There was no warning, no grand magic circle, no buildup. Just a flick of the wrist—and existence itself broke. Buildings and people alike vanished in an instant—erased, not destroyed. The fmes weren’t magic; they were Kessel’s will given form.

  Demon Lord Kessel's voice, deep and dripping with pure arrogance, echoes through the nd.

  "Oops… my bad. I was just trying to say hello."

  His words drip with disdain, like a god apologizing for sneezing on a pnet.Grinning, fmes rising behind him like the gates of hell. He throws his arms wide, ughing like a maniac.

  "MUHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA"

  The adrenaline of conquest surges through his veins as he breathes in the scent of fire, blood, and destruction.

  Kessel walks in the nonexistent entrance of Jura Tempest Federation , stretching zily, grinning as if he just woke up from a pleasant nap. His eyes gleam, scanning the broken world around him.

  "Heh. So this is the city? More like it 'was'...I just added a little personal touch. Little screams, some agony… perfection."

  Kessel grinned like Bob Ross reborn in a blood ritual—painting happy little infernos with his fingertips, casually brush-stroking suffering across the skyline.

  Survivors stumble through the rubble, some trying to help the injured, others frozen in shock at the sheer scale of destruction. Children cry, families cling to one another, and those who once ughed under the protection of their mighty ruler now look to the sky with silent, paralyzing dread. It is the kind of fear that lingers in the blood, a primal terror born from absolute power.

  Among the fming ruins of Jura Tempest, a single force remained standing against the unstoppable Demon Lord Kessel.

  The Hiryuu – the Flying Dragon Unit.

  A hundred elite Dragonewts, evolved from proud Lizardmen, and among Tempest’s strongest warriors. Fiercely loyal, they would gdly sacrifice their lives to protect their leader and their home.

  At the front stood Gabiru—and for once, he wasn’t boasting or ughing.

  His golden eyes flickered, scanning the ruins of his people, the wounded civilians trembling in fear, the warriors who had fallen before they could even lift a weapon.The usual Gabiru would have made a grand speech. He would have shouted about his greatness, how the mighty Gabiru would defeat this vilin and cim glory.

  But right now?He felt sick.His fists tightened around his spear.

  "This… this wasn’t an attack."

  It was a demonstration. A flex of reality-warping muscle.

  "This was sughter."

  His voice was lower than usual, missing its usual exaggerated fir. He wasn’t performing. This was real.Behind him, the Hiryuu stood tense, gripping their weapons. Their wings twitched, their instincts screamed at them to flee. Gabiru closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, he forced a grin—not out of arrogance, but to keep his men from falling apart.

  "Alright, listen up! I know what you’re thinking!"

  His voice rose, his usual confidence returning—but controlled.

  "This guy isn’t just strong. He’s… well, honestly, he’s completely insane!"

  A few warriors let out small chuckles, their grips loosening slightly.

  "But since when have we, the GREAT Hiryuu, backed down from a fight?!

  "We’ve fought orcs, dryads, even those crazy demons Rimuru-sama recruited!"

  "Sure, they weren’t as terrifying as this guy… but hey! We won those fights!"

  "And let’s be honest! We all know I’m WAY too cool to die here, right?!"

  This time, the warriors ughed louder, shaking off some of their crippling fear. Gabiru smmed his spear into the ground, his tail flicking in defiance.

  "So here’s the pn!"

  He pointed dramatically at Kessel, his golden eyes bzing.

  "We hit him with everything we’ve got! We dodge! We move! And we make sure he knows EXACTLY who we are!"

  "If we go down, then we go down in style, as heroes, as LEGENDS!"

  His Hiryuu warriors roared in response. Their fear had not vanished, but they now stood taller, steadier. Gabiru spun his spear once, then exhaled. His grin faded slightly.

  This was it.

  "Alright, my brothers… let’s go show that bastard what the Hiryuu are made of."

  He turned back to Kessel, spear in hand, ready to charge——Only to see the Demon Lord standing there, completely unimpressed, walking forward at a slow, casual pace.

  From the sky, from the wreckage, from all sides, a hundred Dragonewts descended, their armor gleaming, their wings spread wide.

  They didn’t tremble. They didn’t hesitate.They had chosen this fight.

  And at their front, his golden spear twirling in his hand, was their leader—Gabiru.He nded with a dramatic flourish, his cape billowing behind him.

  "Oi, you overgrown street thug!"

  Kessel blinked, his golden eyes locking onto the dragonewt standing before him.

  Gabiru pointed his spear at Kessel, his grin bright despite the carnage.

  "I don’t care if you call yourself a Demon Lord! I don’t care how strong you think you are!"

  "I, the great and fearless Gabiru, shall strike you down!"

  Behind him, the Hiryuu roared in agreement.

  "FOR TEMPEST!"

  Kessel sighed.

  “That speech… was painful to listen to.”

  “Try again. With fewer words.”

  Gabiru paused.Then, he turned slightly toward his unit, rubbing his chin.

  "Huh. That’s a fair point. That could’ve been cooler."

  His second-in-command, an older Dragonewt, muttered under his breath."Maybe if you just said less words, Boss…"

  Gabiru cleared his throat, straightened his stance, then spun his spear once more.

  "Alright, new pn! Less talking—MORE ACTION!"

  His tail shed behind him, defiance burning brighter than fear.

  Back in the hidden dimension of the Unholy Round Table

  Trickster Bzard adds his own thoughts while ughing on the floor... He’s ughing like a child watching fireworks made from buildings.

  "AHAHAHA! He just walked in and BLEW UP HALF THE CITY! No negotiations! No warning! Just BOOM! HAH! I love this guy!"

  Blood Saint Pirika cps softly, her expression unreadable, as if savoring the art of destruction.

  Draziel exhales, shaking his head with a smirk.

  "This guy is an idiot… no strategy, no build-up, just ‘drop in and explode everything.’ But hey, it’s entertaining in its own way."

  Timekeeper Chrono is in deep thought not adding any comments.

  God Syer Heramsis hits the table with his fist—

  "If it were me down there...this whole thing would be over!"

  Anti Hero Jeruva adds one st remark with an emotionless face

  "All of this is meaningless."

  Jura Tempest trembled. The very air crackled with residual power from the massacre that had just taken pce.

  Rimuru felt it all—the deaths, the suffering, the despair. His eye twitched, his normally composed expression darkened. Around him, his entire Inner Circle was gathered, standing before the screen dispying the battlefield.

  Shion speaks first: "That bastard…"Shion’s hands trembled with rage, gripping her massive sword so tightly it cracked the stone beneath her feet.

  "Rimuru-sama, let me go out there and tear that arrogant scum apart!"

  Souei calms her: "Shion, control yourself."Souei’s voice was cold, but there was tension in his stance. He was already shadow-stepping through the city, monitoring enemy movements. His calm exterior was deceptive—inside, he was analyzing every possible scenario.

  "Rushing in against an unknown force without assessing his full capabilities would be suicidal."

  Benimaru's eyes are locked on Kessel through the screen Rimuru is showing..:

  "I agree with Souei, but we can’t just sit here."

  Benimaru’s hands burned with crimson fire, his battle aura already rising. He knew Souei was right—charging in without a pn was reckless. But waiting? That wasn’t an option.

  "We can’t let him keep tearing through our people. Diablo, with me. We strike first."

  Diablo is all the more excited..:

  "Oh? You want to fight him first, Lord Benimaru?"

  Diablo chuckled, adjusting his gloves, his golden-red eyes glowing with dark amusement. Unlike the others, he wasn’t afraid—he was intrigued. He could feel it. This wasn’t like previous fights.

  "Very well… let’s see if this so-called Demon Lord is worthy of his title."

  Hakurou steps forward as a senior..:

  "You two aren’t going alone."

  Hakurou, despite his age, moved like a shadow in the wind, his katana humming at his side. His sharp eyes had already dissected Kessel’s movements.

  "This one fights without strategy. That makes him predictable, but also deadly. He is stronger than most, but brute force can be turned against itself. We fight together, as a unit."

  Ranga, who had remained silent until now, growled lowly, his fur bristling as his massive form loomed beside Rimuru.

  "Master… this presence is unnatural. I sense no fear from him, no hesitation. It is as if he exists only to destroy."

  His golden eyes glowed, the wind itself twisting around his body.

  "Allow me to sink my fangs into his throat."

  Rimuru was thinking and assessing the situation...:

  "This guy is way worse than Cyman… No. Even worse than Milim at full power."

  From the back of the room, Kumara—her nine tails flickering restlessly—grinned, her predatory instincts fring.

  "Tch… What a boring creature."

  She crossed her arms, her tails wrapping around her shoulders like a fur cloak.

  "Mindless destruction? No ambition? No cunning? Hah… He’s beneath me."

  Then her smile widened, revealing razor-sharp teeth.

  "But if Rimuru-sama commands it, I’ll rip him to shreds anyway."

  Zegion’s piercing gaze remained locked on the screen, his body completely still, yet exuding an overwhelming pressure. His exoskeleton shimmered, his presence growing heavier.

  "No. He is not beneath us."

  On the far side of the room, Adalman—the undead priest—stepped forward, his skeletal fingers clenching his staff.

  "This level of destruction… this is no mere battle."

  A dark light flickered in his empty eye sockets.

  "The dead will cry out for vengeance."

  He bowed slightly toward Rimuru, his skeletal jaw clenching.

  "Rimuru-sama, if you permit me, I will invoke the blessings of the divine and the wrath of the forsaken upon him."

  Testarossa, who had been observing with her arms crossed, smirked.

  "A brute without elegance."

  She sighed dramatically, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear.

  "Honestly, it’s almost painful to watch."

  Then her expression darkened.

  "But even an animal must be put down if it bites the hand of its master."

  She turned toward Ultima, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

  "What do you think, Ultima?"

  Ultima’s crimson eyes burned with manic delight.

  "Hehehe! I think he’ll scream real nice when I start carving him up!"

  She licked her lips, her fingertips twitching eagerly.

  "Can I go first, Rimuru-sama? Pretty please?"

  Across the room, Carrera ughed, stretching her arms as if warming up.

  "Damn, Ultima, leave some fun for the rest of us."

  She cracked her neck, her body radiating unstable magical power.

  "I’ve been dying to blow something up."

  She turned to Rimuru, grinning wildly.

  "C’mon, Boss, let me go all out. Just this once."

  Rimuru narrowed his eyes, gncing at Ciel’s analysis of Kessel. The raw destruction, the ck of strategy…he has been listening to them all his members, his mind racing.His Inner Circle was ready to kill.His strongest warriors, his most trusted fighters… all were prepared to throw themselves into battle.And yet—the damage was already done.

  This wasn’t just a challenge. This wasn’t just an invasion.This was a massacre.

  As Shion raged, Souei strategized, and Benimaru prepared to move out with Diablo and Hakurou, one voice remained silent.

  But when Shuna finally spoke, the room fell quiet.Her pink eyes glowed softly, yet beneath her usual serenity, there was something else.

  Rage.

  She wasn’t yelling like Shion or mocking like Ultima—her fury was quiet, cold, and absolute."Rimuru-sama."

  Her voice was gentle, but it carried across the chamber, cutting through the conversation.

  "I understand the need for strategy… I understand that we must not rush in carelessly."

  She lifted a delicate hand, her fingers barely trembling—a rare sight.

  "But that thing… that so-called Demon Lord…"

  She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, her gaze locked onto the battlefield.

  "He is ughing, even now, as our people scream."

  A sharp pressure filled the air.

  Shuna, the kind priestess, the gentle soul of Tempest, was seething. And in her silence, the room learned what true rage sounded like.She turned to Rimuru, her expression solemn, yet piercing.

  "Please, Rimuru-sama… do not let this go unanswered."

  She bowed her head slightly—not as a sign of submission, but as a request from the heart.

  "Give him pain. Give him fear. Give him suffering he will never forget."

  A wish not born from bloodlust—but justice dressed in fury.

  The entire room tensed.

  Even Testarossa, who thrived in cruelty, gnced at Shuna with mild amusement.Carrera whistled.Ultima just grinned wider.Benimaru nodded firmly.Shion, for all her hot-headed rage, gnced at her sister—and for once, said nothing.

  Rimuru met Shuna’s gaze, feeling the weight of her words.This wasn’t just a plea for vengeance.It was justice.

  And for the first time in a long while, Rimuru allowed himself to embrace his anger. His cwed fingers dug into the armrest of his throne. His chest burned with anger, but he forced himself to breathe.

  He gnced at the Ciel’s analysis.

  "So this guy is basically Veldora without self-control… Great. Just what I needed today."

  Ciel's voice whispered:

  《Multiple life signatures erased around the city perimeters.》

  Rimuru clenched his fists.

  "...This is personal."

  Far from Tempest — beyond dimension, beyond time — floated a world untouched by decay.

  The Heavenly Star Pace.

  A suspended realm of order and silence. The sky was still. The wind obeyed no seasons. At its heart stood a divine structure: the White Castle of the Creator, now repurposed by one who would remake the world.Within its sacred halls, beneath spiraling celestial columns, a lone figure stood before a projection of burning cities.

  Feldway.

  Long silver hair cascaded over midnight-bck robes. His form was still — perfectly still — like a statue built from divine intent. Only his eyes moved, glimmering with controlled calcution.The illusion before him flickered with red lightning and shadow. A city shattered. A will that bent reality. A Sovereign.

  He watched.

  "An anomaly."

  The projection resisted further analysis — a shimmering error message across the divine code.

  "It rejects order. Even the system cannot contain it."

  He tilted his head.

  "So... a third force has entered the board."

  And then he raised his hand.Not to command — but to release.

  "Very well."

  The air behind him warmed.Subtly at first. Then impossibly.A ripple of pressure rolled outward, like a volcanic pulse sealed behind elegance.Footsteps echoed softly against the marbled floor — steady, graceful, unhurried.

  She did not speak.She did not bow.Her presence said enough.

  Hair like living fme flowed behind her.A crimson aura that didn’t burn… but warned.

  Feldway didn’t turn.

  “Take two others.”

  A pause.

  Then — her voice. Calm. Controlled. Not submissive — equally sovereign.

  “Do you expect us to return?”

  Feldway’s eyes flicked toward the illusion once more.

  “If not... the system will correct the failure.”

  Another pause. Then, with a faint shift of wind — or perhaps reality —

  She vanished.

  The pace returned to silence.But far beneath it, in realms where w was crumbling…

  Judgment had already begun to descend.

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