It was the day after the resurrection of nearly seven hundred thousand Imperial soldiers.
Within the great Colosseum of Eterna, those who had played decisive roles in the defense stood in solemn ranks. Stone bleachers rose high, filled with soldiers who had survived annihilation and witnessed miracles beyond reason. Today was declared a victory ceremony.
The war against the Empire was not yet over—but morale, once shattered, could not be restored through silence. This gathering was not indulgence.
It was affirmation.
Representatives from allied powers attended as witnesses. Knights dispatched by the Holy Knight Order and elite warriors under the authority of the Moonlit Church stood among them. They, too, had once fallen—cut down by overwhelming force—but they had perished within the Labyrinth and were restored by its laws. Apologies had already been exchanged, formally and without evasion.
In Eterna, formality mattered.
The damage had been minimal. Losses were contained. Later, food would be served—not as luxury, but as proof of life reclaimed. I intended for everyone to eat until their hearts were full.
In the seats of honor sat foreign guests who had arrived as reinforcements. Some crossed borders in haste; others came merely to confirm rumors with their own eyes. Their concern had been understandable—
—but unnecessary.
Eterna had not wavered.
The city was secure. The Labyrinth remained absolute. Order was intact.
After greetings were exchanged, I guided the guests to their places. Then came the representatives of Dwargon, led by their foremost archwizard—an elder whose fury burned hotter than any spell she commanded. Her rebuke was sharp, precise, and entirely justified.
Do not deploy forbidden magic so casually.
Do you understand what you nearly unleashed?
I accepted every word without argument.
Power does not absolve responsibility.
Eventually, after explanation and restraint, she relented. Not because she agreed—but because she understood that this era had already crossed a point of no return. A future council was inevitable. That was the true reason she had come.
Beyond Eterna's borders, enemy forces still lingered. A large contingent remained stationed near the eastern approaches of Dwargon, bound by an uneasy truce. Hostilities had not resumed, but tension coiled tightly beneath the surface.
This could not be ignored.
Messages had been sent. Responses were awaited. For now, observation would suffice.
The ceremony began in earnest.
I stood upon the elevated podium—undisguised, undiminished. No throne was required.
Behind me stood the pillars of governance. Before me stood the Elite of the Labyrinth—beings whose presence alone bent the air. They were not figures meant for public display.
But today was different.
Today, they would be recognized.
Shuna stepped forward first, her voice calm and unwavering as she delivered words of consolation and commendation. She spoke of endurance, of unity, of victory forged through resolve rather than chance.
She spoke well.
I allowed her to finish without interruption.
While she addressed the Colosseum, my thoughts turned inward—not toward celebration, but calculation.
Within my soul, Solarys — Sovereign of Wisdom completed its analysis.
The war had yielded more than expected.
Over one million souls—not crude remnants, but refined essence shaped by despair, terror, and annihilation. Many had awakened at the moment of death. Others had carried power far beyond mortal limits.
Solarys equalized the variance. Stabilized the total.
Result: enough refined soul energy to awaken ten.
The criteria were absolute.
• Possession of a Demon Lord Seed
• A direct soul bond with me
Those who qualified numbered twelve:
Ranga.
Benimaru.
Shion.
Gabil.
Geld.
Diablo.
Testarossa.
Ultima.
Carrera.
Kumara.
Zegion.
Adalmann.
Adalmann's inclusion stood out.
I had not named him.
I had not bound him.
Yet—
Solarys' conclusion:
Faith has surpassed the threshold.
Devotion alone has forged a sovereign-grade Soul Corridor.
Faith—not in divinity, but in purpose.
That alone had been enough.
The decision was already made.
Concerns remained.
Information leakage.
Unpredictable evolution.
The risk of unconsciousness during awakening.
I addressed them all.
The entire Colosseum was sealed beneath my Pharaoh Authority, isolating space itself. No energy would escape. No disturbance would reach the outside world.
Even if calamity occurred, it would end here.
As for vulnerability—no force capable of threatening Eterna could arrive within days. Enemy movements were monitored. Airships tracked. Routes calculated. Even at maximum speed, intervention was impossible.
This was the moment.
Delay would only invite regret.
Shuna finished her speech and stepped aside.
I spoke one name.
Benimaru.
He stepped forward without hesitation and knelt before me.
"You have fulfilled your duty as General," I said evenly.
"Now you will transcend it."
His gaze sharpened.
"…You planned this."
"I decided it," I corrected.
He exhaled slowly.
"You should have told me."
"If I had," I replied,
"you would have refused."
He did not deny it.
Strength earned alone mattered to him. That was precisely why he deserved more.
"You will awaken," I continued.
"As I did."
Silence fell.
"…The Harvest," he said at last.
"Yes."
"And my subordinates?"
"They may receive gifts."
He closed his eyes, then opened them again—resolved.
"There are risks," he said. "Some may surpass you."
I looked at him directly.
"Benimaru—do you know the extent of my power?"
He was taken aback by the question. He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"…No."
"I thought so," I said calmly.
"And listen well. If any of you were to become stronger than me after awakening—"
I paused.
"That is acceptable."
His eyes widened slightly.
"It is nearly impossible," I continued, unwavering.
"But if it happens—so be it."
"…You trust us that much?"
"I rule you," I answered.
"And I trust you."
The distinction mattered.
He bowed his head.
"Then I will answer that trust with loyalty."
No oath.
No flourish.
That was enough.
I rose.
The air shifted.
Not magic—authority.
Every soul present felt it.
"Benimaru," I declared,
"accept the weight of victory."
The souls surged.
Light erupted—absolute, sovereign, inescapable.
The Awakening began.
And as the Colosseum trembled beneath ancient law, every witness understood one truth beyond doubt:
This was not the elevation of servants.
This was the forging of kings beneath a king.
"Benimaru! Your command in this battle was flawless," I declared, my voice carrying across the Colosseum.
"From this moment onward, you shall bear the title—Flare Lord."
"Yes," Benimaru answered firmly. "I accept."
The ritual advanced.
Benimaru had always known how to draw a clear line between the private man and the public commander. Before the soldiers of Eterna, he was not a friend, not a brother—he was the Army General, unshakable and resolute.
The title Flare Lord was bestowed upon him.
It was more than ceremony. It was a name forged to stand in place of True Demon Lord, a title he could not openly claim despite reaching that realm. Flare signified wrath, passion, destruction—but also restraint. Benimaru had once been quick-tempered. Now, his fire burned silently, controlled, lethal.
As the first sovereign-level warrior to serve under me, no title suited him better.
Within my soul, Solarys — Sovereign of Wisdom issued its verdict.
Query:
Consume 100,000 souls to evolve the individual Benimaru?
YES / NO
"Yes."
The instant I affirmed it, a true Soul Corridor was forged between us—no longer thin, no longer provisional, but absolute. One hundred thousand souls surged toward Benimaru.
And then—
Nothing happened.
No eruption.
No transformation.
For a heartbeat, even the Colosseum seemed to hold its breath.
"…It seems," Benimaru said slowly, brows knit, "there is an additional condition."
I narrowed my eyes. "Explain."
"…It is not your fault, Lord Atem. The condition lies with me."
That hesitation was unlike him.
"What is it?" I asked quietly.
Benimaru exhaled. "I heard the Voice of the World as well. I can evolve from an oni into a Divine Oni—but if I do, I will lose the ability to have children."
I understood immediately.
A Divine Oni would possess no lifespan. A being beyond time had no need for descendants. Like demons and higher spiritual lifeforms, reproduction became meaningless.
"So?" I said evenly. "What is the issue?"
"…I still have unfinished duty from when I was an ogre. As patriarch, I have yet to pass on the next generation."
Ah.
"…You must have children to evolve," I concluded.
"…Yes."
The timing could not have been worse. Cheers still echoed in the Colosseum. If this delay continued, the crowd would sense hesitation.
I studied Benimaru's face. Rarely had I seen him like this—awkward, conflicted, exposed. A fearless warrior brought low by responsibility.
"Steel yourself, Benimaru."
"Huh? Lord Atem—?"
I raised my voice before he could deflect again.
"So this is it. You seek marriage as your reward. Very well—who is it?"
"L-Lord Atem!"
The Colosseum exploded.
Shuna smiled brightly. "Brother… you've finally decided."
Hakurou's hand rested calmly on his sword. "So then—who will you choose?"
Before Benimaru could answer, Momiji and Alvis rose simultaneously from the guest seats.
"Lord Atem," Momiji said, kneeling. "I request permission to marry Benimaru as his reward."
"And I as well," Alvis followed, eyes blazing. "I seek the same."
The air tightened.
I felt their resolve—unyielding, absolute.
"Very well," I said. "Both of you—step forward."
There was no stopping this now. The Colosseum had become a courtroom, the soldiers its jury.
Momiji spoke first, unwavering.
"I ask not as a favor, but as a vow."
Hakurou followed, bowing deeply.
"I ask you to grant my daughter's wish—even if it means surrendering my own merit."
Benimaru stood frozen, mind clearly overwhelmed.
Then—
"Please allow me to be Benimaru's second wife."
Silence.
Benimaru and I spoke at the same time.
"…What?"
Momiji and Alvis answered together, smiling.
"I shall be first wife."
"And I shall be second."
Benimaru's soul visibly left his body.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Solarys."
Analysis:
Polygamy is permitted in Eterna solely for the purpose of procreation.
Second wife status is restricted to widows.
Perfect.
I turned to Alvis. "I'm afraid the law does not permit—"
"I am a widow," she said smoothly.
"…What?"
"I married several days ago," she continued cheerfully. "And was sadly separated by death."
My eyes flicked toward the guest seats.
"…Phobio. You're alive."
Phobio stepped forward, pale and apologetic. "I… am."
The truth unraveled quickly.
Momiji and Alvis had allied. Alvis married Phobio, fought him in the Labyrinth, won, and declared herself widowed.
Phobio was very much alive.
"…Can I cry now?" he muttered.
Rigurd nodded approvingly. "A flawless application of strength and law."
Of course he would say that.
Shuna clasped her hands. "Brother, they've shown this much resolve."
Shion added bluntly, "If you don't like it, say so. If you do—then answer them."
Souei's voice cut cleanly through the noise.
"If you feel nothing, refuse them. But if you feel even a fraction—then prove it. Children are not born without love."
Benimaru trembled.
Then he spoke, voice steady but honest.
"Momiji. Alvis. I may one day outlive you both.
Even so—will you choose me?"
They did not hesitate.
"No problem."
"Our children will carry us forward."
At last, Benimaru smiled—free of doubt.
He turned to me and knelt.
"Lord Atem. Grant me permission to take them as my wives."
I rose to my full height.
"Granted."
"In my name, I decree the Union of Souls—between Benimaru, Momiji, and Alvis."
The Colosseum erupted.
Benimaru drew them both into his arms, voice firm and sincere.
"I swear to love you both—without deceit."
Cheers shook the stone itself.
This was not indulgence.
This was resolve.
I raised my hand once more, silencing the crowd.
"The celebration continues," I commanded.
"The awakening is not yet complete."
And as the echoes faded, one truth stood unchallenged:
Beneath the King of Games,
even destiny itself had learned to yield.