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/*\
The arena did not calm after Blaze's defeat.
If anything, it grew louder.
Millions of demons howled, argued, bet souls and bones and contracts, their voices blending into something that sounded less like a crowd and more like a storm chewing on the sky.
The next names burned across the massive display above the battlefield.
NeronVSBeelzebub
Jason leaned forward slightly behind the reinforced glass of the booth, arms crossed.
Mazikeen stood beside him, eyes sharp.
Below them, the two demon lords stepped into the arena.
Beelzebub arrived like a plague given shape. A bloated, towering figure wrapped in buzzing clouds of flies, wings twitching, magic oozing from his body like rot made visible. Every step left the stone pitted and corroded.
Neron, on the other hand, looked almost civilized.
Black suit-like armor. Cape resting neatly. The golden sigil embedded in his chest glowing faintly.
He didn't posture.
Didn't roar.
He simply adjusted his gloves like a businessman about to sign paperwork.
Jason narrowed his eyes.
Something about that calm bothered him more than Satan's cruelty.
The match started.
Beelzebub struck first.
A hurricane of insects flooded the arena, a living black tide. Acidic magic followed, waves of corruption that could melt cities down to sludge.
But Neron didn't retreat.
He raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
Space folded.
A faint crimson circle expanded outward from his feet, spreading like ink across water.
Jason's eyes widened instantly.
"…A Domain?" he muttered.
Within seconds, a boundary formed around the two of them. Not a visible wall, but reality itself felt thicker inside it, heavier, like the air had signed a contract.
The flies hit the boundary and slowed.
Magic warped.
Beelzebub's power… weakened.
Not drained.
Restricted.
Like it had to ask permission to exist.
Inside that field, Neron straightened.
His presence exploded.
His strength multiplied several times over.
Beelzebub lunged, claws tearing through the ground, but Neron caught the strike with one hand and slammed the massive demon into the arena floor hard enough to crater it.
The shockwave alone shattered stone for kilometers.
Jason frowned.
"…A deal."
Mazikeen glanced at him.
"You see it too?"
"He bound the space between them," Jason said quietly. "Some kind of contract. Inside that territory… he's almost absolute."
Every spell Beelzebub launched got overpowered.
Every charge got countered.
It wasn't a slaughter.
But it was painfully one sided.
Like watching someone fight underwater while the other stood on land.
Neron finally pinned Beelzebub to the ground with one boot on his throat.
The golden sigil glowed brighter.
"Yield," Neron said calmly.
Beelzebub snarled.
Neron tilted his head. "Surrender, and I let you live. Refuse… and your existence becomes collateral."
No mockery.
No rage.
Just terms.
A contract.
For a long moment, the Lord of the Flies trembled.
Then his wings drooped.
"…I yield."
The boundary shattered instantly.
Ramiel hadn't even announced the result yet, but Neron stepped back, allowing Beelzebub to crawl away.
Jason blinked.
"He spared him?"
"That's not mercy," Mazikeen said softly. "That's investment."
Before the angels could speak, Neron turned toward the millions of demons filling the stands.
His voice carried unnaturally far.
"Look around you."
The arena quieted.
"Angels. Fallen angels. Dream. And now… a human."
His eyes briefly flicked toward Jason's booth.
"None of them are demons."
Murmurs started.
"And yet they claim our land. Our home. Our people. All because of God and his chains around our throats."
The murmurs became growls.
Neron spread his arms.
"Isn't that wrong?"
The crowd reacted instantly.
"Yes!"
Roars thundered.
"Recently, my eyes opened," he continued, voice rising. "Hell will never belong to us if we keep letting outsiders rule it. So join me. I will fight for you. I will win. And I will remove the influence of anyone not born of these lands."
The reaction was explosive.
Millions of demons screaming his name.
Not fear.
Not obedience.
Belief.
Jason felt it like a pressure change.
Faith.
Mazikeen clicked her tongue. "Smart bastard."
Light descended.
Ramiel and Duma appeared again.
Duma materialized right in front of Neron, face inches away, silent and threatening, blade of light humming.
For a second, it felt like he might strike.
But Ramiel spoke first.
"Winner… Neron."
Then his twisted gaze locked onto him.
"Words are dangerous… Neron. But the tournament… is by God's demand. You are safe… for now."
Neron only smiled.
Teleportation swallowed him.
The arena reset.
Silence returned to their booth.
Jason leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the empty field.
"What's his angle…" he muttered.
"To gain favor with demons," Mazikeen replied. "That part is obvious."
Jason shook his head. "Too obvious. Why say it so openly?"
Mazikeen looked at him carefully. "Belief."
He glanced at her.
"How do you think gods gain power?" she continued. "Belief isn't poetry. It's a weapon. Except for the One above, most gods don't just exist fully formed. They earn it. Worship builds them."
Jason's brow furrowed. "You're saying…"
"You ever hear the old stories? The Demon God?"
"Demon God?"
Mazikeen nodded. "Before humans. Before Lucifer's rebellion. Even before Satan fell. Demons ruled freely. Hell and Earth both. Unified. Under one ruler. The Demon God."
Jason listened quietly.
"Most of us treat it like myth," she said. "But Neron always believed it. Fanatically. Blaze and Satanus used to mock him for it."
She exhaled.
"My guess? He doesn't plan to find that god."
"…He plans to become it," Jason finished.
"Exactly."
Jason looked back at the arena.
"Killed, wasn't he? That Demon God."
Mazikeen nodded.
"Wiped out. Him and the demons of that age. Heaven's armies annihilated them. After that, Earth went to humans. Hell became a prison."
Jason hummed softly.
The timeline lined up too neatly to ignore.
Myth rarely survives without a corpse somewhere behind it.
"Maybe the story isn't completely fake," he said. "Maybe something really did exist."
Mazikeen smirked. "In hell? Everything existed at some point."
Above them, the display flickered again.
The next match was preparing.
Jason's eyes sharpened.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's see who steps into the fire next."
....
The arena barely had time to breathe before the next names ignited across the sky like brands pressed into flesh.
AzazelVSBelial
A ripple moved through the stands.
Not excitement.
Expectation.
Belial wasn't just another lord. His name carried weight in Hell the way mountains carry snow. Old. Respected. Dangerous. The kind of demon other demons whispered about before signing contracts.
Jason rested his forearms on the railing of the booth, eyes sharp.
"Belial should take this," he muttered. "Easy."
Mazikeen nodded. "If this were reputation alone, yes. Lucifer himself praised his magic. Said Belial could twist laws like string."
Below, Belial stepped forward first.
Tall. Lean. Cloaked in layered sigils that rotated slowly around him like orbiting moons. Every rune radiated precision. Not brute power. Craft.
A surgeon.
Then Azazel descended.
Not stepped.
Descended.
Wings unfurled from the smoke above, pale gold edges stained dark like old blood. His armor looked almost angelic, polished, geometric, too clean for Hell.
He didn't look like a demon at all.
He looked like something Heaven threw away and forgot to bury.
Jason's eyes narrowed.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Hell's got more angels than demons at this point."
The match began.
Belial moved instantly.
Thousands of magic circles bloomed across the arena floor, layered spells stacking on top of each other with terrifying complexity. Seals for binding. Inversion fields. Reality displacement. Half the arena became a labyrinth of arcane traps in seconds.
It was beautiful.
Like watching a grandmaster play ten chessboards at once.
Mazikeen smirked. "That's more like it."
Azazel didn't dodge.
Didn't counter.
He simply walked forward.
The first trap activated.
Nothing happened.
The second.
Nothing.
The third.
Still nothing.
Belial's brows furrowed.
Jason leaned forward. "He's… ignoring it?"
The spells weren't failing.
They were landing.
They just… didn't matter.
Like raindrops hitting a statue.
Azazel raised one hand.
A thin beam of light formed. Not flashy. Not loud.
Just pure.
Condensed.
Belial reacted instantly, layering barriers, mirrors, redirections, spatial folds.
The beam passed through all of them.
Cleanly.
No resistance.
It pierced Belial's chest like paper.
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then Belial's body split down the center.
Perfectly.
Like he'd been measured.
Cut.
Filed away.
No explosion. No scream. Just two halves collapsing quietly onto the stone.
Dead.
The entire fight had lasted maybe five seconds.
The arena went dead silent.
Even demons didn't cheer.
It felt wrong to clap at something that surgical.
Ramiel's voice echoed.
"Winner… Azazel."
Azazel didn't even look back.
He simply turned and walked away, wings folding behind him.
Jason stared.
"…That's it?"
Mazikeen's expression darkened.
"I didn't think Azazel would win so easily…" Jason said.
"Neither did I," she replied slowly. "Belial was Lucifer's prized mage. And yet…"
She watched Belial's corpse being dragged away.
"…he allowed himself to die. Too easily."
Jason frowned. "Allowed?"
"He didn't use half his arsenal. No forbidden chants. No soul sacrifices. No last resort spells. It's like…"
She paused.
"…like he accepted it."
A small seed of doubt settled in Jason's stomach.
Belial didn't fight like someone trying to survive.
He fought like someone who already knew the outcome.
Jason exhaled through his nose. "I don't like that."
"Neither do I."
Light split the arena again.
Ramiel and Duma appeared at the center.
Duma silent as ever.
Ramiel's head twisting unnaturally as his voice echoed across millions.
"Now… the semi finals…"
The air grew heavy.
Even the crowd quieted.
Only four names remained.
Ramiel raised a hand.
"Participants… Satan… Jason… Neron… Azazel…"
The display above them began to spin, names blurring together like a roulette wheel forged from nightmares.
Jason felt his pulse slow.
No fear.
Just focus.
Sooner or later, it had to happen.
The spinning stopped.
The names burned into place.
SatanVSJason
....
NeronVSAzazel
The booth went quiet.
Mazikeen slowly turned toward him.
"…Well," she said dryly. "No warm up round for you."
Jason stared at the glowing letters of Satan's name.
The First of the Fallen.
The one who erased a demon lord in less than a blink.
He cracked his neck once, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"Guess we're skipping the tutorial," he muttered.
/*\
If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !