The blizzard outside the castle howled like a living thing.
It was not natural.
It was not weather.
It was Velzard.
Guy stepped forward without hesitation.
"I'll handle her."
No one objected.
There was no need.
Guy Crimson had fought Velzard before—long ago, and more recently. He understood better than anyone what it meant when she stopped holding back.
And this time—
She was not holding back.
High above the castle, at the heart of the storm, Velzard floated in the sky.
She was no longer in the form of a delicate girl.
She had taken her true battle form.
A grown woman.
Her silver hair flowed wildly in the frozen wind.
Her eyes, once deep ocean blue, now shone gold—brilliant, unnatural, and filled with something unstable.
Guy saw it instantly.
She was serious.
And worse—
She was happy.
Guy rose into the sky to meet her.
Velzard's golden gaze locked onto him.
Her lips curved.
"I love you, Guy. I love you, love you, love you… So kill me more. Love me more. More and more and more!"
Her voice rang with joy.
Then the air shattered.
Guy clicked his tongue.
"Troublesome woman…"
There would be no mercy.
To go easy on Velzard was suicide.
And so, above El Dorado's frozen skyline, two monsters clashed.
Guy was powerful.
His existence value approached forty million.
A force that would dominate nearly any battlefield.
But Velzard was different.
She was not merely strong.
She was overwhelming.
Her power more than doubled Guy's raw existence.
She was not simply the sister of the Creator.
She was the coldest authority on the surface of the world.
For centuries she had restrained herself—fighting in her childish form, limiting her output.
Even when she defeated Veldora in the past, she did so with efficiency, not effort.
But when facing Guy—
She unleashed everything.
The sky fractured.
Space froze and cracked.
Yet Guy matched her.
Not through brute force—
But through control.
His combat technique was superior.
His mastery precise.
And he constantly redirected their clash upward, minimizing damage to the land below.
That alone showed how terrifying Guy Crimson truly was.
The battle reached equilibrium.
A violent stalemate.
And then—
Guy realized something.
Velzard was not fully controlled.
She was influenced.
But she was not resisting.
Because this—this battle—was something she wanted.
Her long-suppressed desire had been given permission to surface.
Feldway had not forced her to fight Guy.
He had merely opened the door.
And Velzard stepped through willingly.
Guy's expression hardened.
If she were merely dominated, he could break it.
But this?
This was her choice.
There would be no persuasion.
Only endurance.
"Good grief," Guy muttered, grinning despite himself.
And he threw himself back into the storm.
Even higher than the clash of True Dragon and Demon Lord—
Another confrontation began.
Standing before Feldway and Zalario was Diablo.
Alone.
Feldway's gaze sharpened.
"Arrogant demon. You challenge us by yourself?"
Diablo smiled softly.
"Kufufufu… You told me to be prepared for our next meeting. I am merely honoring that request."
Feldway's eyes narrowed.
He understood.
Diablo was not simple.
He was not reckless.
He was dangerous.
"I don't have time for this," Feldway said coldly. "Zalario. Handle him."
Without another word, Feldway withdrew.
Diablo considered intercepting him.
But Zalario stepped forward.
The path was blocked.
Zalario's irritation was visible.
Being pushed around was not something he enjoyed.
But an order from his superior was still an order.
"It cannot be helped," Zalario said. "Now that you carry the name Diablo, let us see how much you have grown."
He moved first.
"Dark Eight Palms."
Eight condensed masses of magical energy formed at his palms and launched forward.
Simple.
Direct.
Overwhelming.
Each projectile carried destructive power capable of leveling fortresses.
Diablo did not move until the last moment.
He slipped between them effortlessly.
Not with flash.
Not with panic.
With boredom.
"Is that all?" Diablo asked quietly. "Such wasteful expenditure of energy."
Zalario's eye twitched.
"This is nothing for me. Our total power is incomparable. You should worry about your own limits."
It was fact.
Zalario's incarnation allowed him full access to his main body's power.
Existence value exceeding twenty million.
He believed himself capable of standing even against a True Dragon.
Energy recovery was not a concern.
But Diablo only chuckled.
"That is precisely why amateurs lose."
His tone was not mocking.
It was instructional.
"In battles at this level, one either annihilates in a single decisive strike… or prepares for a prolonged war. Efficiency decides victory. If you cannot grasp that, then you have grown complacent."
Zalario's irritation deepened.
He understood the logic.
That was what made it worse.
"Do not lecture me. I have fought Insectars on the front lines for years—natural enemies of demons like you. Do not compare your comfortable life in Eterna to my experience."
Diablo's eyes sharpened.
"Comfortable?"
His smile did not fade.
"I have fought Zegion-dono to the brink of death more times than I care to count. He is an insect-type majin—extremely strong. Empowered by Lord Atem's cells. Nearly invulnerable. Even for me, defeating him under my self-imposed constraints is… challenging."
Zalario paused.
The name clicked.
Zegion.
The one Dino once described as troublesome.
The one even Zelanus showed interest in.
If Diablo had survived repeated battles against such an opponent—
Then this demon was not bluffing.
"I see…" Zalario muttered.
The air shifted.
Power gathered more tightly around him.
This was no longer testing.
No longer probing.
Seriousness settled in.
"You are correct," Zalario said coldly. "This is no time to play."
Diablo's smile widened just slightly.
"Finally."
Above a frozen kingdom.
Below a raging storm.
Two beings of immense power faced one another.
The clash between True Dragon and Crimson Demon shook the heavens.
And now—
The duel between black primordial and incarnated commander was about to erupt.
Atem of Eterna had not yet arrived.
But when he did—
The board would change again.
For now—
The sky burned with frost and shadow.
And the real battle had only just begun.
While titans clashed in the sky and the castle shook under monstrous power—
another battlefield formed.
One far more absurd.
In front of Raine and Mizeri stood Pico and Gracia.
The blizzard howled.
Visibility was almost zero.
The wind cut like knives.
"I-It's freezing…"
Raine's shoulders trembled.
If she had still been human, she would have already fled back to a fireplace and wrapped
herself in blankets.
Even as a demon, her motivation was plummeting.
Mizeri stared at her.
"Raine… earlier you said you were going to take this seriously today. Why do you look like you're about to cry?"
"That's a stupid question," Raine snapped. "It's cold! Why should I fight in a blizzard against someone I don't even hate?!"
She didn't even try to hide it.
Mizeri was about to scold her—
When the enemy agreed.
"Exactly!" Pico shouted over the wind. "Why are we fighting in a snowstorm where I can't even see anything?!"
Gracia nodded stiffly.
"I'm cold too. This outfit is not meant for this."
They weren't exaggerating.
Raine and Mizeri at least wore maid uniforms with some coverage.
Pico and Gracia were practically dressed for fashion, not survival.
Gracia's bare shoulders alone looked painful in this storm.
Mizeri blinked.
…Am I the only one actually trying to fight?
Before she could recover—
Raine had already landed on the ground.
"Enough of this. Talking out here is impossible."
She raised her hand.
"Strategic Magic: Freezing Hell — Cocytus."
Mizeri's eyes widened.
"Raine! That spell can wipe out a city—"
The magic activated.
But instead of a thirty-kilometer frozen wasteland—
A perfectly formed three-meter cube of ice appeared.
Clean.
Precise.
Harmless.
Mizeri stared.
"…You controlled that perfectly."
Raine crossed her arms smugly.
"Of course."
Pico's eyes sparkled.
"Gracia."
"I know."
Gracia stepped forward.
"Ice Breaker."
The killing spell that normally shattered entire battlefields—
Was delicately reshaped.
The cube was hollowed out from within.
Walls carved.
Ceiling smoothed.
An entrance formed.
In seconds—
An ice igloo stood in the middle of the battlefield.
The storm still raged outside.
Inside—
Silence.
Warmth potential.
"Come on!" Pico darted inside immediately.
Raine followed.
Gracia after her.
Mizeri stood alone in the snow.
"…You weren't joking."
No answer came from outside.
With a defeated sigh—
She entered.
The difference was immediate.
The howling wind muted.
Magic flames ignited at the center.
The four of them worked together without a word—
Channeling demonic energy into the fire.
The temperature stabilized.
Comfortable.
Almost cozy.
Raine pulled sweet potatoes from inside her sleeve.
She buried them in the magical flame.
Moments later—
A sweet aroma filled the igloo.
She then produced a small bottle.
"Sweet sake," she said proudly. "Perfect for cold weather."
Mizeri stared.
"You brought alcohol into a battlefield?"
Gracia leaned forward eagerly.
"Well… since we're already here."
Pico grinned.
"After a fight, you're supposed to drink and make up. That's common sense."
"When did we fight?" Mizeri muttered.
No one answered.
They were already seated in a circle.
Outside—
Vega roared.
Stone shattered.
Shockwaves trembled through the castle.
Above—
Guy and Velzard tore the sky apart.
And here—
The women poured sake.
Between bites of roasted sweet potato—
Conversation shifted.
"So," Gracia said casually, "you've gotten stronger since we last met."
Raine smiled faintly.
"We were granted evolution by Lord Atem."
Mizeri nearly choked.
"You shouldn't say that so casually!"
Raine waved her off.
"It's fine."
But the name carried weight.
Atem of Eterna.
King of Games.
The one who eliminated Michael.
The one whose presence alone bent battlefields.
Even absent—
He influenced everything.
Pico and Gracia exchanged a glance.
Their own powers were not fully theirs.
Ultimate Skills tied to the angelic system.
Rigor King Jibril.
Glory King Haniel.
Even if they were unaware—
There were invisible chains.
Raine learned as much between complaints.
They spoke of hardships.
Of orders they didn't like.
Of freezing weather.
Of unreasonable superiors.
They complained freely.
Mizeri slowly realized something strange.
There was no hatred here.
No bloodlust.
Just exhaustion.
Outside—
The war escalated.
Inside—
A temporary truce.
Even the fire crackled softly.
At one point, Raine raised her cup.
"To surviving this nonsense."
Pico clinked hers.
"To warmer climates next time."
Gracia nodded.
"And better planning."
Mizeri sighed.
"…Fine."
Cups met.
For a moment—
There were no sides.
No invasion.
No objectives.
Just four powerful women hiding from a blizzard neither of them asked for.
Above the ice dome—
The sky fractured under Guy and Velzard's clash.
Elsewhere—
Zalario and Diablo prepared for a serious duel.
Vega continued his rampage.
And somewhere beyond the storm—
Atem was moving.
He was not part of the attack.
He had not arrived.
But the board was shifting.
And when he entered the field—
The tone of this war would change completely.