{A Few Minutes Ago, Outside the Devil Testing Laboratory}
—Sirzechs Lucifer—
Sirzechs rushed forward as fast as he could. The area was laced with anti-teleportation charms and layered barriers. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't teleport inside.
"Should we just break the barrier?" Serafall asked, flying behind him. "Flying will always be slower."
"If we break it, they'll sense us immediately," he replied, eyes scanning for a way in. "There are thirteen layers. Break one, and our position is exposed. Break them all at once, and the entire structure collapses."
Serafall's expression tightened into a frown. "Then what now?"
They had both felt it—a terrifying presence neither of them had encountered in centuries.
"Barbatos…" she whispered, biting her lip. "The entire pillar was annihilated. How can that signature still exist?"
She couldn't possibly mistake it. The Barbatos signature was unforgettable. The monstrous devil lord who had single-handedly slaughtered dragons and fallen angels that tried to during the civil war.
"Faustus Barbatos was the reason the war ended," Sirzechs said grimly. "The old faction relied on dragons and the fallen. Without him, we would've been at a serious disadvantage."
"He came from an ancient pillar but chose neutrality," Serafall recalled. "And he died—right in front of us. He—" Her voice broke, refusing to revisit that moment. "He died."
The memory tasted just as bitter for Sirzechs—a piece of history few remembered, and a failure that still haunted him.
"It's not him," he said at last, his voice firm. "It's the Barbatos signature, but it isn't Faustus."
"Then who?"
The question lingered in the air—unanswered, not from refusal but from ignorance.
"We have to get in," Sirzechs said finally, pointing to a squad of devils standing guard far from the barrier. "Without alerting anyone inside. We need to know what's happening here. No one can be allowed to escape."
Serafall nodded, lifting a hand toward the oblivious guards posted outside with their bodies wrapped in protective shield spells.
"Leave it to me."
And he did. Serafall was better at this—and she didn't disappoint.
With the Sitri bloodline's signature water manipulation, she manifested orbs of water around the guards' heads, silently drowning them before they could react.
Sirzechs noted the brutality but stayed silent. They both wore the masks of Satans now—symbols of benevolence and protection—but once, they had been among the most ruthless devils ever to walk the battlefield. He had committed acts of torture far worse than the suffocating bubbles Serafall had just created.
"Let's go!" she said as the last of the devils collapsed—whether dead or unconscious hardly mattered.
Sirzechs nodded and dove toward the entry. But as soon as they touched the ground, their hearts sank.
"Is that—?" he asked, eyes wide. "Am I sensing this right?"
Serafall's expression mirrored his own—shaken, disbelieving. "Y-Yeah… Valefar. It's Valefar."
The one woman she had spent centuries trying to forget.
Isolde Valefar.
* * *
—Serafall Leviathan—
A few minutes later, the duo reached their destination. After weaving through the labyrinthine corridors of the hidden place, they finally laid eyes on the presence they had been sensing.
Serafall's eyes trembled at the sight of him.
Tall. Dark-haired. Dark-eyed and with an emotionless face.
It didn't matter that he was naked—her gaze couldn't move past his face.
A handsome face. A memorable one. And unmistakably nostalgic.
"I can't believe it," Sirzechs muttered, equally stunned as his eyes locked onto the boy. "It's you."
The man—no, he still looked like a boy. About eighteen. Exactly as he had all those centuries ago.
"How are you alive?" Sirzechs asked with a trace of caution in his tone. "We saw you fall during the war."
The boy didn't answer. His gaze shifted from Sirzechs… to her.
She swallowed hard, guilt twisting in her chest.
"Faiser…" she whispered the name at last.
The boy, who had been silently studying them, took a step back—and she instantly realized what he intended.
"Wait." She lifted her hand in surrender. "We're not here to hurt you. Please… stay."
Sirzechs stepped in as well. "Please. We mean you no harm. We came because we sensed a massive surge of demonic energy."
They both knew what was in his mind. He was preparing to teleport away—to distance himself, to avoid them entirely.
But they couldn't allow that. Not until they understood. Not until they knew how he was alive… and why he hadn't aged a single day.
"Faiser…" Serafall pleaded again, softer this time. "Please."
He regarded them in silence for a long, heavy moment—then finally spoke.
"Sitri…" he muttered at last. "…And Gremory."
* * *
{Present}
Sirzechs fucking Lucifer and Serafall Leviathan—two monsters—the very moment I even thought about escape.
"We promise," both of them spoke, on edge. "We're not here to hurt you in any way."
I almost blurted their titles—Lucifer and Leviathan—but thankfully, memory caught me. Back then, when I had been frozen, they weren't Satans yet.
I wasn't supposed to know they had become Satans. Which meant I had to play into that ignorance.
"You're alive," Sirzechs said, his face pale, like he was staring at a ghost.
"But why…" Serafall's shock mirrored his. "Why didn't you let anyone know?"
They were strong enough to erase me with a single attack—yet both of them looked nervous, guilty even, in front of me.
There's something I don't know here, isn't there?
Whatever it was, I couldn't break character. The act had to continue. I was Faiser Barbatos now—the revived, hedonistic heir.
I pressed a hand to my head, feigning the headache, and gestured toward the corpses with the other.
"These damned devils…" I mimicked Faiser's voice and tone flawlessly. "These bastards did something. I was trapped in some experimental tube—and only just woke up."
The two Satans exchanged glances of confusion and concern.
"Are you alright?" Serafall asked, her voice edged with worry. "Do you feel… different in any way?"
She was worried they'd tampered with my body—which they had—or worse, that I was a clone.
"I don't feel much different," I said, flexing my wrists as though testing them. "But I do remember hearing something… about the war's end. About me being taken to extract bloodlines. And something about a new Satan Faction."
There had never been talk of extracting anything. But planting a false narrative could work wonders in moments like this.
That's how juries were manipulated. As long as the opposing counsel didn't catch on—and if you were skilled enough—you could get away with it.
And here, they weren't the opposing counsel. They were the jury.
"Extracting bloodlines…" Sirzechs latched onto the words. "Even the Old Satan Faction is chasing those methods."
He looked visibly angry, though he tried to hide it.
Serafall, on the other hand, was still frozen in shock, her eyes locked on me.
And damn, she really was pretty.
"It really is you…" Her voice trembled. "That demonic signature…"
I couldn't tell what expression she wore—was it a smile, or guilt? Happiness, or sorrow?
But what I did know was this: she had accepted me as Faiser. Even if Sirzechs still seemed unsure.
"Faiser," Lucifer said at last, exhaling a heavy breath. "In the years you've been… away, a lot has happened."
Yeah. Understatement of the century.
Five hundred years. The human world went from horse-drawn carts to putting a man on the moon.
A lot had changed.
"But this isn't the place to explain it," Sirzechs added, scanning the area again. The corpses nearby looked shriveled, completely drained of blood. "We should go somewhere safer."
That we definitely should. I was starting to hate the smell of iron clinging to the air. Blood wasn't something I liked being around.
"I cannot take you anywhere official just yet," Sirzechs said, lips pressed thin. "There's a lot we need to figure out first."
"I need answers," I told him flatly. "I don't care where you take me."
He nodded. "Then I'll bring you to the Gremory mansion for now. We can decide what to do from there."
I wasn't sure if that was stupid… or if he was just that confident. Then again, I'd have to be suicidal to try anything stupid against the family of the Satan Lucifer.
I gave a shrug. "That sounds acceptable."
And honestly, I was starting to feel a little cold.
"Your Valefar blood has become stronger, hasn't it?" Serafall finally spoke, still staring holes through me.
Yeah, I definitely needed to work on masking my power better. Hard to do when you'd only been awake for what—an hour?
"That it has," I said, flashing her a smile I knew was charming enough to pass for Faiser's. "And if you don't mind… might I get some clothes?" I pointed down at my lower half—still naked. "It's cold out here."
Her face went red instantly, brighter than a damn tomato. Even Sirzechs had the decency to look away.
"And I'll need a bath. A really long one."
Five hundred years half-dead, floating in some suspicious goo?
Yeah, I needed this.
I needed a bath.
* * *
{Moments Later, Gremory Mansion}
—Rias Gremory—
Rias had been acting a little eccentric lately—already packing for a trip that was still two months away.
She was restless. Desperate to escape the Underworld and immerse herself in the human world, full of natural beauty and—
"Anime!" she squealed, practically glowing with excitement. "I'll finally get to meet cosplayers, authors, directors!"
Not many knew this about her—no, she didn't let them know—but Rias was a massive anime fan.
Otaku. That was the word for it. Some considered it an insult, but she didn't care. Truth be told, she didn't even know the term carried a negative weight. And honestly? She didn't need to worry. The human world could be judgmental, sure—but when you were a crimson-haired beauty who turned heads everywhere you went, nobody was about to call you otaku like it was a bad thing.
Still… something didn't feel right.
For the seventh day in a row, she'd been packing—and somehow she still wasn't satisfied.
'Did I take everything?' she wondered. 'No… something's missing.'
She mentally ticked through her checklist again, but no matter how many times she did, she couldn't place what exactly she'd forgotten.
Her eyes drifted over the dozen or so bags that now crowded her royal suite, and she let out a long sigh. "I should ask Grayfia… or maybe Mother."
With a decisive nod, she gave a little twirl—her long red hair fanning behind her—and strode out of her room. She was dressed lightly, almost lazily. A lacy black camisole clung to her shoulders, paired with short satin sleep-shorts that left very little to the imagination. She hadn't expected company, and inside her own home, modesty wasn't exactly a priority.
'Grayfia would know better,' she mused, descending the grand staircase. She loved her mother, sure—but Grayfia always seemed to understand everyone's needs better than even the lady of House Gremory herself.
"Grayfia, where—"
She froze mid-step.
Her voice caught in her throat the instant her eyes registered the scene below.
Three people stood in the main hall—her brother, Sirzechs; Serafall Leviathan… and a stranger.
A man.
Tall. Dark, shoulder-length hair. Piercing black eyes. Dressed in sharp black and red formal wear and appearing to be the most attractive in the room.
She blinked once. Twice.
She didn't even realize how long she'd been staring.
"Your sister, I presume?" the man asked, his voice deep and smooth.
And if his looks weren't enough to make her blush… that voice definitely was.
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{A/N: Do have a pat reon named RedLamp01 with 30+ chapters.}