Sixth Hell — Realm of Ifrit
The battlefield had already turned into something unrecognizable.
Hellfire roared.
Ice spread.
Divine light pressed down like judgment.
And in the center of it—
Alzwalt moved.
No hesitation.
No buildup.
He stepped in.
His fist ignited—
not ordinary flame—
but Divine Fire.
A fire that didn't burn flesh—
it erased demonic existence itself.
Ifrit's instincts screamed.
He dodged.
Barely.
Alzwalt followed.
Punch—
Ifrit deflected with hellfire.
Kick—
Ifrit twisted out.
Elbow—
blocked.
But Alzwalt wasn't rushing.
He was studying.
Watching every movement.
Every reaction.
Every hesitation.
Then—
he slowed.
Just slightly.
Ifrit saw it.
An opening.
He took it.
A punch—
full force—
hellfire condensed—
aimed straight for Alzwalt's chest—
Caught.
Alzwalt grabbed his arm mid-strike.
CRACK.
Bone shattered instantly.
Ifrit's eyes widened—
And then—
BOOM.
A kick to the torso—
Ifrit flew back—
slammed into his own throne—
The throne shattered beneath him.
Debris scattered across the hellscape.
For a moment—
time slowed for him.
A memory surfaced.
A younger version of himself.
Broken.
Alone.
And Sebastian standing above him.
"Live."
That was all he said back then.
Ifrit's eyes sharpened.
"…I didn't come this far to die."
Hellfire surged.
No—
it evolved.
His body dissolved into flame—
but not just flame—
Concept.
Hellfire that wasn't bound to form.
To heat.
To logic.
It became idea itself.
Alzwalt tilted his head slightly.
"…Hmm."
"What's this?"
Then—
Ifrit vanished.
Faster than light.
BOOM.
A punch landed across Alzwalt's face.
Another.
A third.
A kick—
Alzwalt was sent flying—
past Britanya—
through frozen corpses of hell soldiers—
And slammed into a wall of hellfire.
The realm shook.
She didn't even look back.
Her hand rose again.
Frost spread outward—
more soldiers froze—
shattered—
crushed—
Clean.
Efficient.
Silent.
The fire parted.
Alzwalt stepped out.
A scratch on his cheek.
Gone.
He brushed his shoulder casually—
and walked back.
Straight to Britanya.
He leaned in—
and kissed her forehead.
"…Babe."
"I figured it out."
She blinked once.
"…What?"
Alzwalt smiled.
"Unmeasurable Double Count…"
"…equals a Stage 9 Circuit Master."
Britanya stared at him.
"…So you let him hit you… to figure that out?"
Alzwalt shrugged.
"Why else would I take those hits?"
Behind them—
Ifrit roared.
The realm trembled.
Alzwalt turned.
"…Right."
His aura expanded.
No—
it flooded the entire plane.
Golden light tore through Hell itself.
He reached into a golden dimension—
Grabbed something—
And pulled.
The sound—
A metallic scream.
A divine resonance.
Reality resisting.
Until—
The blade emerged.
St. Alzwalt Light
A sword of divine authority.
Golden hilt.
Silver blade.
Dragon carved into its form.
Light consumed the Sixth Hell.
Even Ifrit paused.
Just for a second.
Ninth Hell —
Chaos unfolded everywhere.
Demons charged endlessly.
Kaelven moved through them—
fast—
efficient—
brutal.
Each kill—
his Double Count increased.
Digits rising.
Tessandra moved differently.
Not power.
Precision.
Every step—
a kill.
Every breath—
a technique.
No wasted motion.
Then—
Sebastian moved.
Claws tore through the air—
aimed at John.
Blocked.
John's slime sword absorbed the impact.
Sebastian retreated.
But—
John's left eye opened.
Koketsu
Sebastian froze.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough to feel it.
Control.
Dominance.
"…You can resist?" John muttered.
He stepped forward.
Sebastian forced himself to move—
barely—
Then—
John vanished.
Reappeared behind him.
Blade descending—
Sebastian turned—
blocked—
BOOOOOOM.
The ground of Hell itself cracked beneath his feet.
He staggered.
Tried to counter—
a kick—
Missed.
Distance created.
Sebastian breathed heavily.
"…I have one last resort."
His voice steadied.
"…Better to die by my kind."
He began chanting.
Reality shifted.
A new realm opened within the Ninth Hell.
Something ancient.
Something sealed.
And from it—
A figure stepped out.
The First Demon
Red horns.
Short white hair.
Crimson eyes.
Black and red robes.
He looked around.
Confused.
"…Huh?"
His gaze dropped.
Sebastian—
kneeling.
"…Oi."
"Did you summon me?"
Sebastian bowed his head fully.
"Forgive my ignorance… Ancestor."
"…Satan."
Silence.
Kaelven's expression shifted.
"…What?"
Tessandra frowned.
Satan looked down.
"…Where did you learn that?"
Sebastian answered quickly.
"Passed down… from our forefathers."
Satan's eyes narrowed.
"…Who else knows?"
"…Descendants… on the surface."
A pause.
Then—
Satan placed his hand on Sebastian's head.
"…Good."
A soft tone.
"You're not needed anymore."
CRACK.
He absorbed his power instantly.
And ripped his head off.
Sebastian—
Lord of Hell—
Dead.
Just like that.
John watched.
Unbothered.
Almost amused.
"…What a surprise."
"You escaped your cage."
A pause.
"…Thanks to that summoning trick."
Satan laughed.
A deep—
ancient—
confident laugh.
"The Demon Tribe…"
"…always finds a way."
"…No matter how far in the future."
John stepped forward.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"Tess."
"Kaelven."
"Look after yourselves."
A pause.
His aura sharpened.
"I'll take care of him."
And for the first time—
Hell wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room.
John was.