The black smoke vortex swirled quietly in Leon's palm. The power hidden within it was immense—so vast that Leon finally understood why even Mephisto, with all his cunning, had schemed for millennia to obtain it.
To a demon, these souls were the most exquisite nourishment imaginable.
Even a lesser demon—say, someone like Trask—could ascend to the rank of high demon after absorbing them, standing just below the demon lords. But if someone like Blackheart, who was already close to that level, were to absorb them completely, he could ascend to become a true Demon Lord.
This was no mere relic—it was a divine weapon, a "prop" of immeasurable value.
The true purpose of the Saint Venganza Contract, however, was far more sinister: it was meant to shatter the balance between Heaven and Hell, allowing both God and Satan to interfere more directly in the human world.
According to the Dark Bible, to disrupt that fragile equilibrium, the Son of Satan cast the Spear of Longinus—the Spear of Destiny—down into the mortal realm, shattering it into countless fragments scattered across the world.
Those who found and wielded these fragments gained the power to meddle in mortal affairs and, through that interference, destabilize the balance between angels and demons.
And these records were not lies.
Before Leon's appearance changed everything, Mephisto's ambition had been exactly that—boundless and audacious.
He had cultivated the Saint Venganza village for thousands of years, turning its people into devout believers before twisting their faith into damnation. His goal was to open the gates of Hell right there—on holy ground corrupted by his own design.
But after Leon appeared, such ambitions seemed almost laughable.
If Earth had been guarded only by the Ancient One, Mephisto might still have risked it. Despite fearing the Sorcerer Supreme, he could have opened the Hell Gate and flooded the mortal realm with demons, forcing a war so vast it would rend Heaven and Earth.
It was true—the Ancient One had defeated him once.But that didn't mean Mephisto lacked the power to fight back.
If Earth were to become a new Hell, it would fall under Mephisto's dominion. In that scenario, his control over the Hell dimension would make him nearly invincible—his power limitless on his home turf. The Ancient One might not have prevailed a second time.
Unfortunately for Mephisto, the world had changed.
Earth no longer belonged to the Ancient One alone. A new force—one far beyond Mephisto's comprehension—had emerged.
Leon.
From the moment their eyes met, Mephisto knew this was someone he could never hope to defeat.
So, in recent years, he had done the unthinkable for a demon lord—he yielded. After Leon stormed Hell, humiliated him, and stripped him of centuries of accumulated power, Mephisto had been forced to bow his head. With rival demon lords circling like vultures, survival had become his only goal.
If he dared to act recklessly on Earth again, Leon would annihilate him—and no one, not even Jehovah Himself, could protect him.
Thus, when Blackheart stirred up trouble on Earth, Mephisto immediately projected his will to stop his foolish son—not out of paternal love, but pure self-preservation.
Leon, however, paid no mind to Mephisto's cowardice. His thoughts were on the Saint Venganza Contract and what to do with it.
After some contemplation, he took a single step—and the world shifted. In an instant, he appeared in Helheim, the Realm of Death, where he found Hela.
The Death Goddess' eyes brightened the moment she saw him. Her grin was both wicked and eager, for his arrival could only mean one thing—war.
Hela thrived on battle. She lived for it. She wanted to conquer Leon, body and soul—and if she couldn't do it through sheer might of spirit, she was more than happy to test other methods.
Before the clash began, though, her eyes caught the swirling mass of black smoke hovering over Leon's palm—three thousand souls, writhing and corrupted.
As a Cancer Gold Saint, Hela had long awakened her Seventh Sense. Her power placed her among the strongest of the Gold Saints—second only, perhaps, to Wanda.
After all, Wanda's control over the Origin of Magic gave her near-omniscient understanding of all sorcery she encountered. Her mind, evolved beyond human limits, processed knowledge at terrifying speed—photographic memory, multi-layered perception, reality-warping insight.
With her Altered Reality, her Cosmos, and her hybrid fighting style inspired by Gemini, Wanda's strength was frankly absurd—an ever-evolving force.
And yet, Hela had not fallen far behind.
Her power had grown exponentially. If not for Odin's lingering interference, she might have already ascended to confront her father head-on—to make him repent for his arrogance.
"Mephisto truly deserves his title as a demon lord," Hela murmured, swirling a finger through the black smoke. "To create something so vile… is almost impressive."
The energy pulsing from the vortex made her pupils contract.
"These souls… could be of use to you," she said, smiling slyly.
Leon smirked. "A gift for you, perhaps?"
Hela's lips curled into a knowing grin. "Oh? My gift?"
"Of course," Leon replied smoothly. "You know I've never forgotten you."
Hela laughed—a low, dangerous sound—and tossed the vortex aside. The black smoke dissipated like mist. Then, in one swift motion, she grabbed Leon by the collar and pulled him close, her eyes gleaming like emerald fire.
"You do know I'm not like that little witch, right?" she whispered. "She prefers her rewards… gentle. But me? I'm a rebel. I only take what I can conquer."
Leon sneered. "Commendable spirit. But…"His eyes narrowed. "Your opponent is me."
"Ha! Then let's find out," Hela said, her voice trembling with anticipation.
Leon swept her up in his arms, striding toward the inner chambers. The clash that followed would shake Helheim itself—a war of divine wills that would last for a very long time.
In the vast emptiness of space, a colossal head floated silently among nebulae of green, blue, and violet. The atmosphere was ancient and oppressive—its very presence enough to make lesser beings tremble.
This was the Realm of Nothingness—Knowhere.
Once the severed head of an ancient cosmic being, it had been hollowed out and transformed by countless civilizations into a thriving, lawless hub—one of the freest places in the universe, though even here, freedom came with limits.
A massive industrial complex operated across its interior, mining the mysterious organic matter and energy-rich substances found within the skull. To many, it was an inexhaustible treasure trove—a fortune spanning eternity.
Among the bustling crowds walked Basang, Selina, and Lisa, dressed not in gleaming Gold Cloths, but in simple jackets and jeans—utterly mundane, and yet their refined bearing made them stand out amidst the rough, cyberpunk chaos around them.
The city's architecture was grim and industrial—metal beams, stacked platforms, and cluttered alleys. Ships and drones crisscrossed the smoky skies in intricate patterns, never colliding thanks to advanced flight systems.
As they walked, the three drew countless stares—some curious, some greedy, most foolish.
Their calm confidence made ordinary thugs uneasy, but in a place like Knowhere, there was always someone stupid—or suicidal—enough to test them.
Within minutes, they could feel hostile eyes closing in, predatory intent thick in the air.
Lisa's lips curved in a cold, humorless smile. "I hate this kind of cliché."
Though calm and calculating by nature, she had no patience for scum. The universe was vast—and filled with idiots eager for death.
Basang, eyes closed in serenity, clasped his prayer beads. "The Buddha said: Good is Buddha, Evil is Demon. Buddha and Demon are but a single thought apart… and demons belong in Hell."
His voice was soft, almost compassionate. Then, without warning, his left hand formed a Demon-Subduing Mudra, golden light erupting around him.
Reality rippled. Space twisted.
In an instant, the attackers found themselves trapped within a vision of pure nightmare—surrounded by legions of roaring demons.
"What—what is this?!" one screamed.
But before any could react, they were devoured—body, soul, and consciousness—by the swarming horrors. Their screams were swallowed by the distortion of space. When the world stilled again, nothing remained. Not even ashes.
Dozens had perished in seconds.
The bystanders froze, trembling. None dared to speak as Basang and his companions continued calmly down the street.
Only when they disappeared from view did the crowd dare to breathe again.
"What kind of… power was that?" someone whispered.
"Some kind of weapon? Or the beads?"
"Whatever it was, those idiots are gone. All of them."
"I heard some of them were wanted by the Nova Corps! Guess they won't be filing reports now."
"Serves them right. Picking fights with people like that? Idiots."
The murmurs spread like wildfire. Everyone was shaken—and yet, in the shadows above, others were already moving.
Knowhere might seem lawless, but it still had an owner.
The Collector—one of the Elders of the Universe.
The deaths of so many, even quietly, triggered alarms across the district. Within minutes, squads of armed guards arrived, ships descending and energy weapons locking on target.
A voice boomed through amplifiers:
"By order of the Collector—kneel immediately! You have ten seconds to comply!"
Spectators gathered, hovering in ships above, eager to watch the coming storm.
Lisa sighed. "Well, so much for your low-profile plan."
Selina shrugged. "Blame the idiots."
The countdown began. Selina's golden eyes flared. The air itself seemed to tremble as she stepped forward. The guards raised their weapons—
—and then a cheerful voice rang out:
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why so serious? Put those toys away! You're scaring our honored guests."
The entire crowd turned.
The guards froze.
Through the parting ranks strode a flamboyant old man in crimson and blue robes, his white hair slicked back, his eyes glittering with amusement.
The Collector had arrived.
End of Chapter)
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