The aftermath of the Diodora incident left a heavy pall over the grand banquet.

What was supposed to be a celebration—a gathering meant to inspire and unite the younger generation of devils—had instead been tainted by betrayal.

No one had expected it. One of their own, a noble from a respected house, had been revealed as a collaborator of the Khaos Brigade.

And now… no one knew how to move forward.

The music had stopped. Conversations died. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath, unsure whether to continue the evening or call it off entirely.

Then—without warning—the sky above them exploded.

A thunderous crack split the ceiling of the banquet hall. Chunks of marble and glass came crashing down, scattering debris and dust across the room.

From the shattered remnants of the dome descended a figure cloaked in robes of swirling blue and white. His long, crystal-blue hair whipped around his face like shards of ice, eyes gleaming with cold, malevolent purpose.

He didn't need an introduction.

Loki. The Trickster God of Norse mythology.

The air immediately turned suffocating. A divine aura, twisted and hostile, spread through the hall like a creeping mist.

He wasn't alone.

By his side loomed a presence even more terrifying.

A beast of legend, one spoken of in the darkest corners of myth. Towering, monstrous—its fur bristling like jagged steel, its breath chilling the very air it exhaled.

Fenrir. The God-Eater Wolf.

A living calamity said to rival even the Heavenly Dragons at full power. A beast born to end gods.

"Loki…" Odin stepped forward from among the gathering of gods, his voice grave, but not yet raised. "Return now. Walk away from this, and I will overlook your transgression."

Despite his composed tone, there was no mistaking the flicker of unease in his one good eye.

He knew what was at stake.

Loki was dangerous—but Fenrir was the real threat. That wolf, should it go berserk, would not stop until the halls of Valhalla lay in ruin. It was said that Ragnarok would begin with Fenrir breaking free—and the one who kept that leash barely intact was the very man standing before them.

Killing Loki wasn't a solution.

Because if Loki died, no one could control Fenrir.

The end of the Norse pantheon would begin with a single bite.

"You've stooped so low, Odin," Loki sneered, spreading his arms with exaggerated drama. "The great All-Father, bowing to the gods of other pantheons? You've become a disgrace to our name!"

His voice echoed like thunder, and for a moment it felt like the entire castle trembled.

"Fine then! Let me restore honor to the Norse gods. Let me fulfill the prophecy myself!"

A cruel smile twisted his lips, eyes burning with manic devotion. He raised one hand high—and with it, a massive magic circle materialized in the center of the hall. Intricate, glowing with ancient runes of deep blue—it pulsed with unmistakable power.

With a deafening rumble, the ground split open.

And from that circle…

Fenrir emerged.

A monstrous, jet-black wolf with eyes like twin moons. Its back was adorned with two sharply curved horns, and every breath it took seemed to shake the foundations of the building.

The room went dead silent.

"…Fenrir." Odin whispered, his gaze darkening as the nightmare he had long feared stood before him.

There was no mistaking it.

This was not some copy or artificial construct. This was the Fenrir—the beast destined to bring an end to the gods.

"You brought him here… Loki… You really chose that path," Odin growled, his voice cracking with restrained fury.

Loki's laughter rang out like a hymn of destruction.

"This is where Ragnarok begins!"

Divine magic began to flood the room—cold, dark, and full of venomous intent. The air grew heavier with every breath, thick with the scent of prophecy and doom.

On the sidelines, Sirzechs Lucifer stood with a clenched jaw, his crimson eyes scanning the situation calmly—but with a deep undercurrent of irritation.

Yet again… chaos.

First Diodora. Then the Khaos Brigade. Now this.

It felt like every mythological system was falling apart all at once.

And worst of all—this wasn't happening on a battlefield or neutral ground.

This was happening in Lilith, the capital of the Underworld.

Right in the heart of devil territory.

And all around them were the very devils they were trying to protect—the next generation, the youth meant to inherit their world.

If a battle broke out here…

Sirzechs' eyes narrowed. The consequences would be catastrophic.

"Damn it…"

He could already calculate the outcome.

If Fenrir went berserk in this hall, more than half of the devils present would die—before they even knew what hit them.

This wasn't just some rampaging beast.

Fenrir was designed to kill gods.

Its fangs, known as the Fang of the End, could pierce even divine armor. No amount of sacred defense or high-tier magic would protect them. Even the strongest spells would barely leave a scratch.

And this was exactly why Loki still walked free.

Because while everyone wanted him dead, no one wanted to deal with Fenrir afterward.

"Odin!" Sirzechs called out. "You know we can't let this escalate."

"I know!" Odin growled, his voice finally losing its restraint. "But if he doesn't stand down now, I'll be forced to act!"

But everyone knew…

Odin couldn't afford a war here. Not in the Devil's capital.

If destruction happened here, the other pantheons would point fingers—and blame would fall squarely on him, the supposed leader of the Norse gods.

"Enough talking, Odin!" Loki shouted, his arms wide as divine magic spiraled around him. "This is the beginning of the end! Ragnarok starts tonight!"

And with those words, Fenrir released a chilling, soul-piercing howl that made even veteran devils freeze in terror.

Akira, standing quietly among the crowd, tilted his head slightly as he watched the monster emerge.

A faint smile touched his lips.

"…That's odd," he muttered.

He could feel it.

Fenrir's presence… was limited.

Restricted.

For a creature meant to rival the Heavenly Dragons, its aura felt too… contained. At best, it was comparable to a Maou-class being.

Not the monster it was supposed to be.

"…He's suppressing it?"

It made sense.

Loki—despite being a god—was still only around Maou level. There was no way he could fully control a being like Fenrir unless he intentionally sealed its power.

Even as its creator, Loki wasn't safe. One wrong move, and he'd be torn apart like paper.

Akira's eyes narrowed.

In Norse myth, Ragnarok began with Loki's death. By triggering this prophecy, he was sealing his own fate.

But before things could escalate any further—

A new wave of magic exploded through the hall.

Akira turned his head sharply, eyes locking onto a figure standing calmly at the edge of the room.

Emerald green hair. A composed expression. A presence that rivaled Sirzechs in weight and pressure.

"…Ajuka?" Sirzechs murmured, surprised.

A massive magic circle formed above the hall—elegant, complex, and humming with layered magical theory only a handful of beings could even begin to comprehend.

In the blink of an eye, both Loki and Fenrir were gone—vanished into the circle's light.

The seal didn't fade afterward.

It remained suspended in the air, glowing softly—proof that the spell was still active.

"Nice work, Ajuka," Sirzechs said with a faint sigh of relief.

Ajuka Beelzebub stepped forward, brushing nonexistent dust off his coat. "I assume I wasn't too late?"

"No… You arrived just in time."

Right after the Diodora incident, Sirzechs had secretly called for backup—just in case.

He hadn't expected Loki to attack so soon.

But once again, Ajuka had come through.

Where Sirzechs embodied raw power and destructive force, Ajuka was the other side of the coin.

A tactician. A researcher. A sorcerer of incomprehensible brilliance.

Instead of brute force, he used precision.

Rather than risk a catastrophic battle, he'd simply teleported the threat elsewhere—isolating Loki and Fenrir in a secure location, sealed within a containment barrier only he could maintain.

It was the best outcome they could've hoped for.

At least for now… disaster had been averted.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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