Chapter 570: Pandora Losing Control!

Aaron stood at the very summit of the ancient coliseum, the wind tugging at his cloak as if trying to warn him of the madness he had willingly provoked. Yet he only smiled.

Nestled in his palm was a small, perfectly smooth black sphere—a relic so ancient that even the oldest gods had begun to forget its true name. Thousands of years ago, this sphere had been forged to do the impossible: to contain a fragment of Pandora’s carnage, to swallow a portion of the curses that spilled from Pandora’s Box when Zeus’s wrath spiraled out of control. Many had died crafting it, and even more had been sacrificed to keep it sealed. Its purpose was simple—to save humanity from annihilation.

And then, as years bled into centuries, the sphere vanished from the world.

Yet here it was now, resting in Aaron’s grasp.

He could feel its hunger—its ancient, whispered malice—writhing inside the glossy darkness. Harnessing its power had not been easy. In truth, it still fought him, biting into his palm with invisible resistance. But Aaron didn’t care. He didn’t need to master it. He only needed to use it as a trigger.

And Pandora... Pandora was responding to it beautifully.

Above him, the goddess floated in the night sky like a forsaken star. Her entire body was engulfed in a dark purple aura, the color so deep and suffocating that it seemed to devour the moonlight around her. The already-dark heavens twisted into a violent violet storm, roiling as if the sky itself feared her imminent eruption.

Pandora trembled.

Her breaths came heavy and uneven. The curse-energy inside her churned wildly, slipping from her grasp like floodwaters breaking through a dam. She had contained the Box within her for countless years—more than anyone else could have survived—yet she was losing control far quicker than Aaron anticipated.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her distress with clinical fascination.

So she was already upset before this. Interesting.

He could not have known the true cause—Nathan’s deliberate coldness toward Pandora, and his shameless flirtation with another woman right before her eyes. That buried frustration, that emotional crack, made her far more unstable than usual.

"Even better," Aaron murmured, tightening his grip around the black sphere. The object vibrated eagerly. "This is perfect."

BA—DOOOOM!

A thunderous shockwave exploded outward from Pandora. The air warped. Dust rose. The coliseum beneath Aaron groaned. Pandora’s veil tore away like fragile paper, revealing her divine, breathtaking face—now warped with agony. Her violet eyes glowed with an eerie, corrupted brilliance. Thick, dark veins spread across her cheeks, down her neck, along her arms—like roots of a poison tree.

Hermes was the first to react.

"This isn’t good! Contain her!" he shouted, already soaring forward in a streak of golden light.

A shimmering barrier formed around Pandora, brilliant and divine. But almost instantly, her darkness crawled over it, staining it, rotting it, corrupting the gold into blackened ruin. The barrier flickered violently, wavering as if it could be extinguished at any second.

But then it steadied—because Hermes was no longer alone.

Dionysus joined him from the left, wreaths of celestial energy swirling around his arms. Amaterasu descended in a cascade of radiance, her flames weaving into the barrier. Isis raised both hands, her ancient power threading through the cracks like silver glue.

Four gods together. That was the only reason the barrier held at all.

"Remind me," Dionysus grunted as Pandora unleashed another pulse of malignant aura, "whose brilliant idea was that damned Box?"

"Ah, that would be our dear Father, brother," Hermes said with a strained chuckle, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

"Oh, right," Dionysus sighed. "Back when he was

extremely

short-tempered. And insane."

Their arms trembled as they poured more divinity into the barrier.

Thousands of years ago, when Zeus first created Pandora’s Box to punish mankind, even he hadn’t expected it to work so well. Nor had he foreseen that the Box would awaken... develop a will... seek a host... choose Pandora... fuse with her... and eventually evolve into something far beyond divine control.

And now that evolved power was awakening once again.

And Aaron... was smiling.

But then his smile froze.

A sudden, primal instinct of danger surged through him like a bucket of icy water. Without hesitation he leapt backward, boots scraping against the cracked stone of the coliseum rooftop.

BADAM!!

The air split with a thunderous impact as four silhouettes landed ahead of him, the shockwave kicking up dust and debris. When the haze settled, Aaron found himself staring at four familiar faces.

Ethan Thompson stood at the front, glare sharp enough to cut steel. Olivia, Jane, and Lan flanked him, their expressions colder than the night air swirling with Pandora’s corruption.

"Aaron," Ethan said, voice low, trembling with fury. "You really did it."

Aaron blinked once—then laughed. A slow, mocking laugh that echoed through the amphitheater like a taunt thrown at fate itself.

"After all these years," he drawled, "you’re still glued together—the four of you. Just like back at school and when we were summoned. Brings back old memories... warm, nostalgic ones."

"Warm?" Jane snapped, fists clenched as her aura flared. "You little bastard! Do you even KNOW what you just did?!"

"I did what was necessary," Aaron replied coolly, brushing imaginary dust from his cloak. "To pay back those gods for all their lies. And to finally be free."

"Bullshit," Olivia spat. "All your grand plans—everything you’ve done—it’s always been about YOU. If you cared even slightly about anyone else, you wouldn’t have joined the Demon King in the first place."

Aaron snorted. "I joined him because—even cruel and twisted as he was—he was more trustworthy than those psychopaths Divine Knights of the Light Empire."

"That should’ve been even MORE reason to stay with us," Ethan shot back. "With the Light Empire. To protect what little good exists in this world!"

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, the smile fading into a bitter sneer.

"You talk like this is

your

world, Ethan. Like you own it. Sure—you may have fallen in love with this place, with its people, its politics... but I didn’t." His voice hardened. "I have no intention of rotting away in this damn world. I’ll go back to Earth. And my dear brother—who threw me into this nightmare—will pay for it."

Olivia’s grip tightened around her sword. "And to do that... you’re willing to sacrifice this entire world?"

Now there was no doubt.

Pandora, twisting in agony above them, was on the brink of becoming an apocalyptic force. And Aaron—cold, determined, unforgiving—had triggered it intentionally. Simply because he no longer cared whether this world lived or died.

"I am," Aaron said quietly, eyes darkening. "This world has done nothing but bring me suffering."

A rush of wind whispered behind him.

Three more figures stepped forward—other former classmates, faces hardened, eyes shadowed with guilt and determination. They took their place behind Aaron without hesitation.

Jane’s jaw dropped as recognition hit her. Rage followed swiftly.

"And YOU are following him?!" she shouted, voice cracking. "Don’t you have any shame left?!"

"We just want to go home, Jane," Clint said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed exhaustion and years of regret. "Back to Earth. Back to our families."

Ethan’s gaze sharpened. "And how do you expect to face them after everything you’ve done? After all the people you sacrificed just to claw your way home?"

"It doesn’t matter," Clint answered, tone disturbingly steady. He then glanced around. "Where’s Lilia? Did you kill her?"

Lan’s stare was unyielding. "We’re not like you. We don’t kill our classmates."

Clint chuckled—a cold, hollow laugh. "Still annoyingly calm, I see."

Before another word could be said, Olivia stepped forward, blade already raised. Frost crept along the steel, crystallizing and expanding as her aura surged.

"Move," she commanded, eyes locked on Aaron’s group. "Or I’ll make you."

"Try it," Clint growled as he stepped forward, weapon raised. The two silent classmates beside him mirrored his stance, their eyes fixed on Olivia with murderous intent. The tension thickened, heavy enough to suffocate.

"Aaron..." Ethan’s voice cut through the rising hostility. He stared at Aaron with a seriousness that seemed to weigh even the corrupted air around them. "I don’t know what happened between you and your brother. I don’t understand what you meant about the Guardian of Worlds, or any of this—but there are billions of innocent lives in this world. You can’t do this."

Aaron held Ethan’s gaze for a moment—the slightest flicker of memories, of the past, hinted behind his eyes. Then he laughed quietly, almost gently, as if Ethan had told a harmless joke.

"If you’re that concerned," he said, "why don’t you help those gods contain Pandora—after I’m done with her?"

Ethan’s jaw tightened. His gaze drifted to the sphere in Aaron’s hand, the object throbbing with dark energy like a heartbeat.

"That sphere... Where did you get it?" Ethan asked. "You’re not acting alone, are you? Someone gave you that thing."

Aaron didn’t answer. He only smirked—and squeezed the orb even harder.

Immediately Pandora’s aura surged like a volcanic eruption, the sky rippling with corrupted violet light. Even the gods in the distance staggered as her power flared.

Ethan took a step forward, ready to strike—

"Hey."

The single, casual word came from above.

All of them—including Aaron—turned toward the voice.

Nathan was flying straight toward Pandora, cutting through the violet storm like a falling star. His white hair whipped around him, his gaze fixed entirely on the raging goddess.

But before reaching her, he glanced down at Ethan and his group.

"If you don’t have anything else to do," he said flatly, pointing toward the arena floor, "contain that wolf."

Romulus, still transformed into his monstrous form, was rampaging below—howling, claws tearing chunks of stone as he searched for something to devour.

"Who are you to order us!" Jane snapped, rage instantly flaring at the sight of Nathan. Their last encounter clearly hadn’t healed in her memory.

Nathan didn’t even acknowledge her. He simply turned and accelerated toward Pandora.

Ethan watched him go, stunned for a heartbeat—then a slow grin formed on his lips.

"...Smart," he muttered. And then louder: "Olivia! Can you hold off that wolf?"

Olivia inhaled sharply, then nodded. "I can."

"Jane," Ethan continued, "help her. Protect the civilians."

Jane nodded with a fierce expression. The two women sprinted off, leaping from the coliseum rim and diving toward the arena floor to face Romulus head-on.

Ethan then turned to Lan, his voice shifting into command.

"Lan, handle Clint and the other two. Don’t let them escape."

Lan nodded once, calm and focused as ever.

"And I," Ethan said, electricity crackling around his entire body now, "will take care of Aaron."

Thunder roared from his hands. Sparks danced across the broken stone. The air trembled.

Aaron simply threw his head back and laughed.

"Come at me then!"