Episode-940
Chapter : 1879
It started as a low hum, like a single bee trapped in a jar. But within a second, the sound multiplied a billion times over. It became a deafening roar that sounded like a chainsaw cutting through bone. From beneath Beelzebub’s cloak, a black cloud erupted.
These were not normal insects. They were magical constructs born from the Abyss's hunger. Each fly was the size of a thumb, with metallic mandibles designed to chew through steel, flesh, and spirit. They didn't just bite; they consumed existence. The swarm moved like a living wave of black water, swirling around Beelzebub before turning its countless eyes toward Lloyd and Ben.
Lloyd looked at the swarm. His [All-Seeing Eye] scrolled red data across his vision so fast it was a blur.
[Warning: Biological Threat Level: Catastrophic.]
[Survival Probability: 0.0001%]
[Recommended Action: None. Prayer is ineffective.]
"Lloyd," Ben snarled, his voice vibrating with frustration rather than fear. The Ironwood Sovereign slammed his prosthetic fists together, sparking with the last dregs of his golden mana. "Don't you dare tell me the odds! I can see them! I can't hold a barrier against a million targets, but I can certainly take a few thousand with me!"
"I see it!" Lloyd yelled back.
Lloyd’s mind, usually a fortress of cold logic and engineering, finally hit a wall. He ran the calculations. He simulated a hundred different strategies in the span of a heartbeat. He looked for a structural weakness, a magical loophole, a bluff—anything.
The result was always the same: Death.
The swarm would strip the flesh from their bones in three seconds. Then, Beelzebub would eat their souls. It was a complete checkmate.
Lloyd let out a long breath, fogging up his visor. A strange calm settled over him. It was the calm of a mechanic who realizes the engine is going to explode, and there is no way to stop it.
"If we are going to die," Lloyd muttered, his hand gripping the barrel of his Nova Cannon, "then I am going to make sure they get awful indigestion."
He keyed a command into his neural link that he had promised himself he would never use.
"System. Override Safety Protocols. Disengage the Limiter on the Golem Heart."
[Warning: Disengaging the Limiter will result in critical core meltdown. The Nova Cannon will explode. Host fatality is guaranteed. Proceed?]
"Proceed," Lloyd said.
The matte-black Aegis Suit began to scream. It wasn't a vocal sound; it was the high-pitched whine of machinery being pushed past its breaking point. The Golem Heart in Lloyd’s chest beat violently, pumping raw, unfiltered mana directly into the cannon on his right arm.
The weapon began to glow. It turned from white to a blinding, unstable blue. The metal barrel hissed as it began to melt from the inside out. Lloyd wasn't charging a shot; he was turning himself into a tactical nuclear bomb.
"Ben!" Lloyd shouted, grabbing his friend’s shoulder. "Get behind me! When I pull this trigger, use Sloth to amplify the blast radius! Don't shield yourself, shield the charge!"
"Lloyd, are you insane?!" Ben roared, his single eye widening as he realized the plan. "You're overloading the core! You'll vaporize yourself, and I’m not letting you steal the glory of the kill!"
"Better to burn out than fade away!" Lloyd roared, his voice cracking with the strain. "Do not argue with me, Rook! If we die, we die taking the roof down on their heads!"
Ben hesitated for a fraction of a second, his pride warring with the tactical reality. Then, his face hardened into a mask of grim, competitive fury. He didn't cower. He stepped behind Lloyd, placing his heavy hands on Lloyd's back not for comfort, but to brace him. "Fine! But if you miss, I’m killing you myself in the afterlife!"
The fly swarm descended. The black cloud was inches away. Lloyd could see the individual mandibles of the insects. He could smell the rot on their wings. He tightened his finger on the trigger.
Three... Two... One...
But the explosion never happened.
Suddenly, the air in the room changed.
It didn't get hotter. It didn't get colder. It got... heavy.
It was a sensation that defied physics. It felt as though the concept of time itself had suddenly become incredibly exhausted. The atoms in the air decided they didn't want to move anymore. The gravity in the room increased tenfold, but it wasn't pushing down; it was holding everything still.
The deafening buzz of the fly swarm dropped in pitch. It went from a high scream to a low, lazy drone.
Bzzz... bzz... bz...
Chapter : 1880
Lloyd watched in disbelief as the flies slowed down. They didn't stop completely, but they were moving as if they were flying through thick, invisible syrup. Their wings beat in slow motion—up, down, up, down. They hung in the air, frozen inches from Lloyd’s face.
The whine of Lloyd’s overloading cannon died down. The blue light dimmed. The chemical reaction inside the weapon slowed to a crawl. The explosion was paused.
Even Beelzebub looked confused. The massive demon was mid-step, his foot hovering above the ground, unable to complete the motion. His jaw hung open, but no sound came out.
A voice echoed through the silent room.
It was a woman’s voice. It wasn't loud, commanding, or scary. It sounded bored, but laced with a sultry, dangerous possessiveness. It sounded like a lover who had just caught someone touching her property.
"Beelzebub..." the voice purred, stretching out the vowels in a languid tease. "You are being very loud. And you are trying to break my favorite toy."
Lloyd turned his head. It was a monumental effort. His neck muscles fought against the heavy air.
In the center of the room, between the humans and the demons, space seemed to fold. A figure faded into existence, like a ghost materializing from fog.
It was Monalisa Belphagor, the Prince of Sloth.
She wasn't standing in a combat stance. She was reclining on a floating cushion made of dark shadows. She wore a simple, elegant grey gown that looked like smoke. Her long black hair spilled over the edge of the cushion. Her blue eyes were half-closed, but they were fixed on Lloyd with a hungry, predatory glimmer.
She looked at the deadly swarm of flies with mild distaste, as if they were merely dust on a shelf.
"Mona... lisa?" Beelzebub’s voice rumbled, but it was slow and distorted, like a record playing at half speed. "What... is... this?"
"This is me being jealous," Monalisa sighed, a playful smile touching her lips. She lifted one finger. It was a tiny movement, yet it sent a ripple of grey energy through the room.
"Authority of Sloth: Absolute Stagnation."
The ripple hit the swarm. The flies stopped completely. They didn't fall to the ground; they just froze in place, trapped in a bubble of halted time.
Monalisa floated closer to Lloyd. She reached out a hand, her cool fingers trailing ghost-like across his armored cheek, ignoring the heat of the dying cannon. She didn't look like a savior; she looked like a collector inspecting a rare acquisition.
Lloyd saw something terrifying on her face. The grey, stony patches he had cured earlier were back. In fact, they were worse. The strain of using her Authority to freeze two Demon Kings was accelerating her condition. Grey stone was creeping up her neck, cracking her porcelain skin.
"I bought you time, my little lion," Monalisa whispered, leaning in close until her lips brushed his ear. Her voice was weak, punctuated by a dry cough that released a puff of grey dust, but her tone was electric. "That little plumbing job you did earlier... it wasn't rated for a war against my brothers. My engine is locking up again. But I couldn't let them break you. You haven't finished servicing me yet."
She looked at her own hand. The fingertips were turning to stone before her eyes.
"Now, survive," she ordered, her eyes flashing with a possessive fire. "If you die here, I will never get my core cleaned properly. And I do hate finding new partners. You fit so well."
Lloyd lowered his cannon. He realized that this wasn't a rescue mission; it was a demand for exclusivity. She was saving him because he belonged to her.
"Understood," Lloyd said, his voice returning to its sarcastic monotone despite the fear pounding in his heart. "I hate leaving a job unfinished. Just hold them off for a minute."
Monalisa smirked weakly, tracing the line of his jaw. "A minute? In my domain, a minute can last a century. But for them... I can only give you seconds. Don't make me wait, darling."
The stillness in the Inner Sanctum was fragile. It was like a sheet of thin ice over a raging river. Monalisa Belphagor sat on her floating cushion, her eyes closed in deep concentration, holding the "Sloth Field" together with sheer willpower.
Opposite her, the two Demon Princes were not idle. They were pushing back.