The scales of battle, which had been swaying back and forth, were finally beginning to tilt. They leaned toward the Human-Demon Allied Forces... even without accounting for the wild card that was Alice, the sheer momentum of their progress was nothing short of a miracle.
By planning their strategies in advance, assigning specific targets, and exploiting the Gods' lack of practical experience by overwhelming them in numbers, they had successfully seized the initiative.
Yet, this victory was built upon thin ice. As long as Life remained on the field, the Gods could replenish their casualties indefinitely. The Human-Demon Allied Forces enjoyed no such luxury. If even a single pillar of their defense collapsed, the entire front would crumble.
"Megiddo-sama!?"
A grief-stricken cry erupted, likely from one of the War King's subordinates. That voice drew the attention of nearly everyone on the battlefield toward a single floating island.
Megiddo’s ten-meter-tall frame had been sliced clean in half... and was now sinking. The Upper Goddess who had delivered the blow—Shia—muttered to herself as she stared loathingly at the great scythe in her hands.
"...Ah, damn it. So this is what it feels like to end a life. Even if it’s for Shallow Vernal-sama’s sake, this is the worst feeling."
The Goddess of Calamity, Shia, had a personal creed: never kill those who point a blade at her; defeat them while leaving them alive. However, to halt the momentum of the Human-Demon Allied Forces, shattering one of their pillars was the most effective course of action. With Alice—a wild card whose power alone eclipsed the Supreme Gods—on the field, Shia had to act immediately. For the sake of the God Realm, she cast aside her convictions and clove Megiddo in two.
"...Forgive me, Megiddo. To defeat you with this borrowed power... after this is all over and you’re resurrected, I’ll let you punch me once."
The fall of Megiddo, one of the Six Kings, sent a shockwave through the Allied Forces. For the War King’s subordinates, who served as the vanguard of this assault, it was a psychological blow so severe they could not immediately recover.
Isis and Lilliwood, currently engaged with Life, and Magnawell, who was holding off an army of Gods, were all visibly shaken. Watching the chaos that signaled the potential end of the battle, Chronoa muttered softly.
"...Well, I suppose he held out longer than expected, but this was inevitable. Even if he is spoken of as an equal among the Six Kings, the War King’s comprehensive strength is a step behind the other Kings and Ein. Naturally, he would be the first to break."
As she spoke, she turned her attention toward Ein and the others, assuming they would be equally distraught... only to find herself catching a sharp punch thrown by the head maid.
"Hoh. Should I call you impressive or merely heartless? The others are in despair, yet you seem entirely unmoved."
Zwei, Vier, and Funf were all showing varying degrees of agitation. Yet, Ein’s expression remained perfectly composed. The reason she could stay calm while even the other Six Kings wavered was not merely her stoic nature.
Just as Ein began to respond, a thunderous voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Don't lose your nerve, you lot! Men of the War King!! It’s only just starting!"
"...Ozma-sama... why... why are you smiling?"
The expression on Ozma’s face was unsettling even to Agni, his fellow general. Ozma was grinning. He looked truly happy, like a child watching his favorite hero take the stage.
"Listen up! I’ve seen this before... and this is where the real fight begins!"
He sounded more excited than anyone had ever heard him, his voice booming across the islands through amplification magic.
"Subordinates of the War King! Keep fighting, but keep your eyes open! Praise him! Engrave it into your very souls! Behold—the true form of our King!"
Immediately following Ozma’s jubilant shout, a gargantuan pillar of fire erupted, seemingly tearing the heavens asunder. The source of the flames, which burned as if splitting space itself, was the spot where Megiddo’s severed body lay.
The Gods were not slow to realize the abnormality of the situation. Shia, who had been about to depart, stopped in her tracks, and Chronoa halted her counterattack against Ein to stare at the inferno.
"...What? What is happening?"
"Chronoa."
"Hm?"
"The answer to your question is simple. You wonder why I am not shaken? Unfortunately, I am quite busy. I simply do not have the luxury of worrying about someone far stronger than myself."
"...What?"
As Chronoa reacted with confusion to Ein’s words, the pillar of fire began to change. The red flames deepened in color until they turned jet-black, then abruptly vanished.
In the eerie silence that followed, Ozma quietly placed a hand over his heart and knelt in mid-air, bowing his head. His heart hammered with joy. He had been waiting for this moment for an eternity.
"...Your awakening brings me the greatest joy, my King."
Standing regally where the flames had been was a beautiful woman. Her long, red hair billowed like waves of fire. Compared to her previous form, her 180-centimeter frame seemed remarkably petite. Two large horns curved back from her head, and her slender arms were white and elegant. She was a woman of flawless proportions, wrapped in tattered, threadbare robes.
She looked at her hands as if confirming her own existence, then shifted her gaze away from Shia. She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes in prayer.
"...My beloved mother, Kuromueina. Please forgive my insolence for returning to this foolish form without your permission."
"You’re wide open!"
Shia lunged at the woman. Though she didn't fully understand what was happening, her instincts screamed that the person before her was dangerous. She intended to end it while the woman was defenseless, swinging her great scythe with everything she had.
The blade struck the woman’s slender neck with perfect precision—and shattered into fragments without so much as piercing a sliver of skin.
"Wh-What!?"
Stunned that her attack had been neutralized without even a defensive move, Shia instinctively jumped back to create distance. Her reflex was correct, but it was already far too late.
The next thing Shia saw was a fist closing in. It pulverized the multiple scythes she had conjured as a last-ditch defense and pierced her magic power barrier as if it were mere paper. It was an absolute strike.
Then, space itself exploded.
From that single swing of a fist, the entire floating island was obliterated, leaving only a massive cloud of dust. When it cleared, Shia was gone, and only the King remained.
"Oooooooooh!"
Megiddo, now in her true form, let out a primal roar. Like a beast unleashed from its cage, she charged toward the nearest group of Gods with blinding speed.
The Gods attempted to retaliate, and even several Upper Gods converged to launch a coordinated attack. They quickly learned the meaning of True Tyranny.
Neither the blades that struck, nor the spears that lunged, nor the magic that rained down could leave so much as a speck of dirt on Megiddo’s body. Conversely, the giant shields, the desperate barriers, and the defensive authorities of the Gods were pulverized by her fists without the slightest resistance.
The Gods, despite the massive blessings from Shallow Vernal, were being mowed down like insects.
This was the roaring Crimson Beast—the King of Battle. In ancient times, she had turned a third of the Demon Realm into scorched earth and had once managed to wound a serious Kuromueina. She was the strongest naturally born being in existence, yet she had sealed this form away because she loathed the fact that it brought only massacre, never a true fight.
The power that usually required multiple layers of seals and a ten-meter frame just to contain was now unleashed upon the God Realm.
As she cut through the immortal Gods faster than they could revive, Megiddo roared.
"Hey! Ozma! How long are you going to slack off? Get serious!"
At those words, Ozma’s kneeling form trembled with ecstasy. He usually called his master "Boss," because to him, the giant Megiddo was a King, but not his King.
For the knight known as Ozma, there was only one King—the Incarnation of Tyranny who had once shattered his pride, his strength, and his confidence when he was known as Tempest Ozma. He had been captivated by that strength. He had pledged his life to that King and had sealed his own power to wait for this very moment.
The royal command had finally been issued. Ozma’s eyes blazed with light. The wind whipped around him, shearing away his beard and pulling his messy hair into a sharp, slicked-back style.
"As you command, my King."
There was no more hesitation. With the order given, he became a raging hurricane. Ozma descended upon the battlefield alongside Megiddo, unleashing his full strength at last.
The scales of battle had tipped heavily toward the Human-Demon Allied Forces. However, one must remember: this shift would also provide the Gods—who until now had been focused on stalling for time—with the perfect excuse to change their objective to total elimination.