Part I:
The Occult Research Club was tense.
Everyone sat in their usual positions—Rias at her desk looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, Akeno serving tea with mechanical precision, Kiba standing near the window, Koneko on the sofa with cookies, Asia nervously clasping her hands—waiting for the inevitable arrival of Riser Phoenix.
Grayfia stood near the door in her maid uniform, hands clasped behind her back, expression professionally neutral. She was here to "supervise," which really meant "ensure Rias doesn't do anything that would embarrass the family."
Caelan leaned against the wall furthest from everyone, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Hoarfrost was curled at his feet, occasionally growling at nothing.
And Issei—
Issei was stretched out on the floor like a starfish, groaning pitifully.
"I'm dying," the Red Dragon Emperor moaned. "Sensei killed me. I'm dead. Tell oppai I loved them."
"You're not dead," Caelan said flatly. "You're sore. There's a difference."
"My everything hurts! What kind of training was that?! We didn't even use magic! It was just—just running! And push-ups! And more running! And then you made me do squats while you threw ice at me!"
"Conditioning. Your body is pathetically weak. Before we can unlock your Balance Breaker, you need a foundation that won't collapse the moment you access real power."
"But I have the Boosted Gear! Isn't that supposed to make me strong?"
"The Boosted Gear multiplies your base power," Caelan explained with exaggerated patience. "If your base is garbage, multiplying garbage just gives you more garbage. We're building your base."
"By torturing me!"
"By making you functional."
"Same thing!"
Ddraig's voice rumbled from the gauntlet: [The boy is weak, but he's getting stronger. This training is sound, partner. Perhaps brutal, but sound.]
"See? Even your dragon agrees with me."
"Ddraig is a traitor!"
[I can hear you.]
"I don't care! You sided with the scary ice teacher instead of me!"
[Because he's correct. Now stop whining.]
Issei groaned again, rolling onto his back. "Sensei, I have a question."
"No, you can't skip tomorrow's training."
"That's not—okay, yes, but also: Why do boobs make me stronger?"
Everyone in the room turned to stare.
"Excuse me?" Rias said.
"No, seriously!" Issei sat up, his expression earnest. "Every time I think about oppai, I get a power boost! My Boosted Gear responds to it! President's boobs gave me the strength to defeat that Fallen Angel! Akeno-senpai's boobs helped me fight that stray devil! Asia's developing boobs give me motivation! It's like—like they're my power source!"
Akeno's smile turned predatory. "Ara ara, Issei. Are you saying my breasts are magical?"
"YES! Exactly!"
Asia turned bright red. "I-Issei-san, that's very inappropriate—"
"But it's true!"
Koneko's expression was disgusted. "Pervert."
"I'm not—okay, I am, but that's not the point! Sensei!" Issei turned pleading eyes to Caelan. "You're smart! Explain it! Why do boobs equal power?!"
Caelan was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "It's not the breasts specifically. It's desire."
Everyone leaned forward.
"Sacred Gears," Caelan continued, his tone taking on a lecturing quality, "are powered by the wielder's fundamental nature. The Boosted Gear exists to make you stronger—to multiply your power, to help you dominate, to conquer. That's Ddraig's nature. And your nature, Issei, is defined by lust. Sexual desire. The want to possess, to be worthy of, to protect the women you're attracted to."
"So... my perversion is actually useful?"
"Yes. When channelled correctly." Caelan's expression didn't change. "Most Sacred Gear users would be ashamed of such base motivations. They'd try to suppress it, find more 'noble' reasons for wanting power. But you? You embrace it. That's why your Boosted Gear responds so strongly. You're not fighting your nature—you're using it."
Issei's eyes were wide. "That's... that's actually deep, Sensei."
"It's psychology. Not depth."
"But—" Issei frowned. "If it's just desire, why specifically boobs? Why not, like, legs? Or butts? Or—"
"Because you're an idiot with simple tastes," Koneko interrupted.
"HEY!"
Caelan, however, looked thoughtful. "Actually, that's a valid question."
Everyone stared at him.
"Breast fixation is common but not universal," he continued, as if discussing academic theory. "Different stimuli trigger different responses. Issei's particular obsession happens to be breasts, but the principle would work with any fetish that genuinely motivated him."
"Are you saying," Akeno said slowly, a dangerous smile forming, "that if Issei were attracted to something else, that could also power him up?"
"Theoretically."
Kiba spoke up, amusement clear in his voice: "What about you, Sensei? What would power you up?"
Caelan's expression went carefully neutral. "I don't have a Sacred Gear, so it's irrelevant."
"But if you did?"
Silence.
Then, very quietly: "...Ass."
The room exploded.
"WHAT?!" Issei shot to his feet. "You're an ass man?!"
"I didn't say—"
"No, no, you totally did! Sensei is into butts!"
"This conversation is over—"
"But this is important!" Issei was practically vibrating with excitement. "See, I've been trying to explain to everyone that oppai is the ultimate power source, but if there are other options—"
"Issei," Rias said dangerously, "are you suggesting my chest isn't sufficient?"
"No! President, your oppai is legendary! I'm just saying—"
Akeno stood, turned around, and bent over slightly. Her skirt rode up just enough to be suggestive. "Ara ara, Sensei. Is this more to your taste?"
Caelan's face went red. "Stop that."
"But I want to understand your preferences~"
"There are no preferences! I just think—objectively speaking—that the gluteal muscles represent a better aesthetic—"
"He's talking about asses scientifically," Kiba whispered to Koneko.
"He's broken," she replied.
Asia, trying to be helpful, stood and turned around too. "Um, is mine acceptable, Sensei?"
"Asia, no—"
Rias joined them, striking a pose. "How about mine? I do squats, you know."
"Please stop—"
Even Koneko, deadpan as ever, turned slightly. "Mine is small. But proportional."
"WHY IS EVERYONE SHOWING ME THEIR—"
Grayfia cleared her throat loudly.
Everyone froze.
The Strongest Queen's expression was perfectly neutral, but her eyes promised violence if this continued.
"Perhaps," she said icily, "we could maintain some semblance of professionalism before Riser Phenex arrives?"
Immediate chorus of "Yes, Lady Grayfia!"
Caelan looked at the ceiling and prayed for death.
"Although," Grayfia continued, her voice taking on a contemplative tone, "the concept of fetish-based power amplification is actually quite common in devil culture."
Everyone turned to stare at her.
"For example," she continued as if discussing the weather, "Sirzechs has a documented preference for maid uniforms. It's why I wear this outfit. It... appeals to him."
"GRAYFIA!" Rias's face was nuclear red.
"It's factual. Devil relationships often incorporate specific aesthetic or behavioural preferences to maintain attraction over millennia. Lucien, for instance—" She paused, as if considering whether to continue.
"Please don't—" Caelan started.
"—has a submissive preference. He finds pleasure in relinquishing control. His fiancée Seekvaira is aware and accommodates this."
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!" Rias shrieked.
Caelan and Grayfia's eyes met.
A silent understanding passed between them.
The CCTV.
"I'm his mother," Grayfia said smoothly. "It's my business to know."
"That's—that's so weird!" Issei looked torn between horrified and fascinated.
"It's devil culture," Grayfia replied. "We're immortal. Maintaining attraction requires... creativity. Fetishes. Roleplays. Specific scenarios. It's perfectly normal."
"So, everyone has weird kinks?" Issei asked.
"Not weird. Specific preferences. And yes."
"What about you, Lady Grayfia?"
The room went silent.
Grayfia's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. "I... don't engage in such things."
"Why not?"
"Issei," Rias said quickly, "that's incredibly rude—"
"No, it's a valid question." Grayfia's voice was quiet. "I don't engage because my preferences are... not compatible with my position as Queen."
Caelan's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
"I prefer," she said slowly, "not to be in control. Professionally, I must maintain absolute authority. But privately..." She trailed off. "It creates a conflict. So I simply... don't participate."
The room was silent.
Then Issei, bless his idiot heart: "That's really sad, Lady Grayfia."
"It's practical."
"It's still sad."
She had no response to that.
Part II:
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut when the teleportation circle flared to life.
Golden flames. Ostentatious. Excessive.
A figure stepped through.
Riser Phenex.
Mid-twenties in appearance, though likely much older. Blond hair styled perfectly. Expensive suit that screamed "nouveau riche." A smile that was all teeth and no warmth. And radiating from him—heat. Power. The kind of overwhelming presence that came from knowing you were effectively immortal.
Behind him came his peerage. Fifteen women in various states of dress (or undress), all beautiful, all clearly selected for aesthetic appeal as much as combat ability.
His Queen, Yubelluna, the "Bomb Queen"—a tall, elegant woman with purple hair and a dress that left little to imagination.
His Rooks, Knights, Bishops, and Pawns—all female, all gorgeous, all looking at Riser with various expressions ranging from adoration to professional indifference.
And his sister, Ravel—the youngest-looking of the group, blonde twin-tails, cute dress, watching everything with sharp, intelligent eyes.
Riser's gaze swept the room, landing on Rias.
"My dear fiancée!" His voice was smooth, practiced. "How wonderful to see you again! Have you been well?"
Rias's smile was plastic. "Riser. How... lovely. You're early."
"Eager to see my future bride!" He spread his arms as if expecting her to rush into them.
She didn't move.
His smile tightened fractionally. "Still playing hard to get? How charming. But darling, we both know how this ends. You're mine. The marriage contract has been signed. The Rating Game is merely a formality."
"A formality you insisted on."
"Because I want my wife to come to me willingly. To see my power. To understand that resistance is futile." His eyes swept over her peerage, dismissive. "These... children are hardly a threat."
His gaze landed on Caelan.
And stopped.
Riser blinked. Once. Twice.
Then: "And who is this beautiful woman?"
Caelan's eye twitched. "I'm male."
"You—what?" Riser squinted. "But you're so—"
"Male. Definitively. Biologically. Unquestionably."
"But your face is—"
"Also male."
Riser looked genuinely confused. "That doesn't seem fair."
"Life rarely is."
"Are you part of Rias's peerage?"
"No. I'm a consultant."
"A consultant." Riser's tone was mocking now. "How adorable. My fiancée needs to hire outside help. That's... pathetic, actually."
The temperature dropped five degrees.
Rias stood. "Riser, I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my—" She paused. "—my family."
"Family?" Riser's eyebrows rose. "This pretty boy is—"
"Lord Caelan Lucifuge," Grayfia interrupted smoothly. "Son of Sirzechs Lucifer. Lord of House Lucifuge. Show respect."
Riser's expression shifted immediately. Not to respect—devils like him didn't do respect. But to caution.
"Lucifuge," he said slowly. "I've heard of you. The merchant prince. The one who bought back his fallen house. Impressive accumulation of wealth for someone so young."
"Thank you."
"Though I notice you're here as a 'consultant' rather than competing in the Rating Games yourself. No peerage, I assume?"
"Correct."
"Pity. I would have enjoyed crushing you in the arena." Riser's smile was sharp. "But I suppose some devils are meant for... other pursuits. Commerce. Administration. Leaving the real glory to those with the power to claim it."
Caelan's expression didn't change. "You talk a lot."
"Excuse me?"
"You've been here two minutes and already made several speeches. It's tedious."
The room went silent.
Riser's face flushed. "How dare—"
"Also, your peerage composition is tactically unsound. Fifteen pieces, all female, selected primarily for aesthetic appeal rather than combat capability. It's a harem masquerading as a functional team."
"They're plenty capable—"
"Your Queen is strong. I'll grant you that. And your sister is clearly intelligent. But the rest?" Caelan's gaze swept over the peerage with clinical detachment. "Window dressing. You're relying entirely on your immortality and your Queen to win battles. The moment you face someone who can counter Phenex regeneration, you'll collapse."
Riser's face was now bright red. "You—you arrogant—I am a Rating Game champion! I have won dozens of matches! And you—you're nobody! A pretty boy with a broken King piece who can't even form a peerage!"
"Riser," Grayfia's voice cut through the tension. "That's enough."
"He insulted me!"
"He stated facts. Learn the difference."
Riser opened his mouth, then closed it. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid enough to argue with the Strongest Queen.
He turned back to Rias, forcing his smile back into place. "Darling. Perhaps we could speak privately? Without the... peanut gallery."
"No."
"No?"
"I prefer my peerage present during all official discussions."
"But—"
"Is there a problem with that?"
Riser's jaw worked. "Fine. Let's discuss the Rating Game, then. Two weeks. My peerage versus yours. When I win—and I will win—the marriage proceeds immediately."
"And if I win?"
"You won't."
"If I win, the engagement is annulled."
"Agreed. Not that it matters." He smirked. "I've reviewed your team composition. One Knight. One Rook. Two Bishops. One Pawn. You're missing pieces. You're inexperienced. And your power, while impressive, pales compared to mine."
"We'll see."
"Yes. We will." Riser gestured to his peerage. "Ladies, why don't you introduce yourselves to your future mistress's... friends."
What followed was an exercise in awkward social interaction.
Riser's peerage mingled with Rias's, the contrast stark. His team was confident, experienced, and clearly aware of their impending victory. Rias's team was nervous, outmatched, and trying desperately to hide it.
Yubelluna, the Bomb Queen, approached Akeno with a predatory smile. "You're the Queen? How... quaint. I do hope you'll put up more fight than the last Queen I faced. She lasted thirty seconds."
Akeno's smile didn't waver. "I'm sure it will be... educational."
Riser's Knights—twin cat-girls named Ile and Nel—surrounded Kiba, giggling and touching his arms. "Ooh, a pretty Knight! We'll have fun tearing you apart!"
Kiba maintained his polite smile. "I look forward to it."
One of Riser's Pawns—a girl in a revealing maid outfit—approached Asia. "You're a Bishop? You look so... innocent. I almost feel bad about what we're going to do to you."
Asia squared her shoulders. "I'm stronger than I look."
"Sure you are, sweetie."
Koneko stood near Caelan, glaring at anyone who got too close. One of Riser's Rooks tried to engage her in conversation and received a wall of hostile silence.
Hoarfrost growled low in his throat, and the Rook retreated quickly.
And Issei—
Issei was surrounded by Riser's female peerage, all of them using their assets to distract him.
"Oh my! A cute little Pawn!"
"Look at his Sacred Gear! It's so... small."
"Do you think it gets bigger?"
Giggling. Deliberate pressing of breasts against him. Hands touching his arms, his chest.
Issei's face was bright red, but his expression was angry rather than aroused. "I—I know what you're doing! You're trying to distract me before the fight!"
"Is it working?" One of them pressed closer.
"No! Because I have my own oppai to protect!" He pointed dramatically at Rias. "President's legendary oppai! Akeno-senpai's divine oppai! Asia's pure oppai! I won't be seduced by inferior oppai!"
"Did he just rank breasts?" Kiba whispered to Akeno.
"He did," she confirmed, impressed despite herself.
Riser watched all of this with growing satisfaction. His peerage was dominating the psychological warfare. Rias's team looked rattled, outmatched.
Then his eyes landed on Caelan again.
The silver-haired devil hadn't moved from his spot against the wall. Hadn't engaged with anyone. Just stood there, watching with those cold silver eyes.
Riser walked over. "You're very quiet, Lord Lucifuge."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Nothing? Not even advice for your... cousin? Aunt? I'm still confused about the family relationship."
"Aunt."
"Ah. Well. Aren't you going to try to encourage her? Give her hope? Tell her she can win?"
Caelan looked at him. Really looked at him.
"She probably can't," he said flatly.
Everyone in the room froze.
"SENSEI!" Issei yelled. "That's not—you're supposed to believe in us!"
"I deal in reality, not fantasy." Caelan's voice remained level. "Riser is right. His peerage is more experienced. His power is overwhelming. His tactics, while crude, are effective. Objectively speaking, Rias's team has maybe a twenty percent chance of victory."
Rias looked like she'd been slapped.
"See?" Riser grinned. "Even your own consultant admits defeat. Why prolong the inevitable?"
"I said twenty percent. Not zero."
"Twenty, zero—same thing when you're facing me."
Caelan's expression didn't change. "Your arrogance is your weakness. You assume immortality equals invincibility. It doesn't."
"Oh? And how would you beat me, consultant?"
"I wouldn't fight you directly. I'd isolate your Queen, eliminate her first. Then systematically destroy your support pieces while avoiding you entirely. Once your team is gone, you're just one immortal devil against five opponents. Eventually, you'd fall."
Riser's smile faded. "That's... that's not how Rating Games work. You can't just avoid the King."
"Can't I? The rules allow for strategic retreat. For repositioning. For focusing on piece elimination over King combat." Caelan tilted his head. "But you wouldn't know that. Because you've never needed strategy. You just rely on not dying and let your Queen do the real work."
The room was silent.
Riser's face was slowly turning red. "You—you arrogant—when I win, I'm going to make sure everyone knows that Sirzechs Lucifer's son is nothing but a pretty face with a sharp tongue!"
"When you win," Caelan replied, "I'll be long gone. This isn't my fight."
"Coward."
"Realist."
Grayfia stepped in before things could escalate further. "Gentlemen. This meeting is concluded. Riser, you've stated your terms. The Rating Game will proceed as scheduled. Unless there's anything else?"
Riser glared at Caelan for a long moment.
Then turned to Rias. "Two weeks, darling. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. Because soon, you'll be mine." He gestured to his peerage. "Ladies, we're leaving."
Golden flames. Teleportation.
And they were gone.
Silence.
Then Rias exploded. "Twenty percent?! TWENTY PERCENT?! That's all you give us?!"
"Be grateful it's not lower," Caelan replied calmly.
"You're supposed to be helping us!"
"I am. By being honest. False hope gets you killed."
"But—"
"Twenty percent means you have a chance. Small, but real. If you train. If you strategize. If you execute perfectly. That's what the next two weeks are for."
Rias deflated, some of the anger leaving her. "Do you really think we can win?"
"I think," Caelan said quietly, "that you have a Red Dragon Emperor who hasn't even touched his real power yet. I think you have a team that's loyal and determined. And I think Riser is so arrogant that he won't see the real threats until it's too late."
He pushed off from the wall. "Twenty percent. Let's make it thirty."
Issei jumped up. "YES! That's more like it! Sensei believes in us!"
"I believe in mathematics. There's a difference."
"I don't care! You're still helping!"
Caelan sighed.
Grayfia was watching him with an unreadable expression. "That was... unexpectedly kind of you."
"It wasn't kind. It was practical."
"Still." Her eyes softened, just slightly. "Thank you."
He didn't respond.
But something in his chest twisted.
Just a little.
[END OF CHAPTER 14]