April 28, 2012, VIP Booth, Morning.
The plush silence of the VIP booth had been fractured by a palpable unease.
Serafall had been watching her crimson-haired friend with growing concern. Sirzechs Lucifer, a man who typically carried the weight of the Underworld with effortless grace, seemed uncharacteristically fragile. His posture was slumped, and a distant worry clouded his usually sharp, amethyst eyes.
"Zechs, are you okay?" Serafall's voice, though gentle, seemed to startle him from his reverie. "You seem quite shaken."
Sirzechs let out a sigh that seemed to carry the burdens of a thousand years before he finally opened his eyes, the vibrant violet now dimmed with fraternal anxiety. He looked at the current Leviathan, his friend, and found a sliver of solace in her presence.
"No, how could I not be?" he confessed, his voice a low murmur. "I am simply preoccupied with Rias. This is her first Rating Game, and she is just eighteen. I have every right to be concerned about my little sister."
The words tumbled out, followed by a melodramatic cry as he clutched his chest in exaggeration, a feeble attempt to mask the genuine fear gnawing at him.
Serafall, ever the buoyant spirit, chimed in, "Don't worry! Mako surely did a great job with them!" Her declaration was meant to be a balm, a reassurance built on her unwavering faith in the mysterious boy they called the Messiah.
"Yuki Makoto..." Sirzechs repeated the name, and it hung in the air between them, a symbol of both salvation and complication. "To think that the Messiah would have helped my sister... I should have done something to thank him. Now I'm feeling not only worried but also ashamed for my own lack of manners."
His expression became a battlefield of conflicting emotions: profound gratitude for the aid given to his beloved sister warring with the dread of the diplomatic incident her savior represented.
"Don't sweat it, Zechs!" Serafall insisted, her tone light and dismissive of the political complexities. "Mako is a good boy! He won't ask for anything in return. He just did it because that's who he is."
She truly believed that; in her eyes, Makoto's goodness was as fundamental as the laws of magic.
Yet, her words did little to assuage the deep-seated noble etiquette ingrained in Sirzechs. "That doesn't resolve the fact that I have nothing but words to express my gratitude," he whined, the sound almost childish. "My Father would reprimand me for such a breach of decorum!"
While the two Satans lost themselves in their familiar dynamic, another, far more ancient and formidable devil had been waiting with the patience of a glacier. Zekram Bael, the ancestor of the Bael House, stood like a monument to a bygone era.
His calculative purple eyes, which had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, scanned the corridor. His elegant clothes could not conceal the solemn, wise, and deeply dangerous aura that emanated from him. He was the Great King, the oldest devil in existence, and his presence was a statement in itself.
He had been visited recently, not by a peer, but by a ghost—by his long-gone Creator and master, Lucifer himself.
It was a meeting he had awaited since the Morning Star's fall, for Zekram was a devil who held to one unshakeable ideology: not even death could truly defeat a real devil. This conviction had guided his every move, his every political machination, for centuries.
'Five centuries have passed,' he had thought, a rare flicker of genuine anticipation warming his ancient heart. 'Our reunion will be the most pleasant experience I have had in a long while.'
He remembered the words the persona of Lucifer had spoken to him during that clandestine visit just a few days prior. While not occupied with training Rias, Lucifer had forced his way into the Underworld, appearing before Zekram, who had recognized the essence of the Morning Star immediately and had, without hesitation, sworn his loyalty once more.
The command had been simple, yet earth-shattering:
"On the 28th of this month, you will reunite with my true self at the match between Rias Gremory and Riser Phenex. Be there."
Through his own vast network, Zekram had pieced together the fragments of information the current Satans had tried so desperately to hide. The existence of the so-called Messiah, a figure spoken of in whispers across every known mythology, was now known to him.
'You have come back to save our race, my Lord, and to reclaim your rightful throne as our king,' he had thought, the idea filling him with a sense of vindication and purpose.
He leaned against the wall, a picture of imperial patience, the other devils in the corridor giving him a wide, fearful berth. However, one woman, forged in the same formidable lineage, dared to approach.
Venelana Gremory, née Bael, possessed the same piercing violet eyes, though hers held a warmth his had long since lost.
"Ancestor," she began, her voice a respectful melody, "what a surprise to see you here. I didn't know you were a fan of Rating Games, especially unofficial ones like this."
Her words were a masterful, polite probe, an attempt to discern his intentions without directly questioning the inscrutable Great King.
"Venelana, it is good to see you, my child," he replied, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He immediately understood the subtext of her greeting. "How are you doing?"
"I am fine, Ancestor. I bid you a pleasant day; I am going to reunite with Zeoticus now," she said, offering a respectful bow, her instincts telling her she would learn nothing more.
"Tell the boy hi from me, dear," Zekram offered as she turned to leave, a subtle reminder of the familial bonds that still, tenuously, connected them.
As she walked away, Venelana's mind raced. 'What is Ancestor doing here of all places? He has never been interested in the affairs of the Gremory House. Could it be that he wants to be sure to see the marriage secured? No. He does not waste his time on such trivialities.'
A cold knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach. Zekram Bael never acted without a precise, far-reaching purpose.
Her steps quickened as she sought out her son, Sirzechs. She found him in the VIP booth, knocking briefly before entering. Serafall's cheerful "Lady Gremory, hello!" provided a stark contrast to the tension she carried.
"Mother?" Sirzechs asked, his surprise evident. "You and Father are already here?"
"Luckily, I came here before your father," she sighed, closing the door behind her. The weight of her news felt heavy on her tongue. "The Great King himself is here too. Do you have any idea why our Ancestor is, now of all times, interesting himself in the matters of the Gremory House?"
The question was laced with a mother's fear for her children and the political stability they represented.
The moment the name "Great King" was uttered, Serafall and Sirzechs shared a swift, telling look that did not escape Venelana's sharp gaze.
"What is the matter?" she pressed.
"Mother..." Sirzechs began, his voice strained. He hated this—hated the deception, even one of omission, especially towards his parents. But the existence of the Messiah and the return of Lucifer's will were top-secret government matters, secrets that could ignite a civil war if spilled.
"I understand," Venelana said softly, cutting him off. She knew her son's heart as if it were her own; his conflicted expression was an open book to her. She did not need the words to know the situation was grave. "I hope the situation is not too difficult for you two to handle. I leave you alone, if you allow me."
The door had barely clicked shut before Sirzechs let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I fear Ajuka's worries were right," he murmured, the words tasting of ash.
Serafall's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the stern resolve of a Satan. "We must meet with the Messiah before the Great King does," Sirzechs declared, his voice firm now, the path forward clear.
Serafall nodded, her expression grim. "Alright, let me go!" And before Sirzechs could even form a response, a blink of an eye, she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of winter magic behind.
The memory of Ajuka's warning echoed in Sirzechs's mind. When Grayfia had revealed that Makoto housed the Persona of Lucifer, Ajuka had been the first to highlight the catastrophic danger. If the Great King Faction were to discover that the progenitor of the devils still existed in any form, the entire foundation of their current government would crumble into dust.
The Great King Faction would immediately disown the New Satans, declaring them illegitimate. The resulting chaos would be a waterfall of disasters: the radical Old Satan Faction would be reinvigorated, and even the unaffiliated, radical parties in the senate would revolt at the mere whisper of Lucifer's return. The fragile peace they had built for centuries was balanced on a knife's edge.
[The Rating Game is starting in 5 minutes. Please, both peerages prepare for the teleportation to the Rating Game dimension]
The announcement reverberated through the stadium, a stark reminder of the personal drama unfolding amidst the political tempest.
Elsewhere, in a flash of magical light, Makoto and Grayfia materialized from a complex magic circle. The air shifted, now filled with the distant, electric hum of a gathering crowd.
"Where are we?" Makoto asked, his eyes taking in the new surroundings.
Grayfia, the picture of composure as always, replied, "We are in the Runeas Arena. It is the official Rating Game stadium of the Gremory Territory. It is named after the common Ancestor of House Gremory." Her voice was a calm, informative stream.
'They have proper stadiums for it, like the arena there was at Olympia,' Apollo commented from within, a note of nostalgic appreciation in his psychic voice as he reminisced about the ancient Greek games.
"If you may follow me, Lord Yuki, we are now heading towards the VIP booth," Grayfia said, turning to lead the way. They moved through stark white corridors, the walls adorned with the crest of the Gremory House, repeated like the loyal logo of a sports team emblazoned on its home turf.
Their progress was abruptly halted.
"Good morning," a voice, smooth as aged wine and just as potent, cut through the hallway's silence. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Messiah. Lord Lucifer informed me about your presence here today."
Zekram Bael stood before them. To Grayfia's profound internal shock, which her impeccable training prevented from showing on her face, the Great King offered a slight, but unmistakable, bow to Makoto.
'Lucifer, care to explain?' Thanatos's voice was a sharp, immediate demand within their shared consciousness.
'I merely made sure to contact someone who could help us,' Lucifer replied, his tone dripping with casual superiority. 'He might not look like THE Bael, but this man is still the supposed Bael of this world.'
'So you were searching for the King of Bel? What of our agreement to not interfere in politics?' Kohryu asked, the title 'King of Bel' uttered with a deep, ancestral respect.
'King of Bel? You were wondering if the devils of this world had something similar to him?' Odin interjected, his curiosity piqued more than his concern.
'King of Bel... that was a name I haven't heard in a while,' Leviathan muttered before sinking back into the depths of Makoto's soul, unwilling to engage with the ghosts of the past.
'What are you all talking about?' Makoto asked, mentally frowning at the confusion among his myriad selves.
'Nothing. It is not something which should concern you, Universe, and we too. Speaking about the dead of another place and time is not going to be of help,' Yoshitsune stated, effectively closing the subject.
While this internal council convened, Grayfia focused on the tangible threat before them. "Great King," she began, her voice perfectly level, "Lord Lucifer did not inform me that you would grace us with your presence today."
"You are mistaken, Lucifuge," Zekram corrected, a polite, yet deeply sinister, smile gracing his lips. "I did not mean Sirzechs when I was speaking about Lord Lucifer. I was talking about our creator. The Devil himself."
The clarification was a declaration of war. Grayfia suppressed a frown, her mind racing through the implications. She gave a polite nod, a masterclass in controlled reaction, and made to address Makoto, but Zekram was not finished.
"Messiah," he continued, his purple eyes fixed on the boy, "you and Lord Lucifer should come to the Bael territory. From there, we will head to the Capital. The people will be more than welcoming to the return of their ruler."
He paused, as if recalling a minor detail.
"I forgot to mention it when Lord Lucifer gave me the pleasure of visiting this faithful servant of his, but things have changed much for the devil race he created. Not only because of the death of our four original kings."
'What is the Great King plotting?' Grayfia's thoughts were a whirlwind. This went beyond typical political friction; this was a direct challenge to the throne, an attempt to crown a new-old monarch. It could only lead to another Civil War.
'Morning Star. Are you trying to take control of the devils?' Odin asked, his single eye peering into the heart of Lucifer's ambition.
'Me? No. I have no interest in governing ants,' Lucifer scoffed, the very notion beneath him. 'These devils need a miracle, not someone like myself. Instead, if you are asking if I am making the Universe their ruler, then my answer is yes. The Attendant is doing it too with the not-so-hateful copy of Azazel and his Grigori, while Izanagi will conquer the Shinto gods' realms.'
He stated this with utter conviction, profoundly misunderstanding the intentions of both Elizabeth and Izanagi.
'Makoto is not a politician!' Thanatos and Messiah declared in unison, their voices a blend of frustration and protectiveness.
'Ahahahah! Morning Star, you are completely misunderstanding the intentions of both the Attendant and Izanagi!' Apollo laughed, the sound echoing in the mental space, unable to believe Lucifer's monumental miscalculation.
'THEN WHAT!?' Lucifer roared, his voice a cataclysm of rage and disgust that shattered the internal debate. 'YOU WANT TO PUT AN END TO THE MADDENING ACTIONS OF NYARLATHOTEP!? START DOING SOMETHING!'
The thundering voice, full of primordial fury, sent a violent jolt of pain through Makoto's head, making him wince.
'Lucifer is not completely wrong,' Makoto thought, the pain sharpening his own resolve. 'I too was wondering about it.'
The physical reaction did not go unnoticed. "Lord Yuki, are you alright?" Grayfia asked, her concern immediate and genuine.
"It is the first time in the Underworld for you, Messiah, is it not?" Zekram pointed out, his tone deceptively sympathetic. "It can be difficult to accustom oneself to the atmosphere."
Makoto's eyes cleared, the internal storm subsiding into a cold, firm resolve. "Take me to the place where the Rating Game is going to be projected," he told Grayfia, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Then, to the tumultuous chorus in his soul, he issued a silent, iron command: 'And all of you, shut up for the time being.'
Hearing the newfound authority in his tone, Grayfia did not protest. She merely nodded and resumed leading the way. "We will speak at a later date," Makoto said to Zekram, his dismissal as cool as the Great King's own calculative demeanor.
Zekram merely nodded his head, a deep, satisfied smile gracing his features as he watched them go.
'He does not fear giving orders. You are right, my Lord. He will be the best leader for our race,' Zekram thought as he turned and left the Runeas Arena, his purpose fulfilled.
His initial skepticism—a human boy ruling the Underworld? It had seemed heretical. But after seeing him, after feeling the echo of his Creator's will within him and witnessing the boy's own latent power... he was indeed the other self of Lucifer.
"I just need to be patient, right?" he murmured to the empty corridor. "I have all the patience in the world and beyond."
Once they were away from the unsettling presence of the Great King, Makoto turned to Grayfia. "Grayfia, who was he?"
"Zekram Bael," she explained, her voice low. "The ancestor of the Bael House and the shadow leader of the Great King Faction, the opposition to the government of the New Satans."
Makoto absorbed the information, his mind already turning inward once more.
'Lucifer,' he began, his mental voice calm but firm. 'How much of this were you aware of?'
'Everything,' the Devil replied, without a hint of remorse.
'Ok,' Makoto replied, a simple acceptance that closed the matter for now. His focus shifted, his thoughts turning to the friends he had trained, to the battle that was about to begin.
'Now, we have more important things to address.'