Chapter 66: The Second Round — A Demon as the God's Champion
His once-shut heart had opened—because of them.
For a time, he believed the so-called curse of Satan was nothing more than superstition.
But then came that day.
He had only closed his eyes for a short nap. When he awoke, the scene before him shattered his world.
His friends—so lively before—now lay cold and lifeless.
Their hearts had been devoured.
The curse of Satan had come true. It had claimed the lives of those he held dear.
He couldn't accept it. He nearly lost his mind.
From that moment on, he vowed to make Satan pay—no matter the cost.
But first, he had to find Satan. Discover his true identity.
And so, he began his relentless investigation.
Others, seeking the truth behind his friends' deaths, began to investigate him as well.
He expected hatred. Accusations. Retribution.
After all, it was his connection to them that had triggered the curse. In a way, he was the killer.
But the goddess Lilith was different.
She didn't recoil. She joined him.
He tried to keep her away, fearing she too would fall victim.
But she insisted. She claimed she was watching him as a suspect—and used that excuse to stay close.
Together, they searched. They found scraps of information about Satan—but most of it was meaningless.
And during that time, he couldn't resist Lilith's kindness. His heart opened once more.
And in that moment—he understood.
Satan… was himself.
The moment he felt love, something deep inside him awakened. A destructive impulse. A hunger.
He lost control.
He pierced Lilith's chest with his own hand.
And devoured her heart.
He broke.
He tried to kill himself.
But he couldn't.
Not because he feared death—but because his body refused to die. As if death itself had been locked away from him.
So he sought others to kill him.
He fought endlessly, hoping someone would end him.
But no one could.
And he didn't want a clean death. He wanted one that was cruel. Painful. Ugly.
So he turned his gaze toward the chief gods.
He provoked them. Taunted them. Dared them to destroy him.
He studied ways to enrage them.
Time passed.
Then came the announcement of Ragnarok.
He found it dull.
Until someone approached him—asking him to fight on behalf of the gods.
The one who came had long supported his research from the shadows. Their identity had never been revealed—until now.
And to his shock, it was that god.
Their goal? To destroy the heavens. To exterminate humanity.
And they offered him a price he couldn't refuse.
"In the second round of the final war between gods and humans, the gods—humiliated by their first defeat—will send forth a champion from the depths of hell!"
As the announcer's voice rang out, the gates opened. Light spilled into the dark corridor.
"No way…"
"It can't be…"
"Is it really him?"
Even before the figure emerged, the gods in the audience were shaken.
They had seen the symbol on the gate—a carving of a fly.
They knew who it was.
And they were afraid.
This god was infamous. Dangerous. Normally forbidden from appearing in public.
Yet now, he had been chosen to represent the gods.
"They're really sending him to fight humans?"
"Is this safe?"
Even Heimdall's voice trembled as he introduced the fighter. Would he devour humans? Or gods?
His ominous tone only deepened the unease.
"Lord Zeus, you're really letting him fight?"
"No choice," Zeus replied, stroking his beard.
"Odin insisted. I gave him the slot."
The decision enraged the Lord of Heaven.
He and Hell had always been enemies.
Especially since this god had lured several of his trusted angels into corruption—and ultimately killed them.
What was Odin planning?
People called Loki the God of Trickery… but Odin was far worse.
"Sister… it's Beelzebub!"
Beelzebub—the Lord of Flies.
Priest of Gluttony.
A demon king.
A god of darkness.
Gray swallowed hard.
The gods had chosen a symbol of Hell itself to fight in the second round.
They wanted revenge.
They wanted humanity to suffer.
And the human champion—foreseeing this—had stepped forward on his own.
In a way, the two were destined to clash.
"And the human representative is—"
Heimdall's voice cut off.
The crowd held its breath.
When he saw who it was, even Heimdall was stunned.
It was too perfect. Too coincidental.
Perhaps it was divine will.
The Lord of Heaven hated Hell.
He knew Beelzebub would appear.
So he had whispered to the Valkyrie—guiding her to summon this man.
Chapter 68: Solomon — Lifting the Lid of Hell
Who was humanity's champion?
Could he withstand the cursed god's darkness?
"Beelzebub as the gods' representative? What are they thinking?"
"Does he even qualify?"
Though the Lord of Heaven hadn't come in person, his followers were present.
"Silence."
With that quiet command, the angels stopped complaining.
All eyes turned to the human gate.
Who would emerge?
The Lord had hinted it might be the man who ate the forbidden fruit.
The thought made the vice-lord's expression twist in disgust.
But… it wasn't him.
From the angle of the corridor, the first thing visible was the lower half of the figure.
He wore clothes.
The other man always appeared naked.
Then his upper body came into view.
The vice-lord's face changed.
"It's… him?"
Could this be part of the Lord's plan?
Not impossible.
"Who is that?"
Ares, the God of War, asked in confusion.
"No idea," Loki replied.
"But he's probably tied to that pantheon."
Loki smirked, watching the angels' stunned reactions.
Then Heimdall made the announcement.
"The human representative is—this man!"
He pointed to a handsome young man, elegant and gentle in demeanor.
The man smiled and waved to the crowd.
"He is the one who established the sacred sites that connect the human world to Heaven."
With that, many gods and humans realized who he was.
"Yes… he is King Solomon!"
The arena erupted.
Solomon's legend was well known.
Books, films, and fantasy tales had long told of him.
Most famously—his pact with the 72 demons.
Now summoned as humanity's champion, his myth felt more real than ever.
With him on their side, humanity felt hope.
And this match… was going to be fascinating.
Beelzebub—the Lord of Flies—was once a trusted angel of Heaven.
He fell.
He killed archangels.
He slew Lilith.
He became the Demon King of Hell.
Solomon, on the other hand, was rumored to be a divine child—perhaps even on par with Adam.
Now, these two would clash.
"According to the book The Key of Solomon, he was a master of magic. Is that true?"
Heimdall had read the book.
It was a Western occult text from the 14th–15th century Renaissance.
By then, Solomon had long vanished from history.
So the book's rituals and spells weren't his work—but that of medieval sorcerers.
The incantations were nonsense.
The so-called magicians were frauds—charlatans who used science and sleight of hand to deceive the masses.
But now—
Solomon himself stood in the arena.
And the truth… was about to be revealed.