Leon remained seated on his throne.
The tremors had not stopped.
Stone groaned. Magic howled. The castle walls were absorbing forces that could level continents.
The time of peace had ended.
Then—
The great doors of the audience chamber exploded inward.
Not shattered recklessly.
Not broken by brute stupidity.
They were destroyed cleanly.
Efficiently.
A calculated strike.
Fragments scattered across the marble floor.
And from the drifting dust—
A single figure stepped forward.
Not a clown.
Not theatrics.
A warrior.
It was Arios.
His eyes were sharp. Calm. No madness this time.
Behind him, walking with controlled steps, was Orlia — shield and morning star resting at her sides, aura restrained but immense.
A few seconds later—
The pressure shifted.
Another presence entered.
Not reckless.
Not chaotic.
Cold.
Vega.
But this time he did not roar.
He did not charge.
He stood silently.
Watching.
Leon rose slowly from his throne.
Alrose stepped forward immediately.
Claude's hand rested on his blade, silent but prepared.
Leon assessed.
Three.
Three enemies in the throne room.
Each one rivaling him.
Each one radiating power far beyond ordinary demon lords.
They did not speak.
They did not boast.
That alone made this more dangerous.
Leon's thoughts sharpened.
If they wanted to destroy the castle, they would have.
If they wanted chaos, they would not isolate this room.
So—
Their objective was him.
Capture? Domination? Elimination?
Arios finally spoke.
"Demon Lord Leon."
His voice was composed.
"You possess an angelic authority. We have come to confirm something."
Leon's gaze narrowed.
So that was it.
Not revenge.
Not slaughter.
Extraction.
They were searching for something.
The storm outside intensified.
Velzard's power still shook the heavens.
Guy was occupied.
Zalario was engaged elsewhere.
Which meant—
This strike team was deliberate.
Orlia stepped forward slightly.
"Your compliance will reduce unnecessary destruction."
Her tone was flat.
Measured.
Leon felt the weight of their presence.
If he attempted to eliminate one—
The others would move simultaneously.
If he retreated—
They would pursue.
If he hesitated—
They would overwhelm.
Leon exhaled slowly.
"You breach my castle and ask for compliance."
Arios' eyes did not shift.
"This is not a request."
Silence filled the throne room.
Claude leaned closer to Leon.
"We can attempt a breakthrough," he murmured.
Alrose shook his head subtly.
"They are not here for spectacle."
Leon understood.
These were not unstable attackers.
They were surgical.
If he lost here—
El Dorado would fall.
And if the enemy gained what they sought—
The balance of the world would tilt.
Leon thought of one thing.
Atem.
The King of Eterna.
He would come.
Not in panic.
Not in haste.
But with certainty.
Atem did not react emotionally.
He moved when the board demanded it.
Leon only needed time.
And time—
Had to be purchased.
Leon stepped down from the throne.
"If you wish to test me," he said calmly, "step forward."
Vega's lips twitched faintly.
Arios raised his pistol slowly.
Orlia adjusted her shield.
The air grew heavier.
The throne room floor cracked under pressure alone.
Outside—
The sky shattered under Guy and Velzard.
Elsewhere—
Diablo and Zalario's clash intensified.
Leon stood still.
The hidden door behind the throne had already been revealed. The multilayer barrier shimmered faintly across the throne room walls.
The plan had been simple.
Escape through the transfer circle.
Regroup in Ramiris' Labyrinth.
Wait for Atem.
But fate did not allow simplicity.
The air changed.
It was subtle at first — like a pressure shift before a storm.
Then it became crushing.
A presence entered the throne room.
Not loud.
Not reckless.
Absolute.
Feldway stepped forward through the fractured entrance.
His eyes were cold.
"So this was your intention."
His voice carried no rage now. Only controlled disappointment.
"You disappoint me, Leon."
Leon felt it immediately.
Something was wrong.
The atmosphere did not feel like ordinary magic.
It was heavier.
More invasive.
Feldway raised a hand.
"The Ultimate Dominion."
The world tilted.
Leon activated Purity King Metatron instantly. Flames erupted around him in blinding radiance.
A godlike pillar of holy fire surged toward Feldway.
But—
It faltered.
Not physically.
Internally.
Something inside Leon resisted his own command.
A warmth — unnatural, intrusive — began spreading through his chest.
Not heat.
Devotion.
No.
Not devotion.
Compulsion.
Feldway's voice echoed, calm and merciless.
"You should have fled when you had the chance."
Leon's knees nearly buckled.
He felt it.
Not his memories.
Not his knowledge.
His will.
His sense of self.
It was being overwritten.
Not erased.
Rearranged.
A loyalty that did not belong to him bloomed violently in his heart.
A loyalty to a being he had never sworn himself to.
Leon clenched his teeth.
Chloe.
The image of her smile surfaced.
He forced it forward.
That smile was his anchor.
But the pressure intensified.
Metatron's flames flickered.
"Resistance is pointless," Feldway said. "Your angelic authority falls within our dominion."
Leon understood now.
It was not raw strength that was suppressing him.
It was system authority.
Hierarchy.
A chain of command written into the very structure of angelic power.
And he was caught inside it.
His body trembled.
Not from fear.
From fury.
He had abandoned being a Chosen Hero.
He had sacrificed reputation.
He had built El Dorado with his own hands.
He would not kneel.
Not like this.
Flames roared again.
This time more violently.
The throne room cracked.
Stone liquefied under radiant pressure.
Alrose and Claude shielded their eyes.
Feldway's expression sharpened slightly.
"Interesting."
Leon forced words through his teeth.
"I will not… serve."
The domination tightened.
A golden sigil flared faintly over his chest.
Metatron's authority began to distort.
His own skill turning against him.
It was subtle.
But deadly.
Leon realized something terrifying.
If this continued—
Metatron would be seized completely.
And then—
He would become a weapon.
Not for El Dorado.
Not for himself.
But for Feldway.
Alrose stepped forward instinctively.
"Leon-sama—!"
"Stay back!" Leon commanded.
His voice still carried authority.
Still his own.
For now.
Claude moved to guard the transfer circle entrance.
If Leon fell—
They would still try to buy seconds.
Seconds were all they needed.
Atem would come.
Not in chaos.
Not in desperation.
But with judgment.
Atem did not rush.
He arrived when the board required his presence.
Leon believed that.
Feldway extended his hand further.
"Submit."
The golden pressure surged again.
Leon felt his heartbeat distort.
Every pulse carried foreign loyalty.
His vision blurred.
Chloe's smile wavered.
No.
He would not allow it to fade.
He forced Metatron to flare one final time.
A desperate, concentrated strike.
Not at Feldway.
At himself.
He redirected the holy flame inward — burning through the encroaching authority.
The pain was catastrophic.
But it worked.
The domination stuttered.
For a moment.
Just a moment.
Feldway's eyes narrowed.
"You would injure yourself to resist?"
Leon stood, smoke rising from his armor.
"I will protect this land… with my own will."
The domination had not vanished.
But it had not completed.
Not yet.
Feldway lowered his hand slightly.
"You cannot maintain that forever."
Leon knew.
He was buying time.
That was all.
Outside, the castle still shook under divine combat.
Elsewhere, battles raged through corridors and towers.
But here—
This was the true battlefield.
Will versus system.
Authority versus sovereignty.
Leon would not fall quietly.
And somewhere far beyond the blizzard—
In Eterna—
The King of Games would soon move.
Not out of panic.
Not out of emotion.
But because the moment demanded it.
And when Atem arrived—
Dominion would no longer belong to Feldway.
For now—
Leon stood alone against inevitability.
And refused to kneel.
The audience chamber trembled.
The brief pause had ended.
There were only four standing against six.
On one side stood Silvia, the High-Elven Thunder Sovereign.
Beside her, the wounded Alrose and Claude struggled to remain upright.
And near the shattered throne, Leon stood — no longer entirely himself.
Opposing them:
Feldway.
Vega.
Arios.
Orlia.
And two other angelic subordinates whose
presence alone warped the air.
The balance of power was not merely uneven.
It was crushing.
Silvia exhaled slowly.
She adjusted her grip on the mythical-grade Vajra, its segmented blade shifting into spear form.
Her existence value hovered near two million — equal to an awakened Demon Lord.
Her Ultimate Skill — Thunder King Indra — crackled quietly around her skin.
Lightning did not flash wildly.
It condensed.
Focused.
Waiting.
She studied the battlefield.
Feldway did not move.
He observed.
Judging.
Allowing subordinates to act.
His arrogance was deliberate — and justified.
Silvia knew.
If she fought him directly, she would lose.
There was no false confidence inside her.
Only calculation.
Time.
They needed time.
Somewhere beyond the blizzard and spatial distortion—
The King of Eterna would eventually move.
Atem did not panic.
He did not rush.
He arrived when the moment demanded it.
Silvia trusted that.
But trust did not stop blades.
Without warning—
Arios moved.
He crossed the distance between them in a blink, divine pistol raised, blade drawn in the other hand.
Alrose attempted to intercept.
A shot rang out.
The marble floor vaporized beside him.
Claude barely deflected the follow-up strike.
The throne room shook again.
Vega stepped forward next.
Each step cracked stone.
His presence alone bent space.
Silvia raised her spear.
"Stay behind me."
Lightning erupted.
Not explosive.
Precise.
A spear of thunder shot toward Vega.
It struck.
The impact blasted the hall in white light.
But when the glare faded—
Vega remained standing.
Smoke curled from his shoulders.
He grinned faintly.
"So you are the strongest here?"
Silvia did not answer.
Indra surged again.
Multiple lightning constructs formed behind her — spears, chains, blades.
She attacked with speed rather than force.
Strike.
Withdraw.
Redirect.
Her goal was not victory.
It was containment.
Meanwhile—
Leon stepped forward.
His movements were smooth.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Silvia felt it.
The subtle distortion in his aura.
Metatron's authority was still active — but altered.
"Master Silvia," Leon said calmly.
"You stand against inevitability."
His voice was steady.
But empty.
Not fully empty.
Just… rearranged.
Silvia met his gaze.
"Leon."
She did not raise her voice.
"You taught me once that power exists to protect."
"I protect the future," Leon replied.
"The will of Feldway-sama ensures order."
There it was.
The corruption.
Not madness.
Not brainwashing in the crude sense.
A realignment of loyalty.
Silvia moved instantly.
Vajra split into twin lightning blades.
She clashed against Leon's Flame Pillar.
Holy fire met thunder.
The impact shattered the ceiling vault.
Lightning burned through flame.
Flame devoured lightning.
The shockwave blasted Vega backward a single step.
A single step.
Silvia's eyes narrowed.
Leon pressed harder.
His strikes were clean.
Efficient.
He was not holding back.
And yet—
There was hesitation.
A fraction.
Silvia spoke during the clash.
"You separated your mind from your Skill."
Leon's eyes flickered.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then steadied.
"Even if I lose Metatron," he said quietly, "my purpose remains."
So he had attempted it.
The desperate severing technique she had taught him.
To divide ego from authority.
It was dangerous.
He could lose his Ultimate Skill permanently.
But he had tried.
Silvia felt a flicker of pride.
And dread.
Because it had not fully succeeded.
Behind them—
Alrose collapsed to one knee.
Claude shielded him from Arios' relentless barrage.
The enemy did not toy with them.
They dismantled methodically.
Feldway still had not moved.
He watched Leon and Silvia.
Analyzing.
Measuring.
If Leon fully submitted—
The battle would end.
If Leon fully broke free—
Feldway would step in personally.
That was the true axis of this battlefield.
Silvia forced Leon backward.
Lightning spiraled around them.
Thunder shook the throne.
"Leon," she said softly.
"Is this truly what you want?"
Leon's blade trembled.
Just slightly.
"I will see my wish fulfilled."
"And after that?"
Silence.
For the first time—
His flame wavered.
A memory passed through his eyes.
Chloe.
Then—
The golden distortion returned.
Flame roared back to full intensity.
"I will not retreat."
Silvia sighed quietly.
"Stubborn child."
Her lightning intensified.
Not wild.
Not chaotic.
Focused like a spear thrown by a god.
Thunder King Indra fully manifested.
Storm clouds formed inside the hall itself.
Electric arcs crawled across the walls.
Vega halted.
Even Arios paused.
For a moment—
The room became a storm chamber.
Silvia would not defeat Feldway.
She would not defeat all six.
But she would hold them.
Until—
The board shifted.