Chapter 10: The Underworld Gambit and the Smell of Red Hair
Lucian knew Rias Gremory was many things: a brilliant King, a compassionate leader, and an incredibly stubborn woman. He also knew she was far too proud to admit that her upcoming "engagement" with Riser Phoenix was a disaster she couldn't punch her way out of.
So, Lucian did the only logical thing. He went on strike.
"One week, Rias. I need a week of 'personal leave' for magical studies," Lucian had said, packing a bag while Rias sputtered in the background.
"Personal leave? Lucian, we have a Rating Game looming! You can't just—"
"I'm a Bishop," he'd interrupted with a lazy wave. "I'm going to go be... Bishop-y. See you in seven days."
The Lucifer Encounter
The Underworld greeted Lucian with its familiar crimson sky and the heavy, opulent scent of the Gremory Estate. But he wasn't there for a vacation. He was there for the library—and for the man currently leaning against the doorframe of the main hall.
Sirzechs Lucifer, the King of the Underworld, didn't look like a god of destruction. He looked like a concerned older brother who hadn't slept in three days.
As Lucian approached, Sirzechs leaned forward, his nose wrinkling as he literally sniffed the air around Lucian's collar.
"Why do you smell exactly like my sister, Lucian?" Sirzechs asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Lucian didn't even blink. He gave his 'Big Brother' a shark-like smile. "You're imagining things, Sirzechs. Maybe the paperwork is getting to your nose. Or maybe it's just the smell of a Bishop who actually does his job."
Sirzechs narrowed his eyes. "You're up to something. Why are you here? Rias is in a panic because her favorite cousin disappeared into a magic circle without a goodbye."
"I'm here to learn how to pluck a chicken," Lucian said, his tone shifting to something cold and focused. "Specifically, a Phoenix. I'm against the engagement, Sirzechs. And I know you are too, even if you can't say it without causing a civil war."
Sirzechs sighed, rubbing his temples. "And what is your plan? Are you going to master the Power of Destruction in a week? Surpass Riser in raw output?"
"None of that," Lucian said, walking past him toward the Great Library. "I'm going to play dirty. I'm going to learn every cooldown, every regeneration window, and every loophole in the Rating Game system. I'm not going to beat him with power. I'm going to beat him with math and spite."
Sirzechs paused, a faint, ghost of a smile appearing. "Playing dirty against a noble house... you really are a Gremory. Just... don't get caught."
"I won't get caught," Lucian shouted over his shoulder. "I'll just be 'deniable'!"
The Specialist and the Copy
For four days, Lucian lived in the dusty silence of the Gremory archives. He didn't train his muscles; he trained his mind. He studied the Phoenix bloodline's regenerative limits—how many times a body could reform before the soul began to fray.
Tamamo, his fox familiar, remained in her adult form, acting as a living bookshelf. She lounged on a pile of ancient scrolls, her green eyes watching him with a mix of curiosity and boredom.
"You're becoming quite the little monster, Master," she noted, flicking a tail. "Most devils want to be the hero who strikes the final blow. You're trying to be the trap that catches the hero's leg."
"Heroes die, Tamamo," Lucian muttered, scribbling notes on a sealing diagram. "I'm a Bishop. I'm the one who makes sure the King stays on the board."
On the fifth day, Lucian realized he lacked one thing: a hard stop for the Phoenix fire. He went back to Sirzechs.
"Who has the best sealing magic in the Underworld? Not 'noble' sealing. I want the most efficient, soul-binding, 'you-aren't-moving' technique in existence."
Sirzechs gave him a name. A recluse living in the jagged peaks of the northern Underworld.
Lucian vanished. He appeared in front of the specialist—a wizened, ancient devil who looked more like a prune than a warrior.
"Channel your strongest sealing spell. Once. I don't care about your name, and you shouldn't care about mine. Just show me the technique," Lucian commanded.
The old man, sensing the Gremory authority (and perhaps the threat of a very annoyed fox), complied. A complex, shimmering geometric seal expanded in the air, cold and absolute.
[Copy: Soul-Anchor Seal - Output 15%]
Lucian's eyes burned. His brain felt like it was being poked by hot needles. He didn't master it—he couldn't. But he had the structure. He had the blueprint.
"Bye," Lucian said, disappearing before the old man could even ask for a signature.
He returned to the Gremory estate for his final day. "Bye-bye, Sirzechs! Thanks for the lead!"
"Hey! You brat! That's 'Lucifer-sama' to you!" Sirzechs shouted from his balcony, but Lucian was already gone, shamelessly manipulating his "Big Brother" status to dodge any actual consequences for his rudeness.
Parallel: The Calm Before the Phoenix
Back at Kuoh, the week had been... different.
The peerage had gone on a familiar-hunting trip for Asia. Issei had managed to get a small, blue dragonling (Sprite Dragon) that he was currently trying to convince not to bite his nose. They were having a "nice" time, but the air was heavy.
Rias sat on a bench in the familiar forest, looking at the empty space where Lucian usually leaned.
"Where is he, Akeno?" Rias asked, her voice quiet. "He's been gone for six days. He wouldn't just... leave, would he?"
Akeno smiled, though her eyes were uncharacteristically secretive. "Oh, I'm sure he's just doing some 'extra-curricular' studies, President. Lucian-kun is very... thorough."
Rias narrowed her eyes. She noticed Akeno was hiding something. There had been whispered conversations between her Queen and her Bishop before he left. "You're in on it. What is he doing?"
"Ara ara, I couldn't possibly say," Akeno teased, though she was secretly impressed by the sheer amount of magical traps Lucian had asked her to help him 'procure' through the black market.
The Return and the Arrival
Lucian returned on the seventh night. He looked terrible—there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was carrying a massive sack of "magical supplies" that clanked with the sound of glass and metal.
He hid the sack in a secret compartment beneath the floorboards of the ORC clubroom.
"You're back," Rias said, standing in the doorway. She looked relieved, then immediately annoyed. "You have a mountain of paperwork, Lucian. And you missed Asia's familiar summoning."
"I was busy," Lucian said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. "Magical studies. Very boring. Lots of reading."
"Is that so?" Rias walked over, looking at him suspiciously. "Akeno says you were looking into 'traps' and 'binding circles'."
"Akeno talks too much," Lucian muttered.
Before Rias could demand a full explanation, the temperature in the room skyrocketed. The scent of sulfur and expensive cologne choked the air.
A massive magic circle, wreathed in roaring orange flames, erupted in the center of the clubroom.
From the fire stepped a man with blonde hair, an arrogant sneer, and a suit that cost more than the school building. Behind him stood a small army of beautiful women—his entire peerage of fifteen pieces.
Riser Phoenix had arrived.
Lucian didn't stand up. He didn't even open his eyes fully. He just sat in his chair, feeling the cool weight of the seals he had copied vibrating in his mind.
Finally, Lucian thought. The bird is in the cage. Now I just have to wait for him to start singing.
Rias stood tall, her aura flaring in challenge, but she was visibly tense. She looked at Riser, then subconsciously glanced back at Lucian.
Lucian gave her a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Don't worry, Rias. I'm going to play so dirty, he'll be washing the soot out of his hair for a century.