The blazing light of the Seraphim tore through the heavens once again, falling like a divine meteor. From the shadows, Balder revealed himself, his gaze deep and unfathomable.
"So much effort," he murmured. "But finally, without alerting God, I've dragged all seven Archangels down from Heaven."
Each of the Seven held a different divine office, rarely gathering in one place. To summon them all to Earth simultaneously—it was almost impossible.
Balder tilted his head upward, eyes piercing through the veil of the sky as though gazing straight into the heart of Heaven.
"Right now, Heaven's defenses must be at their weakest," he mused. "If I were to strike now… it would be the perfect time to test God's reaction."
But then, hesitation flickered in his expression.
Charging headfirst at God, even for him, didn't promise great odds.
Lowering his gaze, Balder watched the cluster of radiant Seraphim blazing like miniature suns in the distance.
"Should I just crush them all right now?" he wondered aloud.
His "pseudo-omniscient authority" came with two flaws — massive energy consumption, and vulnerability to divine hierarchy.
And God… God was faith incarnate, the one who wielded belief as a weapon. The angels of Heaven were His creations — beings forged from pure faith itself.
To destroy the angels was to drain God's own reservoir of belief.
But after a moment of contemplation, Balder shook his head.
"Perhaps… I can bleed Him just a little more."
The next instant, his figure vanished.
He left the Black Continent — along with the angels and demons now locked in endless conflict — to their chaos.
When Balder reappeared, he stood within the secret chamber once more.
The Blood Pool, once used to help Adam rebuild his body, still churned with crimson liquid, bubbling like something alive.
Balder traced a few glowing runes into the air. The pool roared in response, and slowly… a Gate of Hell rose from its depths.
It was small — barely large enough for a single person — but its energy was subtle, its disturbance almost undetectable. The demonic runes carved into the surrounding walls absorbed and masked its presence completely.
Balder took one step forward and entered.
Instantly, heat slammed into him like a living wall.
Hell was a furnace — a vast, suffocating steamer where the air itself twisted and burned.
The stench of sulfur filled his lungs, drawing a rare frown from him.
He waited until the discomfort faded, then followed the memories he'd extracted from a Hell Prince's soul. His path led him through the twisted spires of the Demon King's fortress.
At the deepest chamber, a shimmering demonic barrier pulsed before him.
Balder clenched his fist.
With one strike, raw divine power exploded outward — the barrier shattered into shards of shadow. Behind it lay a vault filled with treasures that would drive any demon insane with greed.
But Balder ignored them all.
His gaze locked onto a single, old, unassuming box resting in the center.
"This should be it," he murmured.
According to the Hell Prince's memories, each of the Thirteen Hell Lords possessed a relic — one fragment of a greater whole.
Legend said that if all thirteen were gathered, they would reveal Hell's deepest secret.
Balder's lips curved slightly.
"What kind of secret could Hell possibly hide? A divine weapon? A lost god? Something even higher?"
If it could strengthen him, perfect.
If it could bring him closer to understanding God—or defying Him—even better.
He opened the box.
Inside lay a simple, rusted key.
"A key?" Balder frowned. "To unlock what…?"
Extending his consciousness into it, his expression darkened.
"Chaos… madness… negative will… violent psychic residue."
Even a mere touch flooded him with twisted energy — powerful enough to make even him wary.
This thing had brushed against something vast — something on the level of a Proto-Father, an entity above archangels.
He pocketed the key.
Now, his curiosity about Hell's "great secret" burned even stronger.
One by one, he stormed through the domains of the remaining Hell Lords.
Second, third, fourth… until finally, thirteen keys gleamed in his grasp.
The moment the Thirteen Keys of the End were united, they began to hum.
Suspended midair, they connected — each releasing a light so strange it defied mortal color.
Then, in an instant, those lights converged, blasting into the void above Hell.
The entire plane twisted violently — reality bending inward until it formed a vast, devouring abyssal rift.
Balder stared into it, motionless.
He could feel it — something inside was moving.
Someone… was coming out.
Footsteps echoed from within the rift.
"You demons never learn," a lazy, human voice drawled. "Can't you just mind your own damn business? Always digging where you shouldn't…"
A man stepped out of the void.
He looked human — disgustingly handsome, even — but carried an air of languid decadence.
Balder's eyes narrowed, a divine glint flickering in their depths.
"How interesting," he murmured. "Holy and fallen power intertwined… a unique combination indeed."
If power was measured from one to a hundred, with Proto-Father at a full hundred —
then ordinary first-class beings ranked between 1 and 50,
top-tier beings between 50 and 99.
Archangel Michael and the Demon King both stood at 99 — the limit of the first-class.
Seraphim and Hell Lords alike ranked between 90 and 99.
But this man before him…
99.9.
An existence infinitely close to Proto-Father level — stronger even than Michael or the Demon King.
The man tilted his head, eyes glinting in amusement.
"Your power…?" He raised an eyebrow. "You gathered the Keys of the End with that level of strength? Has Hell really fallen this low?"
Then he paused, scanning Balder more closely. His smirk faded.
"Strange… you're weaker than even the lowest Seraphim, yet—"
his pupils contracted,
"—why do I feel… unease?"
Balder didn't answer. Instead, he said calmly,
"You're Lucifer, aren't you?"
A lazy grin spread across the man's face. "Oh? So my legend still lives on?"
He conjured a mirror out of thin air and began to preen. "Well, I am rather unforgettable."
Balder blinked slowly. "…The most narcissistic Lucifer I've ever met."
But he looked past Lucifer — into the rift behind him. "What's inside?"
Lucifer froze mid-pose. His mirror and comb vanished as he straightened, his tone suddenly grave.
"Don't even think about it. What's in there isn't something you can touch."
He met Balder's eyes.
"Even God went mad because of that thing."
Balder's pupils constricted.
Something that could drive God insane?!
A force that even God couldn't endure — a being that broke the mind of omniscience itself?
His heartbeat quickened.
This… this was it. The ultimate weapon against God.
If he could obtain what lay within, his odds against Heaven's Creator would rise by thirty percent—at least.
Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. "You ambitious types never learn. That thing can't be controlled. Even God failed to contain it, and you think you can? Idiots, every one of—"
CRACK.
Lightning flashed.
Balder's hand moved faster than thought — a blade of pure divine light slashed across Lucifer's throat.
The Morning Star's eyes went wide, disbelief frozen in them.
That power… impossible…
But before comprehension could dawn, darkness claimed him. His body collapsed, motionless.
"Apologies," Balder said softly. "You were amusing. But what's inside… is mine."
For the first time, he'd used a sliver of his true power — enough to kill someone nearly at Proto-Father level in a single strike.
He stepped into the rift.
Behind him, the void contracted — and vanished.
Balder walked steadily through a tunnel of darkness. The shadows could not hinder his divine sight.
As he ventured deeper, corpses began to appear — countless, ancient, and powerful. Each one radiated the lingering aura of first-class beings.
"All of them died here?" he whispered.
They had all gathered the Thirteen Keys once — and every one of them had perished. Even now, their bones pulsed faintly with lingering madness and despair.
"What could kill so many beings of this caliber…?"
He walked on.
After what felt like eternity, he heard a low rumble — the sound of something vast breathing.
Before him yawned a colossal abyss, blacker than sin itself.
Just gazing into it filled him with an instinctive dread — a pull toward oblivion.
Then, in the depths of that darkness, two blood-red eyes snapped open.
Madness. Chaos. Hatred. Despair.
Even with Balder's divine mind, the flood of insanity nearly tore through his will.
"This…" His breath caught. "Even divinity is being corrupted."
"A power of pure disorder… complete chaos!"
"How… how could such a thing exist?"
It was the essence of Cthulhu's Outer Gods — beings of raw, incomprehensible entropy.
True chaos. No morality. No logic. No purpose.
A force that devoured all order simply by existing.
"Did an Outer God pass through this world," Balder whispered, "and leave behind a fragment of itself?"
Unlikely — if an Outer God had truly descended, the world would've been annihilated.
They were beyond good or evil, but their nature brought inevitable ruin.
Even their passing breath erased creation.
"Or…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Has this world itself… birthed something akin to an Outer God?"
A name surfaced in his mind — ancient, forbidden, and terrifying.
The Beast of the Apocalypse.
The Anti-Heaven. The Anti-Order. The Enemy of All Life.
The Great Evil — 666.
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