Chapter 368: Version End
If there had to be a true culprit behind this great cataclysm, Charles VII would undoubtedly rank among the top two.
If before, living in the Kingdom of Bryston had left Zhou Ning with a faint filter of respect for the king, then after hearing his conversation with the Minister of the Navy, Todd Ruth, that last trace of illusion completely shattered.
Millions of people had died miserably because of his selfishness, greed, and ambition. If not for his cruel plan, Zhou Ning would probably be having dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Turing right now, the three of them discussing returning to Brysanna to spend their twilight years; Darkland would not be filled with those so-called charitable orphanages that were nothing more than sweatshops; and that nameless little girl might have grown up healthy and happy.
Now, with only three and a half minutes left in the One Punch Man possession time, Zhou Ning stood at the gates of Darkland Fortress. The massive gate was shut tight, and two rows of Bryston soldiers, armed with flintlock rifles, aimed straight at him.
Zhou Ning ignored them completely. Staring at the blue-purple barrier covering the fortress, he pulled his right arm back and swung a punch with all his strength.
Boom!
The entire fortress seemed to tremble. Rubble rained down as the blue-purple barrier shattered into countless fragments. The heavy gate of Darkland Fortress collapsed instantly.
Without sparing the soldiers a glance, Zhou Ning adjusted the white silk top hat on his head, slid one hand into his pocket, and walked straight between them through the open gate. Not a single person dared to pull the trigger.
"See that? Now that's intimidation!"
"Boss Wayne's insane!"
The players followed behind Zhou Ning, buzzing with excitement and pride.
Inside the fortress, Zhou Ning could feel countless gazes hidden in the dark — some from transcendents, others from demigods. Along the way, he passed numerous wandering undead. It was obvious that the Ascendant Ceremony had claimed not just civilians.
As he walked down a side corridor, Zhou Ning's steps paused slightly. He could sense the presences of John and Harkins — the unique, chaotic aura of the undead.
Using his Qi Observation technique, Zhou Ning had already foreseen Harkins's death. But as for John, an ordinary man, even he hadn't survived the onslaught of the Ascendant Ceremony.
Zhou Ning's cheek twitched faintly. He quickened his pace and climbed the stairs to the fortress tower, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Some things had to be done — otherwise his mind would never find peace.
As for the consequences, he neither thought about them nor cared to.
Atop the fortress tower stood Charles VII. At his side were his close minister Todd Ruth and two official Bryston demigods, all watching Zhou Ning with tense vigilance. They had witnessed him obliterate Marilyn with a single punch and were so nervous their toes were curled inside their boots.
By now, Charles VII's body had expanded further, standing over twelve meters tall. His entire form seethed with violent energy; his face was distorting into something half-mythic — covered in uneven, overlapping scales, abstract and incomprehensible, impossible to look at directly.
This transformation would continue until he truly became a god.
Having seen everything just moments ago, Charles VII felt no confidence facing Zhou Ning. His emotions were a chaotic mix of rage and fear — he had no idea what this man wanted.
Maintaining a portion of his power to keep the ritual running, Charles VII turned and forced a sincere smile.
"This is our first meeting, Wayne Sturwell. I just saw your performance — truly magnificent. On behalf of the Kingdom of Bryston, I thank you for your outstanding contribution."
Zhou Ning said nothing, merely walking toward him step by step, his right fist clenched tight, joints cracking audibly.
Charles VII's smile grew strained. "Sturwell, perhaps we can talk this through."
Zhou Ning's steps never slowed. He tilted his lips into a cold smirk.
"Talk? About what? The bad weather? Or what you had for dinner?"
"We could talk about more interesting topics — like, say, making you a hereditary noble. Browne Lambert and Adam Aiden just died, leaving two vacant seats among the twenty-four noble houses. With your contributions, you fully deserve one of them."
"No. I refuse."
Zhou Ning shook his head. His stride carried him past the guards. His calm gaze hardened — and in the next instant, he accelerated and threw a punch.
A deafening boom erupted atop the Darkland Fortress tower. Before anyone could process what had happened, Charles VII's massive body was already soaring through the air — then exploded mid-flight into dust. Only thick black smoke remained, swirling madly in the sky.
A notification appeared on Zhou Ning's panel:
[You have slain Charles VII, King of the Kingdom of Bryston (Lv.97). You have gained 772,000 experience.]
[Your reputation in the Kingdom of Bryston has decreased, but due to your title "Legend of Darkland," your reputation in Darkland remains: Revered.]
[You have greatly altered the course of history. Reward: 225 Transcendence Coins!]
Legend of Darkland? Zhou Ning shook his head slightly.
There were no legends in Darkland.
"Wayne…" Sherlock and the others had just reached the tower in time to witness the scene. They drew in sharp breaths, their expressions complex as they raised their guns toward Zhou Ning.
"You dare assassinate the king?!"
One of the official demigods finally reacted, fury and shock flashing across his face. A radiant spear of light formed in his hand, and he hurled it toward Zhou Ning.
He was an experienced veteran among Bryston's official demigods, his power formidable — yet his opponent's eyes remained utterly calm, devoid even of scorn.
The next second, Zhou Ning caught the spear effortlessly with one hand — and punched.
Though the punch seemed almost casual, its force was overwhelming. The veteran demigod's head rang with a dull boom before it burst into a cloud of blood mist.
Clean. Decisive.
The other demigod froze under Zhou Ning's cold gaze. In an instant, all his fighting spirit vanished. He silently stepped back, pretending he hadn't seen a thing.
Zhou Ning took a deep breath and looked ahead.
The design of Darkland Fortress was intricate. After climbing 149 steps to the top of the city wall stood the "Hedgestone Tower," named after the royal family's surname, Hedgestone. At its peak hung the great Falric Bell — the very heart of Darkland.
The bell, designed by the renowned alchemist Augustus, was only rung during parliamentary sessions or divine ceremonies.
Zhou Ning ignored the others entirely. Under everyone's watchful gaze, he ascended the steps one by one. In his hand materialized a large bouquet of flowers, which he placed before the Falric Bell.
Then, he struck the bell with all his might — twelve times in succession. The great bell trembled as deep tones reverberated through the air.
Dong… Dong… Dong… Dong… Dong… Dong…
It was his mourning — for the Turings, for his friend John, for that little girl, for all who had died. He hoped they could hear it in heaven.
A large group of players stood behind Zhou Ning, their expressions mixed. Though this version of the game had been short, their sense of immersion and participation was absolute. They had fully blended into the story — and the protagonist's image had risen to new heights.
He pitied the weak, defied power, and stood for those without a voice. Most importantly, he was the kindest NPC toward players — bar none.
If there were a vote for the most powerful and charismatic game character in history, Wayne Sturwell would almost certainly win unanimously.
Only then did every player, including Zhou Ning himself, receive a new system notification:
[Apocalypse Version 1.2: "The Darkland Cataclysm" has ended. The game will now undergo a 24-hour maintenance period. The prelude to the new version will open immediately afterward.]
[Apocalypse Version 2.0 Title — "The Ten Disasters Descend." Stay tuned!]