Clayman's resounding success was failing, and the rapid reconstruction of Farmenas had not gone unnoticed by his radar. The "Puppeteer," consumed by an envy bordering on paranoia, watched his house of cards collapse. While Rimuru awakened as a True Demon Lord, Sirzechs expanded a marble empire that ridiculed Clayman's aesthetics and influence. To him, Sirzechs was an irritating anomaly: a being who emanated an aura of absolute royalty without ever having undergone the ritual of the Demon Lord Seed.
The summons for Walpurgis was issued. Clayman, seeking to use the council to destroy his rivals, did not count on the presence of a guest who defied the laws of the world. Sirzechs received the invitation with a calm that bordered on boredom. However, there was a detail that intrigued the other members of the council: Sirzechs did not possess the Seed, nor had he passed through the Harvest Festival, yet his spiritual pressure was comparable—or superior—to that of the oldest Demon Lords.
— How do they intend to classify us, Grayfia? — Sirzechs asked, while Valerius adjusted his crimson cloak. — They seek seeds and rituals, while we are the very manifestation of will.
— They seek patterns because they fear the unknown, my Lord — Grayfia replied, impeccable in her combat maid uniform. — But your strength and the loyalty of your subordinates are the only answer necessary for their surprise.
Sirzechs decided that his entry into Walpurgis should reflect the dignity of Avalon. He would not go as a solitary warrior, nor as a barbarian. A King travels with his court.
— Grayfia, Valerius, you will accompany me. Rimuru will take his subordinates as planned, but we shall be the face of Alabaster's order and tradition.
The transport was orchestrated not by common portals, but by a dimensional rift opened by Sirzechs' authority. While Rimuru followed the known plot, facing Clayman's accusations, the doors of the banquet hall opened to announce the Avalon delegation. Sirzechs' entrance was a thermal shock to the environment. At the front, Valerius walked with a posture that exhaled a lethal elegance, clearing the way for his master. Just behind, Grayfia Lucifuge maintained an icy expression, her presence enough to make the subordinates of other Demon Lords instinctively recoil.
In the center, Sirzechs walked with a contained but vast crimson aura. Silence fell over the hall. Even Milim Nava stopped for a second to observe the newcomer. But the most dangerous gaze came from the central throne. Guy Crimson, the oldest and most powerful Demon Lord, leaned forward, his red eyes glowing with genuine curiosity. He felt in Sirzechs something he hadn't seen in millennia: a force that did not come from the "World System" of this plane, but from a different primordial origin.
The atmosphere in the Walpurgis hall was one of oppressive statics. Unlike previous meetings, the presence of two new axes of power—Rimuru's rise and the arrival of the Avalon delegation—transformed the banquet into a diplomatic minefield. Guy Crimson watched from his throne with a boredom that quickly turned into predatory fascination.
— Tell me, Crimson — Guy's voice cut through Clayman's blather like a guillotine. — You do not possess the Seed. You did not undergo the Harvest Festival. By the laws of this world, you are an intruder. Why shouldn't I erase you and your little marble utopia right now for defying the etiquette of my council?
Sirzechs remained motionless, flanked by Grayfia's gelid posture and Valerius's silent elegance. He did not look away.
— Because Avalon's marble is built upon truths that your flames cannot consume, Guy — Sirzechs replied. — I did not come here to ask for a seat. I came to observe if this council is worthy of the alliance that my neighbor, Rimuru, values so much.
The challenge was the spark. Guy smiled, a gesture signaling the end of any diplomacy, and released his Demon Lord Aura. The weight was instantaneous; the air became thick as molten lead, and the spiritual pressure was so vast that the walls of the space castle began to groan under the strain. The subordinates of other Demon Lords fell to their knees, unable to breathe before the majesty of the First.
Mizari, Guy's maid, sensing the tension, moved to intervene against Avalon's "insolence," but the world around her stopped. Grayfia Lucifuge stepped forward. Without sacrifices or chants, she merely slightly opened her ice fan. In a microsecond, a wall of absolute ice, imbued with the power to nullify magicules, rose, isolating the Avalon delegation. The temperature in the hall dropped hundreds of degrees in an instant.
— My Lord is in conversation with Lord Crimson — Grayfia's voice was a whisper of eternal winter that paralyzed Mizari in place. — Any interruption will be interpreted as an act of war. And I guarantee: you will melt before my ice even begins to sweat.
The revelation of the Ice Queen shocked those present, but it was Sirzechs who had the final word. He closed his eyes, and upon opening them, his pupils had been replaced by an incandescent crimson glow. He released his Aura of Destruction. It was not an explosion of weight like Guy's; it was a disintegration of reality. The magicule particles in the air around Sirzechs simply ceased to exist. The marble floor beneath his feet did not crack—it became nothing, turning into a fine dust that vanished into the vacuum before touching the ground. Guy's fiery aura was literally "eaten" by Sirzechs' crimson darkness.
The impact was devastating. Clayman fell to his knees, feeling his very soul being erased by mere proximity. Guy Crimson widened his eyes, seeing the tip of his own Demon Lord glove disintegrate into black ash just by touching Sirzechs' zone of influence.
— This isn't magic... — Guy murmured, retracting his pressure while a smile of pure excitement spread across his face. — This is the end of all things. You are not a Demon Lord, Sirzechs. You are an Error in the System.
Sirzechs withdrew the aura as quickly as he had manifested it, returning to his posture of impeccable nobility, while Grayfia withdrew her ice with a rhythmic closing of her fan.
— Avalon's marble remains white, Guy — Sirzechs concluded, adjusting his gloves — because nothing survives long enough to stain it if I so desire.
The duel of wills had ended. The balance of Walpurgis had been destroyed, and now, all eyes were turned toward the Crimson Lord and his ally from Tempest.