When the divine vision faded, the sky slowly returned to calm.
Balder lowered his gaze, his expression thoughtful.
"Stronger than I expected," he murmured.
The one known as the King of Holy War, the Archangel Michael, truly possessed power at the very limit of the highest tier.
And that meant only one thing—God Himself must have already reached the realm just beneath the Supreme Father.
Balder's eyes gleamed faintly.
"Now… let's see just how deep the waters of Hell run."
He turned toward the woman chained in the shadows—the female Night-Wing Dragon, her spirit shattered, her gaze empty.
"See that she's cared for," he ordered coolly, before leaving the chamber.
Back in his study, Balder pricked his finger.
A single drop of blood floated into the air, glowing crimson as it fell to the ground.
He began to trace a sigil—intricate, ancient, pulsing with infernal energy.
Within moments, a demonic summoning circle was complete.
The air twisted. Heat surged outward, the scent of brimstone thickening until the walls themselves began to warp.
Then—
A colossal shadow took form within the circle.
A titanic demon, its muscles like molten stone, wings unfurled wider than the room itself.
Twin plumes of hellfire burst from its nostrils. Its voice was thunder.
"My foolish son! Don't tell me you've failed me again—or I'll rip that useless head from your shoulders myself!"
Balder bowed slightly, his tone respectful but steady.
"Great King of Demons, I come with urgent news."
"Speak," the shadow growled.
"In seven days' time, the Archangel Michael will descend."
The Demon King froze. Then the fury erupted.
His entire form flared with crimson fire, the air itself trembling beneath his roar.
"MICHAEL!"
The name alone carried three thousand years of hatred.
For a long moment, the Demon King seethed, the sound of his burning breath echoing like an inferno in a forge.
Finally, the flames dimmed, leaving behind only cold rage.
"That wretched angel… Three thousand years of humiliation. It's time for vengeance."
His burning gaze locked onto Balder.
"Naberius," he said—the name Balder once bore in Hell.
"Before Michael descends, you will open the Gate of Hell. When the time comes, I will lead the legions myself and crush him once and for all!"
Balder hesitated for a fraction of a second.
The motion didn't escape the Demon King's notice.
"What is it? Are you saying you can't do it?"
Balder shook his head at once.
"Of course not, my lord. I will do everything within my power to open the Gate before the Archangel's arrival. With your strength, Michael will surely fall. I am merely… concerned."
"Concerned?" the King rumbled, his voice softening slightly.
Balder lifted his gaze and pointed upward—toward the heavens.
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then the Demon King's laughter rolled out, cruel and mocking.
"You fear God?"
"Worry not. The Almighty no longer intervenes."
"Even if we were to slay Michael—or burn Heaven itself—He would not lift a finger."
Balder's eyes widened. For a heartbeat, his composure slipped, revealing both shock and awe.
"Could it be… my lord, you've surpassed even God Himself?"
The Demon King fell silent.
Surpassed God?
Even he knew how absurd that sounded.
Still, pride forbade him from denying it outright.
"Hell has never been weaker than Heaven," he said coldly.
That was all. No further explanation. No admission, no denial.
"Enough. I await the day you open the Gate," the Demon King continued.
"When I slay Michael with my own hands, you shall stand as Hell's greatest hero. On that day, my throne shall be yours."
With those grand promises, the massive shadow faded, its echo lingering like smoke after fire.
When the last trace of his father's power vanished, Balder's reverence melted away instantly.
His lips curled into a thin smirk.
"Inheritance? Throne? He can't even tell a proper lie."
Hell—was not a kingdom.
It was a graveyard of sins, a furnace for the damned, a paradise for monsters.
There were no good men in Hell. Not one.
And as for the so-called "succession"?
Balder laughed under his breath.
Every Demon King in history had climbed the throne atop his predecessor's corpse.
To the King, every prince was both a weapon… and a threat.
Useful while obedient. Disposable the moment they weren't.
Still, Balder's gaze turned contemplative.
"That said… his power is impressive."
From what he'd sensed, the Demon King's strength truly rivaled Michael's—both at the apex of the first-tier transcendents.
And if his words were true—if he'd been suppressed by Michael in the past—then this coming battle was one he'd waited three thousand years to fight.
"A grudge that old," Balder mused, "breeds preparation just as deep."
The upcoming clash would be all-out—Hell's fury against Heaven's purity.
Balder looked out his window, eyes reflecting a sky soon to be painted in divine light and infernal flame.
"Yes… fight. Burn Heaven and Hell both in your holy war. Reveal all your secrets."
His fingers curled slightly, as though grasping the world itself.
"When your war reaches its peak… that will be my moment."
"And I'll sweep you all off the board."
~~----------------------
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