Campione: Strongest Godslayer!

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Just as Hades was contemplating his options—how to explain away his earlier threat to Michael—Zeus stepped forward, his fist crackling with lightning as he delivered a silent blow to Hades's stomach.

"Ugh! You…?!" Hades doubled over, staring at Zeus in disbelief.

"Brother! What's wrong? Is your old injury acting up again?" Zeus cried out, feigning concern as he helped Hades to his feet.

Hades, realizing Zeus's ploy—a desperate attempt to escape—played along. He clutched his stomach, groaning. "Yes… it seems… it's flared up again…"

He turned to Michael, his voice filled with false regret. "Michael-sama, my deepest apologies. I require immediate medical attention. The Greek pantheon will… withdraw from these proceedings."

The other Gods exchanged glances.

They saw through Hades's charade. 'He was trying to run.'

Michael, who had been diligently taking notes, looked up, a sweet smile on her face. She picked up a stack of documents, and with a flash of light, distributed them to the Gods.

"Don't be so hasty. We're almost finished. These are the agreements we've reached regarding the redistribution of faith. If there are no objections, please sign."

The Gods' faces darkened as they read the documents. They outlined the very plans they had proposed earlier—the unequal distribution of the Biblical God's followers—only now, the targets were their own pantheons.

"Fine. I'll sign," Hades growled, glaring at Michael, then, grabbing his Death Scythe, he ripped open a portal to the Underworld and limped through, supported by a grimacing Zeus and Poseidon.

The other Gods, still hesitant, suddenly stiffened, their gazes turning towards Haru, who now sat at the head of the table, a playful smirk on his face. With a sigh of resignation, they picked up their pens.

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"Mwahahaha!"

At 7:00 pm, in the living room of the Gremory mansion in Lilith, Azazel danced around the room, cackling maniacally.

"The looks on their faces! Priceless!"

Scattered across a nearby table were photographs—pictures of the Gods, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to utter horror, captured by Michael during the signing of the agreements.

Sirzechs, sitting on the sofa, reviewed the signed documents, a satisfied smile on his face as he took a swig of red wine.

"The Greek, Hindu, Egyptian, Buddhist, Celtic, and Norse pantheons have all agreed to the redistribution of faith. Those agreements… they're practically unconditional surrenders."

"Give me some of that!" Azazel snatched several unopened bottles of wine from the table, popping the corks with his bare hands and chugging them down.

"Ahh… Such ruthless terms… How did they even come up with those? And they ended up screwing themselves over! Michael, you were brilliant!"

"I just happened to be recording their… negotiations. I was planning to use it against them later, individually. But… it seemed more… efficient… to just… modify them slightly," Michael said with a shrug, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

Azazel and Sirzechs exchanged a glance. "Women… their capacity for revenge is terrifying…"

Then, they both burst into laughter.

They had every reason to celebrate. Faith was like a high-energy fuel, replenishing their depleted power and accelerating their growth.

And for the remnants of the Biblical God's faction, faith served an even more crucial purpose—it fueled the creation of Angels and accelerated Devil reproduction.

With their dwindling numbers, the Gods' contribution was a godsend.

As they celebrated, Haru, who had been holding Michael in his lap, smiled.

He had profited immensely from this encounter. The Hindu Trimurti's powers—creation, preservation, and destruction—represented the very cycle of the universe.

Having acquired those powers, the barren planet within his soulscape had begun to transform.

Life bloomed in the desolate oceans, plants sprouted, insects buzzed, and animals roamed the once-empty continents.

It was now a vibrant, living world, lacking only sentient beings.

...

Just then, Michael let out a gasp, her face flushing crimson. She glared at Haru, who was now nibbling on the sensitive tip of one of her wings.

Then, after a moment's hesitation, she shifted slightly, making it easier for him to… continue, her eyes half-closed, a dreamy expression on her face.

If Michael had initially submitted to Haru out of obedience to Liala, now… she was willingly indulging him.

Haru, who had risked a war with Shiva just to avenge her earlier injury, had clearly won her over.

After all, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" applied to goddesses as well. And Haru's actions had clearly earned him… bonus points.

"Whistles…" Azazel, seeing their intimate display, turned away, feigning ignorance.

"Azazel, you handle the diplomatic front. I'll take care of the logistics. Meeting adjourned," Sirzechs said, his voice firm, his expression serious.

Both he and Azazel vanished.

"The meeting… was only… halfway done…" Michael's voice trembled as Haru's attentions shifted. For an Angel, their wings were… sensitive.

The sound of rushing water filled the hall.

Michael's body convulsed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. A seductive glint appeared in her eyes.

A faint blush colored her skin, and the golden light of her twelve wings faded, replaced by a soft, pink glow.

She turned to Haru, her gaze inviting, and closed her eyes, silently consenting.

...

An hour later, as things… heated up, a magic circle materialized in the room.

A figure appeared.

"Eek!!!" A scream echoed through the hall.

Haru, his brow furrowing at the sudden noise, saw the newcomer and grinned, reaching out—

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