(I still can’t decide on the fighters against Apollo. On one hand I want to put Gilgamesh, on the other Escanor. How difficult to choose.)

Arriving at the observation balcony of the arena, Alex decided to amuse himself a little to give his overheated mind a break. The constant flow of thoughts and tension was wearing him out, so he chose a simple way to relax—momentarily forgetting about serious matters.

When Brunhilde and Göll stepped onto the balcony, they didn’t notice how Alex’s body began to glow faintly behind them until he transformed into his child form. Meanwhile, G.I.R. had already taken his place on the railing, proudly planting the flag of the Imperium beside him, which fluttered dramatically in the wind.

Brunhilde and Göll gave the robo-dog strange looks, unsure how to react to his theatrical antics. However, Brunhilde quickly made the wise decision to ignore the spectacle in order to preserve her sanity.

Alex, now in his twelve-year-old form, approached the Valkyries from behind and gently tugged on Brunhilde’s dress to get her attention.

«What the—» Brunhilde felt a light pull, and as she glanced down, she froze. Standing before her was Alex, but in his child form. Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she was speechless.

Next to her, Göll turned her head to see what was happening and stared at Alex. It was as if her brain short-circuited, with a single thought circling in her mind: «My older brother is no longer older…»

«Why are you a child again?» Brunhilde finally managed to ask, her voice laced with genuine astonishment.

Alex was slightly surprised they recognized him so quickly. Normally, people mistook him for someone else’s kid and started asking silly questions. However, this time the situation amused him, and he was even a bit pleased.

«Well, you know, magic and all that,» he replied, spreading his hands. A small rainbow appeared between his palms.

Seeing this, Brunhilde looked even more bewildered, while Alex just laughed, enjoying her confusion. Göll, standing beside her, reacted much the same way, only adding to his amusement.

«Alright, enough tricks. Can you lift me and set me on the railing?» Alex asked, extending his arms.

Brunhilde, still trying to process what was happening, picked Alex up. However, as soon as she did, she felt an unexpected desire to hold him for as long as possible. In his child form, Alex looked so adorable that she didn’t want to let go.

Alex noticed this and sighed heavily. This wasn’t the first time his child form elicited such a reaction from women. He gently patted Brunhilde’s arm, trying to snap her out of it.

«Hey, I’m still here,» he reminded her, his tone slightly annoyed.

Brunhilde jolted back to reality, but her thoughts drifted in a strange direction. She began imagining what it would be like if she and Alex had a child, and she could hold them just like this…

Meanwhile, Göll finally snapped out of her shock and asked, «Brother Alex, how is it even possible for you to become a child again?»

She glanced at Brunhilde, who continued holding Alex, clearly not planning to let him go.

«Simple age-altering magic. It’s easy,» Alex replied calmly, his gaze empty.

His tone betrayed his annoyance at being stuck in Brunhilde’s embrace instead of sitting on the railing.

For Göll, however, it didn’t seem simple at all. To revert to a child’s form required far more advanced and intricate magic than Alex implied. Still, Alex ignored her skeptical look, focusing instead on freeing himself from Brunhilde’s tight grip. After a bit of effort, he managed to slip away, earning himself a pouty look that resembled a sad puppy’s.

Already used to such reactions, Alex skillfully ignored her disappointment. Settling himself on the balcony railing, he dangled his legs and gazed out at the horizon. But just as he began to enjoy the moment, a soft, almost sweet voice echoed in his mind—Göndul’s voice:

«You look so cute in your child form. Brunhilde’s lucky she got to hold you.»

Alex flinched slightly. The realization that Göndul wasn’t nearby brought a measure of relief. If she were present, a quarrel between the two valkyries over who got to hold him would have surely erupted. His child form, while an excellent tool to confuse enemies, invariably turned him into the object of adoration and care among women.

Brunhilde, clearly unwilling to give up so easily, moved behind Alex and casually offered her chest as a headrest. Feeling the soft support behind his head, Alex initially tensed, wary of another ambush, but quickly relaxed, deciding that this gesture would suffice to placate her for now.

Meanwhile, Göll decided she wanted to mimic Alex’s perch. She climbed onto the railing beside him, dangled her legs, and began watching the impending battle between Titan and Beelzebub.

Mortals and gods occasionally glanced toward the viewing balcony, where Alex was usually found. They were puzzled. It had become customary to see the infamous Brother of Adam there, whose victories and provocations had left a mark on Ragnarok—from crushing Poseidon to mocking the gods. But today, instead of the adult Alex, a child sat on the railing, a perfect replica of his younger self.

Many women, including goddesses, felt an odd surge of maternal instincts as they gazed at his youthful form. Aphrodite, however, watched young Alex with a particularly intent focus. She observed him more than most and couldn’t hide her jealousy as she saw his closeness to Brunhilde—the valkyrie who had dared to betray the gods for him.

«Hmm, when did Brother Adam have a child?» Ares muttered in confusion, watching the scene unfold.

His words caught the attention of the other gods. Zeus, initially surprised, quickly deduced the truth, realizing that the child was none other than Alex, altered by age magic. Hermes, squinting, confirmed the assumption.

«That’s not Brother Adam’s child; that’s Alexander Valdigoad himself. Clearly, he’s used age-shifting magic.»

Ares blinked in astonishment but shrugged it off, deciding to let the matter rest. Alex, feeling someone’s intense gaze, shuddered. Trusting his instincts, he turned toward the source of the sensation and locked eyes with Aphrodite. Her gaze was magnetic and dangerous, as though she were plotting to whisk him away.

That look reminded Alex of his encounter with Demeter during his first date with Hestia. Back then, a group of goddesses, led by Demeter, had surrounded him, forcing him to revert to his child form to escape their hugs. At the time, Demeter had looked at him exactly as Aphrodite was doing now.

Pretending not to notice, Alex deftly averted his gaze, feigning full concentration on the arena, which had transformed into an unrecognizable battlefield. At the center was a massive hexagonal platform surrounded by an abyss. Six towering columns, each crowned with stone gargoyles, loomed over the scene.

Alex pondered whether Beelzebub could teleport. If not, his survival odds were grim. Being confined in such a space with a fighter of Ultramarine’s caliber was tantamount to a death sentence.

Leaning his head against Brunhilde’s chest, Alex speculated whether Beelzebub would mutate during the battle or be defeated before his darker side could take over. He concluded that a barrier must be established to nullify the influence of the Outer God’s powers—fragments now entwined with Beelzebub’s soul, amplifying the demon’s strength. However, doing so would require descending to the arena before the decisive events began.

Having made his decision, Alex resolved to wait for the battle to begin before subtly putting his plan into motion. At that moment, Heimdall flew into the arena, riding on a strange flying contraption that resembled a skull with a propeller.

«Ladies and gentlemen! I proudly announce that the repairs to the arena are now fully complete!» Heimdall proclaimed loudly, hovering over the arena.

Alex gave a skeptical glance at Heimdall’s machine. This thing looks disgusting and utterly unesthetic, he thought with irritation.

After Heimdall’s announcement, the audience in the stands fell silent, waiting expectantly. Seeing their tense expressions, Heimdall continued:

«And now, thanks to this good news, I am proud to announce that we are ready to begin the eighth round of Ragnarok! At this moment, humanity is leading with a score of 4:3, which is a disgrace for the gods.»

The side of humanity erupted in celebration. The noise from the stands made Alex roll his eyes and cover his ears. He’d always thought celebrating too early was a bad idea. Anything could go wrong at any moment.

The gods, on the other hand, clenched their fists in frustration. However, they pinned all their hopes on the next contestant, who was about to enter the arena. Heimdall, savoring the tension in the air, announced in a cold and ominous voice:

«For the first time in history, humanity has triumphed over the gods. But the gods are not willing to surrender. Therefore, for this round, from the darkest part of Helheim, this god has arrived!»

Those who recognized the next fighter’s identity broke into a cold sweat. Fear was evident on their faces. Alex, watching the audience’s reaction, involuntarily wondered: Can the demons of this world really be so terrifying as to inspire such dread?

In his opinion, the only ones worth fearing were those who could not be killed. If a creature bled or leaked some other fluid, its destruction was simply a matter of the right approach.

The oppressive atmosphere slowly spread over the stands. Tension hung in the air like a black veil, and the spectators, trembling with fear, turned their eyes to the gates through which Beelzebub was supposed to emerge. The stone doors began to creak open slowly, the sound sending chills down the spine. Alex couldn’t help but think that this spectacle was straight out of a horror movie, where every detail was deliberately designed to heighten the sense of fear.

Through the open gates stretched a dark bridge, covered in black miasma swirling out of the darkness. The fumes choked the air, evoking terror even in the gods.

«He has come to destroy humanity’s last hope! Welcome the cursed god, born in darkness!» Heimdall proclaimed solemnly, his voice infused with icy cold, as though he himself sought to amplify the dreadful atmosphere.

«His soul is the embodiment of darkness, capable of devouring even gods. Even the highest gods avoid facing him, for he brings destruction and death! People have long trembled before him and named him the Lord of Flies! Beelzebub!»

The footsteps sounded muffled, like the toll of a funeral bell. Beelzebub walked across the dark bridge with a cold, vacant expression on his face. Crossing the bridge, he stopped at the center of the arena, his murky gaze fixed only ahead.

He noticed neither the terrified faces of the spectators nor the ominous whispers in the stands. For him, this was a familiar state—loneliness mixed with the hatred he inspired. Today, he had come to prove the superiority of the gods, turning humanity’s hope into ashes.

Seizing the moment, Alex decided to act. While everyone’s attention was fixed on Beelzebub, he swiftly jumped off the railing onto the steps beneath the balcony. His goal was clear—to discreetly establish a barrier capable of neutralizing the influence of the Outer God before the dark side of Beelzebub’s soul took over. Brunhild and Göll didn’t even have time to react before Alex was already heading toward the arena’s fence.

His actions drew the audience’s attention, distracting them from the oppressive atmosphere. In the form of a child, Alex sprinted along the edge of the fence, causing surprise and confusion among the crowd.

«What is this child doing? Why is he running along the fence?» they wondered silently, unable to find answers. Even Heimdall was momentarily taken aback, forgetting to announce the next fighter. However, quickly regaining his composure, he continued:

«Now, on the opposite side, we have no less an impressive participant! Humanity sends its final bastion against the darkness into battle. Hailing from the forgotten Dark Age, his name has been forever erased from the annals of history!»

The stone gates on humanity’s side slowly began to open. They were engraved with the emblem of a two-headed eagle, evoking solemnity and mystery. From the emptiness rose a massive bridge, lined with stone statues of warriors in unknown armor. Each statue held a halberd, as though guarding the exit.

The sound of heavy footsteps grew louder, adding to the intrigue. Heimdall continued with increasing solemnity:

«By the will of these few, humanity is protected from true darkness. Their minds are shielded from pride, armed against devilish deceptions. With sanctified blades, they banish hellish nightmares made flesh. They are the last gift of the Emperor, the essence of which humanity will never be allowed to know… Their name is erased, but today humanity regains hope!»

The noise of the heavy footsteps grew louder still, as if each step was pressing on the spectators. The suspense reached its peak: before them stood the representative of the era when humanity was on the brink of annihilation. Even the gods couldn’t hide their curiosity, eagerly awaiting the figure to emerge from the gates.

And then, from the dark passage, a silhouette appeared. Everyone froze, trying to discern—was it a man or a machine? He was clad in strange armor: a blue battle suit with a helmet resembling the crusader helmets of knights from the past, a huge shield in one hand and a long glaive in the other. Each step of the warrior on the stone bridge echoed, as if emphasizing his grandeur and terrifying power.

The spectators, both humans and gods, watched the warrior in awe. His massive armor made him appear nearly three meters tall. But it wasn’t just his appearance that struck fear. He was the last of the legendary order of the Grey Knights—demon hunters and bearers of light during the darkest ages.

Heimdall, with special emphasis, continued his speech:

«One indomitable shield against the encroaching darkness. One sword forged against fate. And the words of the Emperor of Humanity, spoken before his descent into sleep, still echo: ‘Let them be my legacy in the world I have conquered, and the last gift to humanity that I have led.’ Meet the last surviving member of the Gray Knights, who for centuries hunted demons and other foul creatures, and a member of the order who, without sparing himself, protected humanity—a humanity that never knew the names of the fallen knights. The last knight, Demetrius Titus!»

The applause from the humans rang out like thunder. However, Titus continued to walk slowly across the bridge, his gaze fixed directly on Beelzebub. Beneath his helmet, a face was hidden—a face he was grateful fate had allowed him to conceal, bearing a mix of irritation and a slight smile. Göndul, his companion, occasionally teased him, disrupting his concentration.

Stepping into the arena, Titus stopped opposite Beelzebub. Dropping to one knee, he activated his psychokinetic glaive, which glowed, emitting bursts of energy. Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying his opponent. For a moment, his gaze shifted to the side, where Alex, having completed the barrier setup, was now sitting on the railing, leaning against Brunhild’s chest.

«So, you’ve decided to take me out of the equation. A good move, Voldigoad,» muttered Beelzebub, staring at Alex.

Alex noticed the look and, almost playfully, formed his fingers into a heart shape, directing the gesture at Beelzebub. The latter frowned, confused, but realization quickly followed: Alex had anticipated his actions and prepared everything to destroy him.

A barely perceptible smile flickered across Beelzebub’s face. Even the mere fact that his opponent before him had been created for demon slaying only confirmed how seriously they were treating him.

Beelzebub returned his gaze to Titus, who was still kneeling as though in prayer. The sight reminded him of ancient times when fanatics hunted witches and demons, their eyes burning with the same fervor as this knight’s.

«Very soon we will know: will the lord of darkness consume the last light of humanity, or will the Emperor’s light shine again, casting out the darkness? The eighth battle of Ragnarök begins!» Heimdall proclaimed loudly.

As soon as Heimdall’s voice faded, the stands fell silent, filled with tense anticipation. The spectators froze, watching the two figures on the arena. Beelzebub, leaning on his skull-topped cane, looked relaxed, but his gaze betrayed vigilance. Titus, still kneeling, appeared like a statue—focused and majestic.

In Titus’ mind, the voice of Göndul echoed, as if deliberately continuing to tease him.

«Really getting into character, huh?» she giggled, clearly entertained.

But Titus wasn’t the only one who heard this. Alex, maintaining a connection with his clone, also picked up on Göndul’s words. His eye twitched—he couldn’t shake the comparison to Freya, and it was beginning to annoy him. To stop the teasing, Alex gave the clone the order to start the battle.

«Better she digs through my memories than keep teasing,» Alex thought with a weary smile.

After another coquettish laugh from Göndul, she finally fell silent and shifted her focus to reviewing memories. Alex could feel her delving deeper, much deeper than any Valkyrie had ever gone before.

Meanwhile, Titus’ voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap:

«Armored in Faith, Shielded by Devotion, Armed with Purity of Purpose.»

All eyes turned to him. His words, spoken with cold determination, echoed throughout the coliseum. Titus slowly rose from one knee, and the eyes on his helmet blazed brighter, like two fiery torches.

«The Emperor’s will made Manifest. We are the Warriors of the Grey Knights,» he continued, pointing his halberd at Beelzebub.

Beelzebub watched calmly, though his mind worked intently. Before him stood a warrior whose presence radiated danger. He knew this man had slain countless demons, perhaps thousands.

A part of his soul hoped that this battle would be his redemption—a dream of finding peace through death. But another, darker part of his being resisted, urging him to abandon that desire.

Titus spoke again, his voice booming like a battle cry:

«For we the Hammer of Wrath. For we the Spear of Vengeance. Because we are Grey Knights, the Demon Hunters.»

His words echoed off the arena walls like the roar of an ancient beast. Even the gods sitting in the stands felt a chill run down their spines. Titus inspired primal fear. To all those gathered, he was not just a warrior, but the embodiment of death itself, created to destroy demons.

«Chaos cannot stand against us!» he proclaimed, raising his glaive high.

The glaive crackled with electrical discharges that struck the ground, leaving scorched marks behind. Beelzebub, observing this, maintained his external calm. However, inside his mind, two sides fought. One saw this battle as a chance to rid himself of life and atone for his sins, while the other whispered that the knight’s death would only hasten humanity’s fall into the abyss of despair.

«With you will perish the last remnants of your order. You will die a painful death,» Beelzebub coldly spoke, fixing his gaze on Titus.

Titus looked at Beelzebub, and under his helmet, his face lit up with a cold, confident smile.

«Why should I fear you, demon?» he began, his voice harsh and gruff. «You have no power over me. You’re not the first to stand in my way, and you won’t be the first to try and harm humanity. You are nothing but pitiful creatures born from the dark emotions of mankind, given flesh.»

Beelzebub’s gaze grew even emptier and more emotionless, as if in his eyes, Titus was already dead. The tension among the spectators increased as the words of the two combatants cut through the silence like blades. On one side stood a demon whose name even gods feared. On the other, the last warrior of an order whose shield stood to protect humanity in its darkest times.

«Enough of these meaningless speeches. I would prefer to finish this circus quickly,» Beelzebub coldly retorted, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Without waiting for a response, Beelzebub struck his staff against the stone floor of the arena. A powerful shockwave spread from the impact, and a deep crack slithered before him like a serpent. Titus, not wasting any time, struck the ground with his foot, sending his own wave toward the crack. The two forces collided at the center, causing a strong explosive effect that reverberated throughout the arena.

The floor in the center of the arena cracked open as though a powerful explosion had occurred beneath it, causing the spectators to freeze in awe.

«Uhm… younger brother Alex, how did this happen?» Göll asked in surprise, shifting her gaze from the destroyed arena to Alex.

Alex’s eye twitched upon hearing himself called «younger brother.» He extended his hand and pinched the young Valkyrie on the cheek, beginning to stretch it.

«Don’t call me that,» he muttered, grimacing.

Brunhild, who had been watching, smiled and patted Alex on the head, as if calming a temperamental child. Her gesture only heightened his irritation, but he decided to stay silent.

«Beelzebub triggered something like seismic activity,» Alex began to explain in a childlike voice, thoughtfully stroking his chin. «It’s like the movement of tectonic plates, where the vibrations spread as a fracture. Titus, in turn, created a counterwave to stop the destruction.»

Göll, though she tried to maintain a serious demeanor, couldn’t get used to Alex’s childlike appearance. His usual manner of speaking, combined with his high-pitched voice, seemed more cute than imposing.

«I see…» she said, blushing slightly.

Brunhild, pleased with the answer, patted Alex on the head again. He sighed heavily, deciding to ignore it.

Meanwhile, the battle in the arena continued. Titus, raising his glaive, struck it against the ground, causing a network of cracks. The shield in his other hand served as reliable protection as he approached Beelzebub with heavy but quick steps.

As the distance between them closed, Titus delivered a crushing blow with his free hand. Beelzebub raised his staff to defend, and the clash of the two powerful forces caused another shockwave. The ground beneath them cracked once more, the loud crack echoing across the arena.

Titus, maintaining his momentum, put more force into his strike, forcing Beelzebub to step back a few paces. The demon regained his balance, but his gaze grew harder.

The spectators, captivated by the rapid pace of events, couldn’t tear their eyes away from the arena. Everything was happening so fast that even the gods in the stands seemed stunned by the power and technique of both combatants.

Beelzebub shook his numbed hand and fixed his gaze on Titus, who had just managed to push him back. A spark of interest flared in the demon’s eyes. Without wasting time, he decided to go on the offensive, turning his hand into a blade-like form. Beelzebub’s hand began to glow, emitting a faint bluish light, and he swung it sharply, like a sword, toward his opponent.

Titus raised his massive shield, meeting the strike with a dull clang. At the moment of impact between the shield and Beelzebub’s hand, sparks flew, causing the spectators to freeze in suspense. Alex watched the demon’s hand intently, trying to understand the nature of his ability.

Finally, he realized that Beelzebub was using vibration as a weapon, transmitting it through the air for destructive attacks. However, Titus’ shield, designed for Ultramarines, was meant to block any kind of attack—physical or energy-based.

«Interesting shield you have,» Beelzebub said calmly, inspecting the undamaged surface. «I’m surprised that the vibration didn’t even leave a scratch on it.»

Titus remained silent, focused on his goal. He needed to destroy the demon before he could unleash the full strength of his dark nature. Without wasting time, he raised his bolter and aimed the barrel directly at Beelzebub. The demon barely noticed the weapon before Titus pulled the trigger.

A deafening shot rang out across the arena, causing everyone to freeze. Beelzebub barely dodged, but the bullet grazed his ear, leaving a deep cut. Feeling the hot blood on his skin, the demon ran a hand over his ear and looked at the bloody stains on his fingers.

However, Titus didn’t give him a moment to recover—shots followed one after another, forcing Beelzebub to retreat from the fire. Each shot shattered the stone floor of the arena, turning it into a field of ruins.

When the ammunition ran out, Beelzebub seized the moment to counterattack. Moving sharply forward, he used his staff, amplifying its strikes with vibrations. Titus realized he had no time to reload and switched to defense. Raising his shield, he charged toward the demon.

Their weapons collided with terrifying force, creating shockwaves that shook the arena. Beelzebub attacked with incredible speed, trying to find a weak point in Titus’ defense, but the warrior blocked every strike with precision.

In the moment of another collision between the shield and the staff, the tension reached its peak. Titus made a quick move, knocking Beelzebub’s staff aside, causing the demon to stumble. Seizing the opportunity, Titus grabbed the demon’s arm and pulled him back sharply. Beelzebub lost his balance, and in the next instant, the shield was rapidly closing in.

A crushing blow from the edge of the shield struck the demon’s face, smashing him into the arena floor. A cloud of dust rose from the impact, covering the center of the battle. The spectators held their breath—no one had expected the confrontation to end so suddenly and decisively.

The arena fell silent. The dust settled, revealing the defeated Beelzebub, lying on the shattered floor of the arena. Titus stood over him, ready to continue if the demon rose again.

To be continued…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep