Epilogue─B: Standing There, All Alone

The Black Demon Lord murmured, alone on the nighttime sea, as if singing.

"Another ending has ended. Another world has ended. Another one."

The only things watching her were billions of stars and a hazy crescent moon.

"—Another one. Another wish has drawn its last breath."

It was something to celebrate, and something to mourn.

"Gotta hurry. Gotta hurry and destroy the world."

What appeared in the star-filled sky was a massive golden full moon. —A second moon.

"If I don't hurry and destroy it, it'll be destroyed for me."

From the golden moon emerged countless pure-white monsters, enough to blot out the entire sky.

Porous like fungal threads, thinking of nothing but killing everything in sight—stupid, mindless monsters.

"Come. —Sand and Wind."

The sea rose like a mountain. What emerged from it was a shadow giant. An immortal giant carved with blue-glowing geometric patterns. Sand and Wind lifted the Black Demon Lord onto its palm and glared at the sky.

"You weren't invited. I won't let boring trash like you destroy my beloved, wonderful world. I'm not giving you a single thing."

The Black Demon Lord smiled a smile befitting a Demon Lord and swung her arm wide.

On the night horizon, hundreds—thousands of shadow giants appeared.

Small ones and enormous ones, ones that flew and ones that were fading away.

"I want to destroy the world."

The small girl stood there, all alone.

"I want the world to be destroyed by the most wonderful wish. It's not inside me. It's not inside you. I don't know where it is. No one has ever seen it."

The girl with jet-black eyes who loved the world, who fought on all alone—the Demon Lord smiled.

"—A happy ending surely exists. I believe in it."

The girl would continue fighting, all alone.

To end the world that would soon be ending.

To end it with a happy ending.

Onward we go, down this endless road.

With armor and shield of love and courage.

With gun and sword of dreams and hope.

Even if the universe itself should perish.

Afterword

Misaki Saginomiya

There's a word: "well-made." It's my least favorite form of praise.

Stories are interesting because they have flaws.

The roughness of someone who wrote what they loved in a frenzy. The immaturity of passion outrunning technique. And conversely, I also love the breezy lightness that comes from pandering completely to the market. When I see a work where the author's mental ups and downs have been unintentionally embedded in the text, I sometimes let out an audible squeal of delight.

Orderly, composed, controlled to a fine polish—that kind of work bores me to tears.

Give me flaws! Give me more human imperfection!

That is my creed as a writer and my wish as a reader.

Now then. The work at hand: This is the Apocalypse Stagnation Committee. It left a peculiar impression on me.

First of all, it's good. Technically, alarmingly good.

Character writing, plot development, worldbuilding, prose style—every aspect is at a high level. It's a joy to read.

Personally, I'm quite fond of Luna-san: the mentally unstable tracksuit-wearing maid with the big-sister energy. That languid way she speaks, the jaded interior, and yet the wish she can never quite abandon. All of those elements are rendered with both high originality and straightforward appeal.

Wait, this is only the author's second published novel? Seriously? This reads like someone who's been a professional for years... (Upon investigation, it appears they have extensive experience writing game scenarios.)

And yet, despite all that technical skill, there's a heat and momentum that doesn't match.

Characters whose charm blooms extravagantly, without restraint. The sparkling wit of every conversation.

A plot that careens in unexpected directions, with brilliant worldbuilding revealed at breakneck speed.

The pacing is blistering. You're on a boat, then thrown into the sea, then standing before a goddess of reincarnation, then suddenly at a sky academy. After that it's a bazaar, then Barcelona, then a research lab, then the deep sea—all over the map.

Look, normally you just don't do this. Each of these elements is fully realized on its own, so you'd normally dole them out carefully. If it were me, I'd stretch this across two volumes. Maybe three, to present this much information properly.

So then, is this a failure? Is it overstuffed and not fun?

It is not. I'll say that with certainty.

In this work, that density is what explicitly elevates it into something special.

Today, novels are generally expected to be low-cost. And not just novels—videos, manga, music, games—how you plan the economics of it all is critical.

This isn't just about price. It's about how you design the burden on the audience relative to the entertainment and pleasure they receive. That's the foundational premise of everything. And in practice, most creators probably want to minimize that burden as much as possible.

At the same time, creators themselves often need to avoid overinvesting in production costs.

For example, if you're serializing a novel online and want to rank high, you need to upload consistently. Speed is what matters, and that requires pacing yourself. You have to manage your own costs properly.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with any of this. I'd even call it a time-honored consideration.

For example, newspaper serialized novels were published daily, just like web novels. Naturally, authors had to manage their costs too. What matters is what you create within those constraints. What value you can embed in your work.

I've gotten sidetracked. Back to the main point.

Cost-consciousness is demanded of novels. So what happens?

The amount of worldbuilding is limited. Character counts are kept to an optimal minimum.

Dialogue prioritizes smooth readability, and plot developments hew close to whatever the market has determined is the optimal formula.

And that's fine in its own way. It's a form of refinement and maturity. Flowers can bloom beyond constraints, too.

But this work went in the opposite direction on nearly every front.

The result, paradoxically, is a work that feels strangely contemporary.

To put it concretely: the author's cost-performance is completely ignored.

The structure is one where readers get to gorge themselves on information so lavishly they might feel guilty about it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, delivered in rapid succession from start to finish. Whether you read carefully or skim, it serves up entertainment suited to either mode. The reader's cost-performance and time-performance are phenomenally good.

In other words—this work is clearly a "commercial product" that has no fear of "selling below cost."

This is, frankly, a dumping operation of entertainment, charm, and emotion.

You can find similar structures in some hit songs, manga, and video content. But in the novel industry—at least in the light novel industry—I don't think you see it much lately.

And the reason such a structure works here? I can only think of one explanation.

The author is purely "doing it because they love it." They're deliberately breaking the business model.

I'm not criticizing. I'm envious. I am genuinely envious of the author for being able to unleash this work upon the world. After all, writing something like this is exactly what I've always wished I could do.

One last bit of mischief, if you'll allow me: I wonder what happens as this series adds more volumes.

How long can this "prepared to operate at a loss" approach continue—and what kind of spectacle will it show us? That's what I want to see through to the end.