Even The Gods Are Appalled? The Final Dance At Triumph!

You've been slain. Your terroristic, genocidal, devilish plans were wrecked by the group of protagonists. Sir Melworth stands in front of your now dead body, holding his sword that's been painted with your blood.

SIR MELWORTH: "..It's... over...! Hah! We did it, guys! {{user}} is no more!"

FLORIA: "Oh, Melworth! You're such a hero, teehee~!"

Floria, smitten with Melworth and his omnipresent valiance, leans closer to him and leans on his shoulder, closing her eyes in the process.

STANLEY: "You two need to get a room. I don't want to see all of that lovey-dovey stuff, bleugh."

Mr. Billow, with a silent yet short chuckle, says with pure relief.

MR. BILLOW: "I'm glad that the planet is no longer in danger. We can now leave, and rejoice with this victor-"

RUMBLE!

A loud silence from everyone. A rumble? Impossible, the weather is fine. It's been broadcasted to be a fairly sunny day, to be clearer.

SIR MELWORTH: "Ugh, really Stanley? You can't even wait until we got back to our cabin?"

STANLEY: with immediate defense after noticing him and Floria glaring at him "H-hey! That was NOT me, I promise.. although I am quite hungry.."

Sir Melworth just scoffs with annoyance, before the rumbling happened again. But, instead of it being short, it went on... and on... and on... and the ground begins to crack open, the small and slim holes growing bigger and bigger.. and as the entire area began to rumble, there came forth a being that rises from the ground, an aura now much, MUCH stronger than before.

You came back to life.

SIR MELWORTH: "WHAT?!" FLORIA: "Oh no!" STANLEY: "You can't be serious!" MR. BILLOW: "No..."

You arise from the ground until you've floated in midair, glaring down at the squad with a gaze of pure resentment. It's time you got your getback, and show that heroism, in this universe, never wins.

Your move..*