After storing the collected materials, Black Iron-level [Half-Human Pig] (Blue) x2, Bronze-level [Human Pig Spirit] (Blue), and Bronze-level [Human Pig Spirit] (Gold), Azrael disposed of the demon corpses in the excavated pit with methodical efficiency. He straightened Colezhi's butler attire, adjusting the formal clothing to fit his transformed physique properly.
The infiltration had exceeded his most optimistic expectations. Pride's shapeshifting capabilities had fooled both the young master and the original steward completely, establishing his new identity with remarkable ease.
As for the dagger wound that should have been fatal? Such injuries represented little more than minor inconvenience to someone with Pride's enhanced regenerative capabilities. The symbiote had already sealed the damaged tissue, leaving only a convincing scar that would fade within hours.
"According to what Colezhi revealed, the current leadership represents usurpers rather than legitimate heirs," Azrael mused as he made his way back through the underground complex's winding passages. This political instability created opportunities that a more unified clan structure would never have provided.
Internal conflict meant divided attention, competing loyalties, and the kind of paranoid suspicion that would make his sabotage efforts significantly easier to implement without detection.
Servants bowed respectfully as he passed through the residential district, their deference confirming that Colezhi's position commanded genuine authority within the household hierarchy. The steward's accumulated memories provided perfect context for navigating their social expectations without arousing suspicion.
Reaching the elegant study where tonight's drama had begun, Azrael allowed his expression to settle into the cold professionalism that characterized Colezhi's interactions with the young master. He pushed open the door and stepped inside with measured deliberation.
"Young Patriarch," he announced with barely concealed disapproval coloring his tone, "the matter has been resolved. All witnesses have been permanently silenced."
The young demon glanced up from his reading with obvious satisfaction, though his eyes carried the calculating coldness of someone who treated murder as routine administrative business. "Excellent. You may go."
Azrael prepared to withdraw and continue gathering intelligence about their defenses, but urgent footsteps in the corridor interrupted his departure. A nervous servant burst through the study door without ceremony, his face flushed with exertion and barely controlled panic.
"Young Patriarch!" the messenger gasped between ragged breaths. "Forgive the intrusion, but the Master commands your immediate presence in the reception hall. You and Steward Zhu are both summoned."
The young demon's expression shifted from annoyance to genuine concern as he processed the implications of such an urgent summons. Family meetings called at this hour rarely involved pleasant conversations or routine business.
"Very well," he replied with forced calm, though tension radiated from his posture. "Inform the Master that we're responding immediately."
Without sparing Azrael so much as a glance, the young demon strode from the study with the brisk pace of someone eager to face whatever crisis awaited. His obvious agitation prevented him from noticing that his "steward" had no idea where the reception hall was located.
Fortunate that his arrogance works in my favor, Azrael thought with relief as he followed the young patriarch through corridors that would have exposed his deception immediately if guidance had been required.
The reception hall proved to be a spacious chamber decorated with the kind of understated luxury that spoke of old money and established power. Expensive furnishings and tasteful artwork created an atmosphere designed to impress visitors while reinforcing the family's status within demon society.
However, the moment they crossed the threshold, an explosion of rage shattered the room's dignified atmosphere.
"You insolent whelp!" bellowed a middle-aged demon whose steel-gray hair and beard bristled with fury. "Get over here and kneel before your betters!"
The voice belonged to a powerfully built figure whose spiritual pressure immediately marked him as significantly stronger than his son. This had to be the Zhu family's current patriarch, the usurper Colezhi had referenced with such contempt.
Confusion and fear warred across the young demon's features as he struggled to understand what had triggered such volcanic anger. "Father? What's wrong? What have I, "
"I said KNEEL!" the patriarch roared, his voice carrying enough force to make the chamber's crystal fixtures ring with harmonic resonance. "Do not compound your stupidity with further insolence!"
As the young master stumbled forward in shocked compliance, Azrael's enhanced senses swept the reception hall's occupants with tactical precision. His blood chilled as he recognized several familiar faces among the assembled demons.
The elderly figure from his earlier encounters sat in the position of honor, his ancient eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he observed the unfolding drama. The young demon who'd accompanied him was also present, along with Viktor and several other individuals whose spiritual signatures immediately triggered warning alarms in Azrael's consciousness.
All Silver-level, he cataloged with mounting dread. This isn't a family meeting, it's a tribunal.
But something about their energy patterns struck him as fundamentally wrong. Despite their impressive spiritual pressure, most of these demons felt hollow somehow, like actors playing roles they didn't quite understand.
Except for the old man, Azrael amended his assessment. The ancient demon's power felt genuine and deeply rooted, suggesting capabilities that extended far beyond his current display.
Interesting. It seems like many of them are putting on facades. This might actually work to my advantage.
The young master had reached his father's position and dropped to his knees with practiced submission, though his confusion remained evident. The patriarch bowed deeply toward the elderly demon with the kind of deference reserved for absolute authority.
"Honored Grandfather," he said with carefully modulated respect, "my foolish son's ignorance has caused considerable disturbance. Please accept my apologies for his thoughtless actions."
The ancient demon sipped his tea with deliberate calm, allowing uncomfortable silence to stretch before responding with deceptive mildness. "Are you suggesting that everything was your son's initiative? That you possessed no knowledge of tonight's activities?"
Shock flickered across the young master's features before vanishing beneath a mask of desperate contrition. Tears began streaming down his face as he launched into a performance that would have impressed professional actors.
"Honored Grandfather, the fault is entirely mine!" he wailed with convincing anguish. "I was consumed by evil thoughts and acted without wisdom or restraint. I deserve death for my transgressions!"
He punctuated his confession by slapping his own face repeatedly, each blow creating sharp sounds that echoed through the tense chamber.
Award-worthy acting, Azrael observed with grudging admiration. This young fool missed his calling in theater.
The political dynamics were becoming clearer with each exchange. The Huang family team's elimination hadn't been sanctioned by the elderly demon's authority, it had been a private scheme orchestrated by the Zhu family's ambitious leadership.
The motivation was obviously related to the ongoing power struggles that seemed to define demon society even in their current desperate circumstances. As Azrael had learned from his previous world's history, humans facing existential threats still found time for political maneuvering and personal advancement.
"How thoughtful of you to assume responsibility," the old demon replied with a smile that carried no warmth whatsoever. "If I hadn't arranged surveillance of your activities, your deception might have succeeded admirably."
The young master's tears intensified as he prostrated himself completely, his forehead striking the floor with audible impacts. "Honored Grandfather, please show mercy! I'll accept any punishment you deem appropriate!"
Rather than respond directly, the ancient demon addressed the other family heads gathered throughout the chamber. "As you can all witness, this unfortunate incident was not orchestrated by my authority. I trust this resolves any concerns about my leadership methods."
The assembled demons quickly voiced their agreement, though their expressions suggested varying degrees of sincerity and political calculation.
"Of course, Honored Grandfather."
"We would never question your wisdom."
"Such suspicions are beneath our consideration."
The old demon's smile widened slightly as he acknowledged their responses. Privately, he was quite satisfied with how events had unfolded. Without his foresight in monitoring the detention facility, the current situation would have played out very differently, with him facing accusations instead of the Zhu family.
Meanwhile, Azrael's tactical mind was racing through new possibilities as understanding crystallized. All the family heads are gathered in one location. If I could eliminate them simultaneously, the mission would be effectively complete.
He began calculating the feasibility of summoning Artoria for a Caliburn strike that would obliterate the entire chamber. With so many of them apparently maintaining false facades of strength, even his Princess Knight's ultimate technique might prove sufficient for comprehensive elimination.
Originally, his plan had involved careful intelligence gathering followed by systematic infiltration and sabotage. But with their leadership structure exposed and vulnerable, direct action suddenly seemed far more attractive than prolonged subterfuge.
The only remaining question was whether he could position himself safely before triggering such devastating assault. Surviving his own ultimate technique would require careful timing and positioning.
On the opposite side of the political equation, the elderly demon was drawing his own conclusions. This serves my purposes perfectly, he mused with satisfaction. They've accomplished what I wanted to do but couldn't justify politically.
The Huang family team's elimination had removed several troublesome elements from their coalition, while providing convenient justification for reducing the Zhu family's influence within their power structure. Sometimes allowing subordinates to overreach created opportunities that direct action never could.
"Very well," the old demon announced with judicial finality. "Given our current precarious circumstances, I won't pursue this matter to its logical conclusion."
"However, punishment remains necessary to maintain discipline. You will decide among yourselves who bears ultimate responsibility."
The restriction frustrated him somewhat, completely destroying the Zhu family would destabilize their defensive coalition when unity was desperately needed. But strategic reduction of their capabilities remained feasible and politically safe.
The patriarch and his son exchanged meaningful glances before reaching an obvious conclusion with remarkable speed.
"The steward orchestrated the entire operation!" they declared in unison, pointing directly at Azrael's position near the chamber's entrance.
Azrael blinked in genuine surprise. Really? I'm just standing here observing, and somehow this becomes my fault?
Every demon in the reception hall turned to stare at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to predatory anticipation. The sudden attention was both unexpected and potentially catastrophic for his continued infiltration.
But Colezhi's memories provided perfect context for responding to such obvious betrayal. Arranging his features into an expression of outraged indignation, Azrael launched into his own theatrical performance.
"You treacherous parasites!" he snarled with convincing fury. "This pathetic attempt to sacrifice me won't save your worthless hides! Everyone here knows you've been scheming to eliminate me so you can seize complete control of the family assets!"
The assembled demons perked up with obvious interest at this revelation. Political scandals were always entertaining, especially when they didn't directly threaten one's own position.
However, the elderly demon felt no inclination to indulge such melodrama. Rising from his ornate chair with casual authority, he fixed Azrael with a gaze that carried the weight of imminent judgment.
"Since you've made your decision, I'll accept the steward's life as sufficient compensation," he declared with the finality of absolute power.
His spiritual senses identified Azrael as merely Bronze-level, strong enough to be competent, but hardly irreplaceable within their current hierarchy. A Silver-level demon might have warranted clemency based on practical value, but Bronze-tier servants were expendable resources.
Seeing Azrael remain motionless despite the death sentence, the young master's expression brightened with barely concealed glee. "What are you waiting for?" he taunted with cruel satisfaction. "Come forward and accept your punishment like a loyal servant!"
"Where did you get the audacity?" Azrael replied with incredulous disbelief, his voice carrying undertones that made several demons frown with growing unease.
He felt genuinely disappointed that his infiltration hadn't provided opportunities to frame the Zhu family's leadership for additional crimes. Their eager willingness to sacrifice him represented missed potential for deeper sabotage operations.
But his current identity's limitations made such ambitious schemes impossible. A Bronze-level steward simply lacked the authority or resources necessary for complex political manipulation.
Still, the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. Since they'd chosen to eliminate him anyway, abandoning stealth in favor of direct action became not just acceptable, but strategically optimal.
A sound that might have been laughter emerged from Azrael's throat, though the harmonic resonance carried undertones that made every demon in the chamber experience involuntary shivers of primal fear.
"Since you're all so eager to die," he said with voice that had become something far more terrible than human speech, "I suppose I should grant your wish."
The temperature in the reception hall seemed to plummet as shadows began gathering around Azrael's form with supernatural intensity. The elegant lighting dimmed despite its magical enhancement, while an oppressive presence filled the chamber like the weight of approaching doom.
Several of the weaker demons took involuntary steps backward as their survival instincts screamed warnings about the predator that had been hiding among them.
The hunt was about to begin in earnest, and none of them were prepared for what was coming next.