NIKKE: The Apocalypse Arrives, But the System is 100 Years Late

Drake, who had collapsed on the ground after being defeated, despite being affected by the infection, found herself regaining some clarity in her consciousness at the moment of her loss.

Looking back at everything she had just done, she felt neither the frustration of failure nor any sense of regret. Instead, a satisfied smile appeared on her face.

She had finally gotten to play the big villain for once!

Totally worth it.

However…

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at a certain innocent and inexperienced girl nearby, her expression was somewhat at a loss.

To be defeated by someone like that—now that was a little frustrating.

But in the end, this kind of absurd downfall was simply the fate of all villains, wasn't it?

On the other side, Emma and Maxwell's battle was also reaching its conclusion.

Maxwell had been defeated by Emma.

Holding her injured arm, Emma walked up to Maxwell, sealing her with a containment device before helping her up and propping her against a nearby wall.

The two of them sat side by side, with none of the hostility that had filled their battle moments ago.

"That was close… I almost lost, you know?"

Emma and Maxwell had known each other long before this, so their fight had never been as tense and hostile as the others. Their interactions were more like an exchange between old friends.

Maxwell, despite being infected, was unable to move freely. However, perhaps due to her defeat, her mind had cleared up significantly.

She simply couldn't speak yet.

Emma unfastened the outer layer of her clothing, revealing the black tactical suit underneath—the GANZ battle suit.

It wasn't just Eunhwa who had received one—Emma had been given one too.

Compared to Eunhwa's leaner, more compact frame, Emma's figure was much fuller, with every curve in all the right places.

This wasn't just mildly curvy—it was a body sculpted to perfection, exuding an irresistible charm. Even supermodels would pale in comparison—a beauty so captivating it could make hearts race with a mere glance.

Because of this, even in an outfit as revealing as the GANZ battle suit, Emma didn't look the least bit out of place.

Instead, the suit accentuated her stunning curves, making it seem as though it had been custom-designed just for her.

"Thanks to the commander for giving me this gear… but I didn't expect him to have such a playful side—so mischievous."

Unlike Eunhwa, who had felt embarrassed and annoyed, Emma wore her outfit with confidence, carrying herself gracefully and openly.

With every subtle movement, she exuded an effortless allure—her soft, snow-white curves, her gently swaying form—a sight so mesmerizing that even another girl might find herself enchanted.

Maxwell, still conscious despite her infection, couldn't help but notice Emma's body as well.

However, compared to Emma's figure, she was far more interested in her battle suit.

This suit had not only protected Emma from multiple explosive and shockwave attacks, but had done so with minimal damage.

Had it been any normal Nikke, they would have either died or been gravely injured.

On top of that, her combat abilities and physical strength were far beyond that of a standard heavy machine gunner.

There was no doubt—this was the work of the battle suit.

The commander…?

A name surfaced in Maxwell's mind—that remarkable commander.

So this piece of equipment was something he had developed?

Her curiosity about him deepened as she continued to gaze at the sleek black battle suit Emma was wearing.

Meanwhile…

The commander Maxwell had grown so curious about was currently immersed in a sea of crimson.

The night was dark as ink.

The silver moonlight poured down like a cascade of mercury, yet everything beneath it was stained in an eerie deep red. Even the stars and the moon seemed to have been swallowed by the crimson tide, leaving behind nothing but a hazy, blood-colored glow. T

he air was thick with an indescribable, sickly-sweet scent, and the scarlet radiance wove itself into thin, shimmering threads, surging like an endless tide.

The crimson light intertwined, forming something that resembled a cocoon.

At its center—Mo Chen was enveloped within the Red Tide.

The scarlet substance continuously washed over his skin and bones. His skin began to transform, becoming crystalline and translucent, as if sculpted from red agate, exuding a subtle glow. Its strength and resilience had been vastly enhanced.

Meanwhile, the surrounding Red Tide was visibly thinning.

As if it had been entirely absorbed by him.

Even the vast, swamp-like expanse of crimson liquid had visibly receded, changing from thick, blood-like fluid into something akin to an oversaturated, nutrient-rich crimson tide.

"System Notification: The Punishing Virus has evolved to Phase Three—Red Tide."

Mo Chen's eyes snapped open, and in that instant, two cold glints of light shot out like blades of steel.

His posture stood taller than before, his muscles sculpted with perfect definition, exuding an indescribable sense of power. His skin had become taut, elastic, as if forged and tempered through countless trials, now gleaming with a faint luminescence.

His gaze had become deep and piercing, as though he could see through all things, carrying an immovable presence, as steadfast as a mountain peak.

Mo Chen clenched his fist.

Every fiber of muscle tightened in unison.

His physique wasn't grotesquely bulky like that of a bodybuilding champion, nor was it covered in overgrown veins—instead, it was the perfectly balanced form of a warrior. Yet, when he tightened his grip, he could feel the surging power within, as if a single punch could shatter anything before him.

The Red Tide Phase—he had finally reached it.

"Congratulations on your advancement. You have been awarded three lottery draws."

"Congratulations on your advancement. You have been awarded 30,000 points."

The system notification appeared.

Mo Chen stretched his body, arching his back lazily. He felt incredibly refreshed, as if every cell in his body was brimming with energy. A casual jump sent him soaring over ten meters into the air, and a simple punch sliced through the air with a sharp sonic boom.

His entire body felt weightless yet overflowing with power, an exhilarating sense of absolute freedom unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

A reward too? Not bad. The perks weren't lacking.

However, he wasn't in a hurry to draw the lottery just yet—there was something else he needed to do first.

He raised his arm, aiming toward the vast expanse of the Red Tide, fingers spreading open before clenching into a tight fist.

The scarlet tide seemed to respond to his call. In an instant, the entire sea of crimson began to surge violently, bubbling and roiling as if an unstoppable force had been unleashed. The surface churned and boiled, resembling a raging river or a pot of water at full boil.

At the very center, where Mo Chen stood, an explosion of crimson light burst forth, spreading like a blooming, wickedly enchanting flower. The intensity of the scarlet glow magnified a thousandfold, washing over everything, dyeing the entire landscape in an even deeper shade of blackened crimson.

The dense mist surrounding the area rose abruptly, ascending like an invisible pillar of light, piercing through the sky. It expanded outward, sending rippling waves across the night sky, like a colossal beacon stretching toward the heavens.

And then—from within the churning Red Tide, something began to emerge.

A massive figure slowly surfaced.

First, the train's front came into view.

Then, as it continued to rise from the depths, its entire body was revealed—fully intact, looming over the battlefield.

A colossal turret dominated most of the train's structure, its form sleek and sharp like the beak of a hunting falcon, exuding an unstoppable aura of destruction and a suffocating sense of dread.

Its crimson headlights glowed ominously in the darkness, casting an eerie light that only made its presence more sinister. Across its metallic body, jagged bloodstains stretched in intricate, chaotic patterns, as though flesh and sinew had been fused beneath the steel plating, pulsating with an unyielding, monstrous power.

Despite significant damage—with its turrets, missile launchers, and triple-barreled cannons mostly destroyed—the terrifying, ancient-beast-like aura it radiated had not diminished in the slightest.

If anything, it felt even more brutal, more savage than before.

It was unmistakable—

The monstrous Rapture train from before—Alteisen MK.VI!