Someone had answered the call of wrath. Someone had heard the cries of the forsaken and offered them a chance at vengeance. Even if it meant the annihilation of their souls, they would bite into the divine with everything they had.
That someone—was Satan.
As the black sphere unraveled, a new pillar erupted from the divine spectator stands. A single angel's heart was pierced, and from within that heart... Satan emerged.
He had not fled as a swarm of insects. That was a decoy. His true form had hidden inside the body of the archangel.
Now exposed, he was seized.
And into him, the despair of billions was poured—raw, unfiltered, and eternal.
The gift of despair, forged from countless human deaths across millennia, was returned to the one who had inflicted it. And it was worse than death.
The gods who witnessed this trembled.
In their eyes, fear bloomed.
They too had once subjected humanity to trials.
They too feared the reckoning.
From the depths of Hell, the souls of the unjustly slain rose. Their wishes fulfilled, they began to glow—soft golden light radiating from each spirit, like monks ascending to enlightenment.
Billions of lights, brighter than stars, turned toward the one who had granted them justice.
And then, they vanished.
The figure seated upon the throne of the divine temple smiled gently.
Then, like mist in the morning sun, he disappeared.
Solomon was gone.
Gone from this universe.
Chapter 195: The True God of Humanity
Compared to their own world, the humans of this realm lived under far crueler conditions.
In their world, gods did not impose trials that slaughtered the innocent.
Any deity who dared would be crushed by the united force of other pantheons.
Because in their world, gods depended on human faith. Their power was sustained by belief.
But here?
The gods did not need faith.
They acted without consequence.
Their trials were not tests of virtue—they were selection mechanisms. They culled humanity to find the strongest, to forge divine soldiers, to breed new blood for their mythologies.
Why?
Because this world had once endured a war unlike any other.
The new generation of gods had rebelled against the primordial ones. They rejected chaos. They sought order.
And so, the gods waged war.
The cost was immense.
The old gods were defeated and cast out.
But the victory came at a price.
The new gods could no longer reproduce.
Their divine lineage was broken.
So they turned to humanity.
By mating with mortals, they could birth demigods. And through trials, those demigods could ascend.
In truth, humanity had become nothing more than a breeding ground.
They learned all this after Solomon vanished.
Each of the Seventy-Two Demon Gods revealed their past.
They had once belonged to their own mythologies. But after the great war, their worlds were destroyed. Their homes collapsed. They became refugees in Hell.
And Hell changed them.
The longer they stayed, the more violent they became. Their divine nature twisted. They became demons.
But the war hadn't broken them.
A traitor had.
The Lord of Heaven.
He had betrayed the Seventy-Two pantheons, destroyed their cores, and enslaved their gods—turning them into the Seventy-Two Demon Gods.
He spread rumors of Satan.
He built the myth of Hell.
And he appointed Belial as their overseer.
But Solomon summoned Belial.
And he offered him a contract: Slay the gods.
Thus, in the final war between gods and humanity, the Seventy-Two Demon Gods rose in rebellion—fighting alongside Solomon against the Lord of Heaven.
"This is... the Kingdom of Magic?" someone whispered.
New memories flooded their minds.
They saw the world Solomon had built—a sanctuary for humanity, aided by the Seventy-Two Demon Gods.
Here, humans learned magic.
Solomon had given them the foundation: the Theory of Phenomenon Manipulation.
With it, humanity could wield supernatural power.
Three thousand years of development.
A sliver of hope.
They had never imagined this Solomon could be so extraordinary. He was nothing like the Solomon of their world.
Though connected, they were not the same.
Perhaps their Solomon was merely a fragment of this one.
His legacy spanned two worlds.
In this world, he was one of thirteen human champions. He had defeated the gods who toyed with humanity. He had earned victory. He had shaken the heavens.
In their world, he had forged contracts with the Seventy-Two Demon Lords—teaching them the meaning of family.
Through him, demons learned compassion.
And with compassion came order.
Without it, the Three Factions War would have ended in mutual destruction.
"Among all humans, if one could be called a god... it would be Solomon."
"He is the god of humanity."
Canna and Rias spoke with reverence.
"A true hero. A legend beyond compare. I regret not living in his era... but it's not too late," Revier said, her voice trembling with emotion.
This time, she would stand beside him.
She would become his right hand.
"I've made up my mind," Kuroka purred. "I'm going to bear his child. That kid will be terrifyingly powerful, meow~"
"Ara, that's tempting. I might join you," Akeno teased.
"What are you two talking about?!"
"You can't do that!"
"Why not, Sister Aisha? Do you want to have Solomon's child too?"
"N-No! That's not it! Solomon is sacred! He mustn't be tempted!"
"Oh come on. He's not one of our angels. He's allowed to have desires, meow~"
Suddenly, the memory world faded.
Their vision returned.
They were back in the arena.
The mental dialogue ceased.
All around them, humanity stood in silence.
They mourned Solomon.
Even the gods were quiet.
Solomon had saved them too.
Their feelings were complicated.
Surely, this act should be enough to end the war?
But no.
This battle was no longer about survival.
It was about honor.
Humanity would not accept mercy.
They would fight.
They would win.
And the gods?
They no longer sought humanity's end.
They wanted to reclaim their pride.