Chapter 191: Not a Dream—A Witness to Ragnarok
"No... no way."
Revier's voice trembled as she stared at the screen. The playback speed had increased again—split now into three separate views. One retained the previous slow-motion, another slowed even further to allow human eyes to follow the battle, and the last... was real-time.
In that final view, the combatants were invisible.
"Rias, how much can you see in the normal-speed footage?" someone asked.
"What about you?"
They each gave their estimates—how many weapon exchanges they could perceive in a single instant. Rias could barely catch six. Canna, only four. Kuroka, however, claimed she could see eight.
The battle between Thor and Xiang Yu had reached a fever pitch. The latter's form had shifted—no longer human, but a mechanical demon. Thor too had transformed.
Then, in a blink, the final blow descended.
Everyone held their breath.
Kuroka focused on the slowest playback, her pupils contracting. "What kind of multiplier is this...?"
Revier could only gasp in confusion.
This was divine-tier power. And now, she was beginning to believe what the priestess had said—that the gods of this world were far stronger than those of their own.
Suddenly, the announcer's voice rang out across the arena. The second match of the final war between gods and humanity was about to begin.
Revier tensed. So did everyone else.
This next battle wasn't just divine-tier.
It was Transcendent Dragon God-tier.
Chapter 192: Beyond Imagination—The Transcendent Clash
Twenty minutes until the second match.
"Did we really cross over?" Rias whispered, stunned.
"It seems like we did," Canna replied, equally shaken.
They hadn't noticed earlier—too focused on the replay. The crowd hadn't paid them any attention either. But now, as they stood in the spectator stands, they realized something strange.
They were blocking the view.
Normally, someone would complain. But they were standing in a stairwell—an aisle. No one had noticed them... until now.
As the crowd thickened, people began to stare.
Especially at Kuroka and Byin.
Their cat ears and tails were exposed. To the surrounding humans, they looked like divine beings—gods who had infiltrated the human side. Hostile glares followed.
Before the tension could erupt, Kuroka acted fast.
"We're human too! It's just cosplay!"
Luckily, some modern-dressed spectators nearby understood the term and helped explain. The situation defused.
If they really had crossed over, any conflict could expose them as undocumented entities. That would be a disaster.
"Aisha, calm down!"
Byin tried to soothe the nun, who was visibly distressed. According to their intel, Solomon would die in this match.
Aisha wanted to warn him.
"Aisha, we mustn't interfere," Canna said gravely.
Even approaching Solomon might get them arrested. And if they changed the outcome—if Solomon survived—he would never descend into their world.
Then who would stop the Moon King?
Who would halt the bombardment from the past?
Without Solomon, their world would be doomed.
Aisha bit her lip, trembling.
"That must be Odin," Kuroka murmured, spotting a one-eyed man seated in the divine VIP section, flanked by ravens.
She had met her world's Odin. Compared to this one, he was a lecherous old fool.
"And... is that Zeus, meow?"
The announcer was interviewing him, broadcasting the footage overhead.
This Zeus was the opposite—an overt pervert, shamelessly flirting with the Valkyries.
"He's the chairman of the divine council?" Canna muttered, exasperated.
Apparently, the council included gods from all mythologies. To be its leader required immense prestige and power. Yet here he was—a frail old man who nearly choked mid-sentence.
The announcer cut the interview short.
"That must be the heavenly faction," Rias said, pointing to a section filled with angels—some with six wings.
The announcer moved to interview them. One of the six-winged beings was none other than Michael.
In their world, six-winged angels were equivalent to high-level demons.
But here? That comparison didn't hold.
This Michael was cold, rigid, and severe—nothing like the gentle version they knew.
"Lord, please let humanity win this round."
"Buddha, protect us!"
Nearby humans prayed fervently.
Kuroka almost laughed.
They were praying to the very gods who sought humanity's extinction.
"Stop praying!"
A sharp voice cut through the crowd.
A woman stepped forward—tall, commanding, with raven-black hair adorned with a wing-shaped ornament. Her face was striking, her attire knightly. She radiated the aura of a seasoned warrior.
"You're begging the executioners of mankind. Isn't that absurd? As humans, you should never bow to gods!"
Her words struck deep. Most of the crowd fell silent. Some remained confused.
Then she turned her gaze toward Kuroka and the others.
They stiffened.
This was the Valkyrie who had proposed Ragnarok—the final war between gods and men.
Brunhilde.
Even Kuroka felt the pressure from her presence. She was no weaker than Kuroka herself.
After a few seconds, Brunhilde moved on.
The tension eased.
Now, the match was about to begin.
The announcer, Heimdall, returned to the stage, his voice solemn.
He introduced the combatants.
From the divine side: the cursed god of Hell—Beelzebub, Lord of Flies.
From the human side...
"That's Solomon?" someone whispered.
He looked different from their world's Solomon. But the aura—the eyes—were unmistakable.
It was him.
The battle began.
But it wasn't a direct clash.
Each summoned their forces.
Beelzebub unleashed his demons.
Solomon summoned the 72 Pillars of Demon Gods.
The difference was staggering.
The demons from their world—those who claimed to be the 72 Pillars—were mere shadows compared to these true entities.
Now they understood.
Their transformation into demon gods had been a legacy—an inheritance of this power.
The arena displayed a window introducing the 72 Pillars.
They weren't demons.
They were once gods—each from a distinct mythos, each a central figure, some even chief deities.
Their pantheons had fallen. Their myths erased.
And so they united—forming the 72 Pillars of Demon Gods.
Their arrival sparked outrage among the divine spectators.
"Cheating!"
"This isn't a fair fight!"
"They're not human!"
They accused Solomon of deception—of using divine beings disguised as human allies.
They demanded he show his true power.
And he did.
From his body erupted a column of aurora—piercing the heavens, eclipsing the sun, painting the sky with his essence.
The announcer explained: Solomon's power came from the Root—a source even gods feared to touch.
The battle turned brutal.
Beelzebub summoned grotesque armies—nightmarish creatures flooding the arena.
But they were slaughtered.
The corpses piled high.
To prevent the arena from being overwhelmed, the battlefield shifted.
Everyone except Solomon was pulled into a miniature world—a sandbox created by a divine artifact.
Here, the 72 Pillars could fight freely.
Beelzebub's monsters couldn't keep up.
But then, the tide turned.
The summoned beasts weren't just fodder.
They were fuel.
A single entity began to emerge.
The one the priestess had warned about.
Mara Papiyas—the Demon King of the Otherworld.
Its aura chilled Rias and the others to the bone.
The battlefield had changed.
And the outcome was no longer certain.