At this moment, Yazuki, the Demon King, had already calmed down. The red glow in his eyes had faded.
If it weren't for this discovery, he almost wouldn't have noticed that the feathers he had stripped from the angel to stabilize his human body were nearly depleted.
His body had reached its limit. He had even impulsively considered charging through the great hole in the sky to the divine realm on the other side and going on a rampage.
But that wasn't his original goal.
Should he say that Ikaros awakened his humanity? That she saved him?
Let it end like this. As he waved his hand, the battered angel figure flew toward him. He gently caught her.
At the same time, he could no longer be bothered to torment the remaining souls. In an instant, they burst like bubbles, vanishing completely.
He then looked around at the devastated land—there wasn't a single patch untouched. Crater after crater had been blasted across the terrain. He could sense the many gazes still watching him from afar—gazes filled with fear, unease, and even rage.
He froze slightly—was that a familiar face? No, a familiar dragon? Should he go over and say hello? Nah... beside that dragon stood a hero? And he could also sense the presence of a god.
Suddenly, he furrowed his brow.
The spreading darkness couldn't be fully withdrawn—it was down to the last two wings. More critically, the darkness that had corrupted Icarus could not be entirely retracted either.
How troublesome.
He didn't care about the darkness he had released—but Icarus couldn't be allowed to be corrupted.
From the very beginning, he had created Icarus to represent his ideal image of an angel, and he had never let her touch dark power.
To transform Icarus into the true angel of his heart now, he needed divine power to purify the darkness within her. But he himself was the embodiment of darkness—how could he possibly use holy power?
So… ask the gods for help? What a joke!!!
Wait... a sudden thought flashed through his mind.
Maybe, by doing this, he could let Rostar Ignatius come to an end here. Let all things connected to the past of Rostar Ignatius vanish as well.
He just wanted to live a peaceful otaku life.
...
The battle had ended—no matter how you looked at it, it was clearly the victory of the Demon King, Rostar Ignatiwoods.
As the creation of the Demon King, it was perhaps inevitable that he was defeated by his creator.
Among those who had witnessed this mythic battle that tore the heavens and earth, someone felt the Demon King's gaze land on her. She realized she had been recognized.
What could she say now?
Lucoa didn't know what to say.
In fact, Icarus should have been destroyed—according to the Demon King's last instructions before he vanished. But because of her own personal feelings, she had preserved her.
She never imagined things would turn out like this.
Or rather... perhaps she had once hoped for such a scene. Because Icarus's presence and the terror she unleashed on the world might lead to the Demon King's reappearance—from the river of time itself—revived once more.
After all, this related to the secret of the Demon King's immortality.
For a moment, Lucoa was at a loss. She was the one who had awakened the Demon King, who should have been sleeping peacefully.
Of course, no one else knew what Lucoa was thinking. All they knew was that the terrifying Demon King had emerged as the victor in this world-shaking battle.
So what would this terrifying Demon King do next? Would he destroy the world? Claim the inner world as his domain? Build a demon empire here and then invade the surface world to rule over all? Would he declare war on the gods?
The atmosphere was suffocating.
The scene should have quieted by now, yet the anguished wails of the tormented souls still echoed, keeping everyone's nerves on edge.
"Lord Shimon, our personnel have all been arranged. The nations have also been informed and are prepared for evacuation," said a beautiful blonde woman in a black uniform and witch's hat, reporting to a superior.
"What's the damage?"
"Fortunately, we had no casualties. However, places like Akane Academy and other resources couldn't be relocated."
"That's fine. As long as the people survive, anything can be rebuilt."
Located in the inner world, Akane Academy—one of the Savior Academies—was technically not in the battle zone of those two monsters, yet the immense shockwaves had thrown the whole school into chaos. Nearly everyone had been safely evacuated, which gave Shimon Mari some relief.
"What about Director Suruga?"
At her question, the expression of the reporter turned even grimmer.
"All healing-type saviors have been gathered to try saving him."
He was an SS-ranked individual, one of the few in the entire world. A national pride. Someone whose very existence placed the country in a globally important position. Now, he was on the brink of death—a truly dreadful situation.
If the SS-ranked "Holy Saint of the Far East" died just like this, it would deal a devastating blow to the nation—not just spiritually, but materially as well.
Economic interests and global standing would plummet, leading to pressure from the international community.
"I see..."
Mari responded with a distant voice and let out a silent sigh.
She understood what everyone was truly worried about—that even in such a moment, they were still thinking about national and political interests.
Since when had Akane Academy gotten involved in such petty concerns?
Her gaze shifted to another corner—where the Babel School of the Hero Academy stood.
Their situation wasn't much better.
The strongest student there, Kyouya Hikami, had been turned into something indescribable by the Demon King.
His elite team?
Half of them had gone insane, and the rest would likely never recover—abandoning their hero roles and returning to normal lives.
Suddenly, a blond, golden-eyed man appeared, making Mari's expression tighten.
He was the head of the COCOON Institute, which oversaw Babel. A man known as Michael Arkwood, who, though officially ranked S, had once been claimed by Director Suruga to actually possess SS-level power—a very dangerous individual.
Under his leadership, the COCOON Institute was so overbearing that it often interfered with surface world politics—earning it little affection from national governments. If it weren't for the intervention of groups like the White Knight Order, this country might have already been taken over.
"What's Kyouya's condition?"
"Not good. We have no clue how to treat it. Should we dispose of him?"
"Take him to that place and try. Since it came from there, perhaps that place holds the key."
Michael Arkwood narrowed his eyes and looked ahead at the Demon King with a gaze that revealed nothing of his thoughts.
"Let's go. No point staying here any longer. We—"
Just as he turned to leave, his expression shifted. He turned back—and what he saw made everyone stunned.
A new figure made a high-profile appearance.