If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patréon at
"https://www.patréon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !
/*\
"I see how it is," Jason said slowly. "You've planned this from the start. Not just studied me since I arrived but prepared everything. Every piece. Every player." His eyes narrowed.
Azazel laughed at that, the sound echoing off flames that weren't quite walls. "Neron, you gathered us all. Prepared all these plans. For him?" He gestured with chained hands toward Jason, disdain dripping from every word. "I dare say he's a failure. Look at him. Unable to make a single attack since we arrived."
Jason's jaw tightened but he said nothing. His points were still zero. His body had just finished healing from the Domain's punishment. And he was surrounded by five of Hell's most powerful entities, all of them eager to carve pieces off him.
Belial's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the golden silence like a blade. "Don't get too cocky, Azazel. The only reason we have him cornered like this is because of Neron's plan. Credit where it's due."
"Credit means nothing," Beelzebub buzzed, his swarm-form shifting restlessly against iron chains. "Results mean everything. And right now, I see a human standing where a corpse should be." His compound eyes fixed on Jason with hungry anticipation. "It doesn't matter. For now, we carve him up. Shall we, Neron?"
Neron's half-smile widened. The other half—Satan's half—remained still, watching, waiting, a predator content to let others tire the prey.
"I believe," Neron said smoothly, "that the floor is open for statements."
The flames surged.
And the battle began.
Azazel moved first, his voice carrying across the courtroom with the weight of ancient authority. "I vow that my next attack will sever one of his limbs."
The Domain analyzed. Assessed. Burned.
[VOW REGISTERED]
[Speaker: Azazel, Angel of Destruction]
[Content: Next attack severs one limb]
[Wager: 35 points]
Golden light flared around Azazel's chains, and then his wings—despite being bound—beat once. A wave of force rippled outward, not physical but conceptual, destruction woven into the very air. It raced toward Jason like a blade made of ruin.
Jason moved.
Not fast enough to dodge completely—the chains saw to that—but fast enough to turn what should have been his right arm into his left. The destructive wave clipped his left shoulder, tearing through flesh and muscle, but the arm remained attached. Blood sprayed across golden flames.
Azazel's vow failed. The Domain registered the partial hit, deemed it insufficient, and transferred his 35 points to Jason while delivering punishment damage that cracked one of his wings.
[VOW FAILED]
[35 points transferred to Jason]
[Punishment: Executing]
Azazel hissed as ethereal fractures spread across black feathers. "Annoying creature."
Jason didn't respond. He was already moving, already speaking, already turning the moment into opportunity.
"I vow," he said quickly, "that my next three slashes will each find their mark."
[VOW REGISTERED]
[Speaker: Jason, King of Curses]
[Content: Three consecutive slashes hit]
[Wager: 45 points]
His hands came up despite the chains, fingers forming the familiar gesture. Cursed energy surged—not enough for a full Cleave, but three Dismantles, each one a razor-thin line of cutting force. They raced toward the Council in sequence.
Beelzebub's swarm-form dissolved, the first Dismantle passing through empty space. But the second found him as he reformed, slicing through a cluster of flies and drawing black ichor. The third caught Azazel across the chest as he recovered from his punishment, opening a shallow wound.
All three hit. The Domain acknowledged.
[VOW SUSTAINED]
[45 points awarded to Jason]
Jason now had 80 points. Not enough for anything decisive. Enough to survive.
"Impressive," Belial murmured, his voice devoid of actual admiration. "You gather points like a mortal gathers coins. But coins don't win wars." He drew a breath. "I vow that my next strategy will force you to waste twice the points you just earned."
[VOW REGISTERED]
[Speaker: Belial, Infernal Strategist]
[Content: Next strategy forces waste of double Jason's current points]
[Wager: 60 points]
Jason's eyes snapped toward him, but Belial was already moving not physically, but mentally. His strategy unfolded across the battlefield like a web, invisible threads connecting each of his allies, coordinating their next moves with brutal efficiency.
Azazel attacked high, wings beating despite their fractures, sending another destructive wave. Beelzebub attacked low, swarm pouring across the burning ground like a tide of biting death. Neron hung back, watching, waiting, his role in this strategy unclear.
Jason responded on instinct. Dismantles fanned out in every direction, slashing through destructive waves and dissolving swarms. He spent points without thinking 15 here, 20 there, reinforcing his defenses, widening his slashes, buying space
And then he realized.
He had spent 160 points. Exactly double his previous total.
Belial smiled.
[VOW SUSTAINED]
[60 points transferred to Belial]
[Punishment: None — vow fulfilled successfully]
Jason's jaw tightened. His points now sat at negative 80—meaning he was in debt, and the Domain would collect. Golden light flared around him, pain lancing through his frame as the punishment manifested. Not severe—80 points wasn't fatal—but enough to slow him, enough to make him hesitate.
"That," Beelzebub buzzed with satisfaction, "was satisfying."
"Shut up and fight," Jason snapped through gritted teeth.
He forced himself forward despite the pain, despite the debt, despite the impossible odds. His mind raced through options, through strategies, through any path that led to survival.
None appeared.
But he kept fighting anyway.
The battle continued.
Jason made vows small ones, careful ones, ones he knew he could keep.
"I vow my next slash will force Azazel to block." 25 points. It worked.
"I vow Beelzebub's swarm will reform slower after my next attack." 30 points. It worked.
"I vow Belial's next strategy will take three seconds longer to implement." 40 points. It worked.
Each successful vow brought points. Each point let him survive a little longer. But each attack he launched each Cleave, each Dismantle, each carefully aimed slash did nothing permanent.
He caught Azazel across the throat with a Cleave that should have decapitated a lesser demon. The wound closed before blood could finish falling.
He carved through Beelzebub's swarm-form with a Dismantle net designed to shred every individual fly. The swarm re-formed seconds later, buzzing with laughter.
He targeted Belial directly with a series of precision slashes meant to disable his ability to think. Belial simply... moved. Not fast, not far, but exactly far enough. Every time.
And Neron Neron barely participated. He watched. He smiled. He occasionally threw a small attack Jason's way, nothing serious, just enough to keep pressure, just enough to remind Jason he was there.
The summons gloated.
"Is this the great King of Curses?" Azazel called out as another of Jason's attacks failed to stick. "I've seen mortal warlords put up better fights."
"His reputation precedes him," Beelzebub agreed, reforming from scattered flies with obvious amusement. "Unfortunately, it seems to have arrived alone."
"Patience," Belial murmured, though his eyes glittered with satisfaction. "He's gathering points. Let him. They won't save him."
Jason ignored them. His mind was elsewhere.
'None of my attacks work.'
Neron tilted his head, voice calm and cutting. "What are you thinking about, Jason Anderson? An out? There is no out. I gave you one at the start of the battle. An offer. I told you to stay out of it. Yet you chose… not to. You said… 'No.'"
Jason's breathing was ragged, but his eyes never left Neron's face. The pain was background noise now. His mind had finally stopped chasing shadows and started looking at the board itself.
Then it hit him.
All this time he'd been obsessed with hitting Neron finding the perfect slash to bypass the demon contract, the perfect vow to crack the redirection. When the Council appeared he'd simply expanded the problem: multiple targets, multiple threats, same goal. Attack Neron, attack them, survive, win.
But that was the trap.
He started laughing.
Low at first then louder, harder, the sound bouncing off the burning walls of the Infernal Court like breaking glass. His shoulders shook, head tipped back, laughter raw and unrestrained.
Beelzebub's flies stuttered in confusion. "Keh keh keh… I think he's finally broken."
Belial's sigils slowed, eyes narrowing. "It seems for all his greatness… he was lacking."
Neron watched, expression unchanging. "Have you finally accepted reality, Jason Anderson?"
The laughter only grew, echoing until it filled every corner of the Domain. Then, slowly, it tapered off. Jason lowered his head, wiped a streak of blood from his lip with the back of his hand, and looked around—at the chains, the golden fire, the four demons staring back at him like he'd lost his mind.
And all he could think was how funny it was.
"You really had me, Neron," he said, voice still rough with mirth. "Truly. I was actually lost. After all… this is my first real domain battle. If Sukuna was the one standing here, he might've ended this in minutes. I must look like an amateur to him." Another short, breathless laugh escaped. "But… you're a fool, Neron."
The mirth vanished. His gaze sharpened into something cold and predatory.
"You had me in your hands. But your hubris your arrogance your need to flaunt… that's what exposed you."
He lifted his chained arm and pointed at the three demons behind Neron.
"Summoning them was your mistake. You didn't need them. All three are as useless as the next. You did it to show off. To confuse me. To make me pick targets."
Neron's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes.
Jason's voice dropped lower.
"But that was your mistake. Making me pick targets… I would've never realized the flaw in your Domain if you hadn't forced multiple pieces onto the board."
Neron raised an eyebrow, almost amused. "Oh? You think you've figured out a flaw? Please. I'll even wager on this. I vow—"
"No." Jason cut him off, voice like a blade. "No wagers for this one. You watch."
He raised his free hand chains rattling and pointed upward, not at Neron, not at any of the demons.
"Death Slash."
Neron's smile finally faltered.
"You've really lost it. Where are you aiming that? All your points gone. You truly are a "
He stopped.
Because the golden flames were already trembling.
The burning text overhead flickered, stuttered, as if the Domain itself had just registered something impossible.
Neron's eyes widened.
"This… can't… be… It is not possible… How did you…"
Before he could finish the sentence
The Infernal Court shattered.
A single, silent line of black cut through the golden reality like a guillotine through silk. Not aimed at flesh. Not aimed at soul.
Aimed at the Domain itself.
The chains dissolved into ash. The burning rules overhead cracked and fell like broken glass. The endless courtroom collapsed inward, golden fire snuffing out as though someone had simply turned off the light.
Reality snapped back.
The arena floor returned—scorched stone, distant roar of the demonic stands, the weight of Hell pressing down again.
Neron stood frozen, Azazel, Beelzebub, and Belial beside him, all staring at Jason.
Jason stood in the center, chains gone, blood still drying on his skin, reverse cursed technique already smoothing the last of the wounds. He looked at them—really looked—and let out one final, quiet chuckle.
"Your Domain… is also a target." He met Neron's stunned gaze without blinking. "And Death… can be inflicted on anything."
/*\
If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patréon at
"https://www.patréon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !