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Chapter 341: Chapter 337 ~ Silent Death

Creuserey flew, cutting through the twilight skies of Kuoh like a spear of trembling desperation. His wings beat frantically, each flap jolting pain through his partially destroyed body. He did not dare stop—not until he was far, far from the monsters that had ambushed him.

Once he created enough distance, he would hide. Recover. Conceal himself. Perhaps open a teleportation gate and escape this cursed town.

ʼRunning? No… this is a tactical retreat. As long as I live, my revenge remains possible. I will not die here. I refuse to die here!ʼ

He forced more magic into his wings, propelling himself forward until sonic booms rippled through the air. Below him, the quiet suburban town blurred into streaks of dull color.

Yet… Something tugged at the back of his consciousness.

A whisper. A wrongness. A subtle itch that grew stronger the faster he flew.

Creuserey slowed slightly, scanning the horizon, then the ground, then the sky.

And his blood ran cold.

”What… what is this?”

The streets below. The pattern of the houses. The lamp posts. The same intersection with the red vending machine. The same row of sakura trees. The same silent breeze brushing the rooftops.

It was identical. Absolutely identical.

He turned his head. Again—identical.

No matter where he looked, he saw the same neighborhood.

As if—

”—Iʼve been flying in circles.”

The realization crushed the air from his lungs.

”No… impossible! Not me! Iʼm not affected by such petty illusions!”

But the truth was undeniable.

He tried to sense distortion magic. Spatial manipulation. Hallucination spells.

Nothing.

That only made it worse. Everything ”felt” normal. But he was trapped.

”A sealed space…? A spatial loop…? Or—something even higher?”

His mind trembled.

And then—

”So, you finally noticed.”

Creuserey spun violently, wings flaring open in panic.

Floating before him were the two figures he feared most:

A man clad in a sleek, full-body combat suit—expression calm, gaze cold.

And beside him, a towering skeletal mage draped in regal robes, his empty eyes burning with crimson embers.

Behind them materialized the three he had previously fought: the dark knight, the birdlike archer, and the shadowy assassin—arranged like deathʼs entourage.

These were no mere assassins. These were executioners.

Creusereyʼs throat tightened.

”Y-You… You are the ones who dared attack me… Who are you affiliated with?! Who commands you?!”

Tatsuya raised one of his silver pistols and spoke with a tone that made reality itself feel small.

”Surrender. Your defeat was decided before you ever left your hiding place. You are not in the real world anymore. Your fate was sealed the moment you came.”

Creuserey misinterpreted his words. He believed Tatsuya meant that he was merely outmatched.

But the truth was far more horrifying.

Albedo had trapped Creuserey and his entire army in an alternate dimension long before Yuuji even left for the Hanging Gardens.

Her ability, [Dreams of Reality], made them believe they were still lying in wait.

Her Weaver of Fate ensured they would not escape the ending she had written for them.

Creuserey clenched his fists, fury boiling over humiliation.

But beneath that rage… A creeping realization: He was cornered. Fatally.

Still, he wouldnʼt die alone.

A twisted grin carved across his face.

”Ahh… Ahahaha… AHAHAHAHA! Fine! If I must die— Iʼll take all of you with me!”

Light burst violently from his chest, blinding and deadly, as blood streamed from his eyes, ears, and mouth. The air warped, mana screaming as it spiraled into a catastrophic point.

He was self-destructing.

Then—

Everything stopped.

The wind froze. The particles of light froze. The mana froze. Even the blood dripping from Creuserey hung in the air like a macabre sculpture.

Time itself became a silent, grey stillness.

Only two moved.

Tatsuya. Satoru.

Satoru floated toward the frozen Creuserey, his ethereal robes billowing in a world where nothing else moved.

”Well… I didnʼt expect him to blow himself up,” the skeletal mage muttered, clicking his jaw in amusement. 

”Quite troublesome, really.”

He lifted one bony hand. Several ornate rings glowed on his fingers.

”Delayed Magic: [True Death].”

A wave of absolute termination wrapped around Creusereyʼs immobile body—its execution paused until time resumed.

Tatsuya let out a sigh.

”Good thinking, Satoru-san. That self-destruct spell wouldʼve been quite troublesome.”

”No, no, I just panicked and cast the first thing that came to mind,” Satoru replied cheerfully.

”With this, two leaders of the Old Satan Faction remain. Our mission will soon be complete.”

Satoru nodded. And time began to move again.

Wind returned. Light swirled. But the magical storm—Creusereyʼs desperate suicide gambit—evaporated instantly.

Creuserey dropped from the sky like a lifeless puppet, crashing onto the pavement with a final, hollow thud.

He did not rise. He could not rise.

Not even high-tier resurrection magic could restore him. Only [True Resurrection], [Wish], or [Divine Intervention] itself could bring him back.

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The entire battle—no, the complete eradication of Creusereyʼs forces, his frantic escape, and his inevitable demise—unfolded before the gathered leaders upon the floating mirror of remote viewing at the center of the circular marble table within the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

The Demon Kings, the Seraphs, and the Governor General of the Fallen, along with their assembled retinues, stared in utter disbelief. Their widened eyes reflected the ghostly images playing across the mirrorʼs surface. Not one of them dared to speak. Not one of them could even form the correct words.

From beginning to end, everything they had witnessed defied logic.

Hundreds of devils—each one amplified through forbidden magic, potions, and curses until they possessed the strength of high-ranked devil nobles—were wiped out without ever sounding an alarm. Not one even sensed their attacker. 

And Creuserey himself, an elite pure-blood devil with monstrous reserves of magic, was cut down effortlessly.

But the final moments were what froze their blood.

The instant Creuserey prepared to self-destruct—a blast strong enough to obliterate the entirety of Kuoh—the unstable mass of magic surrounding him simply… ceased. Time itself seemed to halt. And then, without warning, Creuserey died. No explosion. No last scream. No final struggle.

A moment later, Tatsuya raised his gun, and with a single small flash of light—no bullet, no sound—the body dissolved into smoke, erased from existence entirely.

The silence that followed inside the Hanging Gardens was absolute.

Not even the gentle breeze passing through the open-air chamber could soften the tension.

Finally, Sirzechs exhaled, his voice quiet, strained.

”...Yuuji-kun, who are they…?”

All eyes turned to Yuuji. He sat calm, composed, hands folded on the table, a soft, almost proud smile lingering on his lips. Behind him, the members of the Multiverse Group Chat—Aika, Albedo, Erika, C.C, and Lelouch—wore matching expressions of quiet, knowing satisfaction.

”Theyʼre friends,” Yuuji replied lightly. 

”Very close friends. Youʼve already met Tatsuya—the man in the combat suit. Heʼs a student at Kuoh Academy. As for the skeletal mage, he is Suzuki Satoru.”

Azazel blinked, leaning closer to the mirror as if hoping it might reveal some hidden truth.

”Is he… a grim reaper of some kind?”

Yuuji chuckled softly.

”If you mean like Hadesʼ reapers, then no. Satoru is far beyond that. He is the master of life and death. An Overlord.”

Even someone as composed as Gabriel blinked in awe. Serafall tilted her head, her eyes wide. Grayfia subtly tensed. Dulioʼs expression hardened, analyzing. Michaelʼs brows furrowed in deep thought.

They did not entirely understand Yuujiʼs words… but they understood enough.

The one called ”Overlord” was a being whose power eclipsed the norms of this world.

”And the magic,” Azazel said finally, rubbing his temples, ”that spell you used to trap Creuserey and his army… what exactly was it?”

This, more than anything, haunted him. Even he had not sensed a thing. Not a ripple of mana. Not a spatial distortion. Nothing.

Yet Creuserey and his entire force had been isolated, deceived, and immobilized without a single one realizing it.

Yuujiʼs lips curved.

”The same spell that trapped you and Vali.”

Azazel froze.

A thousand implications surged through his mind at once.

”Wait… donʼt tell me… from the very beginning—”

He remembered it all.

The reason Creuserey never spotted Sirzechs or Serafall, despite occupying the same area.

The reason neither he nor his soldiers noticed their forces dying one by one.

The perfect illusion that warped perception and erased spatial awareness.

A spell so powerful that no one—even a Demon King—noticed themselves being imprisoned.

A spell that required such mastery that even noticing its presence was impossible unless the caster allowed it.

Azazel let out a long, defeated sigh.

”That kind of spell… That kind of ability… You know what? I give up. I shouldnʼt have even tried to understand you or your friends.”

Yuuji maintained a perfectly polite, diplomatic smile.

But internally?

He was fighting the overwhelming urge to stand on the table and brag about how amazing Albedo was.

About her elegance. About her brilliance. About her absolute mastery over dimension, perception, and fate.

He forced himself to keep a straight face.

ʼAlbedo… you were incredible. Iʼll reward you properly tonight.ʼ

While the worldʼs greatest leaders tried to comprehend what they had just witnessed, Yuujiʼs mind was already busy planning something far more important:

How to spoil his beloved Albedo for her flawless performance.

Yuujiʼs gaze drifted naturally toward Albedo.

The moment their eyes met, something unmistakable passed between them—an affectionate, hungry look filled with restrained desire. His smile was slow, deliberate, and dangerous, promising things far removed from diplomacy and decorum.

Albedo inhaled sharply.

A shiver ran down her spine as heat bloomed beneath her skin and her crotch, anticipation tightening her chest. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, golden eyes trembling with barely contained excitement. 

If not for Aikaʼs hand gripping hers firmly—grounding her, restraining her—Albedo would have already crossed the distance between them and claimed him without a shred of restraint. The important tri-summit meeting could wait until her womb was filled with his seed and no corners of her body were left untouched by her beloved. 

Unbeknownst to them, three pairs of eyes had noticed.

From the side of the table, Gabriel, Serafall, and Grayfia had caught that look—had felt its weight without it ever being directed at them. Their hearts skipped violently, breaths hitching as warmth spread through their bodies like wildfire.

Serafallʼs playful grin faltered for a fraction of a second. Grayfia stiffened almost imperceptibly. Both devils felt it instantly—raw, instinctive desire.

Lust.

A craving to be looked at the same way. To be the focus of that hunger. To be claimed, dominated, devoured by the intensity behind Yuujiʼs eyes.

The realization hit just as quickly as the feeling, and embarrassment followed close behind.

Serafall shook her head sharply, forcing her usual cheer back into place. Grayfia adjusted her posture, composure snapping back into iron discipline. As devils—creatures born of desire—they understood exactly what had stirred within them.

And that knowledge alone made their cheeks burn.

Gabriel, however, did not recover so easily.

She continued to stare, emerald eyes unfocused, lips parted ever so slightly. Her heart hammered against her chest, each beat louder than the last. Warmth spread through her body in a way she had never experienced before—gentle, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once.

She wanted to be closer. To stand beside him. To stay. 

The memory of Yuuji leaving Heaven, leaving her, flashed across her mind. And her heart tightened, suffocated.

She didnʼt understand why.

Is this… what mortals call love?

”Gabriel?”

Michaelʼs voice broke through her haze.

”A-Ah—yes, brother?” She straightened abruptly, wings twitching as she snapped back to attention.

Michael studied her with mild concern. 

”Are you feeling unwell? You seemed… distracted. Was the ambush too unsettling?”

Gabriel shook her head quickly, offering him a soft, reassuring smile.

”No, I am fine, brother. It was surprising, yes—but I am relieved it did not escalate further.”

Michaelʼs expression softened. He nodded in agreement.

”Indeed. We owe much to Yuuji-kun and his companions for their foresight.”

Yuuji, having discreetly finished sending a message to Albedo—one that promised the night would be anything but quiet—turned his attention back to the leaders of the three factions.

His expression was once again calm, composed, and perfectly diplomatic.

”Well then,” he said smoothly, ”now that all immediate issues have been resolved… shall we begin the meeting?”

Sirzechs smiled and nodded, folding his hands atop the table.

”Indeed. Though I would like to investigate todayʼs actions by the Old Satan Faction further, our primary agenda takes precedence.”

Azazel let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his ornate chair as he crossed both arms and legs.

”Alright,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief and calculation alike. ”Letʼs get down to business.”

His smile widened, sharp and knowing.

”Now then… about the Asgard pantheon.”

He tilted his head slightly.

”Shall we discuss how we plan to deal with that one-eyed old man?”

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