Chapter 151
A notification.
A declaration.
An announcement that felt like a law being proclaimed by the world itself.
And even though it could not be heard by the ears—its vibrations could still be felt.
Still understood.
Still… perceived by something deeper than mere senses.
Zhereth was the first to realize it.
He tilted his head slightly.
"They haven't stopped."
Makakushi frowned.
"Obviously not."
Zhulumat stared straight ahead.
His eyes narrowed.
Because he could feel it too.
That message.
The ritual.
The awakening.
Almost complete.
And not only that, the Holy Beings and Angels throughout the castle—across all three floors—were being commanded.
To strengthen their guard.
To prevent anyone from advancing further.
To… hold them here.
A faint smile reappeared on Zhulumat's face.
But this time, it was different.
Not merely cold.
But… intrigued.
"So that's it."
He exhaled softly.
Makakushi turned toward him.
"Captain?"
Zhulumat did not answer immediately.
His gaze swept across the rows of Holy Beings still standing before them.
Not attacking.
But not retreating either.
Waiting.
Holding.
Becoming a living wall that would not move unless ordered to do so.
Zhulumat raised his hand once again.
This time slower.
More deliberate.
"If they've been ordered to strengthen their defenses—"
He lowered his hand.
His gaze sharpened.
"—then it means we're already close enough to make them panic."
Makakushi grinned widely.
Onigakure chuckled softly.
Zhereth gave a slight nod.
And behind them—the entire army prepared themselves once more.
Because one thing had now become clear.
This was no longer merely a battle.
This was… the enemy's final attempt to stop them.
The silence left behind after the siren had been suppressed was not a comforting silence.
It was a silence filled with pressure—as though something far greater was watching from behind the walls of reality itself, waiting for them to make even the slightest mistake.
The rows of Holy Beings still stood motionless.
The angels did not move.
Yet now, everything felt different.
They were no longer merely blocking the way.
They were… restraining them.
Zhulumat stood at the front line, his gaze sweeping across the enemy formation, which now appeared far more organized than before.
The light within their bodies pulsed more steadily, more synchronously, as though the instruction that had just been "announced" had united their wills into one.
Behind him, the captains and Satanist High Officials waited.
Not waiting for orders.
But waiting for… a decision.
Zhulumat exhaled softly.
Then without turning around, he spoke.
"We don't have much time."
His voice was low, yet clear enough for the inner circle of the Banner of Zhulumat to hear.
Itarabathe crossed his arms.
"That's obvious."
Shasira added flatly.
"That ritual is not an empty threat."
Muntashifa tilted her head.
"And they won't stop until we stop here."
Hopsly stepped closer, standing slightly beside Zhulumat.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, though his voice lowered.
"If we stay here too long, we'll be trapped on this floor."
Zhulumat did not answer immediately.
His eyes still pierced through the rows of Holy Beings.
But his mind moved quickly.
Calculating.
Weighing.
Assessing.
The number of enemies.
The density of their formation.
Their response to previous attacks.
And most importantly—time.
He slightly raised his hand, signaling for the inner circle to come closer.
Itarabathe, Muntashifa, Shasira, Hopsly, and several other high officials immediately moved, forming a small circle within the formation without disrupting the army's combat readiness.
Zhulumat spoke quietly.
"We can't destroy all of them here."
No one argued.
Hopsly nodded.
"Agreed."
Itarabathe snorted.
"We could try… but it would take too long."
Shasira added.
"And time is the one thing we don't have."
Muntashifa smiled faintly.
"So we break through."
Zhulumat finally turned slightly.
"Not just break through."
His eyes narrowed.
"Separate them."
Several seconds of silence followed.
Hopsly raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
Zhulumat raised his hand, pointing toward the elongated hall.
"Their function right now isn't to kill us."
He moved his finger slightly, tracing an imaginary line across the floor.
"But to hold us back."
Shasira smirked.
"Meaning they won't be too aggressive… as long as we stay here."
Itarabathe added.
"And that gives us an opening."
Muntashifa laughed softly.
"An opening to escape."
Zhulumat shook his head.
"Not escape."
His gaze turned cold again.
"Break through toward the objective."
Hopsly crossed his arms.
"How many do we send?"
Zhulumat did not answer immediately.
He looked at his army.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
All standing ready.
All waiting.
Then he turned his gaze back toward the enemy.
The tightly packed Holy Beings.
The angels who formed the core of their power.
If the entire army advanced—they would be delayed.
If the entire army stayed—they would be trapped.
So there was only one option.
Divide.
But not an ordinary division.
A division that was… risky.
Zhulumat slightly raised his hand, his fingers slowly spreading apart.
"Sixty-nine percent."
The words came out calmly.
Yet heavily.
Muntashifa smiled instantly.
"So the majority advances."
Itarabathe gave a small nod.
"The rest hold them off."
Shasira stared ahead.
"A temporary sacrifice."
Hopsly added flatly.
"And a distraction."
Zhulumat lowered his hand.
"The remaining thirty-one percent—"
He paused briefly.
His gaze swept toward the rear ranks.
"—will hold them here."
No one answered immediately.
But the atmosphere within the circle shifted.
Not because of fear.
But because of… understanding.
Everyone there knew what that decision meant.
Lalidona broke the silence.
"Who stays behind?"
Zhulumat did not answer.
Not yet.
He looked back toward the enemy.
The Holy Beings still standing motionless.
The angels waiting.
The entire hall feeling like a trap slowly closing in.
The decision had already formed.
The plan was already clear.
But one thing still remained undecided—who would advance… and who would remain behind.
Zhulumat narrowed his eyes slightly.
"We cannot afford to choose wrong."
Hopsly nodded slowly.
"Because those left behind…"
He did not finish the sentence.
There was no need.
Everyone already understood.
Itarabathe took a long breath.
"We only have one chance."
Muntashifa smiled faintly.
"And I don't like waiting."
Lalidona chuckled softly.
"Then hurry it up."
Zhulumat finally ended the discussion with one short sentence.
"Wait for the signal."
His hand lowered slowly.
And behind them—the army still stood in complete readiness.
Not knowing who would be chosen.
Not knowing who would advance.
Not knowing who would remain behind.
But one thing was certain—in the next few seconds… their fates would be decided.
Zhulumat inhaled deeply.
His chest expanded slowly, not from exhaustion, but because he knew—what he was about to say next would determine the line between life and death for the entire army standing behind him.
His gaze swept across them once more.
The Anti-Thunder Division.
The Orbit Breaker Division.
The Banner of Zhulumat.
All standing tall.
All waiting.
And for the first time since they had entered the castle—Zhulumat opened his mouth and raised his voice.
"Listen—!"
His voice began to rise.
Loud enough to pierce the chamber.
Strong enough to seize everyone's attention.
But… only about one-third of the sentence had formed—the room changed.
There was no light.
No dramatic movement.
Yet something… slipped in.
Suddenly.
Without origin.
Without direction.
Like an invisible crack spreading through reality itself.
And from that crack—came a voice.
A liturgy.
Not like the previous singing.
Not like the verses recited by the Holy Beings.
This… was different.
Deeper.
Older.
More… commanding.
The voice did not come from the front.
Not from behind.
Not from above.
But… from everywhere at once.
As though the entire hall had suddenly gained a voice.
And that voice—entered their minds.
To be continued…