Chapter 84: The Demon King's Grip
Yet they found their feet rooted to the ground—as if fused to the arena floor. Not by magic. Not by Satan's power.
But by fear.
Pure, paralyzing terror.
"B-B-B-B-Brenda… Sister…"
Grey couldn't even form her sister's name properly. Her legs had given out; she collapsed to the floor, trembling.
"Damn it!"
This was a catastrophe. The battle of Ragnarok could no longer continue.
Even the chief gods had risen from their seats, ready to intervene. The entity that had appeared was simply too dangerous.
Had it not been for the packed audience—gods and mortals alike—the chief gods would've already descended. But they hesitated, fearing collateral damage.
"You must withdraw."
The Supreme Four Pillars stood on the arena stage, fully aware they were no match for the being before them—Satan.
Even missing an arm, they still stepped forward to shield King Solomon, prepared to fight to the death.
But Solomon would not allow such futile sacrifice.
He ordered their retreat—and forcibly teleported them away, removing them from the battlefield.
"Oh? I sense no fear from you. Why is that, King Solomon?"
Satan crossed his arms, intrigued.
Did Solomon have a hidden trump card?
It didn't matter. Satan feared no contingency.
He was growing stronger by the second.
Not because he hadn't finished absorbing Prajna. Prajna had been fully consumed.
No—Satan's power continued to rise because of fear.
Fear was his nourishment. The more terror he inspired, the more strength he gained.
The more exaggerated and horrifying his legend became, the more unstoppable he grew.
Originally, his emergence was expected to take time.
But Prajna's unexpected existence had accelerated his birth.
So let the fear spread. Let the name of Satan echo across the Three Realms:
The Celestial Realm, home to all divine pantheons The Mortal Realm, cradle of humanity The Nether Realm, encompassing Hell, the Demon World, and the Land of Roots
Let him become the strongest. Let him become invincible.
Even the Primordial Gods would bow before him.
"Why no fear?" Solomon replied calmly. "Because I've waited for this moment—for your arrival. So I can clean you up."
The audience fell silent.
"Did… did he just call Satan trash?"
Grey's tongue twisted. Sweat poured down her face.
Was Solomon trying to get himself killed?
Satan's smug expression froze.
"Hehehe… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His laughter shook the arena. The protective barrier around the spectators flickered, threatening to collapse under the force of his voice.
Even the sky responded—thousands of lightning bolts exploded across the heavens.
"I've decided. I won't kill you, Solomon."
Was this admiration for Solomon's fearlessness?
Some enemies respected courage.
No. This was rage.
"I'll make you wish for death. I'll grant you eternal torment—eternal suffering!"
His voice trembled with fury. Dark light erupted from his body, piercing the clouds.
"The time has come."
Solomon's voice rang out.
Suddenly, countless magic circles appeared—dense, layered, overwhelming.
"There's… way too many!" Grey gasped.
Had Solomon foreseen Satan's birth and prepared for this?
Hope flickered.
But the magic circles didn't attack Satan.
They attached themselves to Solomon.
He became a magnet, drawing every formation to him.
Some circles displayed pure light projections—images resembling the Seventy-Two Demon Gods, though subtly different.
These figures layered themselves over Solomon, wrapping him like a magical mummy.
Then the mummy began to expand.
Not like inflation—but as if the person inside was growing stronger, more muscular.
The scholarly Solomon was transforming into something… formidable.
But then Grey's face stiffened.
What was happening to his head?
Horns?
They looked eerily similar to Satan's… no, even more exaggerated.
Chapter 85: The Demon King of Demon Gods
Solomon's body was covered in magic circles—reinforcements for his flesh and soul.
He needed to open the gate wider. These formations stabilized him.
The horns on his head stretched unnaturally—like branching tree limbs. Strange. Unsettling.
His physique had surpassed human limits.
He was no longer a man. He was a humanoid monster.
Suddenly, the magic circles cracked.
Everyone watched with mixed emotions—hope and dread.
They hoped Solomon's transformation would save them.
They feared disappointment.
The layered formations swelled into a sphere, then shattered like glass—splintering into light and vanishing.
And then they saw him.
"W-What… is that?!"
Grey's voice broke.
In her trembling eyes, the figure was humanoid—but not human.
A monster.
Twin horns branched like flaming tree limbs from his head—beautiful in form, but terrifying in context.
Most horrifying of all was the giant eye embedded in his chest.
Even when it wasn't looking at her, Grey felt as if the abyss itself were staring into her soul—dragging her toward oblivion.
Could this form defeat Satan?
Solomon's transformation hadn't unleashed any overwhelming aura.
No terrifying magic. No apocalyptic phenomena.
Just a quiet, demonic appearance.
If his presence rivaled Satan's, Grey might've felt reassured.
BOOM—!
A sudden explosion rocked the arena. Dust erupted around Solomon.
Satan had attacked.
Replay footage confirmed it—Satan had leapt forward.
The dust cleared quickly. Everyone held their breath.
And then—
"Wha—!"
"No way—!"
"He actually—!"
Solomon had caught Satan's hand mid-strike—just before it reached his head.
He hadn't moved an inch.
Then, a blade shot from Satan's hand—aimed at Solomon's skull.
But it struck only an afterimage. Solomon had tilted his head just in time.
Next, Solomon twisted Satan's wrist.
With a gentle motion, he tore off Satan's hand—as if it were made of clay.
The contrast was staggering.
Just moments ago, Satan had terrified gods and mortals alike. He had threatened to plunge the heavens into darkness.
Now, with a flick of Solomon's wrist, he was falling apart.
Was Satan just a hollow shell? A pretender?
"Apologies. I didn't expect you to be so fragile."
Satan recoiled violently, retreating to maintain distance.
"You—what are you?!"
His voice trembled with rage… and fear.
Like a beast cornered by something it couldn't comprehend.
Only Satan knew the truth.
Solomon hadn't just crushed his hand—he had grasped space itself.
That's why Satan's body crumbled like wet clay.
Now, Satan stared at Solomon's new form.
His instincts screamed: Run. Or die.
Was this a joke?
Just moments ago, he had basked in dominance—gods trembling beneath his aura.
Now he was the one trembling.
".This form… is Goetia."
Solomon offered no explanation.
He simply appeared before Satan—without warning.
Before Satan could react, or even process what was happening—
His vision went dark.
Solomon had grabbed his face.
Lifted him off the ground.
"Hmm?"