The corps commanders withdrew, their presence still lingering like aftershocks in the air. The Colosseum had not yet recovered from the previous awakenings—but I did not allow the flow to break.
This ceremony was not meant to be gentle.
It was meant to be decisive.
I lifted my gaze.
"Ranga. Hakurou. Testarossa. Ultima. Carrera. Step forward."
The response was immediate.
Ranga emerged from my shadow, golden eyes calm, loyalty absolute. Hakurou appeared as if he had always been standing there, his presence silent yet immovable. And then—The three primordials advanced.
Testarossa walked with serene elegance, every step measured. Ultima moved lightly, smiling as if she were strolling into a game. Carrera approached last, her mere presence compressing the air, the Colosseum groaning faintly beneath her weight.
All five knelt.
Not out of fear.
Out of recognition.
I addressed Ranga first, as before, granting him the title Star Lord. The Soul Corridor deepened, power surged, and he fell into evolutionary slumber within my shadow. His kin would awaken in his wake.
That was expected.
Then Hakurou received his blade—steel forged by Kurobee's resolve—and accepted it without hesitation.
There was no spectacle in that moment.
Only trust.
Now—
I turned my attention fully to the remaining three.
Testarossa. Ultima. Carrera.
The Primordials.
For a time, I had restrained myself. Not because of doubt—but because of responsibility. Power without order is destruction. Power without judgment is chaos.
But that time had passed.
This war had proven one thing beyond doubt:
Eterna would not survive by restraint alone.
It would rule by supremacy.
"You three," I said, my voice carrying across the Colosseum, "have surpassed expectations. Not only in battle, but in discipline. You gathered souls, wielded annihilation, and yet did not cross the line that would force my hand."
Ultima tilted her head, amused.
Testarossa's lips curved faintly.
Carrera's crimson eyes sharpened.
"I was prepared," I continued, "to delay your evolution."
The air grew tense.
"But that is no longer necessary."
For the first time—
They reacted.
Not outwardly. Not dramatically.
But their souls stirred.
Solarys — Sovereign of Wisdom spoke within me, its verdict absolute.
All conditions satisfied.
Primordial-class awakening possible.
Risk: extreme.
Outcome: domination.
I accepted it without hesitation.
"Testarossa," I declared, "you shall bear the title Killer Lord."
"Ultima, you are henceforth Pain Lord."
"Carrera—"
The Colosseum seemed to hold its breath.
"—you shall be known as Menace Lord."
The names were not honors.
They were truths.
Each title resonated with ancient law, engraving itself directly into their souls.
They bowed.
Not in submission.
In acknowledgment.
"Now," I said quietly, "awaken."
I answered Solarys' final prompt without hesitation.
YES.
Three Soul Corridors erupted into existence—vast, sovereign conduits far beyond anything formed before. One hundred thousand souls per primordial surged forth, refined, stabilized, and compressed under my authority.
The Colosseum screamed.
Space itself warped.
Testarossa was first.
White-gold light enveloped her, her body dissolving into pure elegance and terror. Her
presence sharpened, refined, perfected. When the light receded, her aura had become absolute—death itself now answered her call.
Ultima followed.
Violet-black energy spiraled around her, laughter echoing as pain, despair, and ecstasy intertwined. She did not resist—she embraced it. Her evolution was violent, playful, and complete. Reality bent gladly around her.
Then—
Carrera.
No light.
No chaos.
Only pressure.
The ground fractured as her magicules detonated inward, collapsing into her core. Power folded upon itself, becoming impossibly dense. When her awakening stabilized, the air felt heavier—like the world itself had accepted a new apex predator.
She opened her eyes.
And smiled.
Aftermath
None of them fell asleep.
That alone spoke volumes.
They stood—fully conscious, fully awakened.
True Demon Lords.
No.
Something beyond that.
"My king," Testarossa said calmly, her voice carrying lethal certainty, "I am yours."
Ultima laughed softly. "This is fun. I promise not to break the world without permission."
Carrera placed a hand over her chest and inclined her head, just slightly.
"Command me. I will erase what you point at."
I looked at them—three incarnations of ruin bound by will, loyalty, and judgment.
"This power," I said, "exists to serve Eterna. Not your impulses. Not your pride."
They answered as one.
"Yes, my king."
The Colosseum erupted—not in cheers, but in awe.
Every witness understood the truth carved into history that day:
Benimaru had been crowned.
Lords had risen.
But now—
The Primordials had awakened beneath the King of Games.
And no empire, no god, no fate itself would ever ignore Eterna again.
The evolutionary rites did not pause.
Momentum was law now, and I would not allow it to dissipate.
Those who had distinguished themselves within the Labyrinth were summoned next. Gozer and Mezer stepped forward first, each receiving newly forged equipment—tools worthy of veterans who had held the line where lesser wills would have broken. Their rewards were practical, precise, and deserved.
Then I turned my attention to the one whose mind had shaped the depths themselves.
Gadra.
"I appoint you Guardian of the Sixtieth Floor," I declared. "The Demon Colossus is now under your authority."
A ripple ran through the chamber.
Beretta's era as head of the Dungeon's Elite Ten had ended. With this decree, Gadra was formally inducted into the Elite Ten, his role no longer limited to oversight, but extended into research and development across the Labyrinth's strata. Full access. Full trust.
The old mage froze—then bowed deeply, trembling with barely contained joy.
It was the correct reward.
If he ever betrayed that trust, consequences would follow. But I did not believe he would. Gadra was not a schemer. He was a craftsman of knowledge, a man whose loyalty was born from purpose. From this day forward, he was an ally, not a guest.
With that settled, I moved on.
Beretta and the retired Dragon Kings were under Ramiris's authority, not mine. They would be addressed later.
Now came the true pillars of the Labyrinth.
"Step forward."
They answered.
Guardian of the Ninetieth Floor — Nine-Head Kumara.
Guardian of the Eightieth Floor — Insect Kaiser Zegion.
Boss of the Seventy-Ninth Floor — Insect Queen Apito.
Guardian of the Seventieth Floor — Immortal King Adalmann.
Vanguard of the Seventieth Floor — Death Paladin Albert.
An assembly of monsters so formidable that the air itself seemed to bow.
There was no hesitation now.
It was time.
I began with Kumara.
Her title had already been decided: Chimera Lord.
She stood taller than before—steadier. The vengeance that had once defined her had been fulfilled in this war. Clayman's chains were broken, and the architect of her suffering, Colonel Kansas, had fallen by her hand.
Fate is rarely predictable.
When we first met, she had been an enemy. Now, she stood among my strongest.
Ranga's recommendation echoed clearly in my memory. She understands forests. She pioneers where others only survive.
That was why I had entrusted her with the Ninetieth Floor.
Without that choice, Kumara might still have been a wandering cub.
Or perhaps not.
Perhaps the moment I named her, this outcome had already been sealed.
She was the master of eight magic beasts, each ruling Floors Eighty-Two through Eighty-Nine—each possessing calamity-class power. They were not merely subordinates.
They were parts of her.
I remembered the day clearly.
She had asked me—quietly, almost shyly—to call each of them by name. They had been small. Harmless. Adorable even.
I had agreed without resistance.
A mistake? No.
A consequence.
Solarys — Sovereign of Wisdom confirmed it now.
Analysis complete.
Phenomenon similar to Naming confirmed.
Bond reinforcement: extreme.
Power feedback loop established.
In effect, Kumara had received nine names from me.
Hers—and theirs.
The eight beasts had grown within the Labyrinth, absorbing dense magicules. That power did not disperse.
It returned to Kumara.
Every gain multiplied.
It was dangerous.
It was absolute.
But it had already happened.
I would not regret it.
I released the souls.
Kumara's evolution triggered instantly.
Light flared as the eight beasts dissolved into radiance and surged back into her core. Her body arched as power restructured her existence at a fundamental level.
When the glow faded—
She stood reborn.
Nine tails unfurled behind her.
One—her original—burned gold.
The remaining eight shimmered in argent silver, fur rippling with contained power.
Her transformation was… striking.
Gone was the childlike form.
Before me stood a woman of overwhelming presence—voluptuous, dangerous, and impossibly beautiful. Her hair had turned gold, cascading down her back like molten sunlight. Magicules rolled from her in waves, disciplined yet immense.
This was not mere growth.
This was dominance.
Her power had already surpassed that of the awakened Gabil—and she was not even fully synchronized yet. In her chimera state, when all eight beasts merged completely, her true might would be revealed.
Worse—or perhaps more impressive—the system fed itself.
Power granted to the Eight returned to Kumara.
Kumara's growth elevated the Eight.
A closed circuit of escalation.
Elegant.
Monstrous.
And dangerous.
Too dangerous—right now.
Her will strained as she fought to remain conscious.
I stepped forward.
"Enough," I commanded, voice firm but calm. "You have earned this power. Now rest."
Kumara hesitated—disappointed—but obeyed.
She bowed, tails settling, and withdrew to her guardian domain. Like Ranga, she would sleep, acclimate, and awaken fully in time.
I watched her go.
Ninefold power. Ninefold loyalty.
When she returned—
Eterna would tremble again.
The rites would continue.
But for now, the Chimera had been crowned.
And beneath the King of Games, another apex had taken its place.