Campione: Strongest Godslayer!

A tense atmosphere filled the vast hall, a space resembling a school auditorium, but far more opulent. Rows of ornate wooden chairs filled the floor, like a graduation ceremony, but with a touch of extravagant Devilish flair.

Across from the assembled Devils stood a small group—Rias, Sona, and their peerages.

Before them, seated on elaborately carved chairs, each bearing the image of a different Devil, sat the Devil elite—men and women, young and old, their faces grim, radiating an aura of cold authority.

At the back of the hall, a raised platform held four magnificent stone thrones, each inscribed with the sigil of one of the Four Great Satans—Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Asmodeus.

And above these thrones, on a smaller, elevated dais, sat Haru, lounging casually in a golden dragon throne, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the crowd below.

It was a blatant display of dominance, a slap in the face to every Devil present.

Murmurs of discontent rippled through the hall, the air thick with barely contained hostility. Then, Sirzechs, seated on Lucifer's throne, spoke.

"I understand you are curious as to why Haru-sama occupies the seat of honor."

The elders below quieted, their eyes fixed on Sirzechs.

"During the recent Three Factions summit, we—the Devils, Angels, and Fallen Angels—reached an agreement. We will merge into a single force, led by Haru-sama as Supreme Commander."

Sirzechs's words ignited a firestorm of protest.

"Unacceptable! Merge with our sworn enemies?!"

"Preposterous! That… Baal… presumes to rule over us?!"

"And why Baal? Why not Sirzechs Lucifer as Supreme Commander?!"

"Exactly! The Devils have always been led by the Lucifer clan! Baal may be a Devil King, but he's still just a King! The Maou are above him!"

The initial chaos subsided, replaced by a unified chant: "Baal, step down! Lucifer will lead the Three Factions!"**

In the Underworld, status and bloodline were everything.

Most Devils rigidly adhered to the hierarchy, accepting the divisions between Maou, Ultimate-Class, High-Class, Middle-Class, Low-Class, even between pure-blooded and reincarnated Devils, as the natural order of things.

This rigid structure bred resentment. High-ranking Devils looked down on those of lower status, pure-blooded Devils scorned the reincarnated—a constant source of conflict.

For these ancient, powerful Devils, being served by lesser beings was their birthright.

And Baal, a mere Devil King, despite his rank above most, now presumed to rule over them all, elevated to the position of Ruler? To them, it was an affront to the natural order. Their voices dripped with disdain.

What did the Devil society's hierarchy matter? Even the original Baal was nothing compared to their combined might. They had defeated the Biblical God himself through sheer numbers. What was one Devil King, even a reincarnated one, compared to that?

As the unrest intensified, Sirzechs rose, intending to restore order, but Haru placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down.

Haru stood, looking down at the disgruntled elders, a smirk playing on his lips. "It seems… you're not happy."

He continued, before anyone could interrupt, "Very well. I'll give you a chance. I'll stand here for ten minutes. Attack me. Anyone. Everyone. If even one of you can leave a mark on me—a tear in my clothes, a single hair out of place—you win."

"I'll hand this position over to Sirzechs, and I'll ensure the purity of the Devil bloodline is preserved."

"And after ten minutes," he continued, his voice hardening, "I'll attack. For ten seconds. If a single one of you is still standing after those ten seconds, you win."

"What do you say? Do we have a deal?" Haru leaped from the dais, landing gracefully on the floor below. He crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping over the Devils.

The elders' faces darkened, their eyes fixed on Haru, their teeth gritted.

Ten minutes, unopposed, and all they had to do was scratch him? Then, after that, he would attack for a mere ten seconds, and if even one of them survived, they won?

'What arrogance!' It was as if he believed they couldn't even touch him in ten minutes, while he could wipe them all out in a mere ten seconds.

This wasn't just disdain; it was the indifference of an Elephant looking down at ants.

How could they, the rulers of the Underworld for millennia, tolerate such an insult?

A torrent of magic—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—a kaleidoscope of energy blasts, converged on Haru, forming a dense, inescapable net.

Following the magical barrage, a flurry of weapons—swords, spears, axes, halberds, hooks, meteor hammers—a chaotic storm of steel and demonic power, some infused with Sacred Gear abilities, rained down on Haru.

BOOM!

A massive explosion rocked the hall, a shockwave of demonic energy rippling outward.

The clang of metal against metal echoed through the air as a thick cloud of dust and debris filled the space.

Ajuka, reacting instantly, raised his hands, conjuring a shimmering, crystalline barrier that enveloped Haru and the attacking Devils, containing the destructive force of the blast.

Beads of sweat trickled down Ajuka's forehead. Even for him, a Super Devil being, withstanding the combined might of so many powerful Devils was a strain.

But the assault continued relentlessly, wave after wave of magic and steel crashing against Haru's position. After just five minutes, Ajuka's enhanced magical energy—ten times that of the previous Beelzebub—was nearly depleted.

Sirzechs placed a hand on Ajuka's shoulder, channeling his own power into him, then handed him a vial of replenishing potion.

Ajuka quickly downed the potion, the combined energy flowing into the barrier, reinforcing it.

Ten minutes passed. The barrier flickered, threatening to collapse.

The Devils, panting heavily, their energy reserves drained, stared intently at the spot where Haru had stood, the dust cloud slowly beginning to dissipate.

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