The last echo of Clayman's scream dissolved into silence as I retracted Osirion. The devouring light withdrew back into my palm, leaving nothing of Clayman but an empty, soulless husk sprawled on the marble floor. The room smelled of scorched magic and fear.
Every demon lord sat rigid. Some wouldn't even blink. Even Milim, who normally smirked at chaos, stayed unnervingly still. The tension was a living thing crawling across their skins, making their magic flicker like guttering flames.
Then, a slow, measured laugh rolled across the chamber.
"Well, well…" The voice was velvet over steel.
I shifted my eyes to meet the crimson glow of Guy Crimson. Even seated, his aura was monstrous — ice, darkness, and a predator's thrill rolled into one.
"Very bold of you," he said, rising to his feet, his crimson coat flowing behind him like liquid flame. "Coming in here, killing Clayman in front of us, and acting like you own this place…"
The other demon lords glanced between us like spectators at the edge of a battlefield. Some, like Leon, narrowed their eyes calculatingly. Others, like Frey, shifted their wings nervously.
Before I could answer, everything stopped.
A thunderclap of silence fell over the hall. The flickering torches froze mid-sway. The aurora of the ceiling hung like painted glass. Every demon lord—Milim, Luminus, Dragruul, Leon, Ramiris—sat as if sculpted in ice. Even their magic signatures went still.
All but Guy Crimson.
And me.
Solarys' voice flowed through my mind like a river of stars:
"Master, the individual Guy Crimson has activated an ability called Time Stop. This technique halts time, leaving only the caster and chosen others free to move. But fear not—your existence lies beyond its reach. Time cannot bind you."
I didn't even turn my head. My gaze remained fixed forward as Guy Crimson walked toward me, each footstep echoing in the frozen silence. His smirk widened into something feral, teeth glinting like blades.
"Oh?" he drawled, circling me like a shark. "You can stand still like a god all you like, but if you can't move inside my time… your power means nothing."
A dark weapon shimmered into his hand — a god-grade sword, forged from ice and abyssal flame. The blade's edge vibrated with demonic magicules so dense they warped the air around it. It was a weapon capable of slicing worlds, and Guy held it with the ease of a knife.
He raised it, demonic energy crackling like black lightning up the length of the blade. "Let's see how untouchable you really are."
He struck.
But before the blade even finished its arc, I moved.
I moved faster than perception, faster than causality. Time itself rippled around me like a shattering mirror. To Guy Crimson's eyes, I was everywhere and nowhere, an afterimage of inevitability.
My fist met his gut with a sound like thunder cracking a mountain.
The impact was absolute. His body folded forward as the breath exploded from his lungs. His crimson eyes went wide, disbelief flickering through them as the shockwave from my punch rippled through the frozen hall, distorting the very fabric of his Time Stop.
The world lurched. Time snapped back into motion with a deafening rush of air. Torches flared. The aurora shivered. Every demon lord blinked as reality slammed back into place.
Guy Crimson staggered backward, dropping to one knee, one hand clutching his stomach. His god-grade sword clattered against the marble floor, cracking it in a spiderweb pattern. A thin line of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth, falling to the tiles like molten ruby.
The other demon lords stared, stunned.
Milim's eyes widened, her usual cocky grin vanishing. "W–What the hell just—"
Luminus Valentine gripped her armrest, claws digging into it as she hissed under her breath, "Impossible… did...did he beat Guy?…"
Dragruul's massive fists clenched so tightly the knuckles cracked audibly. Even he, who had seen wars spanning millennia, felt the hairs on his neck rise.
Leon Cromwell's golden eyes flickered — admiration, caution, and a new wariness. He had thought Atem's power terrifying. This was worse.
Frey's wings trembled involuntarily. She bit her lip, eyes darting to the still-kneeling Guy Crimson.
Deeno's usual lazy smirk was gone, replaced by a flicker of interest and something rarer: respect laced with unease.
Ramiris, tiny and fluttering, clutched the edge of the table with both hands, whispering, "He just—made Guy—bleed for the first time…"
I remained standing, my expression unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, I lowered my hand back to my side. The silence weighed heavier than any words.
Guy Crimson coughed once, straightened, and laughed — low, hoarse, but still brimming with challenge. "Heh… So you're not just talk…"
He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and met my eyes, still smirking but now tinged with genuine wariness.
"You're strong. Stronger than I've seen in a long time."
He straightened fully, the predator's glint back in his eyes but muted, tempered. "Looks like Walpurgis just got interesting."
Around us, the demon lords exchanged silent glances. No one moved. No one breathed. The weight of what they had seen — Atem striking Guy Crimson inside his own stopped time — pressed into their bones.
They all understood, in real time:
This was not a display. This was dominance.
The silence that followed Atem's strike against Guy Crimson was unlike anything the great hall of Walpurgis had ever known. The shimmering air, thick with magicules, seemed to hold its breath as the leader of the Demon Lords—the strongest among them—slowly straightened from the marble floor, clutching his gut.
Guy's crimson hair was disheveled; his usual mocking grin twitched with the sting of humiliation and astonishment. A glimmer of wild excitement flickered behind his eyes—he was wounded, yes, but he was also thrilled.
For the others, however, there was no thrill. Only fear.
Luminous Valentine's pale hands trembled slightly, though she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Her crimson eyes darted between Atem and Guy, then lowered briefly. Hinata… he showed you mercy, she thought, lips tightening. I thought I understood the extent of his power when she returned alive. I was wrong. This man is a calamity in human form.
Leon Cromwell's golden hair glimmered under the flickering chandeliers. He leaned back slightly in his seat, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to splinter the dark wood. That speed… that power. His pride as a hero-turned-lord burned at the sight. If he can do that to Guy, what chance would I have if he turned his eyes on me?
Milim, however, tilted her head like a child caught between curiosity and glee. Her eyes sparkled as she bounced lightly on her seat. "Come on, bestie! That was awesome!" she said, though even she had swallowed hard when Atem moved faster than time itself. She was powerful, yes, but even she had never seen someone dismiss Guy Crimson's Time Stop like that.
Frey's wings twitched, feathers ruffling from the oppressive aura still radiating from Atem even after Osirion's retraction. Clayman's a fool… but even fools don't deserve to be devoured like that. What… what is this man?
Deeno's lazy demeanor had evaporated. He'd stopped sipping his wine long ago and now sat up straight, his usual carefree smile gone. This guy's like a walking cataclysm. Even Guy's blade—charged with that much demonic energy—didn't even graze him.
Ramiris, tiny and fluttering, peeked out from behind Beretta's shoulder. He's terrifying… but also kinda cool… oh no, oh no, oh no.
Even Draguul, the ancient dragon-kin, whose stoic face rarely moved, now furrowed his brow. The survival of the fittest. He embodies it.
Atem stood at the center of the long obsidian table, cloak swaying in the heavy air. His gaze moved from one Demon Lord to another, not with arrogance, but with the cold, deliberate precision of a predator evaluating prey.
Power is the only language they understand, Atem thought, his golden eyes glinting. And power is the only way I can guarantee peace for my people in Eterna. There is no room for softness here.
He turned slightly, his gaze resting on Luminous. Her aura flickered, trembling like a candle flame. Good. She understands now. What I gave Hinata was mercy, not weakness. Let that lesson burn into her mind.
Guy straightened at last, forcing a grin back onto his face. His laugh was low, dark, and strangely delighted.
"Bold," Guy said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Very bold of you, Atem. You stroll in here, kill Clayman, devour his soul, and then beat me—the leader of the Demon Lords—in front of everyone. Acting like you own this place…" His smirk widened. "I like it."
He returned to his seat, the other Demon Lords watching in muted awe. For the first time in centuries, Guy Crimson—the Eternal Monarch of the Ice Continent—had yielded ground to someone.
Atem's expression didn't soften. "I don't have grudges against you, Guy," he said, voice low and steady, yet carrying across the room like a blade scraping stone. "But one thing I've learned in this world is that power is everything. The survival of the fittest isn't just a rule—it's the only way to guarantee peace for my citizens. And I intend to use it."
The words rolled over them like a stormcloud. Even Milim, still beaming, quieted for a heartbeat.
Guy's crimson eyes narrowed, then he chuckled. "Fair enough. Let Walpurgis continue. Clayman is dead. Atem," he said, leaning forward slightly, "you killed Clayman. Which means you'll be taking his spot, right?"
He swept a hand at the others. "After what you've shown, no one here will oppose you."
Milim clapped her hands, her energetic demeanor fully restored. "Come on, bestie! Join us already! It'll be fun!"
Atem slowly swept his gaze across the table. Every Demon Lord avoided his eyes—except Guy, whose grin hadn't faded. Finally, Atem spoke.
"Very well, Guy Crimson. I will join your council." His voice deepened, a chill rippling through the chamber. "But hear this: I will not be played with. I will not be bossed around. My patience has limits—especially with arrogance and stubbornness."
As he spoke, his gaze settled on Luminous. The tiniest shudder passed through her body, visible only to those with senses sharp enough to see it.
Hinata, she thought. He was merciful to her. That wasn't kindness—it was a warning.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the flickering torches seemed to dim under Atem's presence. At that moment, every Demon Lord in that chamber understood a single truth:
Atem was not just a new seat at their table.
He was a force that could break the table itself.