Chapter 162 – The Return of the Demon God King: Gaetia's Judgement Unleashed
It took but a fraction of a second.
Four mechanical generals, forged by the Moon King Haziruus, launched themselves into a full-scale suicide assault. Laser beams erupted, missiles fired in volleys, and their metallic bodies accelerated in a final, desperate charge toward the one man who had unraveled their confidence—the resurrected Solomon.
They had no illusions. The order was clear: self-destruct in proximity, collapse the dimensional layer, and grant their master time to flee. Their leader was too paralyzed by shock to command. But the wisest of the four sensed the weight in Haziruus's muttered words—those trembling syllables weren't revelation. They were admission. Solomon was not an anomaly.
He was the threat.
"ALL UNITS—FULL POWER!"
The command rang out. Light surged across the battlefield like cascading solar flares.
From within the chaos, a girl's voice broke: "W-What is this…?"
Reveil's lips trembled as she clutched her brother's arm. Their side had been shaking with fear moments ago, crumbling beneath the gods of another reality.
Now those same gods were retreating, terrified of the man behind them.
Wait—were they gods?
Or had they simply realized they were in the presence of something that could unmake gods?
Her thoughts became erratic.
Solomon. Demon King. Final Battle between Gods and Men. With Satan himself?
That couldn't be real. She'd never heard such a legend.
Yet, the panic—the dread flooding her chest—was real. So was the bombardment of death tearing through the sky. Every beam, every missile that carved toward her body radiated annihilation.
If even one struck, she would die.
Her brother too.
And the power required for such an assault… it had to match hundreds of high-level demon-class entities, all attacking simultaneously.
"We're going to die," she whispered.
Despair painted every face. Rias, too, gritted her teeth—sensing death far more tangibly than the supposed salvation behind them.
And then—
⏳ Time froze. ⏳
It wasn't metaphor. Space-time itself was arrested.
For the mortals present, it was less than a breath—shorter than a nerve impulse. But for the figure now clad in half-divine regalia, it was an eternity.
Within that instant, he moved.
By the time half the moment had passed, he had already reached the charging generals. One by one, he crushed their bodies—not killing them, but halting their functions entirely. Their consciousness remained suspended in temporal stasis.
With 0.01 seconds remaining, he stood before Haziruus.
The Moon King had broken free of time—but too late.
A hand, suffused with cosmic force, grasped his face.
CRACK.
The mechanical skull shattered. Haziruus collapsed, his frame disassembling like a child's tower missing its central block.
A scream escaped someone's mouth—distorted, broken, part awe, part horror.
The bombardment ceased. Missiles fell inert mid-air and dropped like stones, crumbling on impact like porcelain. Lasers flickered and died, like stars stripped of fuel.
It was as if the entire onslaught had been smoke—loud and bright, but empty within.
The four generals' bodies twitched on the ground, like mangled toys. Inside them squirmed strange things—organic, mechanical hybrids—that twitched once, then melted into lifeless puddles.
So easily destroyed. So thoroughly silenced.
The group gasped. Their pupils shrank.
The entity that moved now was not man. Not entirely.
His silhouette glowed with fire and shadow—part human, part something else. A being whose form split logic and myth. In every gaze, one word took root.
魔神王 (Maou-shin-ou) – Demon God King.
"Gaetia," whispered Aisha, her voice lost in breathless reverence.
"His divine form…" murmured Shinku. "It's him."
Both instinctively dropped to one knee.
They didn't decide to kneel—they had to. As if gravity had reversed, not downward, but toward him. The King.
Suddenly, the illusory space shimmered. Like a dream fading upon waking, the god-temple vanished. The office of the Occult Research Club returned.
Solomon's demonic form, too, retreated, replaced by his normal appearance.
His body steamed.
Skin flushed red as if boiled alive. He wavered, collapsing slightly as Shinku rushed to catch him.
Upon touching him, her face turned pale. She softened her grip immediately, as though afraid her fingers might break his overheated skin.
"Reviel! Heal him—now!"
"Huh? Healing—right!"
Reviel scrambled over, casting magic urgently over Solomon's convulsing body.
Only after the healing light began to stabilize him did the truth settle in. His flesh had begun dissolving.
"What happened to him?" Rias asked.
"It's his magic," answered Sona, her voice tight. "He released more than his body could handle. Magic at that scale—pure, raw—it heats the body. Boils it from the inside."
She paused.
"Had it gone a bit further… he'd have exploded."
They stared at him—not just with worry. But with awe. He had created a pocket dimension. Invited his enemies in. And destroyed them. All within a heartbeat.
Three Demon Kings, one supposed deity. Gone. Disintegrated.
It didn't feel real.
It felt like a myth in motion.
Chapter 163 – The Warning of the Great Red
Far away, within the cracks between dimensions, another figure stirred.
A robotic warrior, cloaked in alien plating, murmured in dismay.
"What…?"
The Moon King Haziruus—Second among the Rahu Sept—had gone dark.
Only two possibilities remained.
Either Haziruus had been imprisoned—cut off so thoroughly even Melbazoa, God of Mechanical Life, could not sense him…
Or Haziruus had died.
Melbazoa did not gamble with gods.
He issued the command: retreat.
The warrior hesitated, staring at a creature of flesh who now prowled the boundary—known in this world as The Great Red. A being vast, unfathomable, born of primordial flame and scale.
The warrior exhaled a synthetic snort of frustration.
To retreat now? Just as battle stirred?
Great Red awakened something in it—a long-suppressed desire to fight, to test limits. The tension made circuits hum.
But the order had come.
Haziruus was likely dead. And if Solomon could slay a Moon King, it meant this being could be next.
So the machine left.
It vanished from the dimensional seam—its mission aborted. Its pride bruised.
And Melbazoa? He needed answers.
Was Haziruus simply trapped?
Or was he truly dead?
Meanwhile, in a remote sky…
A man cloaked in black, with twelve dark wings unfurled behind him, frowned.
The sky overhead was still.
But he had torn open its veil—created a dimensional rift that exposed the crack between realities.
That was where the shock originated.
Something had disturbed the fabric between realms.
Dimensional instability could ripple across worlds—collapsing heaven, hell, and all between.
His first suspicion was the Infinite Dragon God Ophis, known for solitary wandering and terrifying power. Had she returned?
Had she challenged the Great Red once again?
Such battles could end worlds.
He had raced here to intervene—not to fight, but to plead. He was no match for those titans. But if begging could buy survival, he would beg.
Even the Governor-General of Fallen Angels, Azazel, feared such encounters.
Others would follow. All who protected this world would risk their lives, even hopelessly, to stop such annihilation.
Azazel had been tracking Ophis lately.
And what he learned… chilled him.
She had formed a faction. Not alone anymore. Surrounded by radicals, renegades—dangerous minds.
And now the dimensional ripple?
He feared her group had made their first move.
Before he could speak, a magic circle flared beside him.
A new figure arrived.