Vile Evil Hides Under The Veil

Chapter 1999: Fear of the Prophecies

Every Immortal in the Celestial Court turned their attention to the same direction—the demonic pantheon.

Even among the chaotic aura and wicked presence of the demons, this sight brought silence.

The seven Immortal Demon Princes, seated proudly on their ancient thrones, narrowed their eyes.

"Hm? What is this? Did one of us do something?"

Samael, who always considered himself to be the leader of all demons, muttered.

At this time, Beelzebub leaned forward, his clawed fingers tapping the armrest of his seat. He thought of a person in his mind at this time.

But according to his current situation, it was impossible for him to pull off such a thing. At least not without help. And apart from the demonic pantheon, who could help him?

The 72 minor thrones surrounding the demonic pantheon—all belonging to Ars Goetia Immortal Demons—also fell silent, their collective focus fixed on the approaching runes.

Only five Ars Goetia Demons among them had an inkling regarding the situation. However, they still found it surprising that their liege had managed to kill an Immortal just like that.

And then it happened.

The Immortal runes—glowing softly with the divine essence of God Raashim—flew straight into the heart of the demonic pantheon.

They didn't stop at the outer chairs. They didn't stop to say "hi" to the seven princes.

They surged forward, as if recognizing something. As if being called.

Straight into the Elder Ichor throne.

That ink black throne surrounded by silvery lights and runes stood at the very center of the demonic pantheon. It had always been there, mostly dormant. But now, as the runes melted into its structure, it pulsed with new life.

A dark light flashed. An overwhelming pressure rolled across the Celestial Court.

The Elder Ichor throne drank in the essence of the fallen god—every piece of divinity, every trace of Raashim's Immortal might. It accepted the offering.

And in doing so, it answered the question every Immortal had been asking in silence.

Who killed God Raashim?

The answer was clear.

It was the Young Demon Emperor.

Even the most ancient and prideful Immortals felt a chill crawl across their souls. A mere newbie demigod had killed an Immortal.

Samael stood from his throne abruptly.

His eyes, as cold and sharp as ever, stared at the Elder Ichor throne that had just absorbed the last of God Raashim's Immortal runes. He didn't speak at first. He didn't need to. His movements were enough to draw every nearby Immortal's attention.

The Demon Prince's expression shifted between surprise and something heavier—weariness.

His gaze then turned, slowly, deliberately, to another corner of the Celestial Court. There, half-veiled in Origin Force, sat a grand black throne draped in eerie silence. On it, Elder Goddess Mortessa sat with her eyes half-closed.

She looked like she was asleep, trapped in a dream. But the tension on her face told another story.

Her lips were slightly pressed. Her brows faintly furrowed. Her entire posture was stiff, like someone lost in a nightmare they couldn't wake from.

Samael frowned.

Across from him, Beelzebub broke into laughter.

"Hehehe! I… I think I underestimated the boss. It was indeed him.

Thank the demons I'm on his side. I sure as hell don't want to stand opposite him and get fucked in the ass by those fully erect and barbed poles in the Grim Pillar Town.

My earlier investments paid off. Hahaha!"

It was slow at first—a soft chuckle. Then it turned loud and mocking. His laughter echoed strangely in the Celestial Court, drawing eyes from many seats.

Asmodeus didn't laugh.

He didn't even look at Beelzebub.

But his fingers twitched slightly on the armrest of his throne. His jaw clenched just a little tighter. The ever-calm Demon Prince had also been shaken.

The remaining four Demon Princes exchanged quiet glances. None of them spoke, but the lines were clear. The split in the demonic pantheon had never looked more obvious.

Two sides. One backed the Young Demon Emperor. The other did not.

***

Samael looked back at Beelzebub, his eyes cold and unreadable. He said nothing to him.

Instead, he looked at Goddess Mortessa again, his voice calm, but with a sharp edge to it. "Goddess Mortessa," he began, "do you think Raashim was killed because he joined our cause?"

It was a simple question, asked without accusation or emotion. But before the Elder Goddess could reply, another voice rang out.

Smooth and mocking.

"I doubt it," said Echidna.

She had stood from her throne in the monster pantheon, her wicked smile spreading slowly across her face as she looked toward Samael. Her monstrous aura twisted around her like a coiled serpent.

"My liege isn't scared of your silly tricks," she said.

Her voice was filled with pride and challenge.

"He must have killed Raashim because Raashim could be killed. As simple as that."

She took a step forward, the white mist parting around her like water.

"If any of you think yourselves untouchable… if you dare to go in front of him with even the slightest chance of defeat…" she leaned in, eyes gleaming with joy, "then make no mistake."

Her smile widened.

"My liege will never miss."

The mist inside the Celestial Court was still heavy. But now, it wasn't just the runes of God Raashim that had stirred the air—it was the growing silence.

One by one, a few Immortal figures shifted in their gazes.

Some narrowed their eyes. Others sat stiffly, gripping the armrests of their divine seats. These weren't part of the demonic pantheon.

They were scattered across other circles—gods of flame, of wind, of earth and storm. Most of them were elemental in nature. Gods of the pure forces of creation and destruction.

They had been present in the last quiet meeting.

The same meeting where Samael and Goddess Mortessa had spoken with calm and careful words.

Trap him, they had said. End it before it begins. The "him" being Eren. The Young Demon Emperor.

And now, one of their own—God Raashim—had vanished.

He wasn't just dead. He was erased. Wiped clean.

No resurrection. No fallback. No avatar with enough faith to rebuild him.

An actual, irreversible Godfall.

And it had happened before any of their plans could go into motion.

A few Immortals turned their gazes toward Samael.

Others looked at Mortessa with hesitation. Their thoughts were beginning to shift. Their loyalties were beginning to blur.

Some of them had already decided that they would back away from going into Goddess Mortessa's camp.

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