fire of life suddenly reignited from the void.
Conan opened his eyes. For a moment, he was dazed. But when he glanced over and saw Gin, he understood everything. A sea of despair completely flooded his eyes. Gin saw it too. The hand gripping his gun grew stiff, veins bulging on the back of his hand. Finally, he gave a cold, flat snort: "An existence called 'God' is truly disgusting. Fine. Let's continue!"
"Despair" could no longer break Gin. He could not and would not give up. He had chambered everything into his gun. No matter what he faced, he would kill the Eternal God Conan in the name of humanity's final hope!
The slaughter began anew. Conan was killed again and again, only to resurrect without reason every single time. How long this continued—days, weeks, years, or longer—no one knew. Even Mo Yu, the God watching it all, didn't bother to measure the duration in a day where the sun never moved. He just fast-forwarded. Even as the world became a blur of light and shadow, he didn't stop.
After uncounted years of slaughter, the result finally settled. A crazed Conan gripped Gin by the throat and lifted him up! "Gin! Kill me! Keep killing me...!" Gin did not react. His eyes had long since lost human warmth and color; they didn't even hold a spark of life. In this stretch of time so long even God couldn't watch it all, despair hadn't broken Gin, but the weight of time itself had crushed everything he was. Long ago, Gin's personality had collapsed, leaving only a fixation to drive the slaughter. But then, long after that, even that sliver of fixation had crumbled. Perhaps the human will supporting his actions, and the infinite souls comprising it, had simply dissipated into the void over these chaotic years.
Gin was dead. The Saint of Slaughter had fallen. The cause of death was being ground away by unendurable, eternal time. Conan held Gin, roaring in madness again and again, but it was useless. Finally, he made his choice. Snap. He twisted Gin's neck. Gin's body couldn't even maintain its form as a corpse; it instantly disintegrated into dust and scattered.
Conan had long been despairing and mad. But a future more cruel than madness awaited him. The world was vast, but Conan was the only living human left. He collapsed on the ground. He chose to sleep. But he woke, then slept, then woke again. Madness in wakefulness, peace in dreams—an endless cycle.
After more chaotic years, Conan inexplicably regained a shred of clarity. He stood up, wobbling like the walking dead. He walked without purpose, not knowing why. After the global nuclear war, radiation had spread, society was gone, and the ecology was shattered. But life finds a way. Gradually, the earth grew green again. Conan trekked on. He did not age, and he did not die. He fell from cliffs only to climb back up. He fell into volcanoes only to be spat out. He walked into the ocean only to emerge on the other side. The long, lonely journey was meaningless. At first, he saw traces of human creation. But soon, even plastic—the most stubborn trash—was buried beneath the earth by crustal movements. No trace of humanity remained. He had no direction. Nature itself couldn't keep up with him. He once saw a desert; after eons of wandering, he returned to the same spot to find a rainforest.
Resurfacing from madness into clarity again and again. Time was majestic; it could even erode despair and madness itself. The only thing it couldn't touch was the existence of Edogawa Conan. When he was lucid, he couldn't help but remember the past. Everything and everyone in his memory grew clear. The Mouri Agency was so vivid he could feel the texture of the floor. It was so clear it was... ...as if it were right in front of him.
One day, in those uncounted years, Conan stopped. He looked ahead. Before him was a rainforest, but within that forest, the Mouri Detective Agency was appearing as a mirage—first a phantom, then solidifying. On the second floor, sitting there, drinking beer and gambling on horses, Kogoro Mouri became clearly visible...
"No..." Conan used his immense reason to stop his thoughts. The moment he stopped thinking, the agency vanished as if it had never been. Conan realized a terrifying fact. If he wished it, everything could return.
End of Chapter
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