As the echo of his final words faded into the stillness of the hall, Varvatos turned away from the table. His coat swept behind him like a shadow cast by the moon, quiet and commanding.
Velzard walked beside him, her piercing eyes scanning the other Demon Lords—many of whom still struggled to fully compose themselves. Not from injury, but from something deeper:
Powerlessness.
Rain was already waiting by the corridor, her face unreadable as always. She offered a silent bow, and the three began to walk. Their footsteps echoed down the crystalline hallway, the air around Varvatos still distorted slightly as if reality had not yet settled after his release of divine force.
Just before exiting, Velzard glanced back briefly.
Only Guy Crimson met her gaze.
A flicker passed between the two—silent understanding, old and unspoken.
Then the door closed.
The silence stretched for several long seconds after Varvatos' departure.
No one moved.
Even Milim, usually the most excitable, sat unusually still, her lips slightly parted.
Then—finally—Guy Crimson leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. He ran a hand through his crimson hair, then let it fall on the table with a soft thud.
"So," he muttered, "what did we just let walk out of this room?"
Leon was the first to speak, his voice low. "That wasn't magic. That wasn't even skill. That was… reality-bending authority."
Luminous narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers against the armrest. "He didn't bind our bodies. He bound our very existence. It felt like even the concept of being a Demon Lord was silenced under his will."
Clayman, who had managed to keep quiet during the entire encounter, finally spoke up with a trembling voice, "W-We can't allow someone like that to roam unchecked. What if he—"
"—Shut up, Clayman," Dino groaned, rubbing his temples. "If he wanted to do something, he already would've. You think you can stop that?"
Frey crossed her arms tightly, still visibly disturbed. "I couldn't even raise a finger. Not even a whisper of magicule responded. That… that's not power. That's dominance."
Draguel, ancient and wise, finally spoke, his deep voice carrying weight. "That was not just strength. It was restraint."
He looked around the table slowly.
"Do not forget what he said. Conquest is not his path. He walked in here with mercy, not wrath."
Ramiris, still curled into her seat, pouted. "Yeah, well, mercy's scary too…"
Milim suddenly leaned back and burst out laughing, breaking some of the tension. "He's so cool! He made me feel like an ant! I love it!"
Guy gave her a sideways glance. "That's not something to be excited about, Milim."
She grinned wider. "Sure it is! Makes me wanna get stronger again!"
Carrion, arms crossed, said quietly, "He didn't even accept the title of Demon Lord. It wasn't arrogance. It was… disinterest. Like we're playing a game he already won."
Guy stared at the empty space where Varvatos once stood.
Then, finally, he spoke again.
"He said he walks his own path… and I believe him."
His eyes narrowed slightly, voice lower and more serious.
"But make no mistake—if that path ever leads toward destruction… none of us, not even together, could stop him."
The room grew silent again.
Luminous broke it gently. "So what do we do?"
Guy smirked faintly.
"We watch. We listen. And we pray… he never finds a reason to unleash the storm."
The space outside the Walpurgis chamber shimmered with its strange, reality-warping atmosphere. The crystalline floor beneath them seemed endless, suspended in a void that wasn't quite night or day.
Velzard walked beside Varvatos, her expression softer than usual. The ever-composed Ice Dragoness had seen much in her lifetime—had stood beside gods and legends—but what she witnessed today had stirred something unfamiliar.
"You really didn't hold back," she said at last, casting him a sidelong glance. "I thought you came to talk. Not chain the entire Demon Lord Council."
Varvatos gave a quiet chuckle. "It was a necessary reminder. Power listens best when words fail."
He didn't look back, his hands tucked behind him as he walked, posture relaxed, almost indifferent. But Velzard sensed it—that storm of divine pressure still swirled faintly around him, barely concealed beneath the surface.
"You could've destroyed the table. The room. Them."
"And what would that prove?" he replied calmly. "I've no interest in posturing for applause."
A pause followed, then Velzard asked what had been on her mind since the council began.
"Do you really think none of them could stop you?"
Varvatos stopped walking. The silence returned, heavy and vast.
Then he turned his head slightly, and for the first time, she saw it—a flicker of something not arrogance, but truth, ancient and unshakable.
"I don't think it," he said. "I know it."
She held his gaze. Cold as her nature was, a shiver traveled down her spine—but it wasn't fear.
It was awe.
Back in the Walpurgis hall, several Demon Lords lingered after the formal end of the meeting. The air was still thick with residual tension.
Leon, Luminous, Carrion, and Guy stood in a smaller alcove, their expressions more serious than usual.
"He won't join us," Leon said. "And we can't control him. That leaves only two options: ignore him, or prepare for the worst."
Carrion folded his arms. "You want to plan against someone who bound reality with a snap? You're not thinking straight."
"We don't have to win," Luminous said, quietly. "We just need to survive. And if that means forming contingencies—then we do it."
Guy, who had been silent, finally spoke. "He beat me. I admit that. But power isn't his flaw—it's his independence."
They all looked toward him.
"He's walking a path none of us understand. We can't match him in force… but perhaps we can in unity."
Leon raised a brow. "You want us to unite? After centuries of mistrust?"
Guy looked toward the darkened doorway where Varvatos had vanished.
"We may not have a choice. Because if he ever finds a reason to change his mind… it won't be a war."
He looked them all in the eye, voice turning cold.
"It will be judgment."
Walpurgis had ended, but the ripple Varvatos left behind hadn't faded—it deepened.
In a private dimension tied to the ruins of an ancient palace, several Demon Lords had gathered—not all of them, but enough to shift the world's weight if needed.
Leon Cromwell, Luminous Valentine, Frey, Clayman, and Dino stood inside a cathedral-shaped hall wrapped in twilight. Pale flames floated like ghostly will-o'-wisps along the ceiling.
Leon's cloak billowed as he turned toward the others.
"We can't afford to pretend anymore. Varvatos is a variable we cannot predict nor contain."
Clayman, ever sly, leaned against a pillar with a smirk. "So dramatic. But I agree—what we saw wasn't power. It was dominion. I couldn't even think clearly when those chains appeared."
"It wasn't just chains," Luminous said coldly. "He stilled the magicules in the air. That shouldn't be possible."
Dino, uncharacteristically serious, chimed in. "You all felt that pressure. It was divine. Old. Not like our kind of power. His presence alone warped the flow of time around him."
Frey folded her arms. "If we're to survive what's coming… we'll need to prepare. Quietly. Strategically."
Leon gave a slow nod.
"I propose we form a pact—an alliance within the Demon Lords. We keep eyes on Varvatos. We strengthen ourselves in secret. And if the day comes… we act together."
Luminous narrowed her eyes. "And who leads this alliance?"
Leon met her gaze.
"Not me. No one. We all hold equal stake. And if any one of us betrays the group… we all fall."
One by one, hands were offered, and shadows sealed the pact—a secret union, bound by survival, forged by fear.
Back in Nyvaris, the golden twilight of the evening painted the sky. Snowflakes drifted softly through the spires, reflecting the gentle light of enchanted lanterns as Varvatos and Velzard reappeared on the steps of the central palace.
The teleportation spell shimmered out behind them.
Velzard stepped forward and inhaled the crisp air of the city, her hair catching the frost-glow.
"It's strange," she murmured. "After that gathering… this place feels like peace."
Varvatos stood beside her, looking over the bustling streets of Nyvaris, where citizens carried on unaware of the tension that now gripped the world.
"That's why I built this place," he said. "Not to rule… but to anchor something real in a world of illusions."
They walked together through the wide corridor into the palace. The guards bowed deeply as they passed. Servants parted without a word. Their steps echoed in harmonious rhythm.
Inside his chambers, the warm light from the hearth danced against ancient stone walls.
Velzard turned toward him, her voice softer now.
"You knew this would happen when you walked into Walpurgis, didn't you?"
Varvatos sat on the edge of the window frame, eyes distant.
"I did. I needed them to understand something."
"Which is?" she asked.
He turned to her, the amber light reflecting in his eyes like molten stars.
"That I'm not here to play their game."
Velzard stepped closer. There was something about him—still dangerous, but now more familiar. Not entirely cold. Not entirely distant.
"And if they do try to challenge you?"
He smiled faintly, almost sorrowful.
"Then they'll finally understand the price of underestimating a god who chose to walk among mortals."
Velzard held his gaze.
"You sound lonely when you say that."
Varvatos looked away, voice low.
"Maybe I am."
A beat passed between them. Not icy, not fiery—just quiet.
"Then maybe," she said gently, "it's time someone stood with you, instead of against you."
They remained in the silence—frost and flame, divine and mortal—two beings of unimaginable power, tethered now by something neither could name.