Chapter 177: The Awakening of Solomon and the Shattered Fate of the Dragon Emperor
In a flash of black lightning, the light spear in the mysterious figure's hand dissolved into darkness. From his other hand, the weapon—a spear forged of pure destruction—was cast with terrifying force. Like a bolt from the abyss, it tore across the space between him and Vali, its shadow trailing behind like a dying comet.
Vali's eyes caught nothing but blur. His body was hurled violently backward, crashing through Kuoh Academy's boundary as the dimensional barrier shattered into shards of magical force. His silhouette became a black meteor vanishing into the heavens—and in the air where he once stood, only a mist of blood lingered.
His fate: unknown.
As silence fell, the three-meter tall figure—known as the God of Destruction Ba'al—began to fade. His form shimmered, becoming translucent. And then, within the collapsing image, another figure appeared.
Though his features remained obscured, the moment Michael's gaze met the hazy outline, his eyes narrowed in shock. There, glinting with ancient authority, was something unmistakable:
"That's... Solomon's Ring."
A chill crept through him.
Michael had known long ago that the legendary ring of King Solomon had been stolen. Yet despite its disappearance, he hadn't feared it being misused. Unlike other divine artifacts, this ring was bound exclusively to Solomon himself. Without its rightful bearer, it was nothing more than a symbol—a relic with no power.
And yet now... here it was.
Not dormant, not passive.
Active. Alive. In use.
How? Unless... unless the man they were seeing wasn't an impostor—but Solomon himself.
And that shell of Ba'al, so flawless in its mimicry—so grand in its divine wrath—it hadn't been a false manifestation. It had been real. In fact, it felt truer than any Ba'al before him.
Azazel, still recovering from the previous blows, felt the implications churn within him.
"Could it be..." he whispered.
Millennia ago, Solomon had stood as the bridge between Heaven and Hell. The king who dared forge contracts with the seventy-two pillars of demonkind in pursuit of peace. He had dreamt of transforming demons—not eradicating them—but guiding them into higher existence. Into gods.
But his plans had died with him.
The original demons distrusted him, suspected a trap. And though the era had briefly witnessed an alliance where angels and demons stood closest to peace, Solomon's death shattered that dream. War returned—and the hope of transformation faded into myth.
But if this was Solomon reborn...
If the ring now obeyed him again...
Then what power had returned to the world?
What cosmic force had summoned a king back into play?
"Finally... I've found you!"
A voice, light and youthful, rang out across the battleground. Everyone's breath caught. Not one had sensed the speaker's presence—until now.
From the gloom stepped a red-haired girl in twin ponytails, wearing the uniform of Kuoh Academy. Her aura radiated ancient power.
Sirzechs let out a small laugh beneath his breath. Rias's eyes widened in disbelief. Azazel's face froze.
"Lunias?" he asked, stunned. "You're still alive?"
The girl huffed.
"I was sleeping, thank you very much. I was halfway through a dream when someone decided to yank me into reality!"
The legendary first-generation Gremory—Lunias Gremory—stood glaring at the figure believed to be Solomon. Her arrival shifted the atmosphere entirely.
Michael, ever courteous, bowed slightly. "A pleasure to see you again, Lunias. It's been... an age."
Lunias rolled her eyes. "So it seems."
All around, murmurs swelled. Even Cadileya Leviathan, whose bloodline traced back to the Old Demon King, staggered in shock.
"Lunias...? That name... she's the original?"
Her pupils contracted. Sweat beaded along her neck.
She hadn't expected the true Gremory heir to survive into this age.
But even more unsettling—Lunias had been summoned.
And by whom?
Her gaze turned toward the figure now devoid of Ba'al's projection. A man wearing ten rings.
The implications piled in her mind.
No... it couldn't be.
But when he turned his gaze to her, it was as if the shadow of death itself passed behind her. Her limbs trembled. Her will to sabotage the meeting vanished.
Escape. She needed to escape.
But before she could act, Azazel struck—his blade slicing a shallow wound across her side.
"Losing focus in a battlefield isn't wise, Cadileya."
"Damn you, Azazel!"
Cadileya hissed in rage. But escape would no longer be easy.
Azazel smirked, glancing to Sirzechs and Michael.
"Don't step in," he said. "If she wins—well, then we deal with that."
Michael nodded. "We can't spare the power to maintain the dimensional seal and fight."
"Let's just try not to destroy half the realm while we're at it," Sirzechs added with a grim smile.
Yet none of them could ignore the greater threat.
Solomon—if that's who he was—radiated power beyond anything they'd seen. Beyond Demon Kings. Beyond gods.
Why had he not contacted the angels? Why not Heaven?
A disturbing possibility crept into Michael's mind.
Had Solomon truly returned? Or had his corpse been reanimated? A puppet masquerading as a legend?
Many mythologies warned of resurrection rituals that bound corpses to infernal will. If that had happened to Solomon—it would be a blasphemy beyond redemption.
Chapter 178: The First Demon Ascends—Lunias Gremory, Rise of the Divine
While Azazel battled Cadileya in a brutal dance of steel and sorcery, every eye watched the man said to be Solomon.
Then—he moved.
With casual grace, he tossed something toward Lunias.
She caught it mid-air. A card.
"What is this?" she asked, puzzled.
On its surface: a woman with a crown, riding a camel—her portrait from the old records of the seventy-two pillars. Her own legacy.
Strangely, the card pulsed with energy both familiar and foreign. And somewhere deep inside her, desire stirred.
Solomon smiled.
"That card will elevate you—from demon to divine. From pillar to god."
Lunias blinked.
"To become a god...?"
"Yes. A pillar of the seventy-two divine spirits. A being of main god class."
The revelation made her nearly drop the card. Could it be so easy? So near?
"What's the price?" she asked cautiously.
"There's always a price."
Solomon nodded.
"The same as your devil chess pieces," he said.
That didn't surprise her.
The devil's chess—the Evil Pieces—were born of the original contract between Solomon and the demons. The pact allowed humans to receive demonic power, and the king's chosen could share strength with their subordinates.
As the familiars grew, so too did the master.
This card, then, was the next evolution.
An echo of the past reformed for the crisis to come.
"The original pact wasn't of master and slave," Solomon said, "but equals."
Lunias narrowed her eyes.
"Are you truly Solomon?"
"I am... and I am not," he replied.
Cryptic. But telling.
This Solomon didn't feel like the gentle king of old—more like a sovereign clad in quiet dominance. Polite, yes—but unmistakably imperious.
"Then how did you return?" she asked.
"The world is dying. Torn from within and invaded from without."
He didn't answer her directly. He spoke of fate.
She understood.
The internal threat—the Khaos Brigade.
The external threat—gods, demons, invaders from foreign worlds.
She had overheard the diplomatic summit, though hidden in another room.
"This outer menace... you mean those beings from other dimensions?"
"Yes."
It made sense. Only such a cosmic crisis could call Solomon from beyond.
"I need you," he said, holding out his hand. "Join me. Become one of my Seventy-Two Divine Spirits. Lunias Gremory."
She stared long into his eyes.
Then asked the only question that mattered now.
"Tell me the truth. Who are you?"