Flicking his hands, "You were saying?"
He hadn't wanted to do this. He did not interfere in Sairaorg's humiliating ouster from the Heirship position simply because that would have been a public affair, and by the end of it, before the guests had even cleared the space, the entire DevilNet would be discussing about the previously unknown Bael Devil who was capable of defeating the current Clan Head, because that was the only way he could have stopped the whole charade.
Hell, he hadn't even received his Evil Pieces, despite fulfilling every criterion to become a High Class Devil, not that anyone knew what his power levels were.
He could tolerate that event because the fallout would be too big, and there was a road to recovery, a path that Sairaorg could take, that would lead him to heights the current Clan Head could only dream of.
But this? The Mother Tree? His years of work put in the garden? His research? All the data he had painstakingly gathered and executed in this very space?
No. He refused to let that be destroyed. He might not be as powerful as he wanted to be, but he was not helpless. He could not just sit still and watch Zekram destroy—
His thoughts stuttered to a halt as he looked at Zekram and his deeply satisfied and, dare he say, smugexpression, as if he had finally confirmed something.
"So it is true, then," Zekram remarked, and he slumped on the spot, his PoD sputtering out of his hand as he realised he had been baited. He cursed himself. He should have seen this coming. The earlier spell was obviously a way to get information out of him. When that didn't work, when magical spells did not work, Zekram resorted to good old fashioned mental tactics, something he was unfortunately an expert at.
There was very little chance that he was going to destroy his garden, but he could never predict what went into the thought of Zekram here, and, panicking, acted on the spot. This was bad, not as bad as revealing himself to the world at large, but bad enough. Now, he had to deal with Zekram's bullshit here.
He really had to get ahead with his training, but the bottleneck was his demonic reserves, and aside from waiting for his body to mature properly, there was very little he could do in terms of that.
"Show me your Power of Destruction," Zekram ordered coldly. He raised an eyebrow at the commanding tone, but created a ball on top of his hand.
Zekram peered at the ball, leaning closer, uncaring of the proximity to the ball and what it could do to him. Even if he was on the same level as him, an attack at such point blank rage could deal enough damage.
"Visually the same, and yet, I can feel a slight change in it. It is a mutation, is it not? What can it do?" Zekram asked him, straightening up.
"A lot of things." He answered vaguely. He was in no mood to answer properly.
"I see." Zekram nodded then continued as if the answer had satisfied him, "There is a meeting tomorrow. You will be formally declared the Heir of the Bael Clan. I expect you to be there."
Before he could say anything, he continued, "You will get a 10 times increase in funding and space in exchange. Staff, if you wish, though something tells me you like to work alone."
Wow. Carrot and Stick, huh?
Zekram then turned around, uncaring of his answer, and walked away, making him feel as if he had lost the entire round of conversation here, despite becoming the heir of arguably the most powerful Clan in the Underworld, getting a massive increase in funding and space for his experiments.
...Damned Old Monsters.
___xx___
It was an interesting thing. To modulate the output of his Demonic Energy so that people can sense him coming. It was kind of like movie spy characters making sure that their steps created noise, to make sure that the people ahead knew they were coming. Knocking on people's doors, but more elaborate and fantasy themed.
He was used to suppressing his Demonic Energy, and his footsteps were anyway silent, but he needed the people he was visiting to know he was coming. Devils, atleast powerful ones anyway, always knew when someone was suppressing their Demonic Energy. There were very few people who could suppress their Demonic Energy so perfectly that no one could tell if it was their real energy level or just suppressed, because suppressing energy created a unique signature that could be identified by others.
Mostly, no one called people out for it, because at this point, it was a personal choice, especially for nobility. It was considered normal for some people to just always have their Demonic Energy suppressed, mainly people who thought it could give them an advantage in battle later on or if they wanted to hide their growth.
Like, getting a sudden boost in basically every attribute along with their Demonic Energy exploding as if they had been reincarnated using Evil Pieces, despite them possessing a Peerage of their own.
Yes, the King Piece users. He had only met Bedeze Abaddon so far, and the man had done a wonderful job of keeping his Demonic Energy suppressed. It was expected, to be honest. He had just entered the top five of the Rating Game List and had shot up in performance just a few years ago. He had specifically sought him out, and just being around him had confirmed it for him.
The man was using the King Piece and was well on his way to reaching the top three. Ofcourse, the top position was still held by the Diehauser Belial, a proper Satan Class Devil with an appropriate Peerage to match. People continued to speculate why the government did not give him an active role, being the strongest Devil of his generation, capable of maintaining his top spot even without the King Piece.
Zekram must have had a reason to keep him at the top.
Shaking his head a bit, he banished the thoughts of the King Piece from his mind and focused on the task at hand. It was only hours after his and Zekram's meeting, but by the time he came back to the Main Castle, Zephyr Bael, the Clan Head, had already banished them to the fringes of the Main Compound.
Sure, this still being the Main Compound of the Bael Clan meant that even this area was bigger and more luxurious than some Clan's Main compounds, but the point remains. Within hours of Sairaorg losing his heirship, he had to move along with his mother to the edge of their territory, with very little in terms of house help.
If he was not wrong, whoever came with them only came because of loyalty and not because they were ordered by the House of Bael. Not to mention Misla came from a wealthy Clan as well, so comfort was not an issue, but reputation was, and we devils loved reputation, even if some Devils obsessed over it a little more than others.
The Phenexes seemed to preen over their reputation far more than others, but then again, they deserved it partially, since their healing was currently unmatched, hence the expensive price tag. He had planned to reveal his healing when he felt he was strong enough that he wouldn't have to worry about being press ganged by someone, but at this point, he felt like revealing his healing ability to gain protection, which was just an absurd reversal for him.
Exhaling, he straightened up, making sure he was dressed appropriately, feeling oddly nervous about meeting Misla, the guilt from not doing anything about their situation kind of heavy on his mind, as he raised his hand and knocked on the door twice in what he hoped was a polite manner.
He realised that he was fussing over the minute details, uselessly, since any decorum in the Devil Society could be foregone without any issue as long as you had the power to do it.
He felt one of the energy signatures move inside the house, which was already pretty close to the door, probably having heard him coming since he made an extra effort to make sure they heard him coming.
The door opened up, and someone who was not Misla, Sairaorg or even her elder brother, Duke Vapula, an Ultimate Class Devil and head of his Clan, opened the door. No, it was someone entirely unrecognisable to him.
What he did recognise, however, was the stereotypical butler wear and demeanour on the person, as the man with the sick goatee on his face, put his hand on his chest and bowed lightly, "Yes, how may I help you?"
He replied with a confidence that he did not feel inside, "I am here to meet Misla Bael. I am Magdaran Bael," He felt like a dead pretty good job there, but then he lamely added, "if that helps."
"I am terribly sorry, sir, but Mistress is currently asleep, and on heavy medication. I can pass on a message if you want?" He must not have known that he was the next heir of the Bael Clan, which was fair since it was not yet officially declared. It was supposed to happen tomorrow. He just wanted to talk to Sairaorg to have some sort of impression, to not be the villain in his story, but before that, he had to talk to Misla and—-
His thoughts halted, a chill running down his spine as he remembered just what happened to her in Canon. What had been done to her.
Picture this, Misla Bael is the wife of the Clan Head, the younger and only sister of Duke Vapula, head of his own clan, and had given birth to only one son who had turned out to be defective in the eyes of most of the nobility and, more importantly, her husband, who was the Lord of the Clan. Her husband, sidelines her and her son and then takes a bastard as the Heir of the Clan, something that was bound to rile up her brother, a Duke of considerable political standing.
As Zephyr Bael, a man of considerable and an insignificant amount of intellect, what do you do to minimise any political fallout? You run to the old Ancestor, who will cook up a decent plan. Following that, you make sure that the sister of the Duke is in no position to defend her position. No position to even speak, at all.
A death in all but name.
He numbly refused to give a message and just asked him to inform the Main House when she woke up before getting out of there, almost as if he was running away from something.
Zephyr Bael sure did work fast. He was late, even if by mere hours, but he was late. She was probably already afflicted with the Sleeping Disease, probably.
The probably was doing a lot of heavy lifting there because it was still day out, she must have been exhausted and angry, yes, but ideally, she would take care of Sairaorg even now.
Something was wrong here, and it was probably her getting the Sleeping Sickness, an unexplained disease that has no cure, whatsoever. The victims were random; they never woke up, just wasted away, and the number was small enough that it never warranted the kind of extensive research that the Sitri were known for.
Fuck! Zekram probably spent that hour or so with him for this purpose as well. He was willing to bet his left nut on the fact that all of this could not be done without Zekram's express approval. The Sleeping Sickness was not a weapon you handed to idiots like Zephyr.
No, Zekram came to him to get a measure of him, andstall him long enough for Misla to get incapacitated.
That old fuck!
As always, you can read ahead(upto 12 chapters) and support me on Patreon. Your support and patronage are what make all this possible. So, drop a sub if you can. It would be pretty awesome of you and help me out quite a bit.
My Patreon - IdleMuse55View discussionThreadmarks Chapter 6 : The "Poor" Devils....View contentIdleMuse0307Jun 4, 2026#8Bael Territory, Underworld
–Magdaran Bael–
He waited outside the Zephyr's office, recognising the power play and ignoring it entirely. He struggled to understand why Zephyry needed an office at all, let alone a secretary, since the man was barely capable of keeping things running, let alone doing something to grow the business of the Clan.
In fact, it was a common consensus that the only reason Zephyr was made the Clan Head was because he displayed values that were "closely matching those of the founding times of the Clan."
That was just them saying that Zephyr displayed the highest propensity for violence and cruelty, just like the era where entire Devil lines were made extinct because of the war, and then the Civil War that came after. There were many other candidates more worthy than the waste of Demonic Energy that was his sperm donor, but all of them were sidelined for Zephyr.
As he looked at the Secretary, the one who actually ran the whole office, and probably reported to Zekram all about it, he thought of just how stupid one has to be not to realise that an Ultimate Class being working for just a High Class devil was not a normal thing.
While it did seem like even Satan Class Devils were just popping up left, right, and centre in the anime, it was incredibly difficult to grow to become an Ultimate Class. Hell, most pureblood Devils, through the virtue of their birth, will easily grow to reach High Class, but Ultimate Class? Now that was a whole different ball game.
You would have to either be born with a genetic freak of a mutation like Sirzechs, Ajuka, Rizevim, and more to naturally become an Ultimate Class Devil or train like a madman. The Satans were born with that potential, and yet, they trained harder than any devil of their generation, resulting in their current prowess.
It also helped that they grew up in a time of strife, allowing them to constantly hone themselves in life and death battles. It was a known fact that peacetimes did not create strong devils, which was why he thought the Rating Games were introduced, in part anyway. Part of it must be the Satans' absolute exasperation with the way Devils continued to kill themselves even in peace times simply because they could not contain the battle lust that was inherent in every Devil.
So, how did an Ultimate Class Devil, an existence that could kill multiple high Class devils all at once, end up working for the Bael Clan Head, as a Secretary of all jobs? Simple. Zephyr could not be trusted to do even the most basic things, something that even Zekram was undoubtedly aware of.
He probably needed a controllable puppet in the seat, while he, or rather, one of his chosen devils, pulled the strings to make sure that the entire Clan remained in his control. Now, how do you make sure that a prideful devil like Zephyr allowed a vastly stronger person to continue to shadow and advise him at all times of the day?
You simply appeal to that same overinflated ego. It must be a great cause of honor for the man to have an Ultimate class devil call him sama, so much so that he remained completely blind about her machinations.
Zekhram really was the ancient scary devil most of the people in the know made him to be. He really knew how to play every single devil in front of him, irrespective of their inherent strength or political inclinations.
Melantha Furcas.
An older devil from the Furcas clan. A clan that specialised in taming horses. Usually, a house like that would be lucky to have a peak Ultimate Class devil like Melantha here lead them, but here she was, acting as a secretary to another Clan.
A vassal clan of the Bael. He supposed that doing this guaranteed far greater protection than simply leading her clan.
They must have made it look like it was Zephyr's idea, just to further stroke his ego. Seeing someone stronger submit to him must have blinded him or rather, he must have been just that stupid from the beginning.
Just as he was sizing her up, she was also doing the same. He was well known within the clan to keep his Demonic Energy suppressed under seals all the time. It was a rather suffocating feeling, especially when kept at it for long. Most devils usually employed the technique to send out false information about their power levels, only to undo all the seals as soon as they were in their own safe places.
He, on the other hand? He had been under these seals for over 7 years now. At this point, he had forgottenhow it used to feel without the seals. No, that would be a lie. He did remember but it was a dull echo, an alien feeling to him. The suppression seals could be undone with only a flex of his Demonic Energy, so there was no real risk of someone using the seals to weaken him, but it also somewhat restricted the flow of his Demonic Energy.
It reduced his reaction timings, made the flow of energy slower, and more painful. All things that most Devils sought to avoid. And yet, something he sought out actively, all so he could train himself and his Demonic Energy. He supposed that it was one of those things that could only be understood by an out of context person. After all, from where he was from, nothing of this sort existed, that much he could remember.
So, to him, this pain, intense at first as it was, was a small price to pay for both, the ability to keep his power levels hidden from normal Devils, and also to increase his strength for the inevitability that was the crash of the current iteration of the Devil Society coming their way.
After what felt like a lifetime of eye contact, she nodded and spoke in a light tone, "You may go in now."
Nodding at her, he entered Zephyr's office, ready for the kind of conversation he wanted to avoid but now had to face, because bloody Zekram Bael promised him a ten times increment in money and space. Money, he could arrange easily. But warded and fortified space? Within the Bael Clan main Grounds? Impossible to do without Zekram's explicit approval.
That was the only reason why he was even going through with this whole farce. He pushed the door open, and was greeted with a level of opulence most Clans wouldn't have in their office, let alone the Low Class devils and the poorer clans.
Speaking of the poorer Clans, one of the greatest decisions that Zekram seemed to have made or rather, pushed into law, was the Clan declaration criteria.
If you didn't have either a sponsor Clan willing to bankroll you or the necessary territory, staff, and finances, then you could lose your Seat in the Devil Senate. Even if you had your bloodline trait, you might need financing from either the New Satans or the Great King faction, or if one clan was particularly brave or desperate, the Old Satan Faction was also someone who was always looking for more influence.
Zekram kept multiple such clans on his payroll, giving himself unfettered access to the clans, creating a vassalage system even for Clans that were previously just as powerful as the Bael or atleast close enough. In a way, the biggest owner of both wars seems to be Zekram Bael, which was, in a rather gruesome fashion, admirable.
It was also rather uncool how all of that, the centuries of events, culminated in this. The waste of demonic energy that was Zephyr Bael occupying (at least on paper) the seat of the Bael Clan.
"Ah, Welcome! Welcome, my son! My heir!" Zephyr said in his usual slimy voice, making no effort to move from his seat or remove his legs from the table that probably was made of something absurd like World Tree or something.
He nodded stiffly, sitting down in front of Zephry.
"As you might know, I have cast out my wastrel son and his useless mother, and currently am one heir short. I was told that you have already been made aware of the decision, so this is just the formality of making it official."
He nodded once more, not really interested in talking with him. As the man continued to prattle on and on about the greatness of the Bael and how he should be grateful for the opportunity to become Heir, his mind was cataloguing the office.
After what felt like forever of the man talking to himself, he was finally recused from the office. He nodded stiffly once more, noting that the man either did not care or had just not noticed that his supposed heir had not uttered a single word before leaving. Probably was just too lost in his own mind.
Shaking his head, he ignored the secretary, and after exiting the building, a Magic circle manifested beneath his feet, whisking him away from the Main wing of the building to his quarters.
Now that he had become heir, he was to move into the Main Wing, a move he summarily rejected. This place had grown on him, and he had no interest in moving even closer to his sperm donor.
He had thought of his hate for his sperm donor multiple times. Even before he came to know of Zephyr as a person and his actions, he had a ball of hatred against the man. It was irrational, at first anyway.
There was something inside him that just hated the man, and even the Secretary. It was one of the many questions that kept him occupied in the little free time he gave himself, mostly in between training sessions.
Making sure that his room was secured properly, laying down wards that were far more overt than the stealthy ones he had assigned before he had become heir in fear of becoming discovered, he teleported to the office.
It was a secret space he had carved out for himself under his garden, reinforced by the plants and trees in such a way that he didn't even have to worry about ventilation. He had a hunch that it was not as secret as he wanted it to be, which is why there was nothing of importance stored here.
The most important secret he could house was his strength and his ability to create new strains of Devil Plants that could, in theory, enhance devils. Both were either kept hidden at all times or were just stored in his mind, with the original samples always destroyed.
The Mother Tree, as he had named the giant tree in the middle of the garden, practically sang after sensing his arrival. He smiled, his shoulders relaxing as he finally felt safe and at peace, even if he was quite literally in the middle of the Devil's den, all thoughts of his inexplicable hatred for some people leaving his mind immediately.
__xx__
–Melantha Furcas–
After she was dismissed from her duties as a Secretary, she did the final checks before moving to her quarters, which were located just outside the Main compound, for the Clan Head's convenience.
As she closed the door to her quarters and placed the documents in the corner, she sighed, and her eyes sharpened, a Magic Circle manifested underneath her, whisking her away.
When she opened her eyes, she kneeled immediately as she was in front of Zekram-sama, sitting on his throne.
"I assume everything went well?" She always wondered why he kept her around, and summoned him just to ask questions that he should by all means, already know the answer to. Nevertheless, it was not her place to ask those questions, which is why she hurriedly nodded and answered.
"Yes, Zekram-sama. The boy was inside for a brief period of time. He made no overt moves, but he didn't speak to Zephyr-sama as well." Zephyr Bael was, as usual, lost in his own world and didn't realise that the boy he had just called his heir had barely disguised hostility in him.
Either Magdaran knew something about them, or his mother had uttered something before dying. Unfortunately, they had no feasible way of confirming that.
"Zekram-sama," She spoke up after a moment's hesitation.
"Speak."
"About Magdaran-sama. His strength, it is–"
"I am aware of his strength, hidden as it might be," Zekram-sama sharply retorted, the warning clear in his voice as she bit her tongue to keep quiet.
After a moment's silence, he continued, "You are to continue your duties. It is not your place to question the heir's strength. Dismissed."
She took the dismissal and teleported back to her quarters, her shoulders slumping as she realised her back was drenched in sweat.
As she went to get cleaned up, she realised that Zekram-sama probably called upon her personally just to watch her sweat.
There could be no other possible reason why he couldn't get the information from the multitude of sources he had in the Clan.
As always, you can read ahead(upto 12 chapters) and support me on Patreon. Your support and patronage are what make all this possible. So, drop a sub if you can. It would be pretty awesome of you and help me out quite a bit.
My Patreon - IdleMuse56View discussionThreadmarksChapter 7 : Meeting the Crimson Satan... NewView contentIdleMuse0307Jun 6, 2026#15Bael Territory Outer Edges
–Magdaran Bael–
He took one look at the now vastly changed landscape around the cabin that was allotted to Sairaorg and Misla Bael and realised that the Duke had visited, and he was not happy with the accommodations afforded to his sister. Even if he couldn't really do much about the new heir appointment, as that was a domain that belonged to the Clan Head and the Clan Head only, he could have atleast protested the treatment of his sister, but even that avenue was lost to him as his sister was now afflicted with the Sleeping Sickness.
Something that was so unknown to everything that no one would fault the Bael Clan for placing the afflicted member out of the territory, let alone the outer fringes of the Bael Territory.
He expanded his senses and flinched back a little at the feedback he received. The moment he teleported here, he knew something was wrong. It was as if the demonic energy in the area itself was bent by someone, or bent to someone's will. He had only felt something like this once in his life before.
Knowing that running away now would be pointless, he sighed and began walking towards the cabin that housed multiple Satan Class devils. So much so that the demonic energy signatures of Sairorg and Misla were buried underneath the feedback of the Crimson Satan.
Sirzechs Lucifer.
The Devil.
Strongest one alive right now, responsible for all Domestic affairs of Devil kind.
As he turned around the corner that took him from the garden in front of him to the clearing where the cabin was located, he looked at the Queen who was probably there, simply to receive him.
Grayfia Lucifuge.
The Strongest Queen in the Underworld.
Currently dressed as a Maid to welcome him.
"Welcome, Magdaran-sama," She bowed at him as he did the same, albeit not as deeply as her, the etiquette lessons still ingrained in him.
"Grayfia-sama."
"Satan Lucifer awaits you," She gestured for him to enter, as the door opened up on its own. Taking the first step, he blinked as he saw just Sirzechs sitting on a chair, directly facing the door, with Misla and her son nowhere in sight. Still, confused as he might be, he did not forget his manners. To not show a Satan their due respect might as well be a crime worthy of death, had it been the old times. Nowadays, the New Satans were a lot more forgiving, even going so far as to accept valid constructive criticism, a concept so foreign to old devils that it might as well be called Worshipping the Big G.
"Satan Lucifer."
"Magdaran-kun, Sit."
He sat in front of the Devil, because that's what you did when the strongest devil alive corners you alone in a room and asks you to do something. Sure, he was not really worried for his life. No one, least of all Sirzechs, was that stupid, reckless or had the will to do anything to the heir of the Bael Clan, and destabilise the underworld, but just sitting in the same room as that inferno was uncomfortable.
It was as if just being in his vicinity was causing his very own Power of Destruction, mutated as it might be, to shrink in on itself. The last time he met the man, he had barely been an Ultimate Class devil, but even after becoming Satan Class, the effect was the same.
What a monster.
Then, there was silence. A power play move he was quite aware of, seeing as he had just experienced quite outside Zephyr's office, but this was different. It was a different thing when some worm, whose life or death did not matter to you, tried to play that card. It was a totally different thing when it was played by someone who could snuff out your life with a single thought. The pressure was intense, which is why he was not proud to say that he folded first.
"I assume you heard of me becoming the heir?" he asked in what he hoped was a steady voice. Sure, Sirzechs was known to be the pacifist one, so much so that most pillar nobles made fun of him behind his back, about how it was unthinkable that they could dictate terms with a devil who could look at them and erase them from existence, but that did not mean shit when you were sitting in front of a non-smiling version of the always jolly man.
After what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes, "Yes. Yes, I did hear about that. Congratulations."
"I was also sad to hear about Aunt Misla and her falling ill. I mean, we all knew her constitution was frail from the start but she suddenly fell ill yesterday. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
You. This was it. The moment he decided what to do. To lie and cover Zekram Bael's actions, all so he could have a higher position when shit hit the fan or just come clean with the truth he had no possible way of knowing, and maybe become a thorn in Zekram's side.
The choice was much easier than he expected it to be. Even if did tell Sirzechs the truth, it was unsubstantiated, originating in the limited meta knowledge that was present in his mind. Even if reincarnation was not rare, the fact that he came from a universe where their entire lives were just an ecchi-anime or light novel would result in many things changing.
He essentially knew the broad strokes of how their life's mission, of keeping the Underworld in peace and the Devil race in existence, ended.
Saved by the Boob Dragon Emperor.
God, Draig would kill himself now if he knew what his incarnation will be in the future. Also, there was something about Issei himself being compromised by the invading gods and how he might betray them in the future. He had to take care of that, once he got his Evil Pieces and was permitted to travel out of the Underworld.
Having made the decision to gain an advantageous position for himself instead of potential action that would barely annoy Zekram, instead of doing any actual damage, he replied firmly, "No. I am not aware of what happened to her. I just came here to tell her and Sairaorg that it was not my choice and I did not wish for things to happen this way."
Sirzechs looked at him a moment longer than necessary before replying with a simple, "I see."
He looked towards a wall, behind which were Misla and Sairorg, no doubt unaware of what they were talking about, before replying, "I assume you wanted to meet them?"
He just nodded. Sirzechs sighed at that before continuing, "I don't think that is a good idea right now. Sai is…not in a great place, mentally. I can see that you bear no ill will towards them, which is the only reason you were even able to approach this place."
He remained silent, despite the words that would have many devils up in arms. Denying the heir of a Pillar Clan the ability to enter a part of his own territory? Unacceptable and unthinkable, except that those people had never stood in front of Sirzechs, intimately aware of just what the monster in devil skin in front of him could really do, if pushed.
And that was just one part of the equation. Sirzechs was not the only Super Devil in the New Satan Faction. Ajuka was, undoubtedly, the more dangerous of the two. Sure, Sirzechs can destroy, but Ajuka? He can build. He can analyse. He can run his mind faster than he could even think of. He can build stuff that could, for example, let Sirzechs destroy stuff even better or create something just as absurd.
Anything he could think of to counter him, Ajuuka had already thought of and resolved beforehand. Either one of them could be handled if the entire Underworld was against them, but with both of them together?
Even the entirety of the Underworld coming together would fall short, as the Underworld itself was their biggest weakness. Remove the link they had to the volatile, unstable, and downright suicidal race of devils, and you now have two Super Devils with very little to lose.
"I'll see you when you come to get your Evil Pieces," Sirzechs suddenly announced. He nodded, taking the dismissal for what it was before bowing lightly at the Crimson Satan and leaving, acknowledging Grayfida with a nod.
Teleporting right as he turned around the garden trees, he arrived in the underground safe house he had built for himself using the trees and all but collapsed on the ground, his heart beating loudly, as he let his power, which he had suppressed for so long, relax and bubble around him.
His control over his power allowed him to make sure that nothing important was erased, except the top layer of roots in this place. The meeting itself had only served as a wake-up call. Sure, he already knew what kind of monsters lay in this place and how even those monsters could be manipulated and weakened by beings orders of magnitude weaker, but it had just been in his mind.
It was funny. Even after almost two decades in the body of a Devil, his mind still partially operated on a human clock. For a human, ten years was a long time, especially at the beginning stage of their life. Those ten years could change a person so thoroughly, they might become unrecognisable towards the end.
For devil kind, though? A decade was nothing. A blink of an eye. Devils probably spent that long broodingafter some loss.
His plan to ingratiate himself with Sirzechs, from the start, to make sure the shounen protagonist Devil did not grow up to hate his elder half brother who stole his heirship from him, did not go as planned.
Technically, he was supposed to report Sirzechs' presence to the Clan Head, but eh, who cares about that? Zekram was probably already aware, and if not, then he should really invest in better detection mechanisms, only for Ajuka to whip out a new way to shroud the area from everything.
Man, Ajuka's existence was such a cheat.
Reality warping using math of all things? No wonder no one has been able to figure out what the deal with that was, if it used math, of all things.
Shaking his head, he collected himself in the basement of his garden, snorted at the irony of the basement being built by the roots of the Mother Tree and most teenagers living in their parents' basement, before teleporting out of the place.
His destination? The Pits.
He had a lot of pent up aggression to vent, and also a ton of training to do with renewed determination. The Pit was the perfect place for that.
Originally meant to house low level slaves and prisoners under the Morningstar, it had now become a place where reality itself remained broken. The many Great Battles that happened in that place, involving Angels, Fallen Angels, Dragons, and more, had resulted in the place being saturated with so much exotic energy that it had basically become a dungeon of sorts.
A dangerous dungeon that regularly spat out Demonic Beasts as strong as Ultimate Class Devils.
Popular theories as to why that happened ranged from the Dimensional Gap spilling into our world and its energy mutating the monsters to the Beasts being some kind of escaped subjects from an experiment to create strong artificial Devils.
The truth was, as usual, somewhere in the middle, not that it mattered to him. All he used the Pit for was to train, not just his CQC and Demonic Energy, but also his resistance. As it turns out, Holy Light, especially from some of the Archangels, is really tenacious, to the point that it persists in some areas of the Pit, centuriesafter the battles.
Some areas were so full of Holy Light that even lookingat them hurt him, which made him suspect if those were the work of Big G. Nevertheless, it served as good practice for him, to see if his unique brand of PoD could erase the concept of Holy Damage from his body. Man, that would be so great.
Also, it worked as a way to measure his progress, as the areas he could not even approach without burns before, he could stand in the middle of them without feeling anything more than a minor itch. It was satisfying, but today? After being humbled by the strongest Devil alive?
Yeah, that was not going to cut it. He needed to up his training.
As always, you can read ahead(upto 12 chapters) and support me on Patreon. Your support and patronage are what make all this possible. So, drop a sub if you can. It would be pretty awesome of you and help me out quite a bit.
My Patreon - IdleMuse60NewView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 8 : POV Crimson Satan NewView contentIdleMuse0307Jun 7, 2026#16Bael Territory, Underworld
–Sirzechs Gremory–
As he watched the newest heir of the Bael House leave, many thoughts churned through his mind, some of them good, but many of them bad. If Zekram Bale and Zephyr Bael had already poisoned Magdaran-kun with their thoughts, then the situation would go from bad to worse, especially considering his strength.
Hidden as it might be, he was the strongest user of the Power of Destruction alive; any other user of PoD in his vicinity is transparently visible to him. The hierarchy of the trait meant that he could more or less judge the level of strength the boy had cultivated for himself.
Satan Class at 18. An outcome that was supposed to be impossible, as even he and Ajuka had needed over 50 years to reach similar levels of power output, and yet…
Sighing, his gaze slid to the corner of the room, right next to the door that led to where Misla-san was resting, "So, what do you think?"
The space in front of him glitched for a moment before Ajuka's form was revealed to him. Like always, his gaze was not focused on what was in front of him but on his wrist, where the familiar magic circle that represented the Kankara Formula was active. It was one of the things that made Ajuka the devil he is today.
The ability to translate the world around him to numbers, his specialty, and then manipulate them as he pleased.
"He was lying," Ajuka remarked offhandedly, but the admission made him clench his fists. If Magdaran was involved in the plot to get Misla-san out of the way, then it meant that it was too late, that–
"He is not the one who did this. He just knows what happened to her and probably the person who did this." He looked at Ajuka, confused as to what he was talking about.
Ajuka looked up from his circle, gave him a dry look, "I can't explain everything about my formula to you. I wish I could. All I can tell you is that his emotions and mannerisms did not read that way to me. He, however, does know something about it."
"I see." He remarked before moving on to the more important part, "What about his strength?"
"He is strong. Satan Class," Ajuka remarked flatly, as if that was something normal about their kind, "As you couldn't get him to use his power, I can't say for certain, but the fact that he reached this level of strength this early almost certainly means that his trait is mutated. Also, no, he is not an impostor."
He sighed in relief at the confirmation. Not many people interacted with Magdaran on a daily basis. He was the oddball of the house, preferring to remain by himself, train by himself, and not involve himself in any of the House's activities. From what they could gather, he spent most of his time in the Pits and was regularly gone for months on end.
A perfect recipe for someone strong to kill him, take his place, and impersonate their way into becoming the heir of the Bael House. A position that was not as influential as one would think, since Zekram was still alive and nothing happened inside the house without his knowledge, but was also influential, because countless devils looked up to the Bael House and their official heir, saying something will remain in their minds for generations to come.
The position was influential but not as powerful, as most of the real matters were handled by Zekram and his chosen few, of which Zephyr was not one. Even a fool could tell that.
The Pits also explained a part of his abnormal strength. The main driver of devil growth was not training or Rating Games but real life and death battles. Even a single battle where a devil barely survived could be more beneficial to their growth than years of training.
Devils hardly grew in peacetime. And that created a vicious circle for them. As they couldn't let the Devil population fall even further, with their fertility being what it was, but the devils training peacefully without any threat hovering above them, something they had worked very hard to ensure, did not grow as much as they should. That had never really been a cause of concern for them since they were not lacking in firepower, and the Reincarnated Devils helped them plug the population shortfall, but even he could tell that it was not the perfect method.
The Reincarnated Devils needed leadership, which didnot come from the Pillar Houses. Someone strong enough to reach the top 10 ranking of the Rating Games would have been an ideal candidate, but alas, no one has been able to breach that barrier yet.
If Magdaran Bael possessed the potential to become a Super Devil, like him and Ajuka, then the balance of power, which was already skewed on the side of the Pillars, would tilt even more. So far, all the Super Devils were on the other side of the Pillars, and even then, the discontent amongst the Reincarnated Devils was rising.
If a Devil of Magdaran's calibre ended up sharing and promoting the same ideology that he worked very hard to suppress, then things might just end up being dire for the Underworld. To prevent that outcome, if he had to do some things he swore he would never do, then–
"We should call a meeting about this. Put it to a vote." Ajuak interrupted his dark thoughts, still engrossed in his magic circle, but he was aware that Ajuka knew everything that happened around him.
Sighing, he leaned back into the chair, realising that this constant state of vigilance and anxiety was tilting his thoughts in the wrong direction. The only cure for this was meeting his precious little Ria-tan! Ah! He couldn't wait to see her. He had a lot of—
"Ahem, Sirzechs-sama," Grayfia's voice brought him out of his reverie as she looked at him meaningfully.
Realising that he had been caught, and wanting to move past it, he quickly cleared his throat and looked at Ajuka, "So, what is your diagnosis about Misla-san?"
"It is the Sleeping Sickness," Ajuka answered before he flicked the magic circle forward, the circle morphing mid air into a live display about Misla-san and if he was reading it correctly, the flow of Demonic Energy within her body.
"It is…slowing down?" He asked, leaning forward to take a better look. He had seen these readings before, for other devils, for other patients of the Sleeping Sickness, back when it was relatively new to the underworld, and there were calls to have it thoroughly researched as the chances of just going to sleep one day and never waking up was daunting for any devil, let alone the rich old Pillar devils who were terrified of it. They would much rather go out in a blaze of glory than this.
The flow of Demonic Energy in normal devils and the flow of Demonic Energy in Sleeping Sickness patients was very different. For the patients, it was as if the Demonic Energy flow was reduced to the lowest point possible.
This one was different. The flow of Demonic Energy's flow was reducing over time, something that had never been observed before, since the very nature of the Disease was unpredictable. By the time people realised what it was, too much time had passed for them to diagnose the early stages.
"It's new information. Based on this, we can trace the origin of the Sleeping Sickness, if we are given total access." Ajuka gave him a pointed look at that, and he had to sigh once more, realising the futility of it. They were deep in Bael Territory, a place that was deeply unwelcoming to any of the New Satans.
Now, simply by virtue of their power, they could waltz in, even kill the devils who would obstruct them, and the people here would rejoice at that, at the Satans finally acting properly, but they would never acquiesce to a proper request. Anything bearing their symbol, that came as a request and was within their rights to reject? It would be rejected, irrespective of what was inside.
Sure, they were here right now, but this was not an official visit, or sanctioned by the Bael House. There was an implicit understanding that if they wanted to, truly wanted to, no one could stop them, which is why such secret visits, as long as no noise was made, were of no issue.
But if Ajuka wanted to do a full tracing of everywhere Misla-san went, everything she ate and drank, everyone she met, and more, then it would not be a secret anymore. They will oppose them fiercely.
On one hand, he was loath to break the rules he himself had instated for everyone to follow, and that included the Super Devil Satans, but on the other hand, this was the best shot they had to gather as much data as possible on the elusive Sleeping Sickness, for Ajuka to finally have a shot at clearing this.
Serafall, in particular, would be over the moon if they figured out the cure for a previously incurable disease.
Sighing, he turned to Ajuka, "How long until the tracing does not work?"
"I don't know. That is the issue, I do not know, which is why we must do this," Ajuka said, with a rare hint of frustration in his voice. He could understand that. This was one of the few diseases that had no data on it whatsoever, except the one they could get off the patient, which was basically none, according to Ajuka and the people in his lab.
Something to do with the Demonic Energy and how once it had reached that almost dead state, nothing could get it to flow properly again, with no way to ascertain the way the body and soul were damaged.
And without understanding just how the damage was done, they could not create something to cure it, if such a cure even existed. Souls were a topic very few people could understand properly, and Ajuka, the one with the foremost understanding of the subject, could not conclusively tell him anything.
"Fine," He slapped his knees and stood up. Turning to Grayfia, he ordered, "Make sure we have one of our own guarding her and Sairaorg. Make sure I get regular updates about his mental health. If it gets bad, tell mother, she'll bring Rias over."
Grayfia nodded as he turned to Ajuka, and both of them disappeared using their respective magic circles, to attend the meeting that Ajuka had already called beforehand.
___xx___
New Lilith, Satan Meeting Hall
"He's Satan Class at WHAT?!!" Sirzechs sighed, leaning back as the voice of Serafall reached him. Seriously, it could be counted as a sonic attack on its own.