The silence that followed the Queen's final screech was deafening. The battlefield, once alive with the incessant buzz of electric wings and the crackle of discharged voltage, was now still. Smoke curled from shattered rooftops and scorched terrain, and the scent of ozone lingered in the air like the breath of a storm that had just passed.
And then, the trapdoor of fear unlatched.
One by one, doors creaked open. Children peeked from behind tattered curtains, mothers with tear-streaked faces stepped into the ruined streets, elders clasped their hands in prayer. From basements and bunkers, from alleyways and shelters, the people of Biohive 81 emerged like petals unfolding after a long, brutal winter.
They looked upward—and there he was.
Floating above the shattered battlefield, surrounded by the remnants of his thunderous dominion, was Nioh.
