It was over.

The battle between Rimuru and Hinata had ended—not in blood, but in understanding. Both sat on the ground, breathless and bruised, yet smiling. The tension that had once crackled between them had dissolved into quiet conversation, the kind that only warriors share after clashing with everything they have.

Rimuru felt relief settle in his chest.

His people were safe.

Hinata, too, seemed lighter—her posture relaxed, her voice no longer sharp with suspicion. Around them, their subordinates watched with quiet smiles, the air finally free of hostility. The war was done. The future could begin.

Until the sword moved.

Hinata’s blade, resting harmlessly at her side, suddenly rose—unnatural, swift, and deadly. It shot forward like a viper, aimed directly at Rimuru’s heart. The Demon Lord blinked, caught off guard, his body too slow to react in time.

Gasps echoed across the field.

Hinata’s eyes widened in horror.

She knew that power. She felt it. The Seven Eminences—hidden, watching, manipulating. This wasn’t her doing. This was sabotage.

She surged to her feet, every muscle screaming in protest. Her body was exhausted, her magic drained, but she moved anyway—desperate to intercept the blade before it reached him.

Too slow.

Too far.

Too late?

Everyone held their breath.

Time seemed to fracture, stretching the moment into eternity. Rimuru’s eyes locked onto the incoming blade, his mind racing, calculating, hoping. Hinata reached out, her voice lost in the wind.

And in that suspended second, the peace they’d fought so hard for threatened to shatter.