My younger brother—by five months—Nero Morningstar sat across from me, his gaze sharp, carrying a quiet irritation he didn't bother hiding. Honestly, that part hadn't changed.
He was dressed exactly as expected of someone of his standing. A formal black suit, tailored in the aristocratic style favored by demon nobility, fit neatly against his frame. Faint crimson embroidery lined the cuffs and collar—subtle, but unmistakably expensive. A silver chain hung loosely from his waist, a small crest attached to it—the insignia of our house, a bright 9 pronged star. It suited him well. Though… it would've been strange if it didn't. Among demon nobility, appearance wasn't something left to chance.
Demons matured fast—a side effect of our primeval origins. Nero's dirty blond hair fell to his chin, framing a face that was already losing its childhood softness. Like me, his skin was naturally tanned; like me, his eyes had the ringed irises of our father. His pupils were a soft gold, ringed by a bright, cold silver.
Nero's lineage came from the Phenex family. It was a powerful high noble name, granting him incredible potential and incredible regenerative properties with a high affinity towards fire, but it wasn't one of the Seven Deadly Sin Bloodlines. Because I had inherited the Lucifer bloodline traits from our father, the position of crown prince was basically a birthright that Nero couldnt take from me, regardless of his individual talent. He would likely spend his life inheriting the Phenex name and standing right next to me.
"Ehem."
A soft sound cut through my thoughts, and I glanced up from my meal, immediately meeting the gaze of my mother.
Hildegard Beelzebub—now Hildegard Morningstar.
Her ash-gray hair fell gently past her shoulders, soft waves catching the light in a way that made it seem almost weightless. It contrasted with her pale skin, which was unusually clear even among demons. But what drew attention most were her eyes—a vivid lime green, bright yet gentle. That alone made her different.
Most demons, no matter how beautiful, carried an underlying sense of danger. She didn't. If anything… she felt out of place. There had even been rumors among the nobility that she might not be of demonic blood. Ridiculous, of course… but it wasn't hard to see why.
She wasn't dressed extravagantly. Just a dark emerald dress, simple in design, lacking the excessive ornamentation most nobles obsessed over. And yet… she still stood out effortlessly.
Her maiden name, Beelzebub, carried immense weight. She belonged to the royal house of Gluttony, meaning I didn't just carry our father's lineage—I possessed the blood of two distinct royal houses. Merging the Lucifer and Beelzebub bloodlines made my status as the indisputable heir absolutely absolute. No matter how much political backing the Phenex family gave Nero, they could never match the sheer prestige of two primordial Royal houses combined in one heir. Even if I didn't inherit the trait of the other house.
Seated beside Nero, across from her, was Helianor Morningstar—my stepmother.
The contrast between the two was almost comical. Helianor's golden hair had been meticulously braided, each strand placed in the best position to draw attention with small crimson jewels woven into it. Her amber eyes were sharp, constantly narrowed as if judging everything in sight. The pride of the Phenex lineage was evident in her posture alone. Even as the second daughter, married off as a political arrangement, her arrogance hadn't diminished.
If anything, it had grown due to being a wife of a king.
Her dress matched that attitude—a deep crimson, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that were anything but subtle. She reminded me of a peacock actually.
Our eyes met briefly. It seemed she tried to intimidate me, so I simply looked away, ignoring her completely.
My attention returned to my mother. She was already watching me, a small smile on her face, waiting for my response.
"I've been well, Mother," I said, returning the smile without much thought. "How was your trip? You went back to your homeland, didn't you?"
The Kingdom of Gula—a major territory governed by Demon King Beelzebub. She had been gone for nearly a month, visiting her father. My grandfather. Someone I had never met. Actually… I hadn't met either of my grandparents. Not once.
For a brief moment, I found myself wondering what they were like. Strict? Kind? Distant? Distant didn't seem likely, not if he was asking about me. Still… there was no real answer. Not yet.
"Oh, it was wonderful," she said, her expression brightening immediately. "Your grandfather asked about you. I told him you were doing well, and that perhaps you might visit someday—"
She stopped, her eyes dropping to her lap.
"—if you'd like to, of course."
She sounded like she was expecting me to say no. Why?
It took a moment before the answer surfaced. It was because, in my past life, I wouldn't have responded at all. Back then, knowing I was the absolute, indisputable heir, I had been incredibly arrogant and lazy. I spent my days lazing around the estate, rarely bothering to attend official events or interact with anyone outside of Valentine. I had mindlessly mimicked the behavior of my father, who was notoriously aloof, absent, and strict. Because of that detached arrogance, conversations like this had been mere background noise to me. I hadn't rejected her; I had simply acted as if she didn't exist.
I had been a pathetic son. Not just to her, but to the distance I allowed to rot between myself, Nero, and Helianor.
I pushed the thought aside. When I looked back at her, her gaze was already falling, accepting the inevitable silence. Something in my chest tightened.
"I don't mind," I said, the words slipping out faster than intended. "I'd actually like to meet them." I paused, adding with more intensity than was truly needed, "...I mean it."
Her reaction was immediate. Her eyes lit up so suddenly that it caught me off guard, the change almost out of place in the quiet of the room. For a brief second, I could've sworn something near the window shifted—like one of the flowers had bloomed.
'Gah… seriously?' I raised a hand slightly, squinting.
Fortunately, the moment didn't last long.
"Nero."
Helianor's voice cut in sharply, breaking the moment. "How is the progress of your bloodline Traits?"
She didn't bother hiding her tone. If anything, it carried a faint disgust, as if a simple mother-son interaction was like a pile of waste in the dining room.
"I've heard you've already reached the peak of the Grandmaster Realm." Her gaze flicked toward me briefly, unmistakable contempt filling her eyes.
Nero answered immediately, not hesitating for even a second. "Yes, Mother! Not only that, but I've also reached High Middle Comprehension of Phenex Heart, and Middle Comprehension of Phoenix Fire."
He turned toward me and flashed a smug grin, making no attempt whatsoever to hide it.
"Oh, wow! That's amazing, Nero!" my mother said, her eyes still shining with that same warmth. She turned to Helianor with a bright smile. "You must be so proud."
Nero had the decency to look bashful for a second, scratching the back of his head.
"Hehe~ Thank you—"
"Nero."
Helianor cut him off. He slumped back into his seat like a scolded puppy. She then turned toward my mother, her lips curling into a thin, superior line.
"Of course I am. The Grandmaster Realm at thirteen? Who wouldn't be proud?" Her eyes shifted to me, mocking. "Oh, wait… isn't Dante still in the Master Realm?"
The smugness was thick enough to choke on. It didn't seem to dim my mother's smile, but the reality was there.
Power in this world was defined by Orders, each split into five stages: Low, Middle, High, Grand, and Peak. Nero was at the Peak of the Fifth Order—the Grandmaster Realm. For a thirteen-year-old, it was an undeniable feat; no one would dare claim he wasn't a genius. I, however, was still a Fourth Order Master. Not because of any harsh training; in the past, I barely bothered training seriously at all, relying purely on the passive growth of my bloodline.
When the war eventually started, I was forced to take training seriously out of desperate survival. But with such little time and a lack of proper, structured learning under pressure, I didn't gain enough power to make a massive structural difference in the grand scheme of things. It was the exact reason why, when I automatically inherited the title of Demon King following my father's death, I was widely mocked across the continents as the weakest demon king.
Even when I reached the 10th order, and accumulated a large amount of high powered spells, I had been a joke compared to the Hero. Even after days of constant fighting, he had been an anomaly. I suspected he was at least three Orders higher—the Thirteenth Order, the Samsara Realm, He was too powerful to be considered a human.
"He is! Isn't that amazing? I'm so proud of him!"
My mother reached out to pat my head, but she hesitated halfway, her eyes searching mine for permission. She was stronger than me and obviously held authority as my mother, but her kind nature did not allow her to abuse it, not that id mind. I gave a small nod and a faint smile. She beamed and finished the gesture, patting me gently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nero look at his mother with a hopeful expression.
Helianor ignored him completely.
Suddenly, my mother gasped, looking between us. "Oh right! Have you two prepared suits for the young nobles gathering?"
The gathering. Had I even gone before? Ah, right. I hadn't.
"Uh… no. I haven't," I said, rubbing the back of my head. I'd never been much for politics or building connections, or dressing fancily for that matter. Two of those things would have to change of course.
"Pfft—" Nero scoffed, leaning back to savor a rare moment of perceived superiority. "I can't believe it. 'Big brother' is actually going to the Gathering, and he hasn't even prepared a suit? Are you really showing up in that? You'll look like a commoner standing next to me."
I didn't even look at him. I just leaned my chin on my hand and gave a bored, dismissive shrug.
"I figured I'd just go like this," I said, casually flipping my hair as I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. I let a small, pitying smirk play on my lips.
"After all, I already look better than everyone attending. Why waste the tailor's time?"
My meaning was as clear as day to anyone paying attention: the older brother is effortlessly better looking, of course.
"Grrr…."
A low growl escaped Nero's throat, and the space around him visibly distorted under the sudden spike of his agitation. It didnt take much to set him off.
The reaction was enough to make a few of the guards stationed near the entrance doors tense up. Usually, the estate guards ranged from the Peak of the 5th Order to the lower or mid-6th Orders. But Nero, even at the 5th Order, could become incredibly destructive, and the guards would naturally be forced to hold back on a prince.
After a few tense seconds, Nero forced himself to calm down. He picked up his cup, taking a long drink of his juice—which was actively boiling at this point from the sheer heat of his leaking demonic power.