Chapter 196: Twilight of the Gods – The Sixth Duel: The Knight of Knights
"Testing us? What's that supposed to mean, Revier?" Rias's brows furrowed as her voice trembled with doubt.
Even she couldn't quite grasp what exactly was being tested. No—there was one possibility.
"Wait... Are they trying to confirm whether we've been compromised or manipulated? And if not, then... they're proposing an alliance?"
"A warning against our world?" Canna echoed, just as lost in thought.
"Hehe~ I get it!" chirped Kuroka, tail flicking behind her. "He's uncertain whether our world is actually stronger than this one. If so, wouldn't that make us a threat? They're afraid we'll turn around and invade this world, right~?"
Revier, the young Phoenix heiress, nodded solemnly at Kuroka's interpretation. "Exactly. But... it's disappointing. Lord Solomon had high hopes."
Their world wasn't powerful—not anymore. Its greatest force amounted to two dragon gods, nothing more. And certainly not enough to offer aid. If anything, they were the ones in need of help.
Revier's quiet admission plunged the room into silence.
Compared to the dangers looming over this world, theirs was already on the brink. It was fragile—one misstep, and destruction was inevitable.
Then, like a whisper cut through tension:
"...Can we still go back?"
No one knew who had spoken. But suddenly, all eyes turned to the collapsing sky island in the distance—its floating mass shattered and crumbling from the fifth match's brutal aftermath.
That battle alone had stunned the visiting girls from the parallel world into silence.
Even the fourth match—brief as it was—left a lingering chill. The duel between Hassan-i-Sabbah and Hades had struck with such force that it defied every expectation.
"...No idea." Canna replied, her voice barely above a murmur.
Anxiety buzzed through everyone now. Their home—what was its condition? Was it still standing? Was it already lost?
And even if they wanted to return… how?
Lord Solomon wasn't here. Not in this realm. He'd vanished.
Unless he returned—unless he reentered this world—returning seemed impossible.
There was only one other route: connecting with the mythos of this world. Perhaps they could request aid from one of the gods here. But even that was a gamble—one with a miserably low chance of success.
Could they really trust the deity they'd encounter?
Could that god not be a spy for the primordial faction?
Only one figure came to mind as trustworthy: the valkyrie, Brynhildr.
But finding her wasn't simple. They didn't know her location. No clues.
Their best hope? To wait for the sixth duel. Brynhildr would surely be present then. They could find her in the VIP box reserved for the Valkyrie order.
And so they waited.
The sixth match finally approached.
The grand arena rose more magnificent than before—its scale massive, its architecture awe-inspiring. But its sheer enormity made it harder to locate individuals.
They needed a sign. Something subtle. Something telling.
Then they noticed it: Zeus, the Greek Chief God, kept glancing toward Brynhildr's box.
Wait. That was odd.
The Greek myth VIP section... was empty?
Where was Zeus?
Worse, the entire Greek pantheon had emerged but now stood on the edge of their private platform, faces dark and grim, eyes locked on the arena floor.
Did this mean—
The girls felt their stomachs drop.
This was it.
The sixth round of Ragnarök was about to begin.
Despite the tension, the arena remained eerily quiet. Both divine and mortal spectators shared solemn, strained expressions.
Everyone understood what this battle meant.
If humanity won again—just one more victory after this—and the gods would lose everything.
They could no longer afford defeat.
And so, the god entering the stage now… would be no ordinary warrior.
The absence of Zeus was a sign.
He would fight.
"He has finally arrived—the heavyweight warrior, the one who stands above all!!" shouted Heimdallr, the host, his voice thunderous and wild.
A hush fell.
Then, day transformed into night.
Not metaphorically—but truly. The radiant sky turned pitch black in an instant. No illusions. No tricks. Real night.
And from the divine entrance echoed a tune—haunting violin strings that cut through the silence.
It was Hermes, the messenger god, stepping forward.
The crowd stirred with confusion.
Hermes? Was he strong?
"This Hermes… does he really…?"
But then Hermes paused.
He stepped aside.
He wasn't the one fighting. He was making way.
And what emerged from the shadows looked... ancient.
A hunched figure with a cane. Trembling. A withered frame.
"Hoh hoh~ It's me, old as I may be~" came a voice rich with mischief.
The frail figure waved at the crowd, unbothered by the weight of the moment.
Then all at once, the divine seats erupted into uproar.
It was him.
Zeus.
The Chief God.
And as Rias and her companions looked on, their faces went from wary to speechless.
The god danced. Twisted. Wriggled.
What... what was that?
A bizarre little jig? A perverse performance?
Zeus spun in grotesque rhythm, limbs contorting in angles that defied dignity.
Then came the introduction.
"He once triggered the greatest war across all pantheons—a battle to determine the true strongest deity, shaking the very cosmos," Heimdallr announced. "He bears the stigma of patricide, the madness of combat, a lover of violence, chaos, destruction..."
The list went on.
"He is the Chief of Chiefs. The warrior who rallied gods across mythologies to stand against the Primordial Mother herself. The one who tore the skies asunder with rage and might. He is—Zeus, Speaker of the Divine Council!"
At the pronouncement of his divine name, something changed.
In a single heartbeat, the scrawny old man vanished.
In his place: a mountain of muscle.
Rocks seemed to ripple across his skin as his body expanded grotesquely. Sinews bulged like tectonic veins. His transformation shook the air.
"Now that's more fitting for a Divine Council speaker, nyah~" Kuroka said, gulping as sweat trickled down her face.
This wasn't just the "buff Zeus" they'd briefly glimpsed before.
No, this was more.
Monstrous. Mythic. Terrifying.
The aura pouring from him could match Satan himself.
Could the human side hope to send someone strong enough to face this?
They weren't worried about losing the duel.
They were worried about what might happen if they did.
Even if the primordial forces invaded at this very moment, the gods wouldn't cancel the matches.
They wouldn't stop Ragnarok.
They would see it through.
No matter the cost.
This was their pride.
Their vow.
Their divine code.
So who would stand against Zeus?
"The human challenger who dares face the Chairman of the Divine Council is—!"
All eyes turned.
From the human tunnel, a lone figure walked forward.
"He is called the Knight of Knights. The King of Chivalry."
Even before he appeared fully, Heimdallr recited his sacred code:
Never give in to rage or murder. Never betray a cause or an oath. Forgive those who plead with sincerity. Always protect women. Never coerce a woman. Never be drawn into conflict for love or rhetoric.
The crowd stirred. They already knew.
His legend transcended ages.
His chivalry became scripture.
He was more than a man—he was ideal.
And as the figure stepped into the light of the moon, Heimdallr declared with triumph:
"He is..."
But before the host could finish—
Something changed.
A strange shimmer overtook the arena.
A glitch?
No.
A memory.
Rias and her companions froze.
A vision—distorted, familiar, breathtaking—flooded their senses.
A scene they'd seen before.
Déjà vu.
Reality itself blurred as something monumental prepared to unveil…