After the reveal of Demon Ruler Aarimon, Henri's eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers.
"Something strange has occurred lately," he said, voice low and pressing. "You didn't... go to the human world, did you? You know it's forbidden."
Lord Sullivan's usual warmth dimmed, his tone even but firm.
"Of course not. I've done no such thing."
Yet, even as he said it, a knot twisted in his chest. Something was wrong.
Later, in his private chamber, Sullivan summoned Opera. His expression, usually carefree, was unusually tense.
"I won't be back today," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "The Demon Border Patrol wants to question me. Something about 'illegal travel to human world'."
Opera, unfazed, chuckled. "They're just doing their jobs. Probably huh... a mistake."
Sullivan didn't smile. "I Perhaps… but it's unsettling. Being accused of something I didn't do. Right? Right?" Graving his both hand and making weird poses.
He quickly changed the topic, concern flickering in his eyes.
"What about Iruma? He all right?"
Opera leaned against the doorframe, smiling faintly. "Currently playing video games. Calm as ever."
Sullivan's expression shifted to a dramatic pout. "Tch… He should be missing me at least a little."
Opera snorted. Sullivan straightened with mock importance.
"Tell him I will be at the Battler Party. No excuses."
After listing an exhaustive checklist for Iruma's care—snacks, cloak layers, anti-stress tea—Sullivan ended the call with a heavy sigh. Alone, he sat quietly, fingers tapping his armrest.
Why now? Why accuse me… right before Aarimon's return?
Meanwhile, at Babyls…
The Misfit Class was abuzz with nervous energy. The upcoming Battler Party loomed, and the weight of visiting families made even the boldest students twitch.
Kalego stormed into the room like a thunderclap.
"Control yourselves," he snapped, glaring. "Do not embarrass me—or yourselves—in front of your families."
Everyone sat straighter.
In the Magical Apparatus Battler, Iruma stood with his back to the others, polishing His katana in slow, deliberate motions. His eyes drifted to a flyer for the Battler Party. A hint of tension crossed his face.
Without turning, he asked,
"Your family coming?"
Alice scoffed. "My mother? I'll keep her away with my life."
Iruma nodded slightly, as if that made perfect sense.
"And you?" he asked Kirio.
Kirio shrugged. "They won't come. But my senpai will."
Right on cue, Kirio's phone rang. The screen flashed: "SENPAI (DO NOT IGNORE)"
He picked up—and was immediately blasted with a storm of overbearing instructions. Everyone sweatdropped.
Later, the group hauled their equipment across the school. The Battler grounds were alive: magical beasts roaring in circus tents, shady alchemists mixing glowing potions, and the Succubus Battler drawing swarms of drooling onlookers.
Kirio scowled as they reached their assigned space—a pitifully small corner.
"It's pathetic…" one passing student sneered. "No wonder you get the scraps."
Kirio forced a smile, but Iruma stepped forward, quiet but commanding.
His eyes, shadowed under black bangs, stared into the open sky.
"We don't need space to outshine them."
"We just need the sky."
Kirio blinked. "What do you mean?"
Iruma turned, the strategist now fully awake in him.
"We'll make fireworks."
"Fire… what?" Clara tilted her head, eyes wide.
"Controlled explosions that light up the sky. Dazzling. Loud. Beautiful," Iruma explained, tone steady. "In the world, they symbolize joy… and power."
Alice grinned. "I'll use my fire magic!"
Clara jumped up. "Can I make mine go BOOM?"
Iruma calculated silently, then nodded. "If we time them right, this will eclipse every other battler. But we'll need all night to prepare."
Kirio, wide-eyed but moved, nodded. "I'll sign us up. You really think this will work?"
Iruma's Sharingan flickered faintly beneath his lashes.
"No."
"I know it will."
The battler team fell silent for a moment, caught between awe and excitement.
Their corner may be small—but the sky belonged to them now.
At the preparation site, Clara spins in place, dressed in pajamas, dragging a giant plush duck and hugging her pillow like it's a festival—not a work night.
Alice, ever focused, lugs tool kits and thick spellbooks.
Iruma stands at the center, plain in dress but sharp in presence—every move quiet, calculated. Ten steps ahead, always.
They're not just here to have fun.
They're here to build something unforgettable.
Suddenly—BOOM!
An explosion rattles the air.
Kirio stumbles from the smoke, coughing and covered in soot.
"Failed again," he wheezes, brushing ash off his coat. "Fireworks aren't easy… especially when you've never seen one."
Iruma narrows his eyes. "You're injured."
Kirio waves it off with a grin, blood trickling from his lip.
"My bloodline ability—Barrier. It absorbs most of the blast. Still hurts like hell, though."
He raises his palm. Iruma reaches out and senses the faint hum of an invisible shield.
Not reckless… just committed, Iruma thinks. Then speaks:
"We need a visual reference."
---
Later, in the quiet student lounge…
Ameri looks up, startled to see Iruma walk in.
"You came to me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I need something," he replies, handing her a small slip of paper.
"This manga—First Love Memories, Volume 7. It has the image I need."
Ameri's eyes widen.
"You know that's banned, right?"
Iruma's tone doesn't change.
"I won't ask twice."
She crosses her arms. "Then it's a no."
He pauses… then turns to leave.
"...Understood. I'll find another way."
But just as he reaches the door, Ameri sighs dramatically.
"This could be my chance… to witness something amazing."
She sets the book on the table behind her and stretches.
"I'm so tired. If someone took the book while my back was turned… well… I'd never know."
Iruma quietly walks over, picks it up, and says lowly:
"...Thank you."
Ameri spins around.
"Honestly, could you be less oblivious? But hey Iruma promise me you will go out with me? "
"Where?" Iruma said while confusingly
"Well there is a party for couple and i really want to go there but since i don't have any others ..." She then stops and looking into iruma eyes it's like she is telling Iruma to go alongside with her.
"Oke fine. Ameri I will go" Well Iruma thinking it's not bad either he can go and see some stuff? What's a party look like in Demon world?
---
Back at the battler room, Iruma lays the open manga on the table.
"This… is what fireworks look like."
Alice and Clara gasp. Even Kirio is frozen, eyes wide.
"Where did you get this?" Clara asks.
"Doesn't matter," Iruma replies. "We have what we need now."
They dive into action.
Kirio refines the orb mechanism, his Barrier bloodline shielding him through every volatile trial.
Clara draws absurdly detailed blueprints—half doodle, half genius design.
Alice channels precise flame magic into the orb's core.
Their teamwork is fluid—surgical under Iruma's leadership.
Night falls.
The group stands outside under a darkened sky.
Alice lights the fuse.
A moment of silence—
Then BOOM.
A small firework launches into the sky, bursting in crimson and gold. It hangs for a moment, casting light across their stunned faces.
Clara spins, hands in the air. "That was amazing! Let's make one that goes KABOOM-KABOOM-KABOOM next!"
Iruma crosses his arms, eyes scanning the remains.
"We can increase the scale. But not tonight."
Kirio sits on the grass, a soft smile on his lips.
"This is… nice. Being with you three. Creating something like this."
He looks down. "I never thought I'd enjoy something like this…"
Iruma glances his way, silent. A rare flicker of warmth touches his lips.
Kirio's phone buzzes.
He rises and steps away, into the shadows.
"Hello? …Yes. They bought it. The device is nearly complete."
A low, growling voice responds—it's Baal, one of the Thirteen Crowns.
"The time is close. Babyls will fall."
Kirio chuckles under his breath, voice almost reverent.
"All thanks to Iruma-kun… and his innocent 2 little friends."
He ends the call.
Beneath the stars, fireworks still echo faintly—but the real explosion is yet to come.
---
Two Weeks Earlier
Every afternoon and evening, for four relentless hours, Iruma trained under Opera's watchful eye.
Day after day, blade met barrier, sweat hit stone, and resolve sharpened like steel.
It had been weeks now, and Iruma's growth was undeniable.
Thanks to Ali-san—the sentient Ring of Gluttony—Iruma had finally begun to master the skeletal form with two horn and purple color of Susanoo. By merging chakra and magic, Ali helped refine his internal energy flow, unlocking a delicate synergy between human technique and demonic power.
Through their bond, Iruma could now channel all elemental magics—fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, and even rare types like light and shadow. His control wasn't perfect, but the access alone was unprecedented.
Healing was another breakthrough. When injured, Iruma could either cast healing spells himself or allow Ali to direct magic internally to patch wounds from within. It was an edge, especially during grueling sparring sessions. [Small scratches, wound even scar but not organic thing ]
Still, there was a wall he couldn't climb—Speed & Skill.
Despite having skill of a ninja , Iruma was pretty much impress and also jealous that there skill are far more effectively than Human. And one thing for sure Demon don't Hold back. But now that Iruma can use magic and has high amount chakra , also training with opera Iruma! Is becoming strong.
Opera moved like a ghost—flawless, elegant, impossible to predict. No matter how Iruma calculated or pressed forward, his blade never once landed.
Until it did.
Three days into their latest regimen, Iruma managed a clean hit—a shallow graze across Opera's sleeve.
The butler simply smiled.
"Impressive."
From then on, the tide subtly shifted.
By the end of the fourth day, Iruma's speed had increased dramatically. Not enough to match Opera, of course—his pace was still 70 to Opera's 100—but the gap was closing. Steadily. Purposefully.
Iruma was catching up.
And for the first time, he knew it wasn't just because of power. It was because of effort. Pain. Patience. And resolve.
I'll get faster, he vowed. No matter how long it takes to defeat that being who killed his teacher.
---
The Day of the "Party"
Iruma stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the high collar of his elegant icy-blue coat. Intricate silver embroidery swirled across the fabric like frost tracing a winter window, catching the light with every movement. The tailored fit gave him an air of quiet nobility, far from the boy who had once stumbled into the demon world. Beneath the coat, a soft-blue brocade vest hugged his frame, buttoned neatly over a crisp white shirt. A layered white cravat rested at his throat, pinned with a shimmering butterfly brooch that glowed faintly, as if alive.
Draped over his shoulders was a flowing white cloak, the outer fabric smooth and regal, the inner lining pale silver. It flowed behind him like mist, light as air, but commanding in presence. A soft breeze through the open window stirred the hem, and with it, the butterflies resting nearby lifted gently into the air, orbiting him like silent guardians.
On his lapel, where once a moon-shaped pin rested, now hung a delicate silver chain that caught the light like a string of stars. Iruma looked at his reflection—not flashy, but noble, ethereal. A prince not of birth, but of quiet strength.
.
"This Dress looks perfect on me"
Iruma adjusted his collar in the mirror, checking his appearance for the fifth time. He wore a clean white shirt with a modest black jacket—simple, neat, and just formal enough.
"A party with Ameri-san, huh… I promised her earlier . Well Promise is a Promise" he murmured, combing his bangs aside. I wonder if it's a formal demon-world event. Maybe it's part of her student council duties?
Still, a part of him was… nervous. Not like the usual nervousness from magic tests or fights—but something quieter. Warmer. *I mean He also literally sweating like*
He glanced at the clock.
"Time to go."
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Ameri had not slept a single minute.
Her room looked like a battlefield. Dresses lay scattered across chairs, the bed, and even the floor. Ribbons and jewelry floated midair—rejected, selected, rejected again.
Then she selected one . Her dress was a deep sapphire blue, sleeveless with a subtle shimmer that caught the light when she turned. It hugged her figure just enough to look elegant without being scandalous. A silver ribbon tied around her waist, its ends trailing softly behind her like a breeze. She wore low heels—white, with delicate blue embroidery that matched her horns—and a tiny clutch bag shaped like a book.
In front of her mirror stood Ameri in a pale pink dress, clenching a fashion magazine in one hand and First Love Memories, Vol. 4 in the other.
"When a male and female go out together… it's a d-date," she whispered to herself, cheeks burning red. "That's what the manga said… and we'll become closer. Emotionally. Spiritually…"
She flinched.
"No! Calm down, Ameri! You're the student council president! You command armies of delinquents and public funds! This is just a friendly outing. Just. A. Friendly. Outing."
But her heartbeat said otherwise.
As she finally settled on a deep blue dress that matched her eyes—not too showy, not too plain, just… date-worthy—she took a deep breath and whispered:
"Iruma-kun… you better not be late."