Devil Slave (Satan system)
Chapter 1317: Those Heaven Refused

Chapter 1317: Those Heaven Refused

...As Enel voiced his question, the castle itself responded.

The ever-shifting golden walls rippled, and from within them, an image began to take form—

A girlish face, delicate and mischievous, like that of a young elf, emerged within the flowing gold as if playing upon the surface of a living mural.

A voice, smooth and amused, rang out:

"You have arrived at Beit HaYa’ar Levanon (בית היער לבנון)."

Enel, well-versed in countless languages, instantly understood.

"The House of the Forest of Lebanon," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with both awe and wariness.

There was no doubt.

This was the legendary and mysterious palace of King Solomon.

The castle, as if sensing his amazement, preened under his gaze, its walls subtly shimmering as though basking in his admiration.

It enjoyed the look in his eyes.

Then, with a playful lilt, it teased:

"If you truly wish to enter this magnificent palace, you must bow nine times—once for each star upon my crown."

Enel’s brow twitched.

This place was messing with him.

"Tch." He wasn’t a fool.

Before he could snap back, a voice boomed from within the castle, deep and commanding:

"Do not mind the castle’s antics. Enter. We have been expecting you."

A low rumble shook the air.

The colossal diamond doors—taller than mountains—shimmered before slowly parting, revealing the grand interior beyond.

With a final glance at the grinning elf-like face upon the golden walls, Enel scoffed and stepped forward—

Still carrying Allison in his arms

And walked inside.

As Enel stepped through the towering diamond gates, a world of opulence and grandeur unfolded before him.

The interior was just as he had seen in his illusion all those years ago—before time itself was rewritten by him.

Gold lined every inch of the massive hall, its surface so polished that it reflected his own image as he walked. Precious stones—sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and opals—were embedded into the very walls, pulsing with a light that did not flicker like normal flames, but instead seemed to breathe.

The ceiling was impossibly high, stretching into the sky itself, but what caught Enel’s eye was not just its sheer vastness—it was the chandeliers.

Floating.

Suspended in the air.

Each one a masterpiece, composed not of candles or glass, but of luminous, otherworldly fruits that shimmered like tiny stars. The air carried their intoxicating fragrance, a sweetness that teased the senses. The lamps were not fire but life itself.

All around him, banners of deep purple and gold hung like cascading waterfalls of silk, embroidered with ancient symbols—some he recognized, others lost to time. The sigils of long-forgotten kingdoms, of rulers who had once bent the knee to the man who had called this place home.

Yet, despite the overwhelming splendor, this was no mere palace of leisure.

The people within made that clear.

There were hundreds of them scattered across the vast hall—men and women dressed in lavish attire, as if for a grand dance ball, their gowns and cloaks flowing like liquid shadow and light.

Yet—

Many among them were also clad for war.

Armor gleamed beneath fine silks. Heavy boots stood firm against the golden floors. Some carried ornate swords, their scabbards covered in scripture; others bore old, battle-worn carbines, weapons of an era far beyond the time this place should belong to.

And though they spoke in hushed voices, there was an air of tension.

A feeling that despite the beauty around them—

They were waiting.

For something.

Or someone.

As Enel steadily walked forward, the whispers in the room grew louder.

Soft murmurs, gasps, and hushed voices carried through the grand hall, rippling like waves on the ocean. Eyes followed his every step. Some with curiosity, others with awe, and a few with knowing smiles.

Then—he stopped.

Before him, on an unassuming throne, sat a man who looked as far from a king as possible.

His clothes were more like tattered robes, loosely draped over his body, hanging carelessly like they had been put on in a hurry. The fabric was faded, uneven, and looked as if it had seen better days. His beard was scruffy but well-maintained, his hair a wild mess, yet somehow he still looked... fresh.

His scepter, a relic of unimaginable power, was dumped lazily at his side, barely held in his grip. But the crown above his head—much like Alexander’s—hovered in the air, spinning ever so slightly, radiating an undeniable authority.

Despite his rugged, almost beggar-like appearance, there was a strangeness to him, something utterly unreadable—like a village madman who somehow always knew more than anyone else.

Enel narrowed his eyes, trying to process the sight before him.

"...King Solomon?"

His voice was filled with doubt.

The legendary King Solomon—the one whose wisdom was said to rival the gods themselves? The one whose power built wonders across time and space?

This man—this sloppily dressed, candy-eating man who lounged as if he had no worries in the world—was that King Solomon?

For a moment, Enel seriously wondered if he had been scammed.

But then—

The man grinned.

With unnerving speed, he rushed down from his chair, his bare feet slapping against the golden floor as he moved toward Enel.

Then—before Enel could react—

He pulled him into a tight hug.

A bone-crushing one.

"Ahaha! Today is a GREAT day!" The king’s voice boomed through the hall, filled with excitement, bordering on madness.

With a loud laugh, he spun toward the crowd and threw his hands up as he announced—

"Lenny Tales! The one we have all been waiting for! He has finally arrived in the Brotherhood!"

The hall erupted into cheers.

Music—seemingly from nowhere—began playing. Instruments floated through the air, strumming and beating of their own accord.

People rushed forward, their faces bright with smiles, each eager to greet Enel.

As they spoke their names, Enel froze.

He recognized them.

Every single one of them.

They were great men and women of history—ones who had supposedly died long ago.

Not a single one was ordinary.

Philosophers. Conquerors. Scholars. Warriors. Sages. Every single one a legend in their own right.

But then—

Enel’s face darkened.

His eyes blazed, and suddenly—

He roared.

The entire room fell silent.

Then, in a voice that shook the golden walls, Enel spoke with fury.

"My mate is dying."

His voice was filled with rage.

How could they stand here celebrating while Allison lay in his arms, her life slipping away?

For a moment—there was only silence.

Then—

King Solomon clicked his tongue.

He waved a dismissive hand, grinning in a rushed, amused manner.

"Ah! That? That’s easy. We can fix that."

With a snap of his fingers—

Allison’s wounds instantly healed.

No—

It was more than healing.

It was as if time itself was reversing.

Before Enel’s very eyes—

She was restored.

King Solomon snapped his fingers once more, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Allison needs rest," he said casually. "Besides, I have no interest in Lady Death eavesdropping on our conversation through her."

Before Enel could protest, Allison vanished from his arms—gone in an instant, as if she had never been there.

His body tensed. Where had she gone?

But before he could even ask, Solomon waved him off with a lazy hand.

"She’s fine," the king assured him, smirking. "But right now, the people in this room have waited hundreds of years to meet you. It would be rather impolite to decline them."

He even tilted his head playfully, hinting that some might even have gifts for him.

Enel frowned but sighed in resignation.

He had no choice.

And so—he turned to the gathered legends.

Many stepped forward, eager to speak with him. Some wanted to hear about his adventures—

"Is it true you battled Entities on earth?" one asked.

"Did you really screw the sisters of fate?" another pressed excitedly. This one obviously a pervert.

Others, in turn, shared their own stories.

A once-famed conqueror told Enel about his final battle—how he had died not from a warrior’s blade, but from treachery in his own court. But how he had left traps for them as revenge.

A wise philosopher chuckled, recounting how he had been sentenced to death for speaking too many truths.

A sorceress with golden eyes and braided hair whispered of the time she had stolen fire from the gods, only to be cursed for eternity.

And so it went.

Stories exchanged. Laughter shared.

Before long, Enel had adapted to the strange environment.

Later that night...

Enel stood alone on a balcony, gazing at the sky.

It was nothing like the night sky he knew.

Stars shimmered in colors he had never seen.

The moons hung lower, closer, casting an ethereal glow.

And there, in the distance—

A rainbow stretched across the heavens.

A rainbow.

Even though it was night.

Enel furrowed his brow, murmuring to himself, "Where... is this place?"

A voice answered him from behind.

Calm. Steady. Knowing.

"It is a place for those who do not deserve Hell," said King Solomon, stepping forward.

"...but whom Heaven refuses to accept."

(Updated Author’s note: : my new book: Trafficked: Reborn heirs revenge, will be on Royal road for free. Yes, i have updated on gore, writing, and language. Extra Chapters will be on my patreon. Please support me.)