Both previously-deadlocked battlefields concluded almost simultaneously.
Meanwhile, Vali and Bikou—who'd engaged Jörmungandr from combat initiation—successfully neutralized their target as well.
Even across kilometer distances, the massive serpentine dragon's collapse registered with seismic clarity. That colossal body impacted earth with enough force to fracture bedrock, pulverize mountain ranges, generate thunderous reverberations that echoed across dimensional boundaries.
With that—evil god Loki's subjugation campaign reached official conclusion.
❁❁❁❁
When Bokue returned to Rias's battlefield location—Ravel still cradled protectively in his arms—aerial perspective revealed fascinating topography.
The vast wasteland now featured an enormous sinkhole—bottomless depths suggesting direct penetration into demon realm's geological core. Like meteor strike aftermath, except the "meteor" had been Kuroka's casual violence.
Speaking of whom: said cat-eared girl currently occupied the crater's rim, legs dangling over the abyss, casually grooming one wrist with her tongue.
The picture-perfect image of a housecat waiting roadside for her owner's return after an afternoon adventure.
Nearby, Rias and company stood contemplatively, collectively processing the architectural-scale violence that had concluded their "strategic combat operation."
"Mm? You all finished too?"
Bokue descended gradually, Ravel still secured in his embrace, touching down beside the assembled girls.
Distant horizon revealed Sona's group approaching—the "secondary team" whose supposed Fenrir elimination had been Rias's beautiful bluff.
"Uh... yeah."
Rias turned at his voice, expression mixing relief with embarrassment as she scratched her cheek.
"We would've required extended engagement, but Kuroka-san arrived and... well. Three strikes, problem solved."
"'Suddenly' is pushing it—"
"BOKUE!!"
Before he could finish that sentence, Kuroka launched from her crater perch—transforming into living projectile, limbs extended like facehugger appendages, zero regard for personal space boundaries as she latched onto him with full-body commitment.
Face-to-face proximity achieved, she immediately commenced aggressive nuzzling.
"Hey Bokue! Onee-sama was super effective, right?? Two hits—that Norse god thing completely handled, nya~"
"By stealing Rias's kill?"
Bokue's tone carried teasing criticism rather than genuine reproach.
That earned him an indignant glare, Kuroka's eyebrows inverting dramatically.
"Mo~ That's not 'kill-stealing'—that's tactical efficiency! Besides, weren't you the first one breaking formation?"
"I didn't—"
"Didn't you~?"
The cat-eared girl's eyes narrowed with prosecutorial intensity.
"Then explain: who eliminated Fenrir?"
"...Okay, technically that was me."
Bokue's free hand patted the rear of the cat-girl whose legs had locked around his waist in koala-grip configuration.
"But Ravel was in actual mortal danger. Couldn't exactly spectate her death for philosophical consistency."
"Mmm..."
Recognizing that argument's logical superiority, Kuroka's protest deflated into contemplative humming.
Then she huffed, ears flicking irritably.
"Well—same principle applies! That bastard god burned Koneko-chan's hand. What kind of Onee-sama ignores family injury?"
"That's... not remotely equivalent—"
Bokue couldn't suppress exasperation. One scenario involved minor burns. The other involved literal god-slaying fangs millimeters from decapitation.
"Hmm-hmm-hmm~"
Kuroka's attention shifted, golden eyes focusing on the golden-haired Phoenix girl still standing beside Bokue—expression frozen in dazed confusion.
"Though for devils with Phoenix bloodlines, 'severe injuries' basically mean 'minor inconvenience,' right? Like when Bokue pummeled that peacock brother. Got absolutely destroyed—yet still managed showing up later all bouncy and arrogant." She gestured dramatically, miming Riser's ridiculous hairstyle.
"..."
Despite the conversation explicitly referencing her brother, Ravel remained conspicuously silent.
She'd entered complete system shutdown.
Because—moments ago, Kuroka had launched herself at Bokue using all four limbs. Currently, she clung to him like a tree sloth, entire body weight supported by... well.
But now, Kuroka's hands were occupied with gesture-based communication. Meaning only her legs maintained positional security via pure thigh-strength around Bokue's waist.
That posture essentially replicated— Is this seriously happening in public?? That level of shamelessness??
"Everyone wrapped up? Perfect timing—we just finished too."
A cold, measured voice descended from above. Vali materialized alongside Bikou, with Sona's entire group in tow—all converging on this final rally point.
Bokue's gaze tracked toward distant mountain ranges where Jörmungandr's immense serpentine form sprawled across geological features. Portions remained obscured behind peaks, while other sections draped across summits like biological architecture.
From distance, it resembled stacked mountain ranges—elevation literally doubled through dragon-corpse layering.
Moreover, subtle scale movements indicated residual life signatures.
"Didn't kill it?" Bokue asked with mild curiosity.
"Unnecessary."
Vali's arms crossed, eyes remaining closed in meditative composure.
"Complete elimination creates political complications. Azazel specifically instructed leaving survivors—apparently simplifies diplomatic negotiations with Norse factions." His shoulders rolled dismissively. "Regardless, my involvement here concludes. Departing now."
He initiated vertical takeoff—
Bikou scrambled after him.
"Hey hey, don't bail so fast!"
"...What?"
Surprisingly, Vali actually paused—head angling slightly backward.
Bikou flashed his signature grin: "You're 'Vali,' right? Cool if I use that? Anyway—listen. I think we've got solid chemistry. Great teamwork and whatnot. So... interested in forming a Rating Game team? You're a devil with the Lucifer surname—definitely qualifies for competitive registration."
"Rating Games?" Vali's tone flattened with disinterest. "Pass."
This time, no hesitation. He resumed ascent without backward glances.
But Bikou refused surrender—mounting Kinto'un while maintaining persistent sales pitch.
"Come on, at least try it! Won't it be fun? We could recruit more people—I think there's Queen, Rook, Bishop, Knight, Pawn positions totaling like... fifteen-ish slots? Just test run it, test run—"
Apparently subscribing to "never accept initial rejection" philosophy.
Though genuinely didn't expect those two bonding this thoroughly...
Watching their silhouettes shrink into distant sky-dots, Rias pressed her temples with resigned exhaustion.
"Anyway—aftermath management falls to Onii-sama's jurisdiction. We should return for debriefing. Also..." Her gaze shifted meaningfully. "Bokue, you can release Lady Ravel's hand now."
Eh?
Bokue glanced downward. Indeed—his right hand remained interlocked with the Phoenix girl's fingers. Probability high he'd simply forgotten releasing her after landing.
Meanwhile, Ravel's head remained bowed, silence absolute, crimson flush spreading from cheeks to ear-tips.
"N-no problem... I don't mind..."
The Phoenix girl's whisper barely qualified as vocalization.
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