The Guide's Replacement was still there, unmoving,
like a living shadow resting just outside reality itself.
He watched the scene with a disturbing calm,
hands folded behind his back,
like a teacher waiting for his students to finally reach the correct answer.
His polite smile didn't shift,
but something in his eyes said:
They're starting to understand.
A faint tremor ran across the platform.
Belzebuth stepped forward.
Adam vanished into the shadows for half a second.
The Replacement tilted his head, amused:
— The next move will be… interesting.
Then he went silent.
Observing.
Judging.
That's when Kael spoke, his voice still fractured by pain:
— Like I said… Adam is Belzebuth's weak point.
His voice was tired, but there was no tremor left in it.
His fingers digging into the stone betrayed the weight of what he was about to say.
— Any fatal damage Adam suffers…
will rebound onto the Prince.
Not symbolically.
Not metaphorically.
He inhaled slowly, eyes fixed on Adam's unstable silhouette.
— No.
I'm talking real consequences.
Massive.
Punishing.
That'll strike Belzebuth directly.
Head-on.
He clenched his jaw.
— The backlash would be enormous.
Brutal.
Enough to break him — even him, even if this is only a fragment of his real self.
A cold wind slid around the group,
as if the world itself hesitated to hear this plan spoken aloud.
Kael forced his broken body to rise a little more.
— So our objective is simple, he said.
Simple… but not easy.
His gaze drifted toward Adam, whose aura shook like a caged beast ready to lunge.
— We focus on Adam.
We neutralize him, above everything else.
That's our opening.
Our only window.
Then he looked up at his three companions.
— And meanwhile…
we avoid that abomination.
A moment of silence.
A heavy void.
And the meaning sank into them:
Belzebuth was no longer just an enemy.
He was a bomb.
And the key to that bomb…
was Adam.
Kael turned toward Gravyor to call his name—
But Gravyor was already lifting a hand.
— No need, I got it, he said with a smirk.
Open your eyes.
I'm stronger than last time now.
His pupils shimmered with a pride bordering on insolence.
Without warning, he slammed his fist into the ground.
BOOOM.
The central platform vibrated like a divine drum struck by a god's hammer.
A shockwave rippled outward in concentric rings,
warping the stone,
ripping dust from the cracks,
and paralyzing Adam on the spot.
Kael's eyes widened.
So did Veda's.
Was it psychological?
Mechanical?
Mystical?
No idea.
But one thing was certain:
It worked.
The entire surface of the platform fractured under them,
irregular, almost fractal patterns forming,
as if the stone itself tried to retreat from Gravyor's raw force.
Kiyoshi followed instantly.
He tapped the ground with the end of his daibo — a sharp, precise strike —
and a block of stone suddenly broke free, lifted by the vibration.
Gravyor repositioned himself,
set his shoulder,
then struck again.
BOOOM.
A second shockwave.
Violent.
Explosive.
Directed.
The block of stone blasted forward,
launched like a catapulted projectile.
The rock slammed into Adam's hip —
a harsh, dry impact,
almost cracking the sound in half.
Adam screamed.
Collapsed to his knees.
Paralyzed.
His torso jerked with pain,
tears and snot streaming together,
a grotesque mix on his twisted face.
He looked up at Belzebuth,
his hands trembling,
begging like a wounded animal:
— Help me… p-please…
Belzebuth barely glanced at him.
He sighed, annoyed.
Then, with a disdainful smile:
— You're whining already… over a little pebble?
For something so trivial?
Adam, who had always been "protected" by Kael,
couldn't even think of a reply.
His lips trembled,
his breath caught,
and a brief flicker of thought crossed his shattered expression.
Then, like a wounded animal trying to flee,
he started crawling.
Slowly.
Pathetically.
His fingers scraped the stone,
leaving trails of torn nails behind.
He dragged himself toward Gravyor.
Toward the threat.
Like an insect drawn to a flame…
or shoved forward by pure fear.
A dagger clenched between his teeth.
His breath whistled against the metal.
But he never made it even one meter.
Belzebuth reached out a hand,
casual,
like someone picking up something they dropped.
An invisible force yanked Adam off the ground
and lifted him with a sharp, effortless motion.
His body dangled in the air,
legs kicking weakly,
like a puppy caught trying to escape.
The Prince pulled him back
and dropped him harshly beside the throne,
exactly like one returns a disobedient little animal
to its kennel.
Belzebuth sighed —
a sigh of pure annoyance.
— Don't crawl like that, Adam.
It's pathetic.
And Adam…
didn't dare move again.
Kael understood — no, he absorbed — at that exact second that their contracts were never the same.
Not a small difference in terms.
Not a detail.
A chasm.
His own pact with Lilith slammed back into his mind,
clear, brutal, like a memory hammered into him:
50 : 50.
A precarious balance, sure, but real.
A partnership where each side brought something to the table.
An exchange.
A shared risk.
But Adam…
Adam had never been treated like that.
Never respected like that.
Never even considered a partner.
A twisted thought slid through Kael's mind, dark and sharp:
Did he even have 10% of anything in his contract?
Or worse—
Was he not even counted?
A pawn.
An opening bet.
A consumable.
The doubt rose like a whisper.
Then like a truth that snapped.
And that tiny doubt reopened a door Kael thought sealed.
Because deep down, he knew where that suspicion came from.
He knew Adam was treated differently because he was different.
Not an error.
Not a mistake.
Just… someone less important.
Less crucial.
Less essential.
A replaceable piece.
An expendable tool.
In the eyes of Belzebuth.
And the irony?
Kael couldn't even blame him.
Because Adam had always behaved like one.
Always begging for a role, a percentage, a place.
Always trying to prove something to someone — never realizing who he should really prove it to.
Kael's fingers curled, knuckles whitening.
It was a strange sensation:
not anger, not sadness.
A sharp absence.
Like a piece of him had cleanly snapped off.
A cold realization:
Adam signed a crooked contract.
Then betrayed.
So… what exactly did Kael still feel responsible for?
The doubt rose again.
Weaker this time.
Like a last breath.
Then it collapsed.
Because in the end…
It wasn't his problem anymore.
Not since the betrayal.
Not since Adam turned his back.
Not since he chose the wrong side.
Kael exhaled,
short, dry, like sliding a blade back into its sheath.
There was nothing left to save.
Nothing to discuss.
Nothing to repair.
He straightened, gaze heavier, sharper.
Adam had closed the door.
Kael…
had just locked it from the other side.
He didn't even have time to take a step.
The air… contracted.
Not a vibration.
Not a tremor.
A distortion.
Like space itself was pulled from both ends.
The ground groaned beneath his feet.
The stones — massive as they were —
whimpered like wet wood forced to bend.
Then—
A presence fell.
Not a sound.
Not a movement.
A descent.
Pure.
Vertical.
Implacable.
Like a dead star dropped into a well.
Kael felt the pressure immediately.
A weight.
A wall.
A sheet of molten metal crashing onto his shoulders, legs, lungs.
Gravity didn't double.
It tripled.
Then quadrupled.
His knee buckled.
Just a little.
Just enough for his pride to scream silently.
Then a voice behind him.
A voice not coming from a throat,
but from the air itself —
as if every dust particle acted as a resonator.
— Ah…
What a shame.
You had just made an interesting decision.
Kael looked up.
Not out of defiance.
Because you can't ignore a black sun when it appears above you.
Belzebuth.
The Archdemon of Deceit.
The Prince of broken oaths and stitched lies.
Seated on a throne that hadn't existed a second earlier.
Sitting as if he'd always been there.
His smile… too calm.
Too amused.
Too human to be honest.
His aura wasn't an aura.
It was a law.
A law forced upon matter, upon stone, upon bodies.
The entire zone began to bend.
Gravyor collapsed to one knee, swearing.
Veda felt her ribs creak under the pressure.
Kiyoshi dropped almost instantly, face hitting the stone, unable to breathe.
Only Kael stayed standing.
Not because he was the strongest.
But because the silent hatred that had just clicked into place over Adam
held his spine straighter than his bones could.
Belzebuth's smile widened.
— Oh… still standing?
How… entertaining.
Gravity spiked.
Kael's back bent despite him.
A thin line of blood slid down from his lip.
The Archdemon crossed his legs on his improvised throne,
like a master of ceremonies watching a tightrope walker about to fall.
Then the gravity… fell.
Not suddenly.
Not like a brutal release.
But like a hand loosening its grip one finger at a time.
First a breath.
Tiny.
A crack in an invisible vice.
Air returned to Kael's lungs in a dry gasp.
Just enough for pain to become possible again.
Just enough for him not to suffocate.
Then the pressure dropped another notch.
Then another.
As if the world itself hesitated between crushing him or letting him breathe.
His locked muscles slowly loosened.
His neck stopped creaking.
His knees shook — but held.
He could lift his head.
Breathe.
Exist.
He felt this change before he understood it.
That signature.
That taste in the air.
That pressure that wasn't Belzebuth's… but someone else's.
Gravyor.
He had unleashed his aura.
Not the raw aura of a trainee.
Not the clumsy rage of a desperate human.
But the one he received in his first trial,
forged in pain,
oiled by the violence of the early floors,
polished by the hatred of what he refused to let live.
A heavy aura.
Dark.
Crushing in its own way.
A gravity against gravity.
Belzebuth slowly turned his head.
His smile stretched.
A smile… demonic, almost tender.
Like an adult suddenly realizing a child broke a toy he thought unbreakable.
— Interesting…
The word echoed like a verdict.
As if he had just witnessed an unexpected spectacle.
— Perhaps I chose the wrong contractor after all.
His aura stirred, lazy, carnivorous.
He tilted his head, amused.
His gaze slid toward Gravyor with a glint of respect… and threat.
— Entertain me.
The world contracted.
And Belzebuth vanished.
Not by movement.
Not by speed.
As if space itself decided to place him elsewhere.
Kael didn't even blink.
A presence behind him.
Exactly behind him.
A shadow too dense.
An intention too sharp.
Belzebuth lifted his hand.
Calmly.
Almost gently.
One finger touched the back of Kael's neck.
Then—
CLACK.
A clean hit.
Dry.
Precise.
No hatred.
No noise.
No theatrics.
The light shut off.
Instantly.
As if Kael had been erased from the plane.
His body collapsed, heavy, inert, extinguished.
Belzebuth smiled again.
As if, for him…
This was only the beginning.