Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!-Chapter 109: Nazakiel’s Arrival

Shortly after Barns and Clancy depart from Dimartino, the kingdom receives a visitor.

But it is not a visitor anyone wants nor expects.

It is Nazakiel of the Sentinels, the one rumored to be the strongest among them.

The main gate creaks open as he steps through, emerging from the northern road. He moves with unshaken purpose, his posture regal but unbothered, as if walking into ruins rather than a bustling, thriving kingdom.

Adventurers on guard immediately tense, their hands flying to their weapons. Some shout orders. Others hesitate, their instincts screaming at them that something is wrong.

Nazakiel does not raise his arms. He doesn't need to. His presence alone is enough.

"Bring me your leaders," he says, his voice calm and unchallenged.

He walks through the castle gardens, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the surroundings. The colors. The vibrancy. The life. It is more than he expected.

For a kingdom that should have crumbled, they have done well.

Nazakiel stops by the pool. He stares into the bottom, watching how the water ripples with the wind. Even the gentle sway of the leaves above seems more alive than the lands he has seen before.

Footsteps echo behind him. He does not need to turn. He already knows who has come.

Maria and Osmond arrive, their gazes locked onto the intruder.

Maria's hands clench, and Osmond's magic begins to hum, crackling beneath his skin like caged lightning. They know who he is.

"The ones in charge should be a human woman and her demon," Nazakiel muses. "Osmond and Maria, I presume?"

Maria's heart pounds. This is the worst-case scenario.

Barns and Clancy are away. The Sentinel has arrived.

"And who are you?" Maria demands, her voice colder than steel.

Nazakiel still does not turn. He does not need to. His sight sees all, his awareness absolute.

"Nazakiel of the Sentinels," he answers, his tone devoid of arrogance or threat. Just fact. "I come with a request from Emperor Yharan directly. He welcomes the human empire and wishes you all great success."

He pauses, watching their reflections in the water. The moment lingers, as if he enjoys the tension in the air.

"And commands the immediate execution of the Boy Hero and his crab."

Maria stiffens.

Osmond snarls. "They aren't here. And even if they were, we would never surrender them to you!"

Nazakiel inhales deeply, as if savoring the moment. Then he laughs.

A booming, dreadful sound, more theatrical than amused. A villain's laugh, one filled with absolute certainty.

"Aren't here, you say?" he repeats. "Then I shall wait for them."

He finally turns. His presence is immense, the sheer weight of his power settling over them like an invisible force. His eyes glow with something beyond magic—an understanding of the very fabric of reality itself.

"Escort me to your throne room. I shall wait eagerly for their return."

"Not happening!" Osmond roars.

His body erupts with violet energy, arcs of raw magic slicing through the air as he prepares to strike.

Nazakiel merely sighs.

"Only by Emperor Yharan's divine grace do you still live. I strive to minimize casualties," he states, almost disappointed.

"But if you would raise arms against me," he continues, "I shall put you in your place."

And then—he moves.

No stance. No grand gesture. He merely shifts his attention to Osmond.

Gravity itself obeys him.

Osmond crashes to the ground, the weight of the world slamming him into the stone with a brutal, crushing force. His body caves under the sheer concept of pressure, his eyes rolling back before he even has time to process what has happened.

Unconscious in a single breath.

Nazakiel barely acknowledges him.

"Have I made myself clear?"

Maria's magic explodes.

"Royal Art: Ave Ma—"

Before she can finish the incantation, two orbs of hardened light materialize out of thin air. They smash into her from opposite sides, colliding with such devastating force that even her immunity to physical damage is overcome by sheer pressure.

Her vision blurs. Her body locks up.

The world tilts, and she collapses.

Two of Dimartino's strongest warriors, defeated.

Nazakiel has not lifted a single finger.

"If either of you try again," he states, void of emotion, "I will kill you both."

He steps over their fallen forms and continues toward the castle.

Panic spreads through the stronghold like wildfire. Alarms ring. Adventurers move. But no one dares to engage.

Nazakiel speaks one word, and the battlefield is locked.

"System Art: Encryption."

A wave of green energy ripples outward, washing over the entire castle.

Maria feels it. Her mind aches. Her connection to the System vanishes.

She knows what he has done.

He has blocked their ability to send messages.

No warnings will reach Barns.

Nazakiel approaches the castle doors.

And standing in his way is Roscoe.

The young warrior grips Crashing Wave, his stance solid despite the obvious tremor in his fingers.

Nazakiel tilts his head, observing him as one might observe an ant standing before a boot.

"What is this?" Nazakiel muses. "You send your children into war? I see humanity never changes."

Follow current novels on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

Roscoe's teeth clench. His pulse is loud in his ears.

"I'm not a kid!" he shouts. "The hero of Dimartino entrusted this sword to me, and I promised I would protect this place no matter what!"

Nazakiel's expression is unreadable.

"Protect as you wish," he states. "I have no desire to destroy this place. I seek only Barnacles and Clancy."

"You're not getting either of them!"

Roscoe charges.

The worst decision he could have made.

Nazakiel stops him instantly.

Roscoe barely moves a step before his sword is wrenched from his hands. His body suspends in the air, an unseen force holding him like a marionette.

"I fail to see this as a place worth protecting," Nazakiel says, his voice void of care, "if they must resort to enlisting children to fight on their behalf."

His eyes flicker.

Roscoe lurches. Pain ignites through his body.

"Today you shall learn a valuable lesson, child," Nazakiel states. "Never raise your arms against a Sentinel."

Roscoe screams. His arms twist backward, his bones cracking, shattering, folding under invisible weight.

The moment the Sentinel releases his power, Roscoe crumples to the ground, his body convulsing in agony. He cannot even clutch his arms—the pain is all-consuming.

Nazakiel gazes down at him.

"Know your place."

He steps toward the castle doors. They open on their own, responding to his will.

Nazakiel imagines, and the world bends to obey.

For he does not only serve Emperor Yharan. He possesses the Emperor's brain.

He enters the throne room unchallenged, the heavy doors closing behind him.

And so, the strongest Sentinel waits.