National Guardian's Gone and We're Done

The commander’s eyes shot wide open.

An utterly bizarre scene was rapidly unfolding before him.

He swung the sharp machete in his hand, striking a piece of Yellow Paper as it fluttered down.

But the Yellow Paper seemed incredibly sticky. It instantly clung to the sharp blade, adhering to it tightly.

The part of the fine steel blade covered by the Yellow Paper rapidly fused with the metal, and that section quickly turned yellow.

It was as if that part of the blade was made of Yellow Paper itself.

Meanwhile, more and more Yellow Paper drifted down toward him in a ceaseless stream.

The commander swung his machete like a great windmill.

The move was clearly effective in protecting his body.

He managed to block all the incoming Yellow Paper.

However, every single piece was now stuck to his fine-steel machete.

The commander’s heart sank into an endless abyss.

The machete in his hand was growing lighter and lighter, the entire weapon having turned a sickly, ancient yellow.

It was as if the Yellow Paper had transformed it into a machete woven from paper.

In that split second, it felt as though an invisible hand had seized the commander’s mind, plunging him into a daze.

In that moment of distraction, a piece of Yellow Paper landed silently on his wrist, like an omen of doom descending in the dead of night.

He flinched, and the hair on his body stood on end.

A cold sweat poured down his back as he sensed an unspeakable horror was about to befall him.

He hurriedly tried to swat the unwelcome intruder off his skin with his free hand.

However, the Yellow Paper clung to him like a persistent disease; not only could he not swat it away,

but it also adhered to his wrist with terrifying speed.

It then began to seep into his very flesh.

As the Yellow Paper fused with him, his wrist began to change horrifically.

Its healthy color rapidly faded.

In its place was a ghastly, withered yellow identical to the paper, as if it had been shrouded in the shadow of death.

Just as the commander was reeling in shock from this sudden transformation, another piece of Yellow Paper drifted down, heading straight for his face.

This time, acting on pure instinct, he raised his machete, intending to slice the new threat in two.

However, the moment he swung the weapon, something even more horrifying happened.

His wrist—the part that had been assimilated by the Yellow Paper—was as fragile as paper. Unable to withstand the force of the swing, it simply tore apart.

The machete fell from his grip and clattered to the ground, while his severed hand lay still in the dust like a discarded part from a puppet.

Even more terrifying, no blood gushed from the wound as one would expect. Instead, there was only a dead stillness, as if all his Life Force had been drained away in that instant.

Trembling, the commander used his good hand to carefully pick up the severed one, which was now indistinguishable from Yellow Paper.

He stared, wide-eyed and in utter disbelief. The part of his body he now held was cold, stiff, and completely identical to the surrounding Yellow Paper.

A sudden surge of unprecedented courage welled up inside him. He clenched his jaw and tore at the edge of his paper-like, severed wrist.

With a faint RRRIP,

a thin fragment, just like all the other Yellow Paper, came away in his hand.

It was undeniable proof that his body was being assimilated by the grotesque Yellow Paper.

The scene was as vivid and cruel as a nightmare.

”Everyone, run! You can’t let this Yellow Paper touch you, or you’ll turn into paper too!”

the commander shrieked at the top of his lungs.

But no one answered. Only then did he notice the bloodcurdling screams rising from behind him.

The screams were filled with an indescribable terror.

The commander’s heart stopped. It felt as if an invisible hand was strangling him, and the sight before him made his blood run cold.

He slowly turned, and a horrifying tableau beyond his wildest imagination met his eyes.

The brave warriors of the White Elephant Empire who had fought by his side were no longer living beings. They had been mercilessly consumed by the Yellow Paper, transformed into a scene of utter horror.

They lay on the ground, their limbs twisted and contorted. All their former bravery and strength had been reduced to futile struggles.

The cause of it all was the Yellow Paper that covered them from head to toe.

The sheets of Yellow Paper seemed to have a life of their own, wrapping tightly around each soldier, draining away their bodies, their faces, and even their very souls.

In their place, it left a ghastly, withered yellow, and utterly grotesque form.

The weapons on the ground—the sharp blades and sturdy shields that had once gleamed with a cold light—were now fragile and brittle, as if they had been folded from Yellow Paper. A single touch might turn them to dust.

The commander knew this wasn’t because the weapons were weak, but because the power contained within the Yellow Paper was strong enough to turn anything to nothing.

What chilled the commander to the bone, however,

was that the faces of the soldiers completely covered in Yellow Paper had begun to change. Their skin turned an unnatural yellow, the corners of their mouths curled into grotesque smiles, and rouge inexplicably appeared on their cheeks.

It was like crudely applied makeup, both inappropriate and filled with a terrifying aura.

In the dim light, the rouge looked even more demonic, and the commander didn’t dare to stare, afraid that a single glance would be enough for that grotesque color to devour his soul.

Just then, as if the sky itself had gone mad, huge swaths of Yellow Paper began to pour down like a torrential storm.

The sheets fell mercilessly upon the petrified commander.

He tried to struggle, but an invisible force had bound his body, making it incredibly difficult to even move.

A sinister chill seeped through his every pore, piercing him to the bone and filling him with a cold, unprecedented despair.

The commander looked down at his body. The Yellow Paper had completely covered every inch of his skin, and even his clothes had taken on the same withered yellow hue.

In that same instant, his body seemed to become fragile and stiff, no longer able to support his will or his courage.

Darkness washed over him like a tide, drowning his vision and devouring his consciousness.

Finally, he stood there, transformed into a Paperman constructed from Yellow Paper, the same grotesque smile plastered on his face.

He joined the other Papermen, forming the most terrifying and bizarre scene in the world.