The sky above the Dragon Kingdom tore open with a violent gust of wind.
Feng shot through the air like a black comet, moving at terrifying speed. Less than an hour after leaving the Holy Kingdom, he descended from the clouds and landed directly on the roof of the royal castle.
Guards on the battlements barely had time to scream before he dropped down through the grand skylight into the main audience hall.
The King was there, surrounded by nobles, ministers, and a few remaining high-ranking soldiers. The moment Feng's feet touched the marble floor, the entire hall froze.
Terror gripped every soul present.
The King's face turned ghostly white. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto his throne, unable to stand. Nobles stumbled backward, some falling to their knees. Soldiers tried to draw weapons but their hands shook so violently they couldn't grip them.
They all recognized him instantly — the man who had slaughtered the heroes.
Feng stood motionless in the center of the hall, his expression calm, almost peaceful. He could sense the spy's orb following him from a distance, still projecting everything live to the Octagram on the other side of the world. He waited patiently until the projection stabilized.
Then he moved.
He pulled out the Cosmic Trident Spear. Purple lightning roared along its black length as he slammed the butt of the shaft into the ground with controlled force.
A devastating wave of cosmic lightning exploded outward in a perfect circle.
Every single person in the hall — nobles, ministers, guards — was instantly reduced to ash. Their bodies disintegrated before they could even scream. The only one spared was the King himself, who remained kneeling on his throne, trembling violently as the purple electricity crackled around him but left him untouched.
Feng walked forward slowly.
He dismissed the trident back into his Storage Bag and drew the Adamantite dagger instead. The black blade gleamed coldly in the light streaming through the broken skylight.
He stopped in front of the King.
With precise, merciless cuts, he severed the King's arms at the elbows, then his legs at the knees. The King screamed in agony, blood pooling beneath him.
Feng leaned down and slowly slid the dagger across the King's throat — not deep enough to kill instantly, but enough to let him feel every second of pain as he bled out.
The King's eyes bulged with terror and regret as life drained from him.
Feng stood up, wiped the blade clean, and walked out of the ruined hall without looking back.
He rose into the sky once more and flew straight toward the Grand Cathedral of the Goddess of Light.
There, he slaughtered every priest, bishop, and knight who had been involved in supporting the heroes and the King's orders. He spared no one. Holy robes turned red. Sacred altars were stained with blood. The grand statue of the Goddess watched silently as her followers fell one by one.
When the last scream faded, Feng stood alone in the desecrated cathedral, blood dripping from his dagger.
He looked up at the towering statue of the Goddess of Light.
His voice was quiet, but it carried through the empty hall like a vow:
"I'm coming for you next."
In the distant Octagram hall, the Demon Lords watched the entire sequence in stunned silence.
The projection had shown everything — the instant massacre, the cold execution of the King, the purge of the Church.
No one laughed this time.
Even Milim's usual playful energy had vanished. Guy Crimson's smirk had faded. Rimuru's golden eyes were narrowed in deep thought.
The human they had been betting on had just declared war on an entire kingdom and its patron Goddess — and he had done it alone, in less than a day.
The game had escalated far beyond what any of them had anticipated.