The fall of Johann, Girard, and Ayn unfolded like a pre-written prophecy—one written, orchestrated, and sealed long before any of them realized whose game they had stepped into.
Moss had Johann pinned with effortless precision. Girard, who only moments ago believed himself a warrior of unwavering resolve, now trembled as the truth sank in. The words exchanged earlier between Mizeri and Testarossa kept echoing in his mind… and the meaning finally hit him.
Our enemy… was acknowledged by our god…?
Blanc—
Could "Blanc" have meant the White Primordial?
Girard's breath stopped.
He knew the primordial demons by name, by
legend, and by the countless warnings etched into forbidden tomes.
And now—now he realized he had dared raise his sword against one.
A mortal could not challenge a primordial and expect peace in the afterlife.
His pride as a warrior?
His ego?
His convictions?
Meaningless.
The moment comprehension dawned, the last anchor in his mind snapped.
"Aha… AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His laughter echoed, manic and hollow—a broken hymn.
He was dragged away alongside the unconscious Ayn by Ingracia's magical inquisitors, their expressions cold and unchanging.
Johann was last. His legs buckled. His face aged ten years in one heavy breath.
"H-have I failed…? Even… Granbell-sama's wish… his final request…"
Testarossa leaned down, voice like silk dipped in venom.
"Yes. You achieved nothing."
Her whisper slid down his spine like a blade. Johann flinched, his eyes hollow, his heart numb.
"If—IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU—our plan… would've—"
"Ara, is that so?" Testarossa smiled sweetly. "Then how unfortunate for you. Perhaps fate itself seeks to discipline you. Ah—excuse me, someone's waiting behind you."
Her cold fingers traced his jaw before she stepped aside. The inquisitors seized him.
"N-no—stay away! Don't touch me!"
The crowd watched in silence.
"LET GO! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!? MY COUNTRY—MY COUNTRY WILL NOT ALLOW THIS—YOU'RE CREATING AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT!"
No one lifted a hand.
"That's enough crying," Testarossa said pleasantly. "You committed crimes before
countless witnesses. Don't worry—your friends will accompany you. You'll all have such a fun time together."
"GO TO HELL YOU DEMON!"
Testarossa twirled a lock of white hair, delighted.
"Ufufufu… Wonderful. A stray dog finally baring its teeth. Very entertaining."
The law was absolute.
Testarossa wielded it like a blade.
Johann's crimes—Inciting subversion of state power and conspiracy against his nation—were beyond the council's jurisdiction. Ingracia would take him. And Ingracia's method of execution for such criminals… was discreet. Silent. Permanent.
With Johann's arrest, the threat to the kingdom collapsed. Testarossa had saved Ingracia, stabilized the West, and earned a position of uncontested authority.
Her reputation skyrocketed.
Even the Speaker now treated her with cautious admiration.
And so, Testarossa conquered the West.
Elegant. Merciless. Absolute.
The Pharaoh's Plan
"Did he foresee all this happening?" Testarossa sighed dreamily. "Ah… Atem-sama is truly flawless. How divine…"
"The sovereign's wisdom is impossible to measure," Moss added reverently.
Testarossa nodded. "But this may provoke Guy Crimson. If he takes things seriously…"
"We shall gather our strength," Moss declared. "We will show the world—none can stand in Atem-sama's path."
Testarossa chuckled softly. "As expected. Now make sure Cien knows as well."
"Understood!"
Her smile radiated elegance and deadly confidence.
Meanwhile, in the northern realm, Cien acted perfectly. She suppressed the demon invasion long before Elmesia's Magus Order arrived. Fortunately, Guy hadn't intended a true invasion—so the demons were defeated swiftly.
The West calmed.
But peace was only a curtain.
The real conflict was already brewing beyond the horizon.
"Oi… Mizeri just contacted me," Guy muttered, rubbing his temples. "When did the White Primordial get a name?"
"Oh, Testarossa?" Diablo replied proudly. "She, like many others, has realized the greatness of Atem-sama."
Guy's headache intensified.
"All my men were wiped out. This prank failed spectacularly."
"It is only natural," Diablo said with an arrogant smirk. "Everything is unfolding according to Atem-sama's will. You, too, Guy, are merely a piece on his board."
Again—mocking him.
And Guy, who had already been defeated twice by Atem, could no longer dispute it.
He knew Atem could erase him in an instant.
He knew Atem's power dwarfed his own by leagues.
So instead of snapping back, he simply swallowed his pride.
"So… Atem gave her the name Testarossa too?"
"Yes."
"And she evolved into a Demon Peer because—"
"Because Atem-sama allowed it."
"…Right."
Guy exhaled sharply.
Raine's face turned pale behind him.
The balance of power that had held for millennia was collapsing.
Three primordial demons, previously untamed forces of nature, were now serving—loyally—under a single ruler.
A king not of this world.
A king whose presence alone radiated judgment.
Guy felt a chill.
"What about the other two primordials…?"
Diablo smiled with infuriating smugness.
"Ultima and Carrera? Atem-sama gave them roles as well."
Guy froze.
"W-Wait—SLOW DOWN—"
"I was explaining something very important," Diablo frowned. "Please do not interrupt."
"How long is this story?!"
"Long."
Guy groaned. "I'll listen later. Who are these two—?"
"Oh, Ultima is the Violet Primordial. Carrera is the Yellow Primordial. They prefer their given names. They've… grown fond of them."
Guy nearly choked.
What the hell is Atem doing?!
Even Noir—the Black Primordial—was eccentric, but the others?
Impossible.
Their pride alone should've prevented submission.
Yet—
"Well," Diablo added casually, "I invited them."
"H—Huh?"
Diablo continued with a straight face:
"I needed partners to share my burdens—cough, cough—I mean, companions. They were always fighting over meaningless strength. So I hoped they would grow up and dedicate themselves to Atem-sama!"
Guy stared at him, speechless.
You're the one who needs to grow up.
"So then Atem accepted them, named them, and gave them bodies…?"
"Yes. They were rude to Atem-sama at first, so I considered killing them. But Atem-sama forgave them, so I decided to as well."
Raine nearly fainted.
Guy… gave up mentally.
To name a primordial was a suicidal gamble.
To successfully dominate one required overwhelming might.
Atem had done it three times.
Casually.
Guy grit his teeth.
"I… should visit Atem soon."
"Huh? No. Too troublesome. I refuse."
Guy nearly coughed blood.
But he didn't punch Diablo.
If he did, Diablo would revive instantly—and Guy would look like a clown and he will risk angering Atem.
"It's fine," Guy said stiffly. "I'll send a request. I would never just show up uninvited. Atem would—kill me."
Diablo nodded approvingly. "Good. Atem-sama dislikes rude guests."
Guy shivered.
Even the thought of appearing before Atem without permission felt like courting death.
He forced a smile and placed an arm around Diablo's shoulder.
"Let's… go talk about this somewhere else."
"Pff—can't help it with you. If that's the case, I will welcome your visit. Surely, Atem-sama would be pleased to have you."
Diablo's mood shifted instantly once he heard praise aimed toward Atem's kingdom. His chest lifted, pride radiating from him, and for the first time since the confrontation began, his voice softened.
With how much Diablo worshiped Atem, hearing someone—especially someone as mighty as Guy Crimson—acknowledge Atem's greatness was enough to make Diablo overlook almost anything.
So he nodded, allowing Guy's request.
Of course, Atem would never "squeal."
But he would frown in disappointment and ask Diablo why he accepted such a thing without consulting him—much like the way a stern king reprimands an overly loyal servant.
Later—much later—when Diablo reported all of this, Atem would think:
"Why does he keep inheriting Shion's terrible habits…?"
But for now, Diablo didn't know that future headache was coming.
And so, with an air of finality, he granted Guy his answer.
"Since you are done here, I'll be going now," Guy said.
"Right. Whatever happens next, Atem-sama will take care of it. His foresight leaves nothing unseen."
"I believe that," Guy admitted. He may have been the oldest Demon Lord, but even he could not deny the sheer authority Atem radiated—especially after being defeated by him twice.
There was no universe where Guy Crimson would dare to simply appear before Atem again.
If he visited, he would send a formal request first—anything else would be suicide.
"Send him my regards," Guy added.
"No problem," Diablo said with pride. "Until next time. I look forward to our next meeting."
And with that, Guy left in a swirl of frigid magic.
The moment he was gone, Diablo exhaled.
A long, slow, relieved exhale.
"Looks like I made it through," he muttered to
himself. "Had Guy decided to get serious, even I would have had trouble buying time. Kufufufufu… I must grow stronger. Strong enough that even a being like Guy no longer concerns me."
His soft laugh echoed in the empty, frozen plains—
a vow, a whisper, and a warning.
Because behind Diablo's ambition was the absolute, unshakable truth:
Everything he did, every ounce of strength he sought, was for one purpose—
to remain worthy of the King of Games himself.
Atem, Sovereign of Eterna.
The Pharaoh whose shadow ruled the world.