A gentle, soothing fragrance drifted through the room, offering a brief respite from the madness. As they savored the aroma of the tea, the refreshing flavor moistened their parched throats, allowing their racing hearts to gradually find a steady rhythm. In a situation where mental exhaustion had struck like a sudden thunderclap, this recovery-focused herbal blend was a godsend. One could even say that by focusing entirely on the taste and scent, they were successfully indulging in a momentary escape from reality.
The storm that had erupted just minutes prior had literally swept through the entire Underworld in an instant. To call its impact "staggering" was an understatement; so much had happened so quickly that their minds simply couldn't keep pace. Accepting that panic wouldn't improve their situation, they had collectively settled on a single thought: Let's just have a cup of tea first.
"This is delicious! Maybe I should buy some at Auros's shop on the way home as a souvenir for Little So," one voice chimed.
"Ah, it's so warm. Warmth is such a wonderful thing. Can I just go home like this and go to bed? I've worked hard enough today... haven't I?"
"(It's my own fault, but) I suddenly feel like just playing some video games."
"I want to be healed by Grayfia and Rias..."
The true feelings of the Four Great Satans—the rulers of the Underworld—leaked out from the depths of their souls. They were in the middle of official business, but for just this moment, they wanted a reprieve from the burden of being Satans. They knew that soon enough, they would be forced to stare reality in the face whether they liked it or not. For now, they just wanted to think about nothing at all.
"Hm, this also has a fine bouquet. 'Alivian,' was it? You have quite the skill," Zeoticus Bael remarked.
"Thank you, My Lord," the attendant replied.
Choosing to ignore the distant, glazed-over looks in the Satans' eyes, the Great King Bael limited his comments strictly to the tea. While a storm of information was swirling in his mind, he was also nursing a headache brought on by the sheer absurdity of the current reality. As Zeukram Bael—the one who held the Old Devils together—he knew he shouldn't be leisurely sipping tea while the Underworld was in total chaos, but the more he thought seriously about it, the more his head throbbed.
It was a crisis so severe it made even the Great King lose his focus. Amidst this abnormal situation, the first to return to reality was, unsurprisingly, Ajuka Beelzebub. He let out a small sigh and began to calculate their next move. At least everything up to this point has been within the realm of expectations, he thought, quietly closing his eyes.
While they had been in the middle of peace negotiations, a frantic servant of Archduke Agareas had arrived to summon the head of the house. Given the servant's visible distress, the Archduke had apologized for interrupting the meeting and stepped out. When he returned, his face was deathly pale, clutching his stomach in pain. He then showed the Satans the footage being broadcast from Agreas.
It was a sudden emergency broadcast featuring the top three champions of the Rating Games. What followed was a direct exposure of corruption within the Games, a frontal declaration of war from the Emperor directed at the administration, and a strike declaration aimed at all players. It was enough to make the Four Great Satans gape in shock and leave the Great King Bael wide-eyed with disbelief. One of them—perhaps due to sheer exhaustion—even thought they saw a phantom halo around the Emperor's smiling face. The momentum of the broadcast was so overwhelming that everyone was left speechless.
Even after the footage ended, they were unable to move. Despite Agreas being right before their eyes, there was nothing they, as Satans, could do. If the Satans moved to silence the Emperor for exposing corruption, they risked inciting a civil riot. More importantly, as the executive rulers, they were prohibited from interfering with the Game's administration. Any forced intervention would likely cause the administration to spiral out of control.
Zeukram Bael was equally paralyzed. If he, the head of the highest-ranking Bael clan, took the lead now, the administration might unite against the Emperor. However, the public's dissatisfaction would not vanish. Instead, that resentment would be redirected toward the Bael family and the administration indefinitely. In that single moment, Emperor Belial had seized the hearts of the Underworld's citizens. It was now impossible to cover this up.
How did the Emperor reach the truth? No, it's unthinkable that the second and third ranks would rebel based solely on a corruption report... I must assume he has found out about "that" as well.
Someone had told the Emperor the truth. Zeukram wondered if Roygun or Bidaze had betrayed them, but he shook his head. Keeping the corruption hidden was far more profitable for them; revealing it was too dangerous a gamble. This meant the Emperor held a trump card that forced their hand.
A card powerful enough to force their submission... Without a doubt, it's the 'King' pieces, Zeukram deduced. If evidence of that was made public, the administration wouldn't stand a chance, no matter how they struggled. It wouldn't just be about "ranking manipulation" anymore. In the broadcast, the Emperor appeared majestic and trembling with rage, but he was still acting rationally. However, if he was pushed further, he might explode in a fit of desperation. The only move left was to act immediately on his demands and show sincerity. It was the only way to minimize damage and allow for a future recovery.
However, the administration likely didn't understand this. They would try to "win" against the Emperor to protect every single one of their vested interests. While Zeukram saw the match was already over, the Old Devils wouldn't concede so easily. If the Emperor became the figurehead for the people, they might try to use the Bael family as their own shield. They might even try to use the Great King's authority to silence the masses, hoping to escape responsibility for the corruption.
For Zeukram, being saddled with such a burden would be nothing but a net negative for the entire Bael clan. It could lead to the collapse of the entire nobility's authority. The logical path was to apologize for the corruption, fire the top brass of the administration who had been living off the system, and show the public their sincerity... but of course, those people were incapable of making such a choice.
Even if Zeukram intervened, there would be backlash. They would scream, "Is the Bael family, a house more noble than the current Satans, going to admit defeat to a mere Emperor Belial?!" They might even try the foolish tactic of making the Bael family the scapegoat for the entire mess.
Because he knew his own influence too well, Zeukram couldn't move yet. There was no point in talking to an administration that didn't understand its own predicament. At the very least, the Bael family could not be seen leading the intervention. The administration had to stand at the front, and the Bael family would only step in once those fools understood exactly where they stood.
"To think he would involve every citizen in the Underworld... It seems Devils have become far too much like Humans."
The Bael family, ranked first among the 72 Pillars and leaders of the Old Devils, had different heads over the generations, but Zeukram remained its true symbol. It was standard for every Bael head to rely on the predecessor for every decision—from high politics to family ceremonies. They were convenient pawns for the Old Devils who lacked a will of their own. That fact, which usually caused no issues, was now a source of intense irritation for Zeukram.
This secret meeting with the Satans regarding the "Alliance of the Three Great Powers" was a top-priority secret. Only a tiny, trusted circle knew Zeukram was in the Agareas territory. He certainly hadn't told the puppet-like Bael heads or the Old Devils obsessed with their own interests. Right now, they were likely running around screaming "Lord Founder!!"—completely unable to handle the disaster, like people caught in a sudden typhoon without a plan.
Those incapable of making their own judgments simply "do nothing" because they don't want to take responsibility and just want to feel safe. The Great King's house, which knew the secrets of the Games, was failing to function, while the administration—desperate not to lose authority—was busy shifting blame and looking for scapegoats. In such a state, no one could take proactive measures.
Zeukram's usually calm face was now twisted into a bitter frown. It irked him to acknowledge the Emperor who started the ruckus, but the "Rating Game Strike" was a move entirely outside his expectations, even after ten thousand years of life. He had underestimated Emperor Belial.
As long as Zeukram remained here in Auros, the Bael house wouldn't move. If he showed his face, they would bombard him with questions of "What should we do?" so he was forced to wait.
"...If only that girl from the Vapula clan were around, the Bael house might have actually moved."
He was thinking of Misla Bael—Sairaorg's mother, born of the Vapula house. She had lost her status and honor for giving birth to Sairaorg, but before that, even Zeukram had recognized her as a woman of intelligence and spirit, truly fit to support the Bael house.
She had stood tall against the Great King Bael house to protect her son, who lacked the Power of Destruction. Now, she was likely living in the frontiers, stripped of support, raising her child alone while being looked down upon by those beneath her. She had lost everything she held as a princess of Vapula. Yet, her lion-like spirit had never broken. Her intelligent eyes had never clouded.
The current head's wife was competent enough, but if Misla had been the one supporting the head, she would have sacrificed herself to move the house forward regardless of the criticism. That was something the current夫人, who only did as she was told, could never do. Zeukram shook his head with a self-mocking laugh for dwelling on "what-ifs."
It was far too late for that. An elder of the Bael family should not indulge in such thoughts. A Devil is defined by the blood of the high nobility. Preserving this aristocratic society for eternity was his mission and his ideology. Walking that path was what it meant to be the Great King Bael.
"Is something the matter, Lord Zeukram?"
"No, pay it no mind. I simply realized the truth behind the rumor that the elderly tend to grumble more."
"...I see."
Ajuka, unsure how to respond to Zeukram's sudden, amused chuckle, simply nodded along. The conclusion was clear: neither the Satans nor the Great King could move from Auros. However, they couldn't just sit still. As a result, all the trouble fell upon the only person capable of moving.
"Lord Alivian. Er... where is Lord Agareas?"
"Yes... Currently, the Lord Archduke is gathering information on the top three Rating Game players and assessing the situation of the participants. Simultaneously, he is managing the chaos within his own territory of Agreas while issuing instructions on how to handle the flood of inquiries coming from all over the Underworld. Furthermore, the administration and certain noble Devils have told him that since this is a management issue, the Agareas family is forbidden from interfering—despite it happening in his own territory. They even told him to act as a 'buffer' should the Satans attempt to intervene in the Games..."
Ajuka's cheek twitched at the sheer level of "middle-management hell" the Archduke was enduring. Stuck between the liberal-leaning Satan faction and the traditionalist Great King faction, Agareas was currently at the epicenter of a localized super-storm. Even the Great King Bael looked away, a flicker of pity in his eyes. The leaders of the Underworld reached a silent consensus: Later, we'll send him some stomach medicine... no, let's just give him a paid medical leave.
"The Archduke has requested that the Satans and the Great King remain here until things settle down even slightly," Alivian continued.
"Right. If we go to Agreas now, we'll only cause more panic among the people," Sirzechs agreed.
"It is unavoidable," Zeukram added.
"Forgive me. I need to contact my subordinates," Ajuka said. "MacGregor and the others are likely moving on their own, and they might have different information. Furthermore, we need to communicate to the public and the administration that the Satans will be observing quietly for now, or we'll invite further chaos."
Listening to Ajuka and Zeukram, Sirzechs and the others finally resolved themselves to face the situation. They had to make it clear that the Satans would not officially intervene in the corruption scandal yet, or the media would run wild with speculation. As the leaders, they had to suppress the public's anxiety as much as possible.
"In that case, we should split into a group that stays in Auros to monitor Agreas and a group that works as Satans to settle the unrest. If things move, we might have to negotiate with the Emperor ourselves. Jumping from the magic circle here in Auros is the fastest way into Agreas."
"There are only three ways into Agreas, after all. So, who's going?" Serafall asked.
"Hmm... It's a pain, but I'll go," Falbium Asmodeus sighed.
"What? You, Falbium?" Sirzechs was genuinely surprised. He had expected the lazy strategist to insist on staying behind. Falbium scratched his head, looking as unmotivated as ever.
"My subordinates are the best suited for sending out directives and instructions across the Underworld. It has to be either me or Ajuka, since we have the connections... and Ajuka, you're planning to stay here, aren't you?"
"Yeah, pretty much. I developed the Rating Game and built the system. I can't claim to be uninvolved. If we end up negotiating with the Emperor as Satans, I should be the one to handle it."
"Thought so. Sirzechs's and Serafall's peerages have high combat power, so I want them on standby to handle external factors. In that case, it's more efficient for my peerage, who excel at administrative work, to handle the internal side. My declaration should be enough to dampen the panic."
"External factors... You mean Grigori?" Sirzechs muttered.
Falbium shrugged in affirmation. They had just been discussing a peace treaty between the Three Great Powers, and yet they already had to worry about a surprise attack from those very same forces. It was a stark reminder of the dangerous state of the current political landscape.
"Exactly. Just in case the Fallen Angels decide to invade, I want your peerages guarding the borders. I'll handle the backstage work. Serafall... as our diplomat, I want you here preparing materials for secret negotiations with the Fallen Angels, just in case. I'll contact you if anything happens."
"Got it," Serafall replied, her expression shifting into that of a high-level diplomat. The Fallen Angels might not notice the chaos or might just choose to watch, but it was also a fact that they could strike at any time. Or perhaps another faction entirely would seize the opening. Serafall's role was to neutralize external threats.
"Falbium, shouldn't I go with you? Ajuka and Serafall should be enough for Auros," Sirzechs suggested.
"True, Sirzechs, you are the 'face' of the Satans. You look better on TV than I do, and quite frankly, doing all this paperwork alone is exhausting. However... this time, you're on the standby team."
Falbium gave a small smile at his friend's confused look and pointed toward Agreas.
"Because Agreas is a massive powder keg right now. If the Emperor or the administration takes a hardline stance and a riot breaks out, the only ones who can definitely stop three Satan-class beings, their peerages, and the top players who side with the Emperor are the 'Transcendentals.' No matter how much individual power Ajuka has, it's difficult for one person to handle multiple opponents of that caliber simultaneously. Plus, their target won't be us Satans. If the citizens get hurt in a riot, it'll be a disaster."
"So Serafall focuses on diplomacy, and if the worst happens, Ajuka and I have to suppress the Emperor and his allies immediately," Sirzechs summarized.
"That's it. Also... there's a chance those guys who hate us from the Old Satan Faction might show up just to be a nuisance. You're the only one who can go stop them. Ajuka for the Game. Serafall for Diplomacy. Me for the backstage. Sirzechs, I need you to be the fortress that prevents the 'worst-case scenario' from happening. As Satan Lucifer."
Sirzechs didn't hide his grimace. To fight one's own kind—he never wanted to see another civil war. Acting as the shield to prevent that was his duty.
"And in that event, Lord Zeukram Bael... I'll need you to handle the administration's side and the cleanup."
"...I will fulfill my responsibility as the Great King."
"Good. If we all go down together, the Devils are finished," Falbium said casually.
The others remained silent. Falbium spoke with a relaxed tone, almost like he was joking, but no one could deny the grim truth. If the Satans stopped the Emperor—who now held the hearts of the people—the people's anger would turn toward the Satans. They wouldn't be able to handle the administration at the same time. That was where the Bael house had to take responsibility, exposing the administration's corruption and cleaning house. Both sides would have to take a hit to maintain appearances. If a full-scale riot occurred, the weakening of the entire Devil race would be inevitable.
"We can only hope the Emperor has a long fuse while the administration gets its act together. Though, asking that of a man who just declared a 'strike'—the ultimate abandonment of duty that I so deeply envy—might be a tall order."
"Falbium, your true feelings are leaking out again."
"Oops."
With a playful wave, Falbium activated a magic circle to begin his mission. He had several doubts and suspicions of his own, but there was no point dwelling on them now. Falbium Asmodeus was a strategist; he had to assume the worst and prepare accordingly. That was the job he, the laziest of the Satans, had to do.
But if I'm speaking purely from a gut feeling... I don't think the 'worst-case scenario' will happen this time.
His whisper was so quiet it didn't travel past the magic circle as he teleported. Falbium felt this way because of the Emperor's eyes during the speech. Because he always watched the world from a distance, he noticed that the Emperor's eyes looked somewhat similar to those of his friends. It was baseless, but he felt that someone with eyes like those kind-hearted fools wouldn't resort to desperate, self-destructive violence so easily.
"Phew... I'm definitely taking a vacation after this. If I don't get one, I might just go on strike myself."
Muttering words that were half-joke and half-serious, he walked toward his office with a light step. He had orders to give to his highly capable peerage. Though his gait lacked enthusiasm, there was no hesitation in his stride.
***
Meanwhile, in the Lands of the Fallen...
While the Devils were frantically working to mediate the chaos, the faction they were so wary of was currently holding its collective breath, waiting for a certain moment.
"Man, there's a ton of people here, Lady Raynare! Not just high-ranking Fallen Angels, but middle and even low-ranks like us!"
"Of course there are, Mittelt! The supreme Azazel himself called for us. There is no way anyone would miss this chance!"
"L-Lady Raynare, you're getting a little too excited..."
The woman in the black bondage gear, Raynare, was normally sharp and aggressive, but now her amethyst eyes were sparkling with fanaticism. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, swaying with an aura of pure happiness that made her subordinate, Mittelt, want to pretend they weren't together.
Mittelt, the twin-tailed girl in gothic lolita attire, was also excited to be among high-ranking Fallen Angels, but seeing her superior go full "fangirl" had a cooling effect on her own hype. Just as she felt like crying, she spotted her colleagues, Dohnaseek and Kalawarner, returning from scouting the venue. She looked at them with teary eyes, pleading for rescue, but the two of them—who had been watching Raynare from a distance—simply gave a silent nod.
'Good luck!' they signaled with a thumbs up.
'I am going to make you both cry later!!' Mittelt screamed internally.
Dohnaseek remained expressionless while Kalawarner offered a bright smile, both of them shamelessly abandoning their teammate. As Raynare continued her monologue about how wonderful Azazel and Shemhaza were, Mittelt sent them a hidden "go to hell" gesture. Of course, they were already Fallen Angels in the Underworld, so the gesture was redundant.
"Ah... if only I could be by Lord Azazel's side... I'd do anything for him... I'd do this and that, and then one day he'd tell me 'I love you'..."
"P-Please calm down... I think it's about to start—"
"Everyone, thank you for waiting. We will now have an address from our Governor General, Azazel!"
"Be quiet, Mittelt! Lord Azazel's speech is starting!"
"...Yes, ma'am."
Mittelt felt a surge of rage and a dozen things she wanted to say, but as a low-ranking Fallen Angel, she simply surrendered to her fate. She watched her colleagues sneak back now that Raynare had quieted down and felt like she could punch a hole through a wall.
***
"Ah, Aah—testing. Mic check. I was worried my voice would be gone from laughing too hard, but we're good. Hey, you lot! Can you hear me?!"
"I thought you'd finally lost it when you started pounding the wall and hyperventilating. And Azazel, don't shout into the mic like that."
"Hey, what do you mean 'finally'? Don't be such a cheapskate, Shemhaza. Today's a festival!"
"I'm saying this because whenever your tension gets this high, things tend to fly off in a crazy direction."
The voices echoing through the hall made everyone catch their breath. The low and middle-ranking Fallen Angels leaned forward, desperate to burn the image of their leaders into their minds. With his characteristic golden fringe and short black hair, the Governor General of the Fallen Angels, Azazel, stood with a bold smirk, completely unfazed by the thousands of eyes on him.
Standing beside him with a weary, headache-prone expression was the Vice-Governor of Grigori, Shemhaza. Ever since Azazel had suddenly shouted, "We're having a festival!" Shemhaza had been saddled with setting up the venue, calling the members, and all the other administrative grunt work. He was the ultimate middle-manager of the Fallen Angels. Even moments ago, Azazel had been listening to some audio-visual feed before collapsing from laughter and becoming incapacitated, leaving Shemhaza to fix the schedule. Truly, the Fallen Angel faction only functioned because of him.
The appearance of the Top 1 and 2 of the organization made the Fallen Angels wait with bated breath. They had been waiting for this day ever since the first transmission. They couldn't believe it was actually happening, but once they saw the cadre members were participating, they had all scrambled to sign up.
"Now then, for the opening remarks. Let's talk about why we're holding this tournament... Some of you might know that originally, this was something only me and the other cadres did. But about six months ago, during our 299th Fallen Angel Cadre Tournament, I had a thought. After 299 times, we all know each other's moves. To be blunt... I'm bored of sitting at a table with the same faces every time!"
"You're being too blunt."
"So I thought: we've only ever played against the cadres. But is it possible there's a player out there even stronger than us? For 299 tournaments, the top spots have stayed with the cadres... but can we really call ourselves the 'Strongest' among all Fallen Angels? I started thinking about new possibilities!"
Azazel's voice was light, but his eyes weren't laughing. Instead, they were piercing—challenging and intimidating every Fallen Angel in the room. Many flinched, but the word "possibility" ignited a fire in their souls.
"The strongest player among the Fallen Angels."
The words made everyone tremble. Here, there were low, middle, and high-rankers, plus the cadres. In terms of pure power, the hierarchy was clear. But this tournament was different. Everyone would stand on the same level in a pure contest of skill. Even a low-ranking Fallen Angel had the chance to stand at the top.
"You look excited. No need to hold back! At the table, we're all equals. Boss, subordinate—it doesn't matter. But don't think for a second you can take us down easily. If you want to be the best, you'll have to climb over us. If you've got the guts... then take it! Use your technique, your skill, your willpower, and your damn good luck!"
Azazel snapped his fingers, and portions of the floor rose to reveal multiple green tables. The advanced technology of Grigori hummed to life as massive monitor screens appeared throughout the venue. Spotlights swung around, illuminating the legendary cadres of the Fallen Angels. The excitement reached a fever pitch.
This tournament had been a joint effort: Sahariel, Satanael, and Azazel developed the systems; Barakiel and Armaros handled the venue construction; Tamiel and Penemue ran the advertising. And Shemhaza... Shemhaza did everything else.
Even Kokabiel, who usually sat around grumbling about "wasting time when I'm already the strongest," had been cornered by a stressed Shemhaza and told, "You can at least handle the reception desk, can't you?" He was currently sitting at the front desk with a terrifying glare, making it the most nerve-wracking check-in process in history.
"Let's get it started, you bastards!! The 300th Anniversary Fallen Angel Cadre Mahjong Tournament—now officially renamed: THE 'I AM THE STRONGEST' FALLEN ANGEL MAHJONG KING CHAMPIONSHIP... BEGINS NOW!!"
"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!"
A roar of pure hype shook the building. With greedy, glinting eyes, the Fallen Angels prepared to hunt for the title of "Strongest," hoping to catch a cadre's eye, or simply to vent the frustration they felt toward their bosses and colleagues. Their cries echoed throughout the Underworld.
And so, while the Devils faced a political storm, a different kind of chaotic storm began within the Fallen Angel faction.