BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
A pillar of blinding light tore through the sky. At its center, Shalba Beelzebub stood alone as hundreds of devils and fallen angels were blasted away, blood spraying in crimson arcs.
"Pathetic. All of you—pathetic. Is this the best you can do?"
Shalba radiated raw, crushing power, not a scratch on him, his face twisted in disappointment.
"Fall back! You're outmatched!"
Sirzechs's voice cut through the chaos, commanding devils and fallen angels to retreat. He floated upward, calm and composed, his presence shifting the air.
"Shalba Beelzebub. You never should have brought war to the Underworld."
Sirzechs's sigh was almost mournful.
"Sirzechs! You and your wretched, hypocritical kings stole the thrones that belong to us!"
Shalba spat the words, voice thick with hatred.
"But once I kill you, I'll bring true peace to the Underworld. Peace under absolute rule. Absolute obedience!"
His laughter was cold, venomous.
"We don't need a tyrant's peace."
Sirzechs's eyes hardened.
"As Maou, I will not let you destroy what we've fought so hard to build."
The air around him vibrated with pressure—gentle no longer, Sirzechs radiated a terrifying, inhuman power.
"Hmph! We'll see if you can stop me, 'False King'!"
Shalba unleashed a spell circle and shot toward Sirzechs, intent on slaughter.
If he could kill Sirzechs, then Serafall and the other Maou, the Underworld would fall back into their hands.
Restoring the glory of the old Satans—claiming ultimate power.
BOOM!
A thunderous shockwave erupted as Sirzechs's destructive aura exploded outward, swatting Shalba aside like a ragdoll.
Gone was the gentle statesman. In his place stood a monster—a force capable of tearing the world apart.
Sirzechs spread his fingers. A sphere of crimson destruction formed in his palm. With a flick, he hurled it at Shalba.
The sphere expanded, swelling into a storm of annihilation that engulfed Shalba before he could regain his footing.
"What the hell is this?!"
Shalba's fury turned to panic. He threw spell after spell, desperate to break free from the sphere's grip.
Nothing worked.
"I carry the true Beelzebub's blood! Why can't I break this?!"
His roars echoed, disbelief and terror mingling. Every instinct screamed mortal danger.
"Then let me show you Ophis's power!"
Shalba bared his teeth. The Ouroboros mark flashed on his palm, magic surging wildly. He unleashed a torrent of energy, a blast meant to shatter anything.
BOOM!
The sphere trembled, but held. Not even Ophis's power could break Sirzechs's spell.
"Impossible!"
Shalba's eyes bulged, face ashen. He'd combined his own immense power with Ophis's—enough to rival, even surpass, the original Beelzebub. Yet he couldn't dent Sirzechs's magic.
How could a "False King" be so terrifying?
"Disappear, Shalba Beelzebub."
Sirzechs's voice was ice. The sphere contracted, destructive force grinding into Shalba's body, atomizing every cell.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Shalba's scream was swallowed by the crimson light. Then the sphere snapped shut, and Shalba Beelzebub was gone—erased from existence.
Pitiful, these descendants of the Old Satans. So obsessed with reclaiming lost thrones, so desperate for power.
Katerea Leviathan—reduced to a tool and plaything, body and mind utterly conquered.
Creuserey Asmodeus—deceived by love, dying pathetically at a woman's hand.
Shalba Beelzebub—went out fighting, but was obliterated by Sirzechs, not even a speck left behind.
With their leaders dead, the Old Satan faction was finished—nothing left but a name.
"Ara ara, looks like you've wrapped things up."
Azazel flashed into view, grinning.
"Sirzechs, your power is downright terrifying."
Sirzechs let his aura fade, turning to Azazel. "How's the plan progressing?"
"Perfectly. We've won. With their leaders gone, the rest are just small fry—no threat at all."
Azazel's tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. Sirzechs nodded in satisfaction.
Suddenly, both men stiffened.
"Wait—are you serious? She's here in person?!"
Azazel's voice cracked as he stared into the sky.
A figure appeared, floating effortlessly—a young girl in a frilly dress, knees hugged to her chest, innocent as a child. She radiated no power, but both men felt every hair on their bodies stand on end.
Ophis—the Infinite Dragon God.
She gazed at Azazel and Sirzechs, expression unreadable.
"Azazel. Long time no see."
…
Elsewhere, a magic circle shimmered open in the sky. Tenra and Yubelluna's group stepped through.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
A hail of magical light arrows streaked toward them.
Tenra reacted instantly, activating his Sacred Gear and throwing up a barrier. The arrows struck with a crystalline chorus, ricocheting harmlessly away.
Tenra's eyes flashed cold. He readied a counterattack—
But then both sides froze.
"You?!"
To Tenra's surprise, their attacker was none other than Rossweisse, the Valkyrie from the North.
"Rossweisse, I know I caught you drunk and embarrassing last time, but you don't have to kill me to keep it secret, do you?"
Tenra dropped his killing intent, grinning at her.
"I—it's not that! I thought more enemies were teleporting in!"
Rossweisse's cheeks burned as she bowed in apology.
"I'm so sorry—I nearly hit you by mistake…"
"Relax, it's not a big deal."
Tenra waved it off, then eyed her up and down.
"By the way, Rossweisse—your Valkyrie battle dress is pretty striking."
Already beautiful, the ornate armor made her look even more regal and fierce. Tenra couldn't help but admit—he was impressed.
"Of course! It's the pride of all Valkyries!"
Rossweisse puffed up, then realized Tenra's compliment was a little too direct. She flustered, stumbling over her words:
"N-no, I mean—I didn't mean it that way, I… I…"
"Ugh… I'm going to go fight now!"
Completely flustered, Rossweisse squeaked and bolted.
Tenra burst out laughing.
What a delightfully earnest Valkyrie.
The battle outside was nearly over. Tenra sent Yubelluna's team to help mop up, then headed off to regroup with Rias and the others…
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