The Prince’s dominant aura drowned nearly the entire zone, strangling the air, crushing the rocks, bending bodies.

  Even the light seemed to warp under its weight.

  But suddenly… a tremor.

  Infinitesimal.

  Deep.

  As if something ancient were waking.

  A black mist leaked from Thana.

  Not smoke.

  Not an illusion.

  A presence.

  Pure.

  Ancient.

  Alive.

  She lifted her head slightly, her golden eyes burning in the dark.

  And her voice fell.

  A growl.

  A reminder.

  An order.

  — You dare do that in my presence?

  Belzebuth’s aura quivered.

  Just a breath.

  But it quivered.

  Thana continued, each word cracking like a primordial whip:

  — Who do you think you are?

  — You were still suckling Cerberus milk while I ruled worlds your name never even dared to tread.

  The mist around her thickened,

  like a living veil ready to tear the world apart.

  — So crawl back to your place,

  you pathetic insect.

  Silence.

  The ground vibrated.

  The magma retracted by a centimeter.

  The throne itself seemed to groan under the tension.

  Belzebuth looked at her.

  And for the first time…

  something flashed in his eyes.

  Not fear.

  Not yet.

  But a memory.

  A very old memory.

  And suddenly—

  he snapped.

  Belzebuth.

  The Prince of Betrayal.

  The being who never flinches.

  The one who smiles when threatened.

  The one who plays with souls the way others play with stones.

  His mask cracked.

  Then broke.

  He screamed.

  Not a noble roar.

  Not a royal bellow.

  A raw cry, nervous, almost… human.

  — YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT HER!

  His voice twisted the air, vibrated through the magma, tore the echoes apart.

  — YOU TRICKED ME!

  He pounded the throne’s armrest, each impact bursting shards of obsidian.

  His eyes, normally calm and vicious, dilated in panic.

  — WHAT IS THAT?!

  He pointed at Thana.

  As if reality itself were betraying him.

  — THIS WASN’T PART OF THE PLAN!

  His voice cracked—tainted with badly contained terror, the terror of a child realizing he isn’t the most dangerous monster in the room.

  Silence.

  Even the magma seemed to recoil.

  Thana didn’t move.

  Her expression didn’t shift by a millimeter.

  Her golden eyes stared at Belzebuth like a teacher amused by a brat’s tantrum.

  And in that brief instant of confusion—

  that impossible fracture in the Prince’s mask—

  Thana moved.

  Not physically.

  Her body stayed suspended in the air, her eyes locked onto Belzebuth’s.

  But a window opened.

  Silent.

  Discreet.

  Invisible to all but one person.

  Veda.

  A dark projection slipped toward her, a thread of shadow from the void.

  The girl flinched, startled—then her eyes widened as the words carved themselves directly into her mind.

  — Veda. Now.

  Go heal Kael.

  Immediately.

  Thana’s voice held no threat.

  No aggression.

  But it vibrated with raw urgency, a stab of pressure that ran through Veda from head to toe.

  She looked at Kael.

  Still collapsed on the burning stone, pale, trembling, blood spilling from his chest.

  Thana continued, even sharper:

  — Without him, you all die.

  He is the key.

  The only one.

  There is no other outcome.

  Veda’s heart clenched.

  She cast a glance around:

  Kiyoshi still holding her arm,

  Gravyor having stopped her from jumping into magma moments ago.

  And yet, this time…

  she didn’t back away.

  The window shimmered one last time.

  — Hurry.

  I can only buy you a reprieve.

  Three minutes…

  if I’m lucky.

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  Then the message vanished into the burning air.

  Veda swallowed.

  Her hands trembled—but her eyes ignited with new determination.

  She inhaled, gathered her courage…

  and bolted toward Kael.

  Veda took one step… then a second…

  And immediately, two hands clamped onto her arms.

  Kiyoshi and Gravyor.

  They had no idea what they were stopping.

  But instinct spoke for them:

  Don’t let a teammate run into death.

  — “Hey, Veda, slow down!” Gravyor growled, his voice trembling despite himself.

  — “Where do you think you’re going? The ground just stopped shaking!”

  Kiyoshi tilted his head toward her, his gaze sharp despite the suffocating heat.

  — “Did something alarm you?” he asked simply.

  His way of saying: explain, fast.

  Veda inhaled, still shaken by the mental voice.

  — “It was… Kael,” she said first—then shook her head.

  — “No. Not Kael. Someone… near him.”

  The two men exchanged a quick look.

  They had no idea who.

  But they’d all seen the shadow form around Kael…

  and fling Adam like a rag doll.

  They didn’t understand it—but they had seen it.

  And that was enough to scare them.

  Veda continued, more urgent:

  — “I… I got a message.”

  She didn’t dare say from her.

  She didn’t even know what to call that being.

  — “We need to heal Kael. Now.

  If we wait… he dies.”

  Gravyor swore.

  — “Shit… of course he’ll die if we stand around! But what the hell was that message?!”

  — “Who the fuck is that thing around him?!”

  Veda opened her mouth… then closed it again.

  She had no answer.

  She was scared of the truth herself.

  Kiyoshi did not break eye contact.

  He studied the distant shadow, the silhouette hovering above Kael, the dark, almost regal aura.

  — “Whoever it is,” he said at last,

  — “if it told you to save him… then we go.”

  Gravyor paused.

  He didn’t understand.

  No one did.

  But he nodded.

  — “Go, Veda. We’re right behind you.

  And if that thing tries to block us…

  we’ll improvise.”

  Veda inhaled deeply.

  Her hands shook…

  but her legs moved.

  She sprinted.

  For the first time since the ninth floor began,

  the three moved together—

  not understanding what they were facing…

  but knowing exactly why they had to.

  Meanwhile…

  Adam moved.

  Not quite waking.

  More like a spasm—a violent jolt, as if his body refused to return to reality.

  His breath rasped.

  Dry, uneven.

  The burning ground pressed against his cheek, ripping him from the fog he was sinking into.

  He opened his eyes.

  Blurry at first.

  Then painful.

  Then… panicked.

  — “W… what… is…?”

  His voice was barely a strangled whisper.

  Adam pushed himself up by a centimeter—just enough to realize the scenery was different.

  He wasn’t on his islet anymore.

  Not on the pathway.

  Not where he stabbed Kael.

  No.

  Someone—or something—had moved him.

  A vertigo hit him.

  A cold shiver crawled up his spine.

  As if a part of his memory had been ripped out, emptied, replaced with nothingness.

  He turned his head.

  And his blood froze.

  A few meters away…

  impossible to ignore…

  sat a being even an idiot would recognize.

  Belzebuth.

  The Prince of Betrayal.

  The Archdemon.

  The incarnation of cunning, perfidy, cruelty carved into the fate of others.

  But not this time.

  His face was shut.

  His jaw clenched.

  His eyes… black with rage.

  A rage not aimed at Kael.

  But at him.

  Adam’s gut twisted.

  Belzebuth said, without granting him a full glance:

  — “Oh. You’re finally awake.”

  His voice was flat.

  Cold.

  Not a reproach.

  Not a threat.

  Worse: a statement.

  Indifferent.

  Adam tried to sit.

  His arm slid on the burning rock.

  He collapsed to his knees, unable to hold his own weight.

  His whole body trembled like a wounded animal.

  The Prince finally looked at him.

  His eyes went up and down Adam’s shaking frame.

  Then he sighed.

  A long sigh.

  Filled with disappointment—almost… disgust.

  — “You’re truly useless.

  You know that?”

  The words hit Adam like a slap.

  — “Even a human…”

  Belzebuth tilted his head slightly, choosing his words with sadistic precision.

  — “Even a pathetic human…

  was within your reach.”

  After everything we prepared,

  you couldn’t kill him properly.

  Adam felt something collapse inside him.

  A weight.

  A void.

  A truth he still refused to see.

  Belzebuth continued, merciless:

  — “And now?”

  He gestured at Adam with a tilt of his chin—like pointing at a broken object.

  — “You can barely crawl.”

  Silence.

  Long.

  Heavy.

  Then:

  — “Even my hound has more presence than you.”

  Humiliation complete.

  Adam lowered his eyes.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t understand how he had fallen this far.

  Belzebuth turned away, already bored.

  — “Stay here. By the throne.

  Don’t move.”

  Adam nodded without thinking.

  His hands dug into the burning stone.

  His back pressed against the throne’s base like an animal seeking shelter.

  Belzebuth narrowed his eyes.

  His gaze slid to the central platform, where Kael was slowly bleeding out.

  A smile—a faint one—curled his lips.

  — “I’ll finish what you failed to do.”

  His aura vibrated again, rumbling in the air like a living storm—

  a beast waking, hungry.

  Adam’s heart clenched.

  He finally understood.

  Truly.

  He wasn’t an ally.

  Not a friend.

  Not a choice.

  Just a pawn.

  A tool.

  Replaceable.

  A cold shiver tore through him.

  And for the first time…

  he was afraid.

  Not of Kael.

  Not of Thana.

  But of the Prince at his side.

  The Prince…

  who had no further use for him.

  Belzebuth still trembled in rage.

  Not fear.

  Not doubt.

  Pure humiliation—

  a feeling a Prince should never know.

  His fingers tightened on the throne’s armrests.

  Slowly at first.

  Then with growing, crushing, unimaginable strength.

  The throne—an enormous block of obsidian forged in the fires of the Void—groaned under the pressure.

  A crack appeared.

  Then two.

  Then a monstrous snap echoed across the arena.

  — “Useless…”

  His voice vibrated, low, distorted by anger.

  The armrests shattered under his hands.

  Obsidian burst into a rain of black shards, launched in all directions like infernal blades.

  Several Conquerors, even far away, instinctively raised their arms to shield themselves.

  Belzebuth rose slowly.

  Very slowly.

  Every movement made the air tremble like a restrained shockwave.

  — “All of you… useless…”

  He stepped down one stair, his foot leaving a scorched mark in the stone.

  His aura was rising in spirals, chaotic, like a living wildfire desperate for oxygen.

  Adam slid back a meter without realizing, crushed by the Prince’s presence.

  — “I suppose I’ll have to handle this entire mess…”

  The infernal flame in his eyes intensified.

  The magma around the platform began boiling so fast that geysers of lava shot toward the ceiling.

  — “… myself.”

  The words fell like a cosmic verdict.

  Belzebuth lifted his hand slightly.

  Just a gesture.

  Almost elegant.

  And yet…

  the entire zone seemed to contract around him, as if Hell itself held its breath.

  Red lines lit up under his feet, tracing ancient symbols—

  forbidden ones—

  that even Princes shouldn’t use without preparation.

  The Conquerors felt their hearts skip.

  Some choked.

  Others collapsed, unable to bear the newborn weight of that aura.

  Kiyoshi grimaced.

  Gravyor cursed between clenched teeth.

  Veda felt her stomach twist.

  And Thana…

  Thana understood instantly what that gesture meant.

  She opened her eyes wide, the shadows around her convulsing like a wounded beast.

  — No… not that…

  Belzebuth’s smile curled.

  Slow.

  Twisted.

  Devoured by madness.

  He lowered his hand.

  And in a deep, ancient, horrifying rumble—

  almost alive—

  the ninth floor began collapsing onto itself.

  Thank you for reading ??