The battle's end was imminent, and a cold dread washed over Alex as he thought of Beelzebub. Initially, if everything had gone according to his plan, he wouldn't have to worry about taking the blame for starting the war—all the demons had been fighting each other without a common enemy. But the current situation was drastically different. Now, he was the common enemy, the one obliterating everyone.
His high spirits plummeted. "I'm screwed," he realized, his battle-forged confidence crumbling. "How do I explain this? What excuse can I possibly make? Wait… what if he's already noticed me? If they're calling him a demon lord, of course he's already on to me." He relied on his Spectral Pierce, his enhanced vision cutting through the chaos as he evaded attacks, turning his enemies' movements against them.
His heart pounded faster with each fallen foe; the rhythm of his own heartbeat echoing the brutal symphony of battle. He'd fallen into his own trap, and there was no escape, no plausible excuse. He could only dread the inevitable repercussions. Soon, only three demons remained standing, defiant yet exhausted. Thousands more, resurrected by the True Flames, had lost the will to fight, their battle-lust extinguished. The four remaining combatants stood still, their heavy, unsteady breathing a testament to their depleted energy—except for Alex, who stood tall, poised to strike.
A booming laugh shattered the tense silence, sending shockwaves through the remaining demons. Beelzebub, the demon king himself, he couldn't help but find the situation amusing. These demons, whose lives had always bored him, had finally taken the initiative, providing entertainment he hadn't expected. And that demon, Alex, who Beelzebub had thought was nothing special, had surprised him with his resurgence. Replaying the events in his mind, another wave of laughter erupted. "Hahahahahaha!" he roared, his amusement unrestrained.
Every demon trembled, paralyzed by fear. Geto, the demon king of curses from a neighboring region, had initially ignored the sounds of battle emanating from Beelzebub's territory. But Beelzebub's boisterous laughter, the sound of victory, had caught his attention. He rose from his throne, vanishing in a blink, and reappeared beside the chuckling Beelzebub. Looking down at the decimated, yet somehow strengthened, ranks of demons, he observed, "So, something interesting has been happening here." Beelzebub, still brimming with cruel amusement, replied, "It was even more exhilarating than I'd imagined! A feast fit for a king has been specially prepared for me," his deep, cruel laughter sending shivers down Alex's spine—the chilling anticipation of being devoured. "Ah, I've gone too far," Alex thought. "I've been noticed. I'm going to be eaten. Alas, my bet with the goddess was doomed from the start."
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Geto, bewildered by the sight of the newly emerged S+ rank demons—their hair a stark contrast to the bald heads of the others—noted their enhanced power. "Why are you only thinking about eating?" Geto asked, his tone serious. "Can't you see? You've stumbled upon a method to strengthen our demonic forces!" The demon kings had always believed that their pawns could only be strengthened by the slaughter of humans, with only a small percentage gaining power through mining in the True Flames. But the current scene clearly demonstrated that violence and rage were the most effective means of strengthening demons.
"What method? I don't want to hear it," Beelzebub retorted, his disappointment palpable. "These are merely appetizers to whet my appetite," he said dismissively. Geto pressed on, "Isn't this a waste? To consume such powerful pawns?" After a protracted argument with the stubborn Beelzebub, Geto proposed a wager. If Geto won, he would secure the three strongest warriors under Beelzebub's command, including Alex. If he lost, Beelzebub could have his arm, or Geto would help replenish his diminished demonic forces. It was a simple bet, but the lure of consuming his fellow demon king's arm proved too tempting for Beelzebub to resist. "Of course, I'll accept! Your arm will make a delicious delicacy," he declared, his eyes gleaming with predatory pleasure, his drool already flowing. Geto's proposition was a simple tournament match; the winner would be decided by their chosen champions.
Beelzebub laughed, "Hahahaha! So it's just a match, and the victory hinges on our pawns. You must be confident in yours. But if you had witnessed the spectacle I just did, you wouldn't dare dream of victory!" he said, already tasting the sweet reward of Geto's arm. Having witnessed Alex's prowess firsthand, Beelzebub was utterly confident in his choice.
Alex listened intently to their conversation, weighing his options. Losing on purpose would be the safest bet; escaping this monstrous, cannibalistic king was his top priority. However, he knew nothing about Geto, the demon king of curses, and could only anticipate the worst from him. Beelzebub, ever eager to satisfy his insatiable hunger, wanted to begin immediately. But Geto insisted on allowing time for the remaining demons to recover, and to make arrangements: inviting other demon kings to witness the event, securing a suitable location for the tournament. After the plans were finalized, he vanished in a flash.
"Hahaha! This moment deserves to be recorded as one of my happiest memories!" Beelzebub bellowed, his gaze sweeping across the remaining demons, who bowed their heads in awe before his crushing aura. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Alex and three other demons—the last survivors of the battle—their bodies floating toward him. Alex could only silently pray for divine intervention. He couldn't help but wonder if he was about to be devoured; still bald, he looked like a mere S-rank demon.
