The banquet was not interrupted, but the atmosphere in the hall shifted instantly. Sirzechs, with the calm of one who had already foreseen the move, merely gestured for a holographic magicule projection to arise in the center of the table, revealing a panoramic view of Alabaster Port.
At the harbor, the invading fleet—bearing the colors of the Eastern Empire—advanced with arrogance, ignoring the interdiction warnings. From atop one of the great pillars of runic marble, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez watched the approach with a predatory grin. He was no longer using just his ordinary spiritual pressure; after his evolution into the Ultimate Skill [Pantera, King of Devastation], his simple presence caused the space around him to distort as if the air itself were being chewed.
— Grimmjow — Sirzechs' voice echoed through the port's communication system. — Try not to sink the ships immediately. We need survivors for interrogation.
Grimmjow let out a boisterous laugh that could be heard even by the distant sailors.
— You ask too much, Sirzechs! I'm just going to show them what happens when they try to enter my backyard without an invitation!
Grimmjow leapt from the pillar. Mid-fall, he did not draw his sword; he simply extended his hand. A sky-blue glow, charged with the black energy of Shiva's annihilation, began to concentrate. It was an evolved Gran Rey Cero. The blast did not strike the ships; it hit the sea ahead of them. The explosion of energy collapsed space-time for a brief second, creating a vacuum that raised a wall of water hundreds of meters high, paralyzing the fleet through pure kinetic terror.
However, Grimmjow was about to advance for the final slaughter when a pressure of absolute cold descended upon the ocean. Steam rose instantly, and the wall of water, which was about to collapse and crush the ships, froze into a sculpture of eternal ice in a thousandth of a second.
Grayfia Lucifuge manifested silently in the air, hovering between Grimmjow and the fleet. Her silver vestments shimmered with the runes of [Cocytus]. She did not look at Grimmjow, but her voice cut the air like an ice razor.
— Grimmjow, Lord Sirzechs requested order, not a demolition show. If you continue, I will have to paralyze you along with the invaders.
— Tsk! You always ruin the fun, Ice Queen! — Grimmjow growled, but he backed down, feeling that Grayfia's ice was now capable of freezing even his will to fight.
Grayfia extended her hand toward the imperial ships. Without uttering a single word, the sea around the entire fleet solidified into indestructible marble ice, trapping the hulls of the vessels like insects in amber. The cold was so precise that the sailors on deck were paralyzed—not by physical freezing, but because the [Static End] of her skill had interrupted the magicule flow in their bodies, preventing them from even pulling a trigger or conjuring a spell.
In the great hall, Rimuru and Milim watched the scene wide-eyed.
— She... she froze their reaction time? — Rimuru asked, while Raphael tried, unsuccessfully, to measure the temperature of that ice, which technically had no temperature, but rather the absence of the concept of heat.
— Grayfia is efficient — Sirzechs replied, returning to his plate with tranquility. — Grimmjow is our cannon, but Grayfia is the hand that ensures the shot does not destroy what we intend to build. Now that they are properly "contained," we can continue the banquet. Benedict, please bring the dessert.
Carrion and Frey looked at each other, the shock on their faces now replaced by a silent acceptance. They realized that in Avalon, even containment was a demonstration of power that surpassed everything they knew.
With the departure of Rimuru and Milim, a majestic silence returned to Avalon, but it was the silence that precedes a great symphony of construction. Sirzechs, now imbued with the authority of Shiva, felt that the physical structure of his lands needed to reflect the hierarchy and elegance of his soul. He did not desire just functional cities; he craved an empire that breathed the sophistication of the Old European World, where marble, classical art, and absolute strength merged into an eternal landscape.
Under the command of his will, the three jewels of Alabaster were reconfigured. Avalon, the capital, became the pinnacle of Renaissance and Baroque splendor. The city was redesigned with wide, circular avenues paved with polished marble that reflected the crimson sky. Monumental statues of deities and heroes were erected in every square, while hanging gardens, inspired by the aesthetics of European castles, adorned the facades of government buildings. At the center of it all, the Gremory Palace rose not merely as a fortress, but as a cathedral of power, with golden domes and runic stained-glass windows that captured sunlight to illuminate the interior with vibrant colors. It was the cultural heart, where music and etiquette dictated the rhythm of life under Grayfia Lucifuge's watchful eye.
New Alabaster, the mountain city under Starrk's tutelage, assumed a Gothic and Romantic industrial identity. Its dark stone towers and arched bridges connected snowy peaks, creating an atmosphere of mystery and grandeur. The smithies and manufacturing ateliers were integrated into the architecture so that the smoke from the forges mixed with the clouds, while pointed windows and wrought-iron details gave the city an air of somber elegance. It was the cradle of technical creation, where Szayelaporro's precision met Dietrich's brute strength.
Meanwhile, Alabaster Port transformed into a Neoclassical Mediterranean metropolis. White villas with Ionic columns and terracotta roofs descended gently down the slopes to the sea, contrasting with the colossal docks carved directly into the limestone. The port was not only a military defense center under Grimmjow and Harribel but a luxury resort and commercial hub, where crystal-clear waters were protected by runic breakwaters that glowed like sapphires at night.
To seal this new order and offer his population a stage to demonstrate their worth, Sirzechs manifested the Grand Colosseum of Lucifer. Located at the geographic intersection of the three cities, the structure was a marvel of classical engineering inspired by the Roman Colosseum but amplified by Shiva's magic. Built of travertine marble with obsidian details, the amphitheater featured stands capable of housing hundreds of thousands. The arena was protected by spatial containment barriers that allowed elite warriors and new citizens to test their strength in glorious combat, where death was prevented by Sirzechs' authority over the souls within the arena.
Sirzechs now walked through the upper stands of the Colosseum, observing the golden sand below that awaited blood and glory. Grayfia walked beside him, her footsteps echoing rhythmically against the cold marble. She held a crystal clipboard, meticulously reviewing safety protocols and the participant list for the inaugural games.
— The people of Alabaster now have an identity, Grayfia — Sirzechs commented, watching the horizon where Avalon's towers shimmered. — They are no longer just displaced monsters or humans. They are citizens of an empire that values strength and beauty in equal measure.
— It is a necessary vision, my Lord — Grayfia replied, adjusting her posture with her habitual rigidity. — However, organizing the first tournament is proving to be a logistical challenge. Grimmjow has tried to sign up ten times under different pseudonyms to fight the amateurs. I had to personally ban him from the qualifiers to ensure the Colosseum isn't destroyed before noon. Furthermore, the paperwork regarding the rules of conduct for spectators is already on your desk. You promised to review them after your walk.
Sirzechs let out a light laugh, the sound echoing through the empty arena. He knew that although he was a god of destruction and creation, his greatest battle would continue to be against his housekeeper's relentless efficiency. Avalon was ready. The marble was set, the Colosseum awaited its heroes, and the era of Alabaster's cultural expansion was about to begin.