Chapter 190: Arrival at the Final Arena of Gods and Men
In this world, the demons of the seventy-two pillars weren't born from mythological grandeur or divine rebellion—they were born from Lilith, the mother of demons.
Of course, not all demons hailed directly from this primal maternal source. Most did—descendants entangled in the legacy of the seventy-two demon bloodlines. But the exceptions were striking: the original Four Demon Kings bore no trace of Lilith's heritage, their origins shrouded in older, darker truths.
So when Revier speculated such a theory aloud, the impact was immediate and disorienting.
That morning's revelation lingered like a shadow even as time ticked into the afternoon. The scene had shifted to the Supernatural Research Club's headquarters.
"How is she, Byin?"
Kuroka's voice trembled slightly as she addressed her younger sister. Just moments ago, Byin had accepted an offer to become one of the new demon gods, pledging herself to the mysterious man now known as her master. Her new name: Flauros.
Power throbbed within her—a new force laid over the old. And Kuroka worried. Byin had always feared her inherited Nekomata powers. The possibility of losing control had haunted her every moment. And now she bore a power even greater, more volatile.
"I... I don't know," Byin whispered, her voice soft and uncertain.
She had accepted the invitation without hesitation. She desired strength—to wield her own fate, to protect rather than be protected. Yet the question remained: could she truly master what she had gained?
Even her original cat-demon abilities remained untouched, feared. Now they lay submerged beneath a new layer of power, denser, sharper. Could she really handle it?
"Believe in yourself," the man said to her gently. "If you don't, no one else can."
His voice, warm and steady, settled her storm of uncertainty. She nodded faintly and began to summon the power sleeping inside her.
As the energy surged forth, she instinctively clenched her eyes shut. But nothing exploded. Nothing broke.
In fact... it felt calm.
She could feel it—this new power wasn't lashing out. It flowed according to her will. As she slowly opened her eyes, something caught her attention: her tail.
Originally, she had only one. Her lineage allowed it.
But now?
Another tail swayed behind her.
No—two. And then three.
Startled, she raised her hands to her head, checking her ears.
Still just a single pair.
Her reaction drew soft laughter from the others. Flushed with embarrassment, she swatted her sister, Kuroka, who had dared tease her with a smug, "More tails than big sis, meow~."
Kuroka retreated dramatically, clutching her hand and shooting her sister a wounded look. "Now it's my turn, meow~!"
Like a student vying to answer a question in class, she raised her hand high, eager.
She too was about to become one of the demon gods. A new pact, a new master.
Ordinarily, the wild and fiercely independent Kuroka despised such bonds. But this King Solomon was... intriguing. Something about him beckoned.
She stepped forward confidently into the summoning circle.
"I want to ascend by my own power."
He raised an eyebrow. "And your choice?"
Three cards appeared before her. Each pulsed with latent energy. She eyed them briefly and snatched one.
"This one. The wildcat and viper vibe suits me, meow~."
On the card: a coiling serpent wrapped around a blade. The demon god—Botis.
Fusion began.
Her energy surged. Instantly, the barrier between mid-tier and high-tier shattered.
She had long existed in the liminal space between high and top-tier, her combat ability far outstripping her formal classification.
Now? She broke through. Demon King level.
"One more push, one more push—don't stop now, meow~!"
Just shy of another level. The gap teased her, maddening in its closeness.
Her tails too multiplied, writhing behind her—five now.
A stunned whisper emerged from Canna. "She's… hit god-tier?"
Even compared to Rias, Kuroka's aura roared louder.
Rias's elder brother was rumored to be Demon King tier—but even he, Canna suspected, had transcended those boundaries. What Kuroka now radiated bordered the divine.
The air changed.
As Kuroka completed her ascension, something echoed between master and servant. Their souls pulsed in sync, resonance blooming like sound waves across water.
Then, reality tore.
Their field of vision twisted. It felt like space itself folded, tangled in a moment of surreal clarity. Time lost its meaning.
They were being summoned.
Not to another room.
Not even another realm.
To the final battlefield.
To the last war between gods and humankind.
The entire world around them bent and reassembled.
If words could describe it, it was the swirling totality of everything—light, shadow, elements, time—all dancing in chaotic harmony. Then—brightness.
Dazzling, pure light enveloped them.
No gravity. Then, suddenly, gravity again.
Their feet touched solid ground.
"Where... are we, meow?" Kuroka asked, wide-eyed.
They had left the research club far behind.
Before them sprawled a coliseum of unimaginable size. A stadium beyond anything Kuroka had ever seen. And they weren't alone.
Rows upon rows of humans filled the stands. Yet their appearance bewildered her.
Some wore robes from two thousand years ago. Others sported attire from the twentieth century. To the east—eighteenth-century garb. Ahead of them, fashion from a thousand years ago. And in the farthest zones? A riotous mix of eras.
"Too noisy, meow~!" she complained, clutching her ears.
The crowd roared with anxious hope.
"We can win—humanity still has a chance!"
"We can survive another thousand years!"
"Was the first match staged? To give us false hope?"
"Idiot! You think the gods would sacrifice Thor just to lull us into optimism?"
Kuroka's pupils narrowed. Her heart began to race.
"Wait—this is...?"
The arena. The final battleground.
The last showdown between gods and humanity.
"This isn't a joke," someone shouted. "The Valkyrie's plan for Ragnarok is real—and somehow, the mighty Thor lost the first match!"
The voice came from the announcer on the central stage, brandishing a horn and broadcasting raw emotion.
The match played out before them—a replay.
"That's Thor?" Kuroka frowned. "Looks rougher than the one we know. And that hammer... that's just absurd. Ours looks like a toy next to that."
She had encountered her world's Thor before. This one was far more imposing. His beauty sharper, his aura oppressive.
His opponent? The legendary Western Chu overlord. Another powerhouse.
"Huh? That opening attack barely scratched Thor..."
As the overlord drew another spear, Thor retaliated. A blinding column of lightning exploded.
Yet it was pierced instantly.
Then they met—pure weapon clash.
"Is this it?" murmured the student council vice president. "Are gods here really more powerful than ours?"
Aside from the lightning burst, their strikes felt... small. Manageable. Almost mundane.
Lower-level demon soldiers could produce bigger shockwaves.
Every move was visible—clear as day.
But perhaps that was the point.
"Chunhime. Top right corner of the screen."
Canna pointed, face solemn.
"What? Oh—top left!"
Chunhime blinked, her expression turning to shock.
"Wait, that's... that's insane!!!"
Revier gasped. "Is that the playback speed?!"
The footage was slowed. Massively.
In normal speed, their movements would be imperceptible—blurs faster than the top-tier demon races.
Even Wally might struggle to parry those strikes.
The slow-motion? For the humans watching. Otherwise, it would be invisible.
Suddenly, both fighters lost their weapons.
Time for fists?
No—it was the true beginning.
Thor had held back. Even his iron gloves weren't protection—they were limiters. Restraints to prevent his hammer from breaking under his full force.
In contrast, Kuroka's world saw Thor needing his gear to reach peak power.
Humanity's warrior shifted.
"What's he doing?!"
Revier yelped in alarm.
Was this suicide?
Or something far more astonishing...