Chapter 145 – 145: That’s Right, I’m Not Baal!!

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The combined might of the Devil elders’ attack had shattered the very fabric of space within the barrier. Seeing this, the elders, now panting from exhaustion, exchanged triumphant grins.

“It seems Duke Valefor still has some fight left in him!”

“Not at all. Amon’s attack earlier was practically Maou-level.”

“He took our full combined assault head-on, without even trying to defend himself. Devil King or not, even the Biblical God fell to such power!”

Confident that their attacks had landed, the elders within the barrier roared with laughter.

“I have a proposal,” Baimon said. “It’s been a while since we had a proper gathering. Let’s celebrate later!”

“Excellent idea! I’ll have the Low-Class Devils prepare everything. Ten minutes! We’ll have a feast!”

Their laughter died in their throats as the dust settled, and the scene within the barrier became clear.

Whoosh!

A gust of wind swept through the arena, dispersing the dust cloud.

And there, standing unharmed, an annoyed expression on his face, Yawning—stood Haru.

“No way…!!!” The elders stared at him in disbelief, their faces contorted in shock.

They were the elite of the Underworld—nearly half of the 72 Pillars, along with several Extra Demons of comparable power.

Most were veterans of the ancient war against the Biblical God, Angels, and Fallen Angels. Each one a seasoned warrior, a survivor of countless battles.

Their combined attack had shattered the spatial barrier reinforced by two Super Devil beings, Ajuka and Sirzechs.

Their power had surpassed even the force that had slain the Biblical God.

And yet… Haru stood unharmed, not a scratch on him, not even a tear in his clothes.

A heavy silence filled the hall.

“Ten minutes are up, I believe,” Haru said, his voice cold. He stretched, his neck cracking, as a dark, ominous aura began to spread across the arena—the Great Summoning of Hell.

Suddenly, a voice from among the elders cried out, “He’s not the Devil King! He’s an imposter!”

“That’s right! The Devil King Baal couldn’t possibly be this strong!”

“Sirzechs-sama! Beelzebub-sama! This man is a fake! He’s infiltrated our ranks under false pretenses! He must have some sinister motive!”

While the first elder may have genuinely suspected Haru’s identity, the others were simply seizing the opportunity, hoping to force the Four Great Satans, who stood outside the barrier, to intervene.

They believed that the Maou, at the very least, would protect them from Haru. Perhaps they could even convince them to eliminate him.

Then, they would retain their positions of power, their status as noble, pure-blooded Devils, continuing their reign over the Underworld.

So, they doubled down on their lie, desperate to convince the Maou.

Haru grinned, his expression turning predatory. “You’re right. I’m not Baal.”

The elders’ faces lit up with triumphant joy. Their desperate gamble had paid off! With this revelation, the Maou would surely join forces and eliminate this imposter.

They looked expectantly towards the Four Great Satans.

A minute passed.

Ajuka and Sirzechs were busy chugging replenishing potions, as if competing in a drinking contest.

Serafall, clinging to Sona, who had somehow appeared on the platform, trembled, refusing to even look at Haru.

Falbium, the bald Maou, had donned an eye mask and was snoring loudly on Asmodeus’s throne.

…

…

Haru let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with malice. “Come forth, Platinum Star! Come forth, Sword of Salvation!”

A brilliant, platinum-gold blade materialized above Haru’s head, then ascended rapidly.

A massive Mandala flower, its golden petals radiating an overwhelming holy aura, unfolded across the sky of the underworld dimension, replacing the usual crimson hue with a dazzling, golden light.

Countless Divine Artifacts emerged from the Mandala formation, filling the sky.

The elders, their eyes wide with terror, stared at Haru, his wicked grin sending shivers down their spines. They felt the immense pressure of the holy power above, a force beyond their comprehension.

“I yield! I acknowledge you as Emperor! As the rightful ruler of the Devils!”

“Me too! We’ll give you anything you want!”

“Ravel! I’m Ravel’s father! Haru-sama! Please, for Ravel’s sake, spare me!”

Haru stroked his chin, seeming to consider the man’s plea. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he turned and walked towards the dragon throne.

The elders, relieved, collapsed to the ground, their faces etched with a mixture of joy and lingering fear. But in the eyes of some, a darker emotion flickered—resentment. This wasn’t over.

Haru sat down on the throne, his voice calm.

“Ten.”

Countless Divine Artifacts, transformed into bolts of holy lightning, descended like divine retribution.

“Nine.”

The holy light pierced the bodies of the Devils, including the man who claimed to be Ravel’s father.

“Eight.”

Dozens of artifacts impaled each Devil, their bodies riddled with wounds.

“There’s no need to continue,” Haru said, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

Sirzechs and Ajuka froze, their expressions shifting as they realized the implications of the elders’ deaths. Just as they were about to intervene—

A figure materialized behind Haru, clad in gold and silver, his green skin shimmering—Osiris, one of the Egyptian Gods, the God of the Underworld.

“Death Servant!” Haru commanded.

A faint green light enveloped the bodies of the dead Devils.

As the Four Great Satans watched in shock, the Devils slowly rose, their eyes filled with resentment as they looked at Haru’s impassive face. Then, they knelt, their foreheads touching the ground in submission.

The resurrected elders understood instantly the nature of Death Servant.

Those slain and revived by its power became immortal servants, bound to obey their master’s every command for all eternity.

Even without knowing the specifics of the Authority, Sirzechs and Ajuka knew—the Underworld now belonged to Haru.

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