Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 330—Final mission

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Prime Minister Elizabeth entered without knocking.

Alberto didn’t look up at first.

Floor-to-ceiling screens lined the oval war room, each one streaming live satellite feeds, infrared sweeps, thermal overlays, and intelligence reports compiled in frantic succession over the past three hours. The polished obsidian table at the center of the chamber reflected burning cities like a dark mirror.

Alberto did not turn from the central display.

"Your Majesty," Elizabeth said, her voice steady by discipline alone. "We’ve consolidated the global feed."

That made him raise his eyes.

She crossed the room and slid a tablet across the table. With a gesture, the central display shifted.

The world appeared.

Indiana Empire’s western provinces were engulfed in black haze. Entire metropolitan sectors had gone dark—no power grid, no signals, no heat signatures beyond scattered fires and moving clusters that did not register as human. The capital’s outer districts were already reduced to skeletal ruin. Something massive moved through the smoke, too large for conventional scale markers to process.

Fires burned unchecked. Military convoys lay overturned like discarded toys.

The feed shifted.

Another continent. Another nation.

A coastal metropolis split in half by a jagged fissure glowing faintly red. Inland agricultural zones blackened into sterile wasteland. In the northern hemisphere, a capital city under siege—dark shapes moving through streets too fast to track, tearing through armored vehicles as though they were paper.

Elizabeth’s voice remained steady, but her knuckles were white around the tablet.

"Our analysts confirm similar events across thirty-two sovereign territories," she said. "We are receiving fragmented distress signals. The Indiana military has ceased coordinated response. Their imperial command network went silent twenty minutes ago."

Alberto leaned back slowly.

"How long," he asked, "until those things reach our borders?"

"At their current expansion rate?" She hesitated. "Less than forty-eight hours. Possibly less."

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

A translucent interface shimmered into existence before Alberto’s eyes. No one else could see it.

A familiar mechanical tone echoed in his mind.

System Notification:

[WARNING, HOST. Hell Gate activation detected.]

[Destroy the Hell Gate.]

[Complete the Final Mission.]

[Reward: Unlock Superior Anti-Magic Authority.]

The message lingered in Alberto’s vision like a brand burned against the inside of his skull.

So it had come to this.

The final mission.

So it had begun.

Alberto exhaled slowly.

"I was hoping it wouldn’t escalate this quickly," he murmured.

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened. "Your Majesty?"

He stood.

The screens shifted again—live feeds of monstrous entities tearing through armored divisions, tanks crushed like tin, aerial drones falling from the sky as if swatted by invisible hands.

He felt no panic.

"I want this finished," he said quietly.

Alberto turned to her fully now.

"Change our engagement protocol."

A flick of his fingers brought up Bernard Empire’s strategic arsenal overview. Missile silos blinked green across continental grids. Orbital platforms rotated in silent readiness above the atmosphere.

"Authorize deployment of hydrogen-class warheads," he said. "Full-spectrum strike capability. In addition—prepare orbital kinetic platforms for synchronized release."

Elizabeth’s composure cracked.

"Your Majesty, those regions still contain civilian populations."

"They are not our citizens."

"That doesn’t make them expendable."

Alberto’s eyes hardened.

"They are already dead," he said evenly. "If not now, then in hours. Those creatures are spreading through population density. Every delay multiplies casualties. If we sterilize the epicenter, we prevent global collapse."

"And if we’re wrong?"

He stepped closer.

"Then history will judge me," he said. "But there won’t be a history left to judge if we hesitate."

She held his gaze for several long seconds.

Outside the reinforced glass walls of the war chamber, alarms echoed faintly through the palace corridors. The sky over Bernard’s capital had begun to dim unnaturally, thin black veins stretching across the upper atmosphere.

The threat was not hypothetical.

It was approaching.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes.

"I will issue the order," she said.

"And Elizabeth."

She paused.

"Prepare the flagship Stormbreaker."

"Are you planning to engage directly?" she asked.

"If the Hell Gate stabilizes beyond nuclear disruption," Alberto replied, "I’ll go myself."

She gave a single, sharp nod.

Then she turned and began issuing commands through her encrypted commline.

Within minutes, Bernard Empire transformed.

Deep beneath mountain ranges and arid plains, blast doors slid open.

Missile crews sprinted into reinforced silos, biometric scanners flashing green as command authority codes cascaded through secured channels.

In Arctic installations carved into ice, submarine fleets pivoted silently, missile tubes flooding in preparation.

Across desert bunkers, hydraulic systems hummed as launch platforms elevated skyward.

Orbital weapon arrays adjusted trajectory.

In the capital’s aerospace docks, the Stormbreaker awakened.

Its hull—black alloy veined with faint blue circuitry—began drawing power from reactor cores. Massive thrusters glowed dimly as technicians swarmed across its surface like ants preparing a god-machine.

Back in the war chamber, Elizabeth’s voice remained calm as she transmitted final authentication.

"Strategic Command, this is Prime Minister Elizabeth Hawthorne. Confirm Protocol Ashfall."

A pause.

Then: "Ashfall confirmed."

On the central display, Indiana territory was overlaid with projected blast radii.

Red circles bloomed across the map.

Alberto watched in silence.

He clenched his jaw.

"I don’t have time for morality metrics," he muttered internally.

On screen, a new feed appeared.

Zoomed view.

Indiana’s former capital.

At its center—something vast pulsed like a heart made of darkness. The sky above it was split wide, a colossal eye faintly visible through distortion. Black-armored entities marched outward in disciplined formations.

Elizabeth returned to his side.

"All hydrogen-class warheads are locked onto primary and secondary convergence points," she reported. "Orbital platforms aligned. Submarine batteries standing by."

Alberto nodded once.

Then he faced the largest screen.

The world held its breath.

Across Bernard Empire’s missile fields, crews completed final checklists.

"Fuel pressure nominal."

"Guidance systems online."

"Warhead integrity verified."

In underground command centers, officers sat rigid before consoles, awaiting a single confirmation phrase.

Outside, night fell prematurely as atmospheric distortions thickened.

In orbit, metal rods the size of skyscrapers adjusted micro-thrusters, targeting algorithms locking onto coordinates below.

The Stormbreaker’s engines flared brighter, lifting slightly from its cradle before settling back into hover readiness.

Elizabeth inhaled quietly.

"All systems are armed," she said.