And so, during the last five months—after Michael's fall—we prepared for the final confrontation.
There were no sudden invasions. No angelic offensives. No grand declarations of war.
That silence was not peace.
It was the aftermath of a shattered command structure.
Michael was gone. Completely erased.
What remained was Feldway, acting without a master, and the residual angelic systems still clinging to outdated authority. That was precisely why we could not afford complacency.
During those months, we established a system of mutual cooperation among the Demon Lords. Detailed protocols were discussed and agreed upon with every territory, ensuring that any incident—no matter how sudden—could be answered immediately.
When I say we, I mean I.
The agreement itself was simple. The execution was not.
Coordinating Demon Lords—each sovereign, each willful, each utterly uncompromising—was an ordeal that tested even my patience. One only had to recall that exhausting banquet to understand how difficult it was to align individuals who answered to no one.
Still, alignment was achieved.
The cornerstone of that coordination was the construction of magic transfer circles in every Demon Lord's territory.
After Walpurgis, I requested Mizeri to guide me through each domain personally. Every location was recorded, every spatial coordinate engraved into my memory and into the system governed by Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom.
Consent was unanimous.
Guy's Frost Palace required no preparation—it had already served as the seat of Walpurgis.
I was familiar with Luminas' Holy Empire of Lubelius and its capital, the Sacred City of Runes.
Milim's territory was one I had visited countless times.
That left only two: El Dorado, the Golden Land ruled by Leon, and Damargania, the Holy Void of Dagruel which i visited once.
Damargania was a land scarred beyond recovery.
A long time ago, it had been reduced to ruin during the decisive clash between Guy and Milim. The damage was not merely physical—it was dimensional.
A perpetual sandstorm raged across the land, corroding everything it touched and isolating the territory completely.
Solarys explained it succinctly:
«When the powers of Guy and Milim collided, catastrophic energy was expelled into another dimension to prevent total annihilation. That energy never vanished. It continues to leak through a dimensional rupture. This is the source of the phenomenon.»
Even now, that ancient battle dictated the fate of the land.
At the center stood the Heavenward Pavilion, a colossal tower piercing the sky. Around it existed a fragile safe zone known as the Holy Void, protected by an ancient barrier.
Beyond it lay death.
Even Giants could not endure prolonged exposure. For humans, the land was instantly fatal.
Because of that, I handled the installation personally.
The transfer circle itself was simple in concept but absolute in execution:
a seven-meter-wide disk of pure magisteel, one meter thick, engraved with formulas constructed by Solarys. Once placed, the remaining work was entrusted to the demons accompanying Ultima.
Ultima did not disappoint.
"This is an order from Atem," she declared coldly. "Complete it flawlessly."
No further instruction was needed.
Dagruel expressed concern.
"Are you certain this is wise?"
"It is," I replied. "Ultima, Veyron, and the others are more than sufficient. The test was successful. There will be no complications."
His doubts remained, but the matter was decided.
I departed without delay.
The transfer circle in Lubelius was installed at the location designated by Luminas herself.
From there, Gobkyu and the Surmounters took over. Their efficiency was unquestionable. With Gobkyu overseeing structural construction and the Surmounters handling spatial calibration, the system reached operational readiness rapidly.
With that completed, my role there was finished.
Or so I thought.
Shion, her subordinates, Adalmann, and his followers were scheduled to remain in Lubelius.
Luminas provided accommodations within her temple without hesitation.
"Ensure discipline," I told Shion. "You represent Eterna."
"I will not fail, my king," she replied, unwavering.
That confidence did not reassure me.
Shion spoke of training, of refinement, of… cooking.
I chose not to dwell on it.
Then Luminas intervened.
"If combat training is your aim, Hinata can assist. I can as well. As for cooking—use any kitchen you wish. Ingredients will be provided."
The offer was made calmly. Fearlessly.
I recognized danger when I saw it.
Before I could object, Shion accepted with enthusiasm.
At that point, discretion became the better part of authority.
"Adalmann," I said, turning sharply. "You are in charge."
His reaction told me everything.
Still, the decision stood.
With the transfer circles completed, coordination established, and contingencies in place, I left Lubelius immediately.
The board was set.
Michael was gone.
The angelic hierarchy was broken.
Only Feldway remained—isolated, calculating, and without absolute control.
When he moved,
every path would already be open to me.
And when the final battle came,
it would not be chaos.
It would be inevitable.
The third destination was Milim's country.
The land before us was the ruins of Eurazania, a place I knew well. Yet what now rose from that scarred ground was not a sacred mountain, nor a relic of the past—but a colossal structure still under construction, radiating raw ambition.
I teleported directly to the site of the old capital and waited.
Geld had already been sent ahead, so my escort consisted of Gabil's unit, Carrera, and Esprit. Alongside them were Gabil's ever-present followers—Kakushin, Sukerou, Yashichi—as well as Gazat, captain of the Hiryuu.
I did not know who Gabil officially considered his second-in-command, but those four stood out unmistakably.
Despite the fact that they were preparing for what could become a decisive battle against a dangerous enemy, their expressions were bright—almost carefree.
The reason was obvious.
Ultima's training had been suspended.
That alone was enough to lift anyone's spirit.
Her methods were ruthless. They had all died countless times—repeatedly—inside the Labyrinth. Worse still, death did not end the ordeal. Revival only meant continuing the training.
That Labyrinth was, without exaggeration, a merciless construct.
Training under the assumption that death was acceptable allowed warriors to confront their limits directly. It was effective—undeniably so. Their growth over this short period had been remarkable.
Power alone did not define strength. Only those who mastered their power could be called true warriors.
Even so, excess was dangerous.
I made a mental note to instruct Ultima to moderate her methods.
At present, there were a little over one hundred of us gathered. Ten minutes passed.
No one came.
I had informed Milim through the Telepathy Net that I would arrive today. Had she forgotten?
"Aren't they late?" Carrera muttered.
"Patience, Carrera-dono," Gabil said diplomatically. "We have only just arrived. Think of this as sightseeing."
"You are kind, Gabil-dono."
"Carrera-sama is simply quick to anger," Esprit added.
"What did you say, Esprit?"
"Nothing."
Barely contained—but still controlled.
I understood Carrera's irritation. Unlike most in this world, I still carried a precise sense of time. Here, punctuality was flexible at best. Clocks existed, but accurate timekeeping was a luxury reserved for nobles and merchants.
If an appointment was set vaguely—afternoon, for example—it was customary to wait.
This delay was likely a misunderstanding rather than negligence.
I took initiative.
"Remain calm. I will confirm."
I reached out through the Telepathy Net.
"Milim. I've arrived. There's no one here."
"Mmm?! A-Atem?!" Her reply came immediately. "I'm busy with homework! I told Midley properly! He must have misunderstood the time! I'll correct him—please don't be angry!"
…As expected.
Frey's influence was unmistakable.
"I understand. There's no issue," I replied evenly.
"Mm! See you soon!"
The connection ended.
With that settled, I waited—and kept Carrera from escalating matters.
Then, unexpectedly—
One of the approaching figures spoke.
"Oh! You must be Demon Lord Atem-sama! You are even more imposing than the rumors claim. I am Jagi. It is an honor!"
He bowed deeply.
To Gabil.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Jagi resembled a dragonewt—humanoid, horns emerging from the sides of his head. Short, solidly built, with sharp movements. The five majins behind him were unremarkable, aside from their varied races.
Jagi's body bore fresh scars—too many. That alone warranted concern.
But his words were the real problem.
Gabil reacted first.
"N-No, you're mistaken, I'm not—"
"Oh, please! There's no need for modesty!" Jagi cut him off. "Everyone under Demon Lord Milim-sama knows your name!"
A fundamental error.
Knowing a name meant nothing without knowing the face.
The reason was clear. I had fully suppressed my aura. To external senses, I appeared as an ordinary human. Carrera and Esprit had done the same.
In Eterna, suppressing one's presence was standard practice.
But this misunderstanding could not continue.
Carrera's patience was nearing its limit.
"Hey, that's Gabi—"
"What insolence," Jagi snapped. "Are you attendants? Even in uniform, interrupting your superior shows poor upbringing."
That was the moment I judged him.
Esprit moved.
"Listen carefully."
She struck.
Not a full punch—controlled force. Enough to correct behavior.
A lesser majin would have been unconscious.
Normally, I would have intervened immediately.
This time, I did not.
Jagi had ignored reason.
However—
He countered.
In a blur, he seized Esprit's arm, twisted, swept her legs. Esprit reacted instantly, twisting midair, counter-kicking toward his head.
Jagi evaded. Esprit followed up—fluid, acrobatic, precise.
He disengaged with a backflip.
They squared off again.
"Well," Jagi said calmly, cracking his neck, "you're impressive. No wonder you wear that uniform."
"You're not bad either," Esprit replied, smiling coldly. "Let's stop holding back."
Carrera watched with open amusement.
Gabil froze.
He glanced at me.
I stepped forward.
"That is enough."
My voice carried authority, not volume.
"Jagi. Fetch your superior."
I did not raise my aura. I did not threaten.
I commanded.
For a moment, I thought it had worked.
Then—
"Hah? Don't interfere in a warrior's duel!"
That was his response.
At that instant—
Carrera moved.
One kick.
Lightning-fast.
Jagi was sent flying.
"My patience is exhausted," she said flatly.
Gabil followed through without hesitation. His spear struck, pinning Jagi before he could recover.
"Oh. I was late."
Esprit had already disengaged.
I turned to the remaining majins.
They froze.
"Nothing happened here," I said quietly.
The pressure behind my words was unmistakable.
They nodded—rapidly.
And just like that, the incident ended.
Milim's country had finally acknowledged its guest.
Whether they understood who I was or not—
They would not forget this moment.