The Underworld was restless.
In the heart of the Agares Clan's ancestral estate, the air shimmered with anticipation and anxiety. Servants hurried through marble corridors, their footsteps echoing beneath vaulted ceilings adorned with ancient runes. Outside, the night sky was a deep, endless violet, pierced by the glow of infernal stars.
Within the estate's private hospital wing, Flower Agares lay on a silken bed, her face pale but resolute. Zekram Bael, her husband and the formidable Patriarch of the Bael Clan, stood at her side, his crimson eyes narrowed with concern. The room was filled with the scent of rare herbs and the low hum of protective spells cast by the clan's finest magicians.
A midwife, trembling but determined, wiped Flower's brow. "My lady, you must push again. The child is nearly here."
Flower gritted her teeth, her silver hair plastered to her forehead. "He's strong. I can feel it. Like a storm inside me."
Zekram squeezed her hand, his voice low and steady. "You are the strongest woman I know, Flower. Our son will be a beacon for both our clans."
A sudden surge of energy pulsed through the room, rattling the crystal vials on the shelves. The magicians exchanged nervous glances.
"Did you feel that?" whispered one, clutching his staff.
"It's the child," murmured another. "His power… it's overwhelming."
Outside the estate, a ripple of demonic energy swept across the Underworld. In distant castles and hidden sanctuaries, ancient devils paused, sensing the disturbance. In the capital, the Four Satans—Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Asmodeus—looked up from their war council, their eyes narrowing in unison.
Back in the hospital wing, Flower gave a final, desperate cry. The room was flooded with blinding violet light as the child entered the world. The midwife gasped, nearly dropping the newborn.
"He… he's beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling.
The baby's hair was silvery-black, shimmering with a faint blue sheen. His eyes, barely open, glowed deep violet, swirling with demonic power. Even as an infant, his presence was magnetic—impossible to ignore.
Zekram knelt beside Flower, awe softening his usually stern features. "Kiyoshi," he breathed. "Our son."
The magicians bowed their heads, murmuring blessings and protective incantations. The midwife carefully wrapped Kiyoshi in a crimson blanket embroidered with the crests of both the Bael and Agares clans.
Suddenly, the baby let out his first cry—a sound that resonated like a bell through the Underworld. The walls trembled. Magical wards flickered. Outside, the estate's ancient wards flared to life, struggling to contain the surge of raw power.
A young magician stumbled, clutching his chest. "His aura… it's like standing before a Satan."
Zekram's eyes widened. He turned to Flower, voice barely above a whisper. "He's… on par with the weakest of the Satans. At birth."
Flower smiled weakly, pride and exhaustion mingling in her gaze. "He will change everything, Zekram. For better or worse."
A knock sounded at the door. The chief steward entered, bowing deeply. "My lord, my lady. Envoys from the Satans have arrived. They sensed… something."
Zekram nodded, his expression hardening. "Let them wait. My son's first moments are for family."
He turned back to Flower and Kiyoshi, his voice gentle. "Rest, my love. You've done more than enough."
Flower cradled Kiyoshi, her voice a soft lullaby. "Welcome to the world, little one. May you bring peace where there is strife, and hope where there is despair."
As the night deepened, the news of Kiyoshi's birth spread like wildfire. In every corner of the Underworld, devils whispered of the Dual Heir—a child whose power shook the world before he could even speak.
And in the shadows, both allies and enemies began to plan.