Chapter 120: The World Expo (Part 2)

Goddess Realm

The Goddess Realm was still exactly what it had always been: impossibly white, aggressively clean, and magical.

Goddess Celes lounged on her. One arm draped over the side, posture relaxed to the point of theological irresponsibility. Standing beside her, perfectly upright and visibly tense, was her angelic secretary, Seraph.

In front of them hovered the divine mirror.

Through it, they observed Dawn City—not directly, but through the eyes of one of Celes’s believers. The city pulsed with life, noise, color, and an alarming lack of reverence.

“Ugh,” Celes frowned. “It’s been a while since I last saw Ravendawn, and look at them now. Absolute heathens.”

Seraph folded her hands, choosing every word carefully.

“Unfortunately, the people of Ravendawn have shifted from worshipping you… to worshipping themselves. And others they refer to as… celebrities and influencers.”

The mirror shifted.

Several Ravendawn citizens were clustered together, phones raised, smiling far too brightly as they took pictures with a Murican celebrity enjoying a holiday in Dawn City. There was excitement. There was screaming. There was zero Celes symbol in sight.

Celes’s eye twitched.

“And the demons clearly intend to spread this kind of culture to every other kingdom in Talvaris,” she growled. “Turning them away from me.”

“That is the most likely outcome, dear Goddess,” Seraph agreed softly.

Celes leaned back against her throne, irritation giving way to something sharper.

“Sigh… good thing Raphael is always the smart one.”

She tilted her head, clearly pleased with herself.

“His strategy to defeat the demons at their own game is… quite enticing.”

An unmistakably evil grin spread across her face.

Seraph, however, did not mirror the expression. If anything, she looked more worried.

“But, my dear Goddess…” Seraph said carefully, “his plan to go to Dawn City by himself is extremely dangerous. That place is practically enemy territory.”

“Cut it, Seraph!” Celes snapped, glaring at her. “No matter what you say, I am not severing my divine wavelength from any of the virtues. They need my share of power now more than ever!”

“U-understood, dear Goddess,” Seraph replied quickly.

She bowed, retreating back into silence, and turned her attention once more to the divine mirror.

The image shifted again.

A massive crowd filled the streets—people packed together shoulder to shoulder, all facing what looked suspiciously like a concert stage.

---

Dawn City, World Expo Venue

Today marked the opening day of the World Expo.

Thousands upon thousands of people—of various nations and races—flooded the main stage plaza, all packed tightly in front of a massive giant screen. The energy in the air was loud, chaotic, and electric. Honestly, it felt far more like a concert than an international exposition.

Which was, of course, entirely intentional.

This was exactly how the Muricans had designed it: overwhelm every visitor with spectacle, technology, progress, and culture—all presented at their most dazzling, loudest, and least ignorable.

At the back of the venue, inside an elevated production booth, Monny, Levi, and Hannya stood among event crews and officials, looking down at the endless ocean of people filling the plaza.

Monny wore a wide, satisfied grin.

Levi, meanwhile, looked exhausted, one hand massaging his shoulder.

“Huft… I didn’t know handling that many delegates this past week could be this tiring,” Levi said.

“Kukuku,” Monny chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “But did they all agree to the draft agreement?”

“Yep,” Levi replied with a tired smile. “All that’s left is sealing the deal at the economic summit on the final day of the expo.”

“HAHAHAHA!” Monny burst out laughing, far too loudly for a production booth.

“With this, nine kingdoms will become part of our coalition and start spending their treasuries on Murican stuff! HAHAHAHA!”

“THANK YOU FOR COMIIING! AND DON’T FORGET TO FOLLOW ME, PHOEBE, ON PAINSTAGRAM OKAAAY!”

The MC’s voice suddenly blasted through the venue, cutting straight through Monny’s laughter.

On stage, a cute lamia MC—her hair dyed in far too many colors to count—was whipping the crowd into a frenzy with energetic gestures and exaggerated enthusiasm.

Monny squinted at the stage.

“Hmm… where did we even find that MC?”

“Previously, she worked as a stripper in Dawn City,” Hannya replied flatly. “Now she’s running a Murican who lives in Dawn persona and has a large online following. She also leads an adventurer party that managed to surpass the Misfits popularity.”

Monny paused.

“…I really can’t keep up with these online trend things,” he muttered, rubbing his chin.

“NOW!” the lamia MC shouted into the microphone. “ARE YOU READYYY?!”

“YEEEEEAAAHHH!” the crowd roared back.

“WITHOUT FURTHER ADO,” she continued, stepping aside dramatically, “LET’S START THE WORLD EXPOOO!”

The giant screen flickered to life. A countdown began.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

The screen exploded into colorful visuals as real fireworks detonated in the sky above.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The crowd answered with thunderous cheers.

Then—suddenly—

Music blasted through the speakers.

A very familiar melody.

A demonized remix of Taylor Swift – Bad Blood.

“’Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood pact—”

From beneath the stage, a hidden lift rose slowly, revealing a stunning demon siren as she sang into the microphone.

“You know it used to be sweet souls… but now you’re all snacked—” The siren continues singing.

“OH MY GAWD! THEY BROUGHT TAYLORE SWIFTLASH?!” a demon girl screamed hysterically from the audience.

“BAD BLOOD PACT! BAD BLOOD PACT! THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG!” another Ravendawn girl shrieked.

“Now your village is my universe—” Taylore Swiftlash continued.

The crowd absolutely detonated—cheering, screaming, jumping in place. Foreign visitors who had never heard of Taylore Swiftlash looked confused for exactly three seconds before deciding the hype was contagious and joining in anyway.

None of them realized they were about to sit through a full setlist of broken-heart songs, rewritten with sassy demonic lyrics and aggressively catchy beats.

“Well,” Levi commented, watching the chaos below, “seems like the opening worked magnificently.”

“Heh,” Monny muttered. “That’s Belphy and Luke for you. They really know what they’re doing.”

---

Bashington DC, Nearby Desert

Meanwhile, far away from Dawn City—

In Bashington DC, both of the event designers were very much stuck.

Luke was currently in his true demon form, hovering in the air above a nearby desert with his legs awkwardly squatted beneath him. One eye was fixed on a live stream of the World Expo opening ceremony, while the other monitored a video call floating beside him.

Belphy’s face filled the phone window. He was still seated comfortably inside the Black House office, chin propped on one hand, looking completely unbothered.

“BAD BLOOD PACT?!” Luke suddenly roared.

“WHY BAD BLOOD PACT?!”

He flailed in midair, wings twitching in outrage.

“Didn’t we already decide on ‘Look What You Made Me Burn’ for the opening song?!”

“How the hell should I know,” Belphy scoffed lazily. “I’m stuck in Bashington like you, remember? You should be yelling at the show director.”

Luke’s jaw clenched.

“Grrr… how dare that show director change the setlist on our first ever international event!” he growled. “If only—”

Suddenly—

“BREAK TIME’S OVER! KYAAAHAHAHAHA!”

Lilith’s voice boomed across the desert.

She streaked through the sky at terrifying speed in her demon queen form, claws raised, and slashed straight at Luke.

Luke barely had time to blink himself out of the way before yanking out his twin swords.

“IF ONLY I WASN’T STUCK WITH THIS CRAZY PREGGO!!!” Luke screamed emotionally.

He dashed forward, launching a counterattack as Lilith cackled wildly.

Lilith’s routine pregnancy exercise resumed once more—five minutes after her supplement break.

---

Dawn City, World Expo Venue

After the opening concert concluded, the Expo visitors were finally allowed to roam freely across the venue.

The Expo grounds spanned a massive 5.28 square kilometers, packed with pavilion buildings representing each participating nation. Visitors wandered from structure to structure, exploring exhibits, marveling at displays, and sampling various national products.

Meanwhile, the massive main stage at the far end of the venue—previously occupied by Taylore Swiftlash’s concert—had been repurposed for the main presentations.

One by one, representatives from various kingdoms took turns showcasing their achievements.

Some presentations were modest, restrained, yet still managed to draw genuine awe from the audience.

“And with this enhanced fertilizer,” a young Ravendawn archmage announced confidently, holding up a small pot of plants, “created through the fusion of Ravendawn magic and modern biological science, our crops can now yield five harvests per year without exhausting the soil.”

The giant screen behind him lit up with footage of lush, golden cornfields, heavy with grain and ready for harvest.

Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap

The audience—mostly elder mages and seasoned merchants—nodded in approval as they applauded, their expressions filled with genuine amazement and professional interest.

“And that concludes the presentation from Ravendawn’s new Archmages!” Phoebe, the lamia MC, declared cheerfully, clapping along with the crowd.

---

While some kingdoms delivered polished, sensible presentations…

Others tried to show off by presenting something that was, frankly, a little too groundbreaking.

“With Rhovar Kingdom’s advanced alchemical knowledge,” an eager young alchemist with blond hair and a bright red coat declared proudly, “I will bring my long-lost dead brother back from the afterlife!”

A murmur rippled through the audience.

The alchemist knelt down and activated the magic skill glowing on his hands, pressing them firmly into the center of a massive magic circle he had drawn earlier across the stage floor.

The circle flared to life.

Runes ignited. Sparks of light scattered wildly into the air.

Phoebe and the audience swallowed in unison, tension rising.

Then—suddenly—the alchemist’s eyes rolled back, turning completely white.

“Huh… what?” he muttered. “I need to pay?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to someone only he could hear.

“What?!” he protested quietly. “That’s way too much…”

A pause.

“…How about one? I can live without one.”

The magic circle flared violently.

Light burst outward in every direction.

“I NEED SOMETHING THAT LOOKS LIKE A HUMAN!!” the alchemist suddenly screamed, snapping out of his trance and pointing at Phoebe.

“H-huh?! W-w-what do you mean?!” Phoebe stammered.

“ANY OBJECT WITH A HEAD, LEGS, AND HANDS!” the alchemist shouted. “HURRY!”

Phoebe spun around in panic.

There was almost nothing on the stage.

“H-here!” Phoebe yelled, throwing something toward him. “I only have this!”

The alchemist caught it.

He stared down.

Frowned.

It was a plush toy.

A demon-version Labubu plushy.

“T-that’s my favorite Labibi,” Phoebe said quickly, gesturing to the empty clip on her belt. “I always bring him everywhere.”

SHRIIIIING—

The magic circle exploded in blinding light.

For a split second, everything disappeared into white.

Then—silence.

Phoebe and the audience blinked rapidly, their vision slowly returning.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BODY?!”

The shout echoed across the stage.

Phoebe froze.

The Labibi plushy was standing upright.

And yelling.

“E-EL! YOU’RE ALIVE!” the young alchemist screamed in joy.

“Why are you being so cheap?!” the plushy snapped back angrily.

“What do you mean cheap?!” the alchemist protested.

“Getting your entire body back would cost me all my limbs! You’re lucky I was willing to pay with my right arm! Wait… my right—”

He looked down.

His right arm was gone.

Blood followed shortly after.

“GYAAA! MY ARM! OOOOUUUCCH!!”

The alchemist collapsed, rolling across the stage in agony.

Phoebe and the audience stared.

Silent.

Unmoved.

“…Did no one screen the presentations first?” Phoebe muttered under her breath.

And so, the World Expo continued.

Sometimes showcasing brilliance.

Sometimes showcasing things that were… ethically questionable.