Scene 1
Serafall POV
"I should've laced the piece with my energy if I was still going to lose."
Rubbing my face, I sat beneath the high-vaulted ceiling of our family hall, feeling the full horror of what had happened settle deeper into my bones with every passing second. The chamber around us was as elegant as ever—dark polished stone, silver-veined pillars, old banners hanging between torchlight and floating crystal lamps—but none of it helped. The room felt smaller today. Colder. As if even the air understood I'd brought something into our home that could either elevate us beyond measure or bury Devilkind faster than the war already was.
A surreal feeling.
A figure at a rank where most had already stepped back from the affairs of the world, and somehow I'd managed to get caught in the middle of it.
Even my muttering earned me a slap on the back of the head from my mother.
I looked up at her with a mix of defeat and irritation, one hand still over my face.
"If you want to help drive the Devil Race extinct faster than we already are," my mother said, her tone sharp enough to cut through stone, "then by all means test that theory next time on a god who isn't attached to Hades. Not just this world's Hades, but one who could potentially give Yhwach and Khaos a run for their domains as Skyfathers."
The silver ornaments in her hair glinted beneath the floating lights as she stood over me, composed and merciless in a way only my mother could be. The carved table between us was untouched now, its tea gone cold, and the servants around the edge of the room were so silent they may as well have been part of the furniture.
"Darling," she continued, turning slightly toward my father, "it would seem our daughter requires more severe study in politics. She can find the best possible husband and still think about playing with Death as if the boy wasn't the final endpoint of his world."
Looking back, I found my only possible defender already shaking his head.
Father lowered himself into his seat across from us with a tired expression, right where Tenebris and Rhea had been seated earlier before leaving for their private conversation. Even with the room warmed by enchanted braziers and purple Underworld light filtering through the tall glass windows, I felt colder watching him give up on rescuing me.
"Well, it's simply the truth staring us in the face," Father said. "She's a good warrior. A good general. But a horrible leader."
Each word landed cleaner than shouting would have.
"Cause and effect is something younger devils struggle with. We both know that. It's not entirely her fault. It is ours for allowing her an easy path upward without enough pressure."
My confidence sank even lower.
My father's words, harsh as they were, still danced around the worst of it. He was trying to soften the truth without actually denying it. My mother, on the other hand, had no such interest.
"You mean she hasn't been given enough reasons to grow," Mother said, folding one arm beneath her chest as she stared down at me. "Here I thought Sirzechs nearly invoking the old marriage laws would've been enough. A fight she would've lost without a sound."
I clenched my jaw.
"She has no true allies among her generation," Mother continued. "Every other devil woman her age is already deciding which clans their families will throw support behind. Even Ajuka has two confirmed brides for after the war while a third clan still pursues him. Sirzechs is being pushed by his grandfather Bael."
She took one slow step, the hem of her dress gliding across the polished floor like she had all the time in the world.
"Falbium, for all his indulgence in Sloth, still secured his position among the future throne seats by selecting from brides whose clans can back him. We aided you by sealing your Sitri Sin of Lust, but now you're barely maintaining a fighting force while we lose more soldiers than we can replenish."
Every word was measured. Every word deliberate.
The floating lights above us reflected faintly against the silver trim of her sleeves as she looked at me less like a daughter and more like a failing investment.
"You get one more chance," she said. "Bring home a victory that restores your momentum, or I will allow Tenebris—who is already familiar with waging war through mortals and gods alike in his world—to take command of your forces."
The room went still.
"And you," she finished, "will be reduced to a warrior leading her own guard unit."
That stripped away the last defense I had.
"Fine!"
I shot to my feet so hard the chair legs scraped against the floor.
Magic surged through my body, forming a teleportation circle beneath me in a rush of ice-blue light that painted the room and pillars in cold color. Grandfather's rule of no teleporting inside the house didn't matter right now. Not to me.
As the circle swallowed me, I held my mother's stare the entire time.
Neither of us blinked.
Then the spell closed, and the hall vanished.
Scene 2
Ten POV
"Mount Orthys. Quite the beauty."
Standing near the edge of the newly raised mountain, I let my gaze travel over the massive structure Rhea had summoned into Sitri territory. It rose out of the Underworld like an old memory forced into existence—black stone ridges, steep cliffs layered with cold silver veins, high plateaus wrapped in mist, and forests of dark trees clinging to the lower slopes where demonic winds whispered through the branches.
The purple sun of this Underworld cast a strange light across it all, giving the mountain an almost drowned appearance, as if it had been dragged from beneath some ancient sea and planted here by force.
It was beautiful.
And old in spirit, even if newly formed in this world.
Just looking at it, I could feel the soul-refining methods of Kronos. The whole process played itself out in my mind from the lingering imprint in the laws alone. He had turned Death into a devouring principle, consuming divine beings as prey to expand the breadth of his soul. Then Time and the Sea had been used to calm, compress, and carve away the excess. Growth through devouring. Refinement through patience and cutting.
Crude in theory.
Elegant in result.
"Yes, it is," Rhea said, sounding more pleased than she cared to hide. "It took quite a bit of effort to create this abode. It will also aid in the current issue you insist on burdening yourself with."
She stood a few steps away, framed by the mountain winds and the vast warding circles already working themselves into the land. Her presence was calm, but it pressed quietly against the environment all the same. Even this world's laws gave her room when she stood still.
"You are too aligned with Yhwach's Seven Sins," she said. "You are already using two to keep your demonic elements in check while you train. But devouring this many demonic beasts is bound to leave residue clinging to you."
My eyes drifted toward the deeper woods below, where I could already sense beasts moving beneath the canopy.
"For most devils, hunting demonic beasts at the rate you are would be wasteful, reckless, or both," she continued. "So this will become a safe haven for you to retreat into and train. Your laws would naturally influence the surroundings over time. This is the only place here capable of limiting that effect without collapsing into a larger problem."
She waved one hand toward the mountain with the quiet pride of someone presenting a treasured heirloom.
"It is also Grandfather's way of marking what is his toward the Devil Clans."
I felt them then.
Eyes.
So many of them.
Ancient eyes, curious eyes, cautious eyes, fearful ones, and the sharper gazes of beings who immediately understood what placing a mountain like this inside Sitri land actually meant. Even that snake turned his attention toward me for a moment before shifting to the mountain and withdrawing.
Rhea noticed my expression and smiled faintly.
"We do not take kindly to our things being touched," she said. "Regardless of the inner family dynamics. Most factions understand Kronos is not truly sealed, just as Izanagi and Osiris are not confined so simply to fragments of their underworlds."
The air shifted as she extended the barrier outward.
It spread in silence, a vast domain wrapping around the mountain and surrounding territory until the atmosphere itself seemed to thicken. Outside sight vanished. The pressure of prying attention dimmed. The world became smaller, quieter, ours.
"Instead," she continued, "they compete over Laws, Kingship, and who may sit at the peak of a principle long enough to claim legitimacy. Most factions have retreated inward, ruling their own pantheon domains while only a few still openly contest the land beneath their divine kingdoms."
I nodded.
"That is why Hades is not a good choice for you right now," she said. "If he takes direct hold of your devil factor, then it becomes a Greek claim over the Devil Faction itself. They would not survive that, no matter how much they comfort themselves by pretending Yhwach is truly dead like those four idiots."
She scoffed lightly.
"A servant taking out the head of a pantheon while still only Peak Minor God rank is a lie meant for lesser beings."
"I figured as much when Mother said his attention was fixed on Olympus," I replied. "My father is not even concerned with the affairs of Olympus after Athena's birth. That signaled the end of the Golden Era. His attention has shifted toward outer cycle affairs."
That earned me a small nod of approval.
Reaching into the fold of her sleeve, Rhea produced a crystal—clear at first glance, but layered with faint tides of silver, black, and sea-green laws moving through its center. The thing pulsed softly in her palm like a caged concept.
"This contains what is necessary to take control of this domain later," she said.
I took it from her carefully.
The moment it touched my hand, I could feel the weight inside it. Not merely power. Permission. Structure. Anchoring law I could lodge into my Grotto Heart and carry back with me when the time came.
A gift.
But not a casual one.
It was placement.
A bridge into the Greek orbit whether I fully liked it or not. An answer to the older Greek players who cared less for the local faction wars and more for where I would eventually stand once my strength returned. The seventy-one original Devil Pillars could posture all they liked. Even Sitri himself, whose attention I could feel everywhere within his territory, would understand what this meant.
"For now," Rhea said, already beginning to fade at the edges like morning mist, "maintain your course and you will return to your original strength by the time the true events of this world's fate begin to move."
She smiled—small, knowing, irritatingly assured.
"At least Serafall exists as a divergence in this world."
Then she dissolved fully into silver mist, leaving the mountain winds and quiet behind with me.
I stood there alone, the crystal in my hand, and accepted the full weight of Kronos's gift.
Scene 3
"Since when did they start appearing in Devil affairs?"
"Hush. They'll hear you."
"Get ready for a good show."
"Get ready with the barriers."
The voices moved through the great hall in low waves, never loud enough to be called disrespectful, but too active to be ignored. Nobles, elders, lesser clan heads, retainers, and old survivors of Lucifer's era had all gathered beneath Bael's roof for the announcement. Their unease drifted through the room along with the music and torchlight.
The chamber itself was made to impress.
Black marble pillars climbed toward a ceiling painted with old devil victories, while red and gold banners hung from carved arches between crystal chandeliers and floating spell-lamps. Long windows of dark glass reflected the layered movement of guests across the polished floor, and at the far end of the room stood the raised platform and podium prepared for Bael's words.
Every major and minor clan aligned with the rebelling faction had sent representatives.
No one would dare miss an event like this.
Today's discussion concerned the Seats of the Satans.
Which meant it concerned the future shape of Devilkind itself.
"Hm. They still act as if we are the ones about to start another civil war."
Listening to my husband, I kept my eyes on the room rather than the crowd. The seats reserved for our faction were near the center but not in the most dominant position. Deliberate. Respected, but watched.
The only two in our minor faction had already been betrayed by allies who threw their lots in with Bael and his plans.
"Can you blame them?" I asked quietly. "Outside of Bael himself, there are not many among these clan heads who can truly rival you. Half of them still want to strip your clan of nobility simply because they couldn't receive direct teaching from Father's level."
My gaze drifted toward the Phoenix faction standing near the Gremory representatives. Their posture, spacing, and even the direction they angled themselves spoke of negotiations already underway.
"That is why Bael is not using straightforward methods to handle Serafall," I continued. "If we push hard enough, we can strip the Underworld of its medical research. The Phoenixes cannot be relied on forever unless someone controls the family."
"Then having Ten on our side is turning into a hidden card they can't handle," my husband said, cracking his knuckles one at a time with a sound too loud for a room this quiet. "Unless they force someone's hand. Once they do, I can finally see if Bael is all he is cracked up to be by Lucifer."
There it was.
That old hunger.
Our daughter had never truly seen it.
Like many others, she had come to think of her father as a scholar first—a devil who buried himself in odd studies, obscure records, and discussions with strange minds like Azazel of Grigori. He was one of the few devils accepted among multiple factions as a member of that eccentric scholar group powerful figures took up as a hobby in boredom.
But scholarship had never erased what he was.
Only covered it.
A polished surface over steel.
"Rhea would not have acted unless she wanted him to remain uninvolved," I said. "And I agree. Our daughter cannot match Sirzechs at her best. Let alone when he stops using that false skin suit and starts taking things seriously."
The music softened as musicians near the wall shifted pieces. Servants glided between clusters of nobles with trays of wine and cold meats, their heads lowered, though every one of them was listening.
"Once Tenebris heals," I said, "he can take command of Serafall's forces so she can come home and train with Father. It is pathetic how much she has been slacking, using war as an excuse to hand off battles."
We took our seats fully as Bael moved to the podium.
The music died.
The room followed.
Bael stood like a monument carved out of violence and nobility both, broad-shouldered and perfectly composed beneath the layered weight of old authority. His voice did not need help carrying.
"Now that everyone is here," he said, "we may discuss the future of our children. Since we are all members of Lucifer's era, it would be poor behavior for us to keep the seats that should pass on."
Whispers rippled through the room instantly.
Exactly as expected.
The timing of Rhea's appearance, Kronos's mountain, and this gathering had pushed the room toward the conclusion Bael wanted them thinking about already.
"After meeting the prospects personally," Bael continued, "I am moving forward with a formal list of contenders for the titles of Satan. We all agreed long ago that the names and functions would continue, even if the bloodlines attached to them did not."
The room quieted further.
"To begin—Ajuka has already done enough for the future of Devilkind by creating prototypes capable of bringing other races beneath the Devil Race. At the conclusion of the war, he will take the title of Beelzebub."
No one interrupted.
"As the main general and field commander in the war against the old Satan houses, Sirzechs has done more than enough. He has driven those families back into divided territory and forced them into a final defensive phase. It will take them at least another hundred years to properly prepare for their last stands while we bleed them out of their fortresses."
Bael's mouth curled slightly.
"He will take the title of Lucifer."
A few small reactions. None bold.
"Falbium and Ajuka have served as commanders against the Beelzebub and Asmodeus lines respectively. Falbium remains the most likely candidate to take that title if he can secure the fortress without the aid of Sirzechs and Ajuka."
There.
The threat inside the phrasing was clean enough for anyone paying attention.
I caught the hairline fracture immediately.
Falbium.
Sirzechs.
Ajuka.
Childhood friends once. Future Satans now. Cracks were beginning to spread between them, and not all of them came from ambition alone. Sirzechs had already lost another woman of a Prince-ranked family, and the pattern of his internal agents destabilizing all four Satan families was becoming easier to trace the longer Bael spoke.
Then he moved to the true point of interest.
"Now for the Leviathan seat," Bael said.
The room sharpened.
"It was originally intended that whichever clan took the greatest share of credit in destroying the Leviathan family would claim it. But progress there has been slower than the other three fronts. It has taken combined pressure from Sirzechs's forces and those gathered around him to break the Leviathan territories down."
He let the words settle.
"Serafall has held the lead for some time. However, in light of Sirzechs's inside agents destabilizing all four Satan families, it has become more difficult to argue who truly brought down whom without a head placed openly on display."
I tapped my fingers lightly against the table.
Bael watched me as he spoke, grin thin and deliberate.
"Depending on who takes down the Leviathan heir," he said, "that is where I will place my support."
He paused.
Then his eyes flashed with that cold amusement that always made rooms smaller.
"Or we may choose to wait and see what this newly accepted devil within the Sitiri clan intends to do. The one now in possession of a fragment of the All Things Evil Lucifer once possessed."
The room changed.
Not loudly.
But instantly.
"If he stakes his claim, then perhaps both contenders for the Leviathan seat can debate their case before the three of them."
My husband's hand tightened around the silverware hard enough that I heard the metal strain.
Before he could launch it across the room at Bael's throat, I grabbed his wrist.
Bloodlust leaked off him in a low wave, subtle by war standards, but enough to freeze the weaker guests and send old instincts crawling along the room's spine.
Bael only smiled wider.
"Only if he is willing," I said.
My tone stayed smooth.
Even.
Controlled.
But I could feel it already.
The room's attention had shifted.
Until now, most of these devils had looked at us with caution, suspicion, or old resentment. Now that wariness had picked up something far more natural to our kind.
Greed.
Not merely for a powerful subordinate.
For possession.
For access.
For lineage.
For leverage.
For the chance to seize the boy under our care before someone else understood how much he was truly worth.
Scene 4
Ten POV
"Ah, it's been ten years already? Time sure does fly when training doesn't it?"
Standing atop the wooden platform the servants of Sitiri had built with magic, I looked out over the field below. The platform itself was simple but sturdy, raised high enough to give me full view of the camp and the soldiers assembled in broken clusters beneath me.
The training grounds had grown over the years.
What began as rough cleared land had become something closer to a living war camp. Hard-packed dirt fields lined with weapon racks, obstacle frames, and spell-marked stones stretched out beneath the purple sky. Barracks of dark wood stood beyond the main yard, with cookfires burning near the edges and supply sheds reinforced by devil magic tucked against the slope of the nearby hill. Farther out, sharpened posts and old beast skulls marked the outer boundary where the safer grounds ended and the real wilderness began.
The air carried sweat, scorched dirt, old blood, metal, smoke, and the lingering scent of demonic beasts hauled back from recent hunts.
Good.
It smelled like progress.
I studied the first true crop of soldiers who had survived my training methods—countless waves of recruits broken apart by failure, rebuilt through repetition, or forced to keep going with the threat of being replaced every six months. The process had been harsh enough that even those who failed out of the full program still ended up stronger than most devils would become in a normal century.
Simple body training alone had pushed the weakest of them into Middle-class Devil rank.
Some stood at the edge of High-class now.
A few had stepped over it.
The final two groups had become especially troublesome, notorious for skipping portions of standard training in favor of hunting stronger demonic beasts the moment I gave them permission. At that point the physical conditioning alone no longer worked on them the same way, and the typical devil method of casting spells still required a level of creativity I had no interest in forcing into their skulls.
There was nothing left to do but send them hunting.
"Quite a long time, honestly," I said. "I don't think even my own mortals have had to endure me to this extent. But since I cannot start a traditional devil family, how do you all feel about falling under mine?"
I understood the implications well enough. I had asked Lady Sitri for permission before this and received her blessing to claim them as a sub-family beneath broader Sitri structure. A useful answer for everyone involved.
Below me, a few of the older squad leaders exchanged looks.
Then one barked a laugh.
"What, the clan of the small devil?"
Laughter broke out across the field.
My eye twitched.
The man kept going, bold enough after ten years under me to enjoy his own stupidity.
"Hahaha! I told you all he'd finally try it!"
"I am not small," I said flatly. "I am normally surrounded by fairies and elves. Two races that do not require a Titan's proportions to speak to them."
"That just means we'll be known as the clan of banshees," another shouted back. "He screams too loud whenever he uses that technique."
Several more laughed, and one squad leader actually covered his ears as if remembering it.
"Our children will haunt us in death for putting them under this strict bastard!"
"Hahaha! Let's do it!"
Voices rang out from all directions now, somewhere between complaint and acceptance. After ten years of brutal drills, forced growth, broken pride, and survival, they had become comfortable enough to joke.
That was fine.
I rubbed my face.
"Fine," I said. "To be accepted, each of you will hunt ten beasts by the end of tomorrow."
The cheering stopped.
"No weak ones either. High-ranks only."
Now the silence deepened.
"For each of you."
I coated my voice in demonic lightning and let it crack outward.
The platform beneath me split apart in jagged lines as black-blue electricity tore across the wood and into the ground around the nearest groups. The soldiers scattered instantly, diving, sprinting, and shouting as they avoided the strikes with the fluid panic of people who had been trained through fear enough times to start treating it like a sport.
A game of tag, if the punishment for losing was closer to death than bruising.
Good.
"Go on, then!" I roared after them. "Move!"
The field dissolved into motion.
Some ran laughing.
Some swore.
Some were already shouting orders to their squads before they cleared the yard.
A few maids standing near the rear buildings watched the chaos with entirely too much amusement.
I exhaled and stepped down from the cracked remains of the platform.
"Come, the rest of you," I said, waving toward the maids following behind me. "I need to see the map for that city Lord Sitiri wants me to defend."
They fell in behind me at once.
Over the years they had become my personal attendants after Lady Sitri finally took the time to understand my preferences well enough to act on them. A small thing on the surface.
A dangerous one in practice.
These devils were devious even in minor details.
As we walked away from the field, the sounds of shouting and distant thunder followed behind us while the Underworld winds moved through the camp.
Ten years.
Enough to turn survivors into soldiers.
Enough to turn soldiers into the early bones of a clan.
And now, finally, enough time for Lord Sitiri to trust me with a city worth defending.