CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 176: SYSTEM OVERDRIVE & TRUCE BY CAKE

The ruins of the chapel still smoked like a battlefield. Blackened beams lay in tangled heaps, embers hissed against the rain seeping through the broken roof, and the sacred altar was nothing more than a pile of glowing rubble.

At the very center of it all sat Rei Velvet, still strapped into his half-melted Groom Chair of Doom, hair standing on end like an electrocuted hedgehog. He twitched, coughed soot, and wheezed:

"...I’m alive? Wait, why am I alive? I thought the Chapter title was basically a death flag!"

[Critical Event: "Bridepocalypse – Phase 3."]

[Processing Danger Level... ERROR.]

[Danger Level: Beyond Charts. Congratulations, you broke math.]

[System Overdrive Activated.]

A metallic ka-chunk noise echoed inside Rei’s skull, like a computer slamming the panic button. Then the voice of the System—usually monotone and smug—became a rapid-fire klaxon.

[Warning: Six Yanderes Detected.]

[Warning: Territorial Aggression Escalating.]

[Warning: Chapel Integrity: -200%. Building already destroyed but somehow keeps collapsing anyway.]

[Main Mission Update: "Survive the Showdown & Choose One Bride (Optional)."]

[Optional Objective Note: Haha. Optional.]

Rei’s face drained of color. "Optional?! Since when do you sarcastic jerks even give me optional quests?"

[We know you’ll fail anyway, so why not add false hope.]

The six stood among the wreckage like apocalyptic generals.

Lilia, gown scorched, stag mount bleeding light, staff raised in a hymn of fire.

Velveria, gown black as mourning, shadows writhing into blades, lips painted with blood.

Drakana, astride her dragon, still spewing heart-shaped inferno like a lovesick artillery cannon.

Seraphina, halo tilted, phoenix wings spread, staff glowing with dangerous overzealous holiness.

Rosette, veil tattered, daggers of lightless metal poised at her sides, bombs flickering in the rubble.

Emilia, veil burned through but teacup raised like the mightiest relic of existence, radiating sheer "Main Girl Energy."

Every one of them glared at Rei, then at each other, their bridal aura like nuclear reactors primed for meltdown.

Rei whimpered. "I don’t even want to choose! I just want cake and a nap!"

[System Notification: Groom Stress Level Exceeded.]

[Medical Prognosis: Will Die of Anxiety Before Marriage.]

[A merciful end compared to marriage.]

The air shook. Hymns clashed with shadows, dragonfire with phoenix flame, silence against porcelain defiance. Another explosion seemed inevitable.

Rei had to act. He had nothing—no weapons, no magic mastery—just... the organ.

Yes, the wedding organ, a colossal instrument at the back of the ruined chapel, still somehow intact despite meteors of dragonfire. Its gilded pipes glimmered faintly in the smoke.

Rei’s brain short-circuited with the sort of genius only desperation can bring.

"If music tames the savage beast," he muttered, staggering toward the wrecked console, "then surely it can also tame six psycho brides."

He tripped over a pew, faceplanted, and got up with soot-stained teeth grinning like a lunatic. "Alright, Beethoven-meets-survival-mode, don’t fail me now."

He slammed his hands onto the keys. The organ groaned to life—not with music, but with raw magic. The resonance spell embedded in the sacred instrument had never been meant for desperate grooms, but for sacred unions. Its pipes didn’t just play sound—they commanded it.

[Warning: Groom Hijacked Sacred Organ.]

[Effect: Resonance Spell Activated.]

[Unintended Side Effect: Compulsory Dance Sequence.]

[Congratulations, you started the world’s deadliest musical number.]

At first it was subtle. Velveria’s shadows swayed, almost in rhythm. Seraphina’s halo tilted side-to-side like a metronome. Drakana’s dragon tapped its claws in beat against rubble.

Then the organ thundered louder. The resonance didn’t just affect the brides—it bent all magic in the area into choreography.

Velveria, mistress of darkness, was suddenly forced into a sultry tango, her shadows whirling like an ensemble of backup dancers.

Lilia’s hymn turned into a ballroom waltz, her stag prancing in neat circles, hooves tapping like castanets.

Drakana’s dragon roared in time with the beat and—horrifyingly—began to twerk. Yes. A full-sized dragon, rump wagging, sending shockwaves through the rubble.

Seraphina’s phoenix was not spared; it flapped dramatically in a flaming cha-cha, feathers sizzling in rhythm.

Rosette, deadly assassin bride, flipped through the air with a knife-ballet, pirouetting while her blades traced glittery arcs of death.

And Emilia, already radiating Main Girl Energy, performed the most devastating magical idol pose, teacup held aloft like the climax of a musical finale.

The guests who’d survived so far screamed as they too were caught—barons breakdancing, duchesses river-dancing, knights spinning each other into walls.

Rei, hammering the keys in slapstick desperation, could only gape. "I—I didn’t mean for everyone to dance! THIS ISN’T DDR—IT’S THE APOCALYPSE!"

[System Notification: Global Dance Spell Active.]

[Warning: Combustion Risk from Excessive Twerking.]

[If the dragon keeps this up, tectonic plates will shift.]

The longer it went, the crazier it became.

Velveria hissed mid-tango, "This is humiliating!" while spinning across rubble in flawless rhythm.

Lilia shrieked, "Cease this unholy dance!" but still dipped backward into her stag’s embrace like a Broadway lead.

Drakana shouted, "Mate! Witness my FLAMING HIP MOVES!" and unleashed flaming hearts that exploded to the beat.

Rosette tried to escape but the resonance forced her into a knife juggling act that made even the System pause.

Emilia, of course, looked serenely triumphant. "See, Rei? Only I can dance with grace at your side."

Rei banged the organ harder, sweat pouring. "Stop fighting! Stop dancing! Just—just SIT DOWN, ALL OF YOU!"

Instead, the spell intensified. The brides spun faster, attacks flying like fireworks but choreographed perfectly in time. The collapsing chapel turned into something between a rave and a battlefield.

[Overdrive Level Rising.]

[Event Title Updated: "Bridepocalypse Dance-Off."]

[Humanity will remember this as the Dumbest War in History.]

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of twerking dragons and shadow tango, the resonance reached its peak.

The organ’s pipes glowed red-hot. The final chord blasted like a magical earthquake.

With a unified crash, the entire congregation collapsed mid-step—brides, beasts, and barons sprawled in heaps of gowns, wings, and glitter.

Rei, panting, climbed atop the broken altar, hair fried upward, coat torn, looking like a warlord who had conquered through slapstick. He raised his arms.

"Ladies... please... for the love of everything holy and unholy... can we not murder each other for just FIVE MINUTES?"

Silence.

The six brides, sprawled in disheveled gowns, weapons still trembling in hand, froze. Their eyes still burned with obsession, but exhaustion, soot, and residual waltz fatigue kept them pinned.

For the first time, the battlefield was quiet.

Rei swallowed hard. "Look... I get it. You all want me. In very, very murderous ways. But... can we maybe, just for today, not decide it through arson and organ-fueled dance battles?"

No one moved. He coughed, then added: "I mean... can we please... talk this out... over cake?"

The word cake cut through the tension like divine scripture.

Lilia blinked, hymn faltering. "Cake?"

Velveria licked her lips, intrigued. "Black forest...?"

Drakana’s dragon snorted smoke shaped like a cupcake.

Seraphina’s phoenix squawked, feathers sparking frosting-colored sparks.

Rosette narrowed her eyes. "...What flavor."

Emilia whispered reverently, "Wedding... cake."

Rei seized the chance. "Yes. Cake! It’s neutral ground without any hymns, fire, and assassinations. Just... frosting and forks. A... truce."

[System Notification: New Event Triggered.]

[Event Title: "Temporary Cake Truce."]

[Success Probability: 22%.]

[Better odds than your love life.]

One by one, the brides lowered their weapons. The stag dimmed, the dragon slumped, the phoenix folded its wings. The shadows recoiled, the teacup shimmered down.

The six women stood among the rubble, glaring at each other, but for once not attacking.

Rei slumped against the ruined altar, barely able to breathe. "Finally... peace..."

Of course, he knew it wouldn’t last. This was only a ceasefire. Tomorrow would bring new schemes, new duels, maybe a murder attempt involving forks.

But for now? Cake would save him.

[System Final Alert]

[Warning: Next Arc Approaching.]

[Incoming Guests Detected.]

[Hope you saved some cake for them.]

And so the ruins of the chapel, still smoking, filled not with hymns or screams—but the awkward silence of six yanderes agreeing, for one fragile moment, to sit down at the same table.

The Groom Apocalypse paused... with frosting.

The problem, of course, was that there was no cake. The actual wedding cake had been obliterated back in Chapter 175 when Lilia mistook it for an idol of false devotion and stabbed it thirty-seven times while shouting "HERESY!"

Rei stared at the smoldering crumbs in the rubble. His eye twitched. "...You’ve got to be kidding me."

Rosette stepped forward, veil still torn, expression dead serious. "I anticipated this."

From seemingly nowhere—perhaps a spatial distortion pocket, perhaps her absurdly roomy garter belt—she produced a pristine boxed strawberry shortcake. Everyone froze.

Velveria’s shadows stirred. "That’s... mine."

Drakana’s dragon huffed smoke hearts. "Mate must eat first!"

Seraphina raised her staff. "Bless the cake before consumption!"

Lilia shrieked, "We must consecrate it as a sacred offering!"

Emilia simply folded her arms, radiating calm dominance. "Clearly, I’ll feed him the first bite."

Rei, voice breaking: "I just wanted... one normal slice..."

[System Notification: Groom at Risk of Being Force-Fed.]

[Mini-Quest Triggered: "Defend the Cake Slice."]

[Reward: Temporary Blood Sugar Boost.]

[Penalty: Choked on Cake by Overzealous Bride.]

The air grew tense again, frosting particles glinting like dust motes in the torchlight. It was absurd—six apocalyptic brides, weapons lowered, only for the truce to wobble on the brink of collapse over a single pastry.

Rei sighed, bracing himself. "Of course... the cake was a trap."

And with that, the uneasy truce teetered, six forks raised in trembling hands—ready to stab each other over buttercream.

To be continued...