After his spectacular display of power against Katerea Leviathan, Adolf Riser's fame soared to unprecedented heights.
His bold challenge against Sirzechs Lucifer during the banquet did not go unnoticed either, sending ripples of shock and awe through the underworld.
His reputation underwent a dramatic transformation, becoming the subject of countless conversations. Now, there was no one in the underworld who didn't recognize the name Adolf Riser.
His trademark mustache, his unyielding courage, and the echo of his defiance reverberated far and wide, solidifying his presence as a force to be reckoned with.
In response to his growing influence, Adolf Riser began making calculated moves to secure his dominion.
He systematically visited the Old Satan Faction members who had been reluctant or outright uncooperative in offering their support to Serafall Leviathan.
These visits were not mere courtesy calls but veiled assertions of his burgeoning power.
One such visit brought him face to face with a man of composed demeanor.
The individual carried himself with the poise of a nobleman, his eyes perpetually closed in a manner that somehow added to his enigmatic charm.
His every gesture spoke of well-practiced decorum, a testament to his aristocratic upbringing.
However, the members of his peerage painted a starkly different picture. As they greeted Adolf Riser, their blank, lifeless eyes and forced smiles betrayed an unsettling atmosphere.
They bowed their heads in silence, not daring to utter a single word.
"Diodora Astaroth," Riser began, his tone sharp and dripping with unspoken menace. "I trust you've heard the news of Lady Katerea's unfortunate demise, hmm?"
His words were blunt, leaving no room for pretense as his piercing gaze bore into Diodora's form.
Despite the threat woven into Riser's words, Diodora maintained his pleasant, almost saccharine smile. "Of course, Lord Riser. I've heard it, loud and clear. Believe me, I detest crows as much as you do. They took my beloved Asia from me, and for that, they shall pay dearly. I've already dispatched the majority of my clan's resources to support Lady Serafall on my behalf. You have my word."
With an elegant bow, Diodora sealed his response.
Riser's smirk widened, and he clapped his hands in satisfaction. "Excellent. You'll earn your rightful place within my faction and the new world I am working tirelessly to create for all of us, Diodora Astaroth."
"Yes, to cooperation," Diodora replied, his smirk mirroring Riser's.
This moment was exactly what Diodora had been waiting for. He understood the ambitions simmering within Riser's heart—the desire to achieve something monumental, to create a legacy that would reshape the underworld itself.
Diodora, too, had no intention of remaining in his brother's shadow.
He wanted to carve his own path, one that promised power, prestige, and a fresh start.
Riser's boldness, his vision for a new order, had struck a chord within Diodora.
For now, he was willing to pledge his loyalty to the man before him, as long as Riser kept his promises.
A position of influence in this new regime was more than enough incentive to earn Diodora's cooperation.
His generosity had secured a place in Diodora's heart—for now.
But in the ever-shifting tides of power and ambition, only time would tell how long such allegiances would last.
To further earn his trust, he cast a sly wink at all of his peerage members, each one a stunningly beautiful woman.
"Lord Riser, how about I offer them to you for one night? Or perhaps even for a lifetime of pleasure?"
"No." Riser scoffed, his tone laced with disdain. "They are already broken and sullied. You may keep your damaged goods, Diodora Astaroth. I have no interest."
Diodora Astaroth merely smiled faintly, offering no rebuttal. After all, tastes differed.
He had grown bored of his peerage long ago; they were disposable in his eyes, and he had no problems about discarding them if it meant currying favor with the young lord before him.
Still, if Riser refused the gift, so be it—he would seek favor through other means.
With their conversation concluded, Adolf Riser bid him farewell.
His focus quickly shifted to his next goal: systematically visiting the Old Satan Faction, one faction at a time.
Those who dared to resist him were met with merciless consequences.
By the following day, he had already begun suppressing dissenters with ruthless efficiency, besieging their estates and setting their homes ablaze.
Assassination, arson, and outright slaughter became his tools of choice. Yet Riser was not alone in this brutal campaign.
As his followers grew in number, he delegated these acts of domination, commanding them to crush any who dared defy him within the Old Satan Faction.
His ultimate aim was absolute submission to his will.
Within his faction, only one voice was permitted to hold sway: Adolf Riser's.
He absorbed every remaining member of the Old Satan Faction into his fold, capitalizing on the disarray while Rizevim Lucifer preoccupied himself with supporting Serafall Leviathan.
Meanwhile, the war in Tokyo raged on, but Adolf Riser turned his attention inward, consolidating his power within the Underworld.
He established his own faction, drawing support from disillusioned members of the Old Satan Faction, the Phenex Clan, various noble houses, and even lesser-known factions.
Together, they rallied under his banner, claiming to fight for justice and to end the suffering of devils who had been unfairly burdened by the Church's interference in a conflict that should have remained solely between devils and fallen angels.
They demanded reparations from the Heaven Faction for the devils' losses in the war.
Even Great Baal lent his support to Riser's cause, adding legitimacy to his demands.
Yet his voice fell on deaf ears as the wars continued to spiral into chaos.
Back in the Underworld, Sirzechs Lucifer and the other two Satans tightened their grip, silencing dissent and imprisoning those who dared to speak against their rule before rebellion could take root.
In the dimly lit pub, Riser sat with a deep scowl, his dissatisfaction palpable. He was furious that all of the Satans, except Serafall, had grown soft, suppressing any devils who still advocated for war.
They accused such devils of treason due to alleged ties with the Khaos Brigade. One by one, his supporters were thrown into prison, leaving him brooding in this depressing place ever since.
Sure, they may have had connections with the Khaos Brigade in the past, but after Riser's final conversation with Rizevim Lucifer, the Old Satan Faction officially severed ties with the organization.
They had even rallied behind Serafall Leviathan in her war against the crows in Tokyo, risking besiegement from the three factions. His entire faction had shown their loyalty on the battlefield, proving themselves time and time again.
And what did he get in return?
His followers, loyal to the cause, imprisoned like common criminals.
"Diodora," Riser said, his voice simmering with quiet rage. "What did your beloved Satan brother have to say about this disgraceful situation?"
At the mention of his brother, a shadow of deep resentment flickered in Diodora's eyes, twisting his face with hatred.
"He refused to release any of our supporters," Diodora spat. "Not only that, but he declared me unfit to inherit the Astaroth Clan. He replaced me with some nobody from a branch family."
A suffocating silence descended upon the pub. The weight of their collective despair was palpable.
Although their faction had been growing at an impressive speed, they had failed to garner enough support from the Underworld's noble houses.
Their influence was still insufficient to challenge the decisions of three out of the four Satans.
"What should we do, leaders?" one of his followers asked, their voice trembling slightly.
All eyes turned to Adolf Riser, who sat deep in thought, his brow furrowed with contemplation.
From the very beginning, they had witnessed Riser's defiance of Sirzechs Lucifer.
He had crushed Katerea Leviathan, swiftly subdued the remnants of the Old Satan Faction, and absorbed its members into his own ranks.
Those who dared to oppose him—like Creuserey Asmodeus and Shalba Beelzebub—had met gruesome ends, executed without hesitation by their resolute leader.
Adolf Riser was no Satan, but he carried himself with the ruthless demeanor of one. Unlike Sirzechs, whose pacifist tendencies often bred weakness, Riser embodied the brutal, undivided authority reminiscent of Lucifer Morningstar. His word was absolute. His will, unchallenged.
To him, dissent was equivalent to death.
"Let's storm the capital," Riser finally declared, his eyes glinting with cold, ruthless determination. "Let them see the strength of our resolve."
The room tensed. His followers glanced at one another, their expressions hardening.
Slowly, they nodded, their faith in him absolute.
Adolf Riser's lips curved into a sharp, dangerous grin.
He would march into the Devil Capital, demand the release of his imprisoned supporters, and force the Satans to go all out in a war against the crows.
He would impose his policies, reshape the Underworld, and carve a new order under his iron fist.
Standing tall, his powerful frame exuded unshakable confidence as his followers rose behind him, their resolve matching his.
Even Diodora wore a wicked grin, his mind already scheming.
He was determined to humiliate his older brother, reclaim his position as the rightful heir of the Astaroth Clan, and, if possible, ascend to the head of the house itself.
This was the moment.
Now or never.