Devil Slave (Satan system)
Chapter 1318: Mirror Of Time.

Chapter 1318: Mirror Of Time.

...Enel suddenly turned to face King Solomon, his eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

The old king let out a sigh, tilting his head toward the distant stars.

Then, without looking at Enel, he asked, "Tell me, boy... what do you think life is?"

Enel frowned, pondering for a moment. The question seemed too simple—yet the weight behind it was anything but.

After a brief silence, he finally answered, "Life is the privilege to live."

Solomon nodded approvingly.

Then, swirling the wine in his hand, he posed another question.

"And what of the afterlife?"

This time, Enel shook his head. "I don’t know." He paused. "But I suppose... it can only be reached through death."

The king smiled again, his lips curling with an unreadable expression.

Then, in a tone laced with wisdom, he said, "You’ve died twice before, Enel."

"Yet neither Heaven nor Hell took you."

His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light.

"Do you know why?"

Enel folded his arms, his expression unreadable.

"Because Lucifer made a deal with my soul."

But Solomon shook his head.

The once-lazy madness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, piercing depth—the eyes of a true king.

"No," he corrected. "The reason you did not go to Heaven... is because Heaven was not willing to accept you."

He let those words hang in the air before adding,

"And Hell... Hell did not want to take in one it considered an abomination."

Enel frowned at those words.

"You talk as if Heaven and Hell are alive."

Solomon gave him a long, serious look.

"That’s because they are."

Enel’s eyes widened slightly, but Solomon continued.

"Heaven and Hell, though called ’planes,’ are unlike any of the Earths. They are not just realms, nor mere afterlife destinations. They are—"

He paused, his expression solemn.

"Whole existences."

For the first time in a long while, Enel felt true revelation dawn upon him.

His mind spun.

But Solomon wasn’t done.

Lifting his hand, the king let out a whisper—a soft command.

Shadow runes—black as midnight, yet shimmering with an unnatural radiance—began to swirl around him.

They danced, twisting like living creatures, coiling together into a single form.

A hologram—a flower blooming, then twisting, shifting... morphing into the figure of a person.

"The afterlife does not exist."

Solomon’s voice rang with authority.

"There is only life."

"The idea of ’after’ is nothing more than the limitation of mortal perception."

The runes flickered, shifting again, displaying the cycle of existence.

Birth. Growth. Death. Rebirth.

Enel watched, his sharp eyes reflecting the movement of the runes.

Even with his abilities, even with his mastery over the shadow runes, he had never seen such precision—such effortless control.

He could not help but be impressed.

Not because of the sheer power.

But because Solomon could afford to waste that power—just to prove a point.

King Solomon exhaled softly, as if pitying Enel’s limited understanding.

"When a man dies," he began, his voice smooth yet weighty, "he is not truly gone. Heaven or Hell will take him—not because his life has ended, but because even they must feed."

Enel narrowed his eyes.

"Feed?"

The king chuckled. "Boy, whether you believe it or not, the soul is eternal."

He raised a finger, and the swirling runes in the air expanded, forming a shape—a wisp of light and a wisp of shadow, both moving like flames.

"Heaven and Hell exist because they must."

The wisp of light drifted upward, absorbed into a grand, golden vortex.

The wisp of shadow sank downward, devoured by a deep abyss.

"They are not merely realms. They are living, breathing things—hungry, endless, always seeking more."

Enel frowned, his arms folded.

Solomon continued, "You see, true death does not exist."

He waved his hand, and the swirling runes froze in place.

"Why?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp. "Because the One who created life does not comprehend death."

The words rang through Enel like a bell tolling in the depths of his mind.

"The Creator?" he muttered.

Solomon nodded. "To It, all things simply are. To It, life is eternal, unbroken. It never conceived an ’end,’ and so, none truly exist. Only the illusion of it clouds the minds of mortals—because their understanding is limited by their ability."

Enel remained silent, absorbing the revelation.

It made sense. As one that even managed to reach the Nether Realm and seen what happened there, it made a lot of sense.

Yet, there was something that still didn’t add up.

His gaze flickered toward the guests of the Brotherhood—the warriors, scholars, legends of ages past.

"Then why?" he asked. "Why was I rejected by Heaven? Why were they?"

King Solomon smiled, though there was a weight to it.

He tapped the air, and the floating runes shifted—forming a vast door split into two halves.

One half radiated golden light, filled with warmth, serenity.

The other half swirled with darkness, heavy, suffocating.

Then, in the center, a third path appeared—empty, barren, yet untouched.

Solomon’s voice softened.

"Because, Enel... Heaven does not accept what it cannot control."

Enel’s heart stirred.

Solomon gestured to the golden half of the door. "Heaven is order."

He gestured to the dark half. "Hell is chaos."

Then he pointed to the middle path. "But you, and those here... you do not fit into either."

"You are something else."

Enel’s breath slowed.

Solomon’s golden eyes gleamed.

"Heaven cannot take in what does not obey."

"Hell does not want what it cannot break."

"And so, both turned you away."

A chill ran through Enel’s spine, not from fear, but from understanding.

He was not cast aside because he was unworthy.

He was cast aside because he did not belong.

The king’s voice took on a calm, almost amused tone.

"That is why Heaven needs people to believe it is the beginning and end of all good."

His fingers traced the air, and the golden half of the door shimmered, pulsing like a heartbeat.

"It needs them to worship it, to trust in its promise of salvation."

He turned to the dark half. "And Hell?" His tone dropped, amused. "It needs people to resent its existence, to fear it, to curse its name."

The dark half of the door twisted, shifting like liquid smoke, as though it pulsed in hunger.

"Such is the condition for their meals."

Enel’s eyes narrowed.

"Regardless of faith?" he asked.

Solomon chuckled. "Religion is a language, boy. A translation of what already exists. It does not change the laws of life."

Enel remained silent, thoughtful.

The king’s gaze swept across the grand hall.

"That is why this place is filled with so many peculiar souls."

Enel followed his eyes, once again seeing the warriors, the thinkers, the legends who had carved their names into history.

Solomon continued, "These are those who sought their own paths. Those who refused to submit to the order of Heaven or the chaos of Hell. Those who walked between."

His golden eyes turned to Enel.

"Just like you."

Then, with a lazy stretch, the king smiled. "Come. There is something I wish to show you."

Without waiting, he turned and began walking.

Enel followed.

The palace was strange—they did not take turns, nor pass corridors.

Instead, the walls moved, folding open like the petals of a golden flower, revealing pathways that had not existed a moment ago.

It felt alive, organic, shifting as though responding to their presence.

They passed through halls where the chandeliers burned with blue fire, their flames whispering forgotten names.

They passed through chambers where gravity bent in spirals, tables floating in mid-air, wine pouring itself endlessly into golden cups.

And then—

They arrived.

A grand archway stood before them, its surface unlike anything Enel had ever seen.

The doors were not solid—instead, they swirled like golden dust caught in an eternal storm.

Each grain of sand seemed to glow and flicker, as though tiny worlds were being born and destroyed within them.

It was a door that did not exist and yet had always been there.

It was time itself.

Before Enel could even voice his question, Solomon spoke.

"These doors," he said, his voice almost reverent, "are made from the sands of time."

Enel’s frown deepened.

He knew that power.

He had used that power.

All those years ago, Solomon had given him a mere pebble of it—the one he had used to bend time itself.

And yet, he knew from experience that this power was not omniscient.

Even the Fates had seen beyond it.

And so he wondered—

What was the true height of such power?

"Ahh... master. You taking him in this place?" The playful voice of the castle echoed around as her face formed on the walls. "Are you sure he is ready?...it has not even been a day."

Solomon nodded, "he is the one we have all waited for. Of course he is ready."

King Solomon lifted his scepter, tapping the golden dust with a soft, almost playful knock.

The storm parted.

The doors unraveled.

Beyond them, a vast expanse of shifting light awaited.

The king smiled.

"Welcome to the Mirror of Time."

His voice echoed, low and deep.

"The center of every decision ever made or will ever be made."

His golden eyes gleamed as he took a step forward.

"And in my own opinion, The true gift given to me of my mind....by the One Above All."