Ficticious Chaos
patreon
Chapter 46: Mischief and Mayhem
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 03:39:19 +0000 UTCA/N: Sorry for the delay in uploading this, the chapter ended up being much longer than I anticiapted. Just under 9k words! One minor thing: some of you already know from Discord, but someone has been stealing DMAW chapters and uploading to their Patreon page as well as Webnovel. Currently I'm in legal talks with both websites DMCA teams. I generally don't mind when other websites post my stories without my permission, but I draw the line when it's being monetized, especially when the free and public chapters are also being paywalled. That's basically scamming people. If you ever encounter someone stealing DMAW and trying to sell it in some fashion, please let me know. Anyways, have a fun read!
-----
The bedroom door shut behind them with a soft click.
Ichigo leaned his back against it for a moment, arms loosely folded as he watched Grayfia glide silently into the room. She moved like she owned the place, which he supposed was just how accustomed she was to being Queen to the literal Devil himself. Each of her steps was deliberate, quiet, and utterly composed. Her sapphire-colored dress shimmered in the low light of his private quarters, the gems at her throat and wrists catching glints of gold and blue. A silver shawl lay draped across her shoulders, and her hair, as always, fell like glimmering silver down her back.
She didn’t speak a word, but that only added to the regality of her gravitas.
Grayfia paced a slow circle through his room, fingers grazing the back of an armchair here, straightening a book on a shelf there, her sharp silver eyes taking in the decorations and furniture like she was inspecting the barracks rather than visiting a room.
Ichigo’s eyes followed her.
She really is beautiful, he thought. And that thought came without a twinge of guilt, because it came to him utterly platonic. Because, for all her beauty and majesty, there was something about her presence, that still and commanding way she carried itself, that felt almost sacred to him. Certainly not in the holy sense, but in that personal, familial way. He would say, in a word: sisterly.
That’s what she was to him. The older, at times strict, but always caring sister. And perhaps it was the mark of older sisters everywhere, that they just barely intruded into the realm of motherhood. A sororal and maternal eminence that allowed them to be comforting and imposing all at the same time.
“You look good tonight,” he said simply, the words slipping out without any greater meaning or depth.
Grayfia paused by his desk, turning just enough to glance back at him over her shoulder. Her lips curved into the faintest smile - a small, grateful thing - before her mask of practiced neutrality slipped back into place.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice cool and genuine.
Satisfied with that, she moved back to his bookshelf.
Ichigo tracked her as she skimmed the spines, head tilting slightly as she ran her fingers along a row of older tomes. One, in particular, caught her attention - a thin black folio encased in a faint shimmer of magical wards. She slipped it free, examining the cover.
“Is this an original?” she murmured with the faintest hint of surprise.
Ichigo chuckled under his breath as he sat in his computer chair. “A signed copy of Othello? Yeah. Don’t get any ideas about borrowing it though.”
Grayfia raised one perfectly sculpted brow but made no move to open it. No doubt she could easily sense the wards he had carefully placed around it.
“That thing cost me a week of work in another world,” Ichigo said to her. “Do you remember ZHA-REHK-LENG?” At her deft nod, he continued, “It gave me that in exchange for helping it overcome an interdimensional rival.”
Grayfia replaced the folio where it belonged, her fingers lingering on the spine appreciatively for a few extra seconds. Then she turned and walked toward him.
As she closed the distance between them, she flicked her wrist, and two thick books appeared in her hands in a quiet burst of magic. She held them out to him with her usual formality.
“The books Sirzechs promised you,” she said. “They are rather advanced.”
Ichigo straightened, accepting them from her, and glanced down at the covers.
“Acausal Whims, by Mephistopheles,” he muttered aloud, then let out a low whistle. “And The Apocrypha of Orpheus: Phanes and the Infinite Ouroboros. Damn. Are these originals?”
Grayfia gave an assenting smile. “Sirzechs does expect them to be returned.”
He weighed both books in his hand admiringly. “How in Hell did Sirzechs convince old Mephisto to part with one of his handwritten books? That old Demon is ridiculously stingy. Especially when it comes to his personal writings.”
She gave him an amused look. “Do you honestly believe that Lucifer and the Demon of Bargains have not made several deals in the past?”
“Fair enough,” he said with a light shrug. But he was left curious as to what favor Sirzechs had to do for Mephisto to get his hand on this. Or the other way around, what was the favor Mephisto had asked for that this book had been the payment?
“And thank you too, for delivering these to me,” Ichigo said with a small smile as he magically floated the two books over to his private bookcase and began weaving protections around them. As soon as this dinner was over and he had time to himself, he’d be devouring those two books. His Fourth-Dimension training was still moving far too slowly for his liking.
That earned him another small smile. But it didn’t last. Grayfia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she met his eyes. Her next words were quieter, slower.
“I dislike being kept in the dark, Ichigo.”
Ichigo’s smile faded. He knew instantly what she was talking about.
Her eyes bored into him, grey and sharp, and her words fell heavy in his ears. “If Sirzechs keeps even me uninformed,” she continued, “then it must be something of considerable consequence. And even more dangerous.”
Ichigo held her gaze for a moment, then allowed himself a faint, apologetic smile.
“Yes,” he admitted softly.
Grayfia’s eyes narrowed, “And you’re not going to tell me either, are you?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out and he closed it with a soft sigh. Finally, he said, “No, I’m not.” He gripped the arms of his chair and pushed himself up straight, adjusting his weight. “As much as I enjoy annoying Sirzechs, I’m not going to step in between the two of you. Just like I wouldn’t appreciate either of you stepping between me and Yasaka, or even Tiamat.”
Her lips pursed thinly, and he held her stern silver gaze for several moments. After a near full minute had passed of them in silence, Grayfia looked away with an angry mumble, “I’m surrounded by stubborn men.” But she let out a defeated sigh and then gave him a wry look, “For a Demon, you can be infuriatingly good at times, Ichigo.”
Ichigo’s smile widened just a little. He knew what she meant, and she knew that he understood her.
Staying silent on the matter wasn’t just showing loyalty to his fellow Satan; it was loyalty towards her too. It was a friend choosing to respect the boundaries of another friend’s marriage and not crudely insert himself. And besides, he agreed with Sirzechs. There was no need to needlessly involve others when it came to dealing with the Void-come horror that was Ophis.
After a beat, she stepped past him, her shawl just trailing over his shoulder as she moved to stand at the window. Her draped figure illuminated in the moonlight.
“Millicas was unreasonably happy when we told him we were coming over for a visit,” she said, voice steady. And he recognized the rather abrupt attempt to change the subject. “You’ve been a good role-model to him, a positive male influence. Both his father and grandfather can be a little too overindulgent. I am grateful he has you.”
Ichigo shrugged, half-turning toward her. “That’s what family’s for.”
She said nothing to that, but gave him a faint nod at his reflection in the window. The silence stretched for a few moments, and at the mention of Millicas, Ichigo found himself reflecting on the young Devil, and of the way the boy clung to Tiamat’s figurative skirts whenever the two of them were in the same room together. The maternal nature she allowed to creep through around Millicas had surprised Ichigo at first… but he was glad she had an outlet for that long-neglected part of her.
Grayfia’s voice cut softly through his thoughts. “Though I do not believe it needs to be said, you have my support whenever you need it, Ichigo. If ever you need a friendly ear...” And she trailed off, not finishing the statement knowing Ichigo would fully understand what she intended to convey. He met her eyes, giving her a grateful smile and said, “Thanks.”
And, wisely, she let the weight of the moment pass, her tone lightening just enough to change the subject.
“On another matter, have you decided yet?” she asked, her grey eyes dancing playful. “Between Sona or Rias? Either would make a fine consort, I should think.”
Ichigo snorted, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, priority number one for me.”
“I may be a bit biased,” the corner of her mouth quirked upward, just a hint of her mischief showing through, “but I think Rias would suit you quite well. She’s rather smitten with you already.”
He shook his head good-naturedly. “Never mind the absolute hell of Dragon and Foxfire that would rain down on my head, I’m perfectly content not being related to Sirzechs.”
While the thought of Sirzechs’ dumbfounded face upon telling him he was marrying his beloved baby sister would undoubtedly be hilarious, Ichigo found the idea of having to actually call that asshat his brother-in-law completely galling. He could practically hear Yuzu and Karin calling him Sirzechs-nii.
He shuddered on the spot. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
Grayfia tilted her head slightly, amusement dancing away as her personal brand of severity crept back into her eyes. “And the thing of actual importance? Have you thought of a way to deal with Duke Gremory and Duke Sitri and remind the Pillars you are not to be trifled with?”
Ichigo’s grin returned, sharp and knowing this time. “Meril and I have a plan,” he said. “Gonna wait until after the summit though.”
“Oh?” A curious, silver brow rose.
“No spoilers,” he said roguishly. “But preemptive apologies for what I’m going to do to your father-in-law.” Ichigo then pushed off his chair and brushed himself off. “Guess we should get back downstairs before they start to wonder where we’ve gone.”
Grayfia gave a soft, almost inaudible hum of agreement and, without asking, stepped closer and linked her arm through his. The faint chill of her silken shawl brushed his sleeve as she fell into step beside him.
As they walked toward the door, she spoke again, her voice softer now, but no less firm.
“I was serious, Ichigo,” she said. “I am always willing to sit down and have a cup of tea with you, should you need it.”
“Thanks, nee-san. I appreciate it.”
And then she stopped him just as he reached for the doorknob. Her gloved hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and before he could turn to see her expression, she leaned in and pressed a brief, gentle kiss to his cheek.
Ichigo blinked, caught off guard.
Grayfia put a hand to his face and gently ran her thumb across his cheek. “I will reiterate what I said to you weeks ago. You need not take on everything yourself. Delegate, command. Be Satan.”
He said nothing for several stunned moments but then gave her a reassuring look as he said in a quiet but strong voice, “I know.”
She returned his smile with a gentle one of her own. “Good.” And then her eyes briefly lit with demonic power. “I look forward to what dread you’ll conjure.”
Momentarily lost in the sudden mad light reflected in her eyes, Ichigo blinked slowly as she pulled back, staring mystified as her usual composure perfectly slipped back intact. And as Grayfia smoothed her shawl with a faint gesture, Ichigo couldn’t help but note the almost imperceptible smirk playing on the edges of her lips. He was suddenly very worried. He had seen that look on her face before, it rarely bode well for anyone. Sirzechs’ peerage usually ran in terror when the Silver Queen looked at them with such an expression. But try as he might, he couldn’t guess what she was planning. Not in the least.
But Ichigo knew one simple thing. That despite all her majesty, despite the iron clad order she wrought throughout Sirzechs’ demesne and in the lives of the countless souls under her command, Grayfia was still the Bride of Lucifer. And she did so very much enjoy her own touch of chaos.
Giving her one last suspicious look, he opened the door and stepped through, leading her on and down the hall, back towards the remainder of his guests.
-----
Rias sat at the dinner table, picking halfheartedly at what was left of her meal.
Her gaze kept drifting to the faint red mark on Lord Ichigo’s cheek: a perfect, delicate imprint of lipstick.
She’d seen it the second he and Grayfia came back down from his bedroom, the two of them walking side by side, talking to each other in hushed tones as they rejoined their group. And though the Silver Queen had moved with her usual dignity and composure, there had been a subtle… something about her. A sharpness at the corners of her lips. A faint glimmer of satisfaction in her silver eyes.
And then there was Lord Ichigo. Sitting there now, seemingly oblivious, chatting casually with Millicas about some adventure of his in some other dimension. Not even noticing. Not even wiping it off.
Rias’ fingers tightened around her fork.
She couldn’t help the thought that gnawed at her stomach: Was that what they’d been doing up there? Were Akeno’s delusions playing out into reality?
Rias knew all too well that marriages, especially demonic ones, weren’t always immune to infidelities and affairs. But not her brother and Grayfia. Not them. Their romance was the stuff of legends. Quite literally. Books and plays and movies; so much media had been made around them. The rebelling King-to-Be and the leading general of the old regime; they were Romeo and Juliet before Romeo and Juliet.
The Underworld’s very own fairy tale love story.
Rias shook her head furiously and tried to force the thought away, but it was like trying to dry an ocean.
Her eyes darted between them throughout dinner, but she hadn’t seen anything telling. They seemed perfectly normal sitting across from one another. Two friends having dinner in a contented environment, nothing at all out of the ordinary.
And as the minutes ticked by, Rias couldn’t ignore the fact that no one else at the table even mentioned the lipstick mark. Not Millicas, who sat at Ichigo’s left chatting happily. Not even her brother, who seemed perfectly at ease as he told inane anecdote after anecdote of the endless bureaucracy his government put him through.
But if Sirzechs noticed - and there was no possible way her brother couldn’t see the lipstick smeared on Lord Ichigo - he didn’t seem bothered at all by his wife’s marked affection on his former Pawn.
And honestly, it was in the casual and cheerful way her brother conducted himself throughout dinner that eased her. Because, as the conversation picked up and the three Demons began to talk about their shared past adventures, she caught a look which passed between her brother and Grayfia. It was near inscrutable, but with how hawkishly she had been eyeing the two, it was impossible for Rias not to notice. There was a glimmer of amusement she caught in his eyes, a familiar faint and wry knowingness she had seen time and again whenever he came up with some grandiose mischief he was well known for. Most certainly not the fury of a jealous man.
Her eyes then drifted over to the Dragon King, who had said little to nothing throughout the entirety of the meal. Which left Rias somewhat puzzled, as, from what she knew, Dragons were highly territorial and possessive creatures. She wondered why Tiamat said nothing either. Surely, she of all people should comment on the prominent kissmark placed on her paramour’s cheek? If it were Rias who had her significant other suddenly came down the stairs with another woman’s lipstick smeared on him: well, Rias could readily see herself resorting to swift and jealous violence.
Instead, it seemed Tiamat’s entire attention was solely focused on the plate before her. It was almost impressive, the singular focus with which the Old One picked apart her food with a knife and fork.
Rias exhaled, the tightness in her chest loosening.
Maybe she was overthinking things? Maybe it was some jest between these extraordinarily powerful beings, and she was just missing context?
“I have to say Ichigo,” her brother said, swallowing a mouthful and breaking her out of her thoughts, “this venison is exquisite. Is it wild?”
“Thanks,” their host said. “And yeah, it’s Red-Horned Ibex from the Murklands here in Infernity.”
“Remarkably well seasoned too,” Grayfia then said as she took a sip from her wine. “Did you use thunder root?”
“Close,” he responded. “Powdered Bragga Tree bark.”
“Ah, a local ingredient,” Grayfia said appreciatively. “I would love to get my hands on some and experiment with it for some of my personal recipes.”
Lord Ichigo shrugged. “Sure, I’ll have the best quality delivered to you.” He then reached out and cut a sizable piece of meat from the Ibex leg at the center of the dining table. But instead of putting it on his own plate, the youngest Satan gave it all to the white-haired beauty seated beside him. He then proceeded to grab several side dishes and carefully filled her plate up.
Rias blinked at the considerate display, even as the Dragon King wordlessly started picking apart all the copious amount of food Lord Ichigo piled onto her plate. And as she beheld the affectionate smile form on his lips as Tiamat began to skillfully devour the meal, Rias couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.
He’s so thoughtful!
Goodlooking, powerful, at the top of society and he was the caring and considerate type? Urgh! It was almost unfair the quality of boyfriend material Lord Ichigo was!
Too bad he was a complete slave driver for those under his alleged care. Otherwise, she may have given credence to Akeno’s words and…
Rias felt her cheeks heat up as her thoughts drifted toward topics unfit for the dinner table.
Calm down girl.
Dinner continued with the three Demons making conversation about various topics ranging from politics, the drama between the Pillars and even the latest shows and movies published by Lady Serafall. Rias paid careful attention, gaining key insights on the status of the Empire and its current trends.
Dinner wrapped up not long after, and as plates were cleared, Lord Ichigo rose gracefully from the table. “I’ll clean up,” he said simply.
Grayfia was on her feet within seconds. “Millicas, come,” she ordered softly, beckoning the boy after her as she followed Ichigo into the kitchen.
Rias watched them go, furrowing her brow. “Why don’t they just use magic?” she wondered aloud, more to herself than anyone in particular.
Beside her, Sirzechs gave her one of his easy, knowing smiles. “Sometimes the mundane helps pass the time.”
Rias blinked at him.
“For a long-lived species like ours,” he continued, lazily pouring himself a full glass of red wine, “if we relied on magic for everything, life would quickly become boring. There’s something to be said for simple chores. Keeps one grounded. Don’t worry, you’ll understand in a century or two.”
Rias frowned slightly but didn’t argue the point.
It was then she noticed Tiamat, rising silently from her seat without so much as a word. The ancient Dragon fluidly walked toward the stairs, her white hair catching the dim chandelier light as she ascended out of sight.
Rias stared at her abrupt exit, a question on the tip of her tongue.
Was she upset?
Sirzechs’ voice cut through her thoughts, amused yet reassuring.
“Don’t overthink it,” he said, as he gently swirled the contents of his glass. “That’s simply how she is. She has little interest in social conventions. Unsurprising given that she tends to outlive the societies that birth them.”
His gaze finally flicked up to meet hers, and she saw the faint glint of mirth there. “The Lady Tiamat is not one for words,” he added, “but don’t confuse that for anger. Trust me, you’d know all too well if she were angry.”
Rias swallowed, nodding faintly. She hadn’t even spoken her concern aloud, yet he’d answered it all the same. But that was her brother, always three steps ahead.
But then, another question formed in her mind. And this time, she did voice it. “You seem awfully familiar with her.”
Sirzechs chuckled. “I told you; I spent quite a bit of time with her when I was around your age.”
She gave him an odd look. “When you say spent a lot of time…,” she trailed off, uncertainty coloring her voice.
For his part, Sirzechs threw his head back and let out a laugh. “Hell’s Bells, no. Nothing like that, baby sister. She was something of a mentor to Ajuka and I. We were young and the Underworld was far more rife with danger then than it is today. The Great War had ended just a few short years ago, and we were desperate to wrangle whatever advantage we could in those chaotic times. The knowledge and wisdom afforded by the greatest and oldest of the Dragon Kings? It was far too valuable an opportunity to pass by.”
Rias went quiet. It made sense to her but still… she couldn’t help but feel there was something more to her brother’s story. After reincarnating Issei, Rias had read up on the powerful Dragons of history. Most contemporary records of Tiamat painted her as a solitary figure. A powerful and temperamental being with numerous past lovers, but rarely ever accepting the society and company of those she did not share a bed with.
What was it that made such an ancient and whimsical being accept her brother and Lord Ajuka as pupils? Surely, it couldn’t have been their power? Back then they wouldn’t have been as powerful as they are today. There would have been much stronger beings in the Underworld back before the two of them announced their rebellion. Did she foresee their potential? Did she wish to earn the gratitude and favor of the two who would become the most powerful Demons to ever exist?
And yet, there was some deep part of Rias that recognized there must be something more. Something more meaningful and personal. But as she thought on it, a familiar cord in her memory was plucked, and she suddenly remembered something had she desperately wanted to speak with her brother about.
“Broth… Onii-sama,” she said softly, reverting to Japanese both for her personal comfort, as well as to give him an indirect tell that she needed a heartfelt moment with her big brother. “I need to talk to you… privately.”
His green eyes identical to hers narrowed just a fraction, though his smile never faltered in the slightest. Without so much as a nod, he raised his hand and traced a quick, precise sigil in the air.
The faint shimmer of a magical ward sprang up around them: transparent, but undeniably present, sealing them off from the others in the house.
“You’re safe,” he said gently.
His tone remained casual, but there was a faint weight behind it now, a gentle attentiveness that Rias knew he solely reserved for her in these rare, heartfelt moments between them.
Rias drew in a breath, steadying herself, and raised her eyes to meet his. “When I was with Otou-sama and Okaa-sama in Yfel…”
-----
Yfel, Several Weeks Ago
Rias shifted her weight on the black marble bench, trying not to grimace. She’d already been sitting for hours, and her perfectly tailored dress was beginning to feel like a trap, clinging uncomfortably with every minor movement.
Across from her, Sona was the picture of composure, sitting straight-backed and calm on her own equally uncomfortable perch. The Sitri heiress folded her hands neatly in her lap, though even she eventually allowed herself a quiet sigh.
“They’ve been in there for nearly an hour,” Rias muttered under her breath, casting an annoyed glance at the towering doors at the end of the cloister. “What’s taking them so long?”
Sona’s sharp eyes didn’t leave the intricate reliefs on the wall as she replied softly. “Given our respective parents are trying to sway the votes of lords who think of nothing but their own gain, I suspect they’ll be in there for another hour at least.”
Rias huffed and rolled her eyes. “Great.”
Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the distant hiss of torches guttering in their sconces. Rias let her gaze wander across the corridor for the umpteenth time and towards the endless expanse of polished marble, tall iron candelabras shaped like twisted trees and the cavernous, vaulted ceiling that disappeared into shadow.
“Everything looks the same here,” she said after a heavy moment, her voice carrying just a hint of sulk. “Every single hallway. Every single bench. Every single door.”
That finally earned her the faintest smirk from Sona. “Agreed,” the other girl murmured. “It’s cartoonish, almost. All this ostentatious Gothic furniture, and these absurd gargoyles staring down from every arch. It makes me wonder if whoever designed the place took inspiration from those old low-budget B-rated horror movie.”
Rias’s lips quirked as she tilted her head, taking in the nearest cloister wall. The bas-reliefs etched there depicted horrendous demons: impossibly tall, inhuman shapes with wings and claws and dozens of mouths, all frozen mid-atrocity as tore cities to rubble, feasted on screaming mortals, and dragged armies down into endless pits.
“Subtle, isn’t it?” she said sardonically.
Sona sniffed imperiously, though the faint gleam of humor in her eyes betrayed her. “Well,” she said, “I’m confident that my sister didn’t have any hand in decorating this monotonous place.”
That startled a laugh out of Rias. “Please. If Lady Serafall had been in charge, the whole dimension would have been painted pink and covered in sparkles. Boisterous and cheery as the latest episode of Magical Satan Girl.”
For the first time in hours, both of them laughed quietly together, the sound swallowed quickly by the heavy stillness of Yfel.
Though their mirth swiftly faded when two cloaked servants appeared at the end of the hall, gliding silently across the black stone floor toward them.
“Young mistresses,” one intoned, bowing low, “separate waiting rooms have been prepared for you.”
Rias and Sona exchanged a glance, both sets of eyes narrowing just slightly.
“Separate?” Sona asked flatly.
“Yes,” the servant said simply, his hood hiding his face entirely.
There was a pause before Rias exhaled and rose to her feet. “I suppose,” she murmured, “if anywhere is safe, it’s here. The Satans wouldn’t let anything happen under their watch.”
Sona inclined her head faintly, though a hint of uncertainty shone within her eyes. “True. They wouldn’t tolerate any foul play under their direct oversight.”
The two girls shared a final, knowing look before Rias allowed herself a faint smile.
“See you soon,” she said.
Sona gave her a small wave as Rias turned and followed her waiting escort down the endless black corridor, her footsteps quiet but steady as they disappeared into the shadows.
The servant led her down long and bleak halls. Indistinguishable black walls, black marble floors and dark crystal lights that gave just enough glow to guide their way passed by. Again, the ridiculous uniformity of this dreary place grated her eyes. But then, Rias wondered if the repetitiveness of the structure was part of its ploy. What was that human aphorism? The definition of madness was to do the same thing repeatedly and expect different results? Was the monotony designed to induce a feeling of lifelessness?
Huh, maybe it wasn’t Lord Ajuka who had designed this place? Maybe it was Lord Falbium, the Sin of Sloth?
Rias continued to follow with measured steps, but her unease grew with each one.
When they finally stopped, it was before a plain black door, wooden but as featureless and imposing as everything else in Yfel. The servant bowed low, his voice soft and papery.
“He is waiting for you.”
Rias froze.
He? He who?
But the servant offered no answer, simply stepping aside and vanishing into the shadows as silently as he had come.
Rias stared at the door, her fingers curling at her sides. Every instinct told her to turn back, to retreat and be somewhere else, anywhere else. But just as she made up her mind to take a hesitant step backward and walk away, the door swung open of its own accord with a low, sonorous creak.
Rias’ throat constricted with horror as her feet moved forward unbidden, as though someone else had begun to pilot her body. The doors closed firmly behind her the instant she crossed the threshold, shutting out the corridor’s darkness with a dull thunk.
The room she stepped into was unexpected, almost at odds with the rest of the Dark Tower.
Gone was the endless black of Yfel. Instead, the chamber was cast in soft greys and browns, its atmosphere far less oppressive. To her left stood a tall window draped with thin white veils, moonlight spilling through the fabric in pale silver streaks. Rias blinked confused because she knew there was no moon in Yfel. An artificial source? Or some sort of enchanted effect?
Her heels clacked softly against a wooden floor that had replaced the obsidian stone of the Tower. A faint but fruity smell hung in the air, along with a distinct undertone of a spicy flavor. How odd, she thought. To the right, a cluster of couches was arranged comfortably around a low table, and a massive map took up most of the wall beyond them: Rias glanced at it briefly and caught the faint outlines of Earth’s continents, with dozens of pins clustered around what appeared to be the Middle East.
Her curiosity stirred faintly, though she didn’t linger on it for long.
Because then her eyes turned directly ahead, and she froze terrified. At the far end of the room, seated behind a grand oak desk, was the Great King himself: Zekram Bael. Her great-grandfather and the most powerful and influential Demon in the Underworld outside of the Five Satans themselves.
Rias swallowed nervously.
He looked nearly the same as when she had last seen him years ago: a sharp black tailcoat with a dark grey vest, a gold chain glinting faintly on his breast. A single monocle rested in his right eye, catching the false moonlight. His slicked-back white hair was streaked with deep black at the temples, and his neatly trimmed beard mirrored the same two-toned color.
And Rias couldn’t help but notice how much of his sharp features overlapped with her own mother’s. Features her mother had passed down to her and Sirzechs in turn.
Zekram’s flinty black eyes narrowed at her. “Stop gawking like an idiot and sit down,” he barked.
Rias jumped in fright, and then immediately fell into a quick bow. “G-greetings, Your Highness, the Great King!”
“Are you deaf, girl?” he snapped. “I told you to sit!”
A plain wooden chair appeared in front of the desk; a small and simple thing compared to the grand throne-like chair Zekram sat on. Rias scurried forward and lowered herself into it, her fingers curling nervously around the edges.
Zekram stared at her for a moment, and Rias couldn’t help but squirm at the sheer contempt lacing his eyes. He reached into a small cabinet beside him and retrieved a bottle of deep red wine. She looked on, equal parts curious and scared as he poured two glasses, one for himself and one for her.
Her ancestor took a slow, savoring sip while she sat stiffly, unsure what to do.
Glass half titled away from his lips, he gave her a look of disdain and sneered, “What are you staring for girl? Drink.”
Rias flinched faintly and raised the glass to her lips, taking a cautious sip despite the small voice in her head that wondered: would her own ancestor drug or poison her? Her family had told her how much the Great King cherished his bloodline, but would that stop him from doing something unsavory to her? And while she doubted it, what choice did she have in the moment?
Zekram leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass as he began to speak.
“The specific grapes this wine is made from,” he said, his gravelly voice filling the room, “took painstaking centuries to cultivate properly. Year after year, decade after decade, I only managed to get the perfect results by using the volcanic ash of a particular peak in the Bael territory.”
Rias watched dumbfoundedly. “Pardon?”
But he ignored her and gestured vaguely with the glass before taking another sip.
“Even then, the grapes were left to ferment for seventy-seven years in ceramic jars molded from mud taken from Mount Olympus itself, sealed with the leaves from the very same vines. And to keep it perfect after bottling,” he tapped the glass bottle now resting on the desk, “each crystal container is alchemically made, magically attuned to preserve its contents in the perfect environment, regardless of how they’re stored.”
Rias blinked at him, trying to mask her confusion as best she could.
She hadn’t imagined Zekram Bael, the First Demon, the First Pillar, and the Great King of the Ars Goetia to be a wine aficionado. Oh Lucifer, was she descended from a drunk?
And aside from that, she also couldn’t help but think that putting in so much effort for what was ultimately a drink was utterly asinine.
But she wisely kept those thoughts to herself and took another tentative sip, hoping he couldn’t read her mind.
“…I didn’t think winemaking involved so much effort,” Rias said carefully, her voice low and polite as she set her glass down on the desk between them.
Zekram’s lips curled disdainfully into a scowl.
“Of course you didn’t,” he said, his voice hard and a touch mocking. His dark eyes glinting coldly as they fixed on her. “From what I’ve gathered, you barely think at all.”
Rias flinched slightly, the words cutting deep despite her best efforts to remain composed. There was no doubt he was referring to her and Sona’s misstep in the human world and the chaos surrounding Kokabiel’s incursion.
Zekram took another sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “What are you but a stupid little girl? Woefully ignorant of all that is around you. Dumb and deaf to titans shaping worlds, even as you sit at their feet. You, girl,” and the venom in that one word made her cringe as if she were struck, “are a sheep. Raised to graze comfortably in a pasture you can barely even see.”
Heat rose to Rias’ cheeks as mortification and indignation choked hot in her chest. She seethed inwardly as her teeth clenched in anger. But she knew better than to speak back to him.
Instead, her hands stayed folded primly in her lap, her head dipped faintly as she stared up at her ancestor through strands of her red hair. But nonetheless, her demonic power surged within, twisting into turbulent coils or rage and fury. Bold words from an ancient relic holding onto the vestiges of lordship through a far more powerful and capable descendent! She thought bitterly.
Her great-grandfather’s black eyes narrowed slightly, as though he could read the thoughts written on her face.
“Don’t give me that look,” he sneered. “If you had even a shred of wisdom in you, you’d admit to your own stupidity.” He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine. “Your lone saving grace being your foolishness is not of your own making.
Rias blinked, perplexed as to what he meant.
“You were raised to be stupid,” Zekram continued bluntly. “Coddled and kept ignorant. All your pitifully short life you’ve been trained to think like the common bureaucrat; a lowly wretch struggling and striving within the laws and limitations set by others. Rather, you should have been taught to think as a King! To understand precepts and rules are made and broken by your will! Your brother had the sense to forge his own path; through war and glorious violence. But you?” He snorted faintly. “Utterly content to let others lead you around by the nose.”
Rias’ fingernails dug into the fabric of her dress, her indignation rising with every word.
I’m eighteen, she thought, biting back the retort. I’m eighteen, and the days of senseless violence and conquest are long over. My brother built an empire so I wouldn’t have to walk in days drenched in blood. He gave me freedom and choices he never had. He didn’t have the luxury of peace, but because of what he did, I do. That doesn’t make me weak! That makes me free!
But Rias prudently kept her thoughts behind clenched teeth. Ancestor or not, she wasn’t about to openly defy an ancient monster like Zekram Bael. Even her brother found it cumbersome when dealing with the original Pillar, what chance did she have?
Zekram set his glass down with a sharp clink.
“And so,” he said, “as a sheep, your future has been chosen for you.”
Rias’ heart skipped. What did he mean?
“I’ve made the necessary arrangement, you and the Sitri girl will be placed under the upstart for the next ten years as penance for your foolhardiness,” Zekram announced, his voice final and ironclad.
Her breath caught. The upstart? Who could that be?
She hadn’t thought Zekram would involve himself directly in their punishment. What did that mean for her parents who were currently amidst the other Pillar Lords, vying for favor and votes? Or were they already aware and agreed with the Great King’s plans? Or worse, were they playing the part of pawns in his game?
She suddenly recalled Sirzechs’ words when she had confronted her family about being kept in the dark about the Great King’s designs for her marriage; that Zekram Bael was an opponent she wasn’t ready to face in the political theater. And now that she was face to face with him, she realized just how right her brother was. She truly was powerless when it came to the matters of the Upper Nobility.
“At the very least,” Zekram added, picking his glass back up, “sheep have their uses. And you will undoubtedly prove useful serving at the side of the child Sin.”
And it was then she realized that he was talking about Lord Ichigo. She and Sona were going to be placed under Lord Ichigo? That… did not sound too bad as far as punishments went. But then she remembered his explosive anger and his momentary rage, and rias couldn’t help but shudder.
At the same time however, something in her chest tightened at Zekram’s words. Rias was born under her brother’s reign. She had grown up idolizing him and the other Satans. She understood all too well just how pivotal they were to the continued existence and survival of their race. Like all Devils of the Empire, she had great admiration and loyalty towards the Five. Doubly so for her due to her familiar connections. As such, a quiet spark of courage lit within her chest, pushing past her fear and feeding her quiet ire.
She drew in a slow breath and said with her voice subdued but steady, “You shouldn’t speak of one of the Satans like that.”
Zekram froze for half a heartbeat, but then he snorted.
“I speak as I please,” he said, his lip curling faintly. “Because I have power. Something you know nothing about.”
That stung, but Rias pressed on and said with quiet confidence, “H-he’s one of the Ruling Five. Just because he’s reincarnated doesn’t mean you should look down on him…sir,” she hastily tacked on.
In a rather uncharacteristic manner, Zekram rolled his eyes.
“How daft can you be?” he said. “He’s a blasted Demon, girl. No different than those who partook in Lucifer’s pact with Hell. You think him one of you insignificant Devils playing at being a lord? I care nothing that he is reincarnated. All the original Demons were something other once.” But then Zekram’s hand tightened faintly around his glass, and his eyes began to glow an all too familiar crimson, and the very air shimmered and hummed with tremendous demonic power. “But that cur he took something of mine. Something I have held dear for millennia,” he seethed darkly. “And make no mistake, I intend take it back.”
Rias gazed bewildered, startled by the vehemence in his tone. Taken? Lord Ichigo had stolen something that belonged to old Bael? What could he have taken? And more importantly, why?
She opened her mouth to ask, but the words caught in her throat as the air in the room grew frigid cold, the warm browns and greys of the chamber fading into pale, sickly green. Zekram’s turbulent demonic power was pushed back, and Rias felt a pervasive and spine-chilling energy clinging to her skin.
Her breath hitched and the horrid and alien-like power coiled cold in her lungs.
And then…
A pair of bare, impossibly pale arms slipped around her shoulders from behind, encircling her like two serpents. Biting winter sank into her bones, hollowing her out of all warmth. As the sickening demonic power caused her skin to shiver in revulsion, Rias let out a leaden breath that rose like mist out of her lips.
“Ba’al.”
Rias’ eyes went wide in terror at the echoing voice just next to her ear.
She didn’t need to turn around; she knew all too well what horror’s embrace she was now caught in. Her grandmother had arrived, the original Gremory.
“Gremory,” Zekram ground out slowly, disgust curling around his tongue. “What rotten luck has brought you out of your filthy hole and into my domain?”
“Your domain?” Her grandmother’s voice laughed scornfully. “So deluded to claim the Lightless Pharos as your own when the Crown Princes still walk? Or were you referring to this gaudy little room?”
Zekram’s entire face warped irked as his hands clenched tightly.
“Besides,” And Rias gulped nervously as Gremory’s voice dropped to a mocking coo and she made a show of hugging her from behind. “How can I not be here when you’ve gone off and spirited away my adorable granddaughter? Look at darling Rias, you’ve outright petrified her. For shame, old friend.”
Rias felt the corner of her eye twitch. No. No, that’s certainly your fault grandmother. At the very least, the Great King had the decency to hold back his vile and demonic nature as he had lectured her. Her grandmother, on the other hand, had no such reservations and reveled in being the abomination that she was.
Rias squirmed as Zekram’s glare landed balefully above her head, no doubt locking eyes with her grandmother. And the entire room began to shake under the combined weight of the two ancient Demons, her glass on the desk trembling and tumbling over, spilling the remnants of her unfinished wine.
“Spirit her away?” Scoffed Zekram. “She wields my power far more adeptly than your accursed magic.”
That… wasn’t entirely true, Rias though as she pursed her lips. She used magic as much as she wielded the Bael Clan’s Power of Destruction. She was just more partial to disintegrating enemies outright rather than blowing them up with spells.
“Rias is mine,” Gremory said, her voice echoing velvet-soft yet chilling all the same. Her pale hands curled ever so slightly, fingers digging into Rias’ shoulders and making her wince. “Just as her Venelana is mine now too… and has been for centuries.” The air rippled with demonic magic and Rias noted with no small trepidation as a foul miasma began coiling around the room and corroded the floor. “Keep your miserable obsessions away from my house.”
Zekram’s face contorted, a deep, ancient wrath boiling to the surface. “Your house?” he jeered, voice rising with disdain. “And what house is that? A line birthed of a feral whore? A broken wretch that crawled begging for pittance at Lucifer’s feet? It is my blood that makes them great! It is my blood that shaped Sirzechs as the strongest Demon to ever exist!”
He stood then, violently, his chair cracking beneath the force of his rising aura. Dark magic rolling off him like heat from the sun, crushing the air and driving it out of Rias’ lungs. The Aura of Destruction twisted and writhed the shadows about him, threatening to press all things into oblivion. Rias vision began to blur as a sharp, invisible weight pressed down on her chest.
And then Gremory answered in kind.
“You dare speak of what was?” The red-haired Demon Lord ground out viciously. “And what of you? The twice-fled coward drowning in his failed obsessions? You ran from your own brother and then you ran when the Heavenly Father came with his White Host. Your blood reeks craven, Ba’al.”
Gremory’s aura surged out like a wave of abyssal cold and the desk between them was vaporized instantly, reduced to ashen dust. Tremors rocked the floor beneath Rias’ feet as the walls of the room began to bend and warp, angles twisting into unnatural curves. The ceiling stretched away while the floor crumpled like paper. Rias' eyes widened in horror as realization set in; time and space were unraveling around her under the combined fury of the two Demon Lords.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. At this rate, she was going to die. She was goin-
“Enough.”
The word cut like a knife through water. And immediately, the chaotic magicks dispersed. The shadows settled, the room righted itself and light shone normally once more.
Rias gasped, nearly passing out as her eyes spun in her sockets trying to find the source of the voice.
And she stared in wonder as her gaze landed by the veiled window, where stood Ajuka Beelzebub. Between his hands was a light green magical interface he was scrolling through, his attention fully on whatever data was compiled within.
“I forbade conflict, do you intend to defy me?” he asked so casually, Rias thought he may as well have been ordering a cup of coffee at a café.
And it was with no small amazement Rias understood that her two ancestral Demons stood paralyzed. Zekram’s hands slowly unclenched, and Rias was astonished to see the blatant tenseness in his eyes.
Old Bael’s voice came gruff and tight. “No.”
Rias then craned her neck upwards, still cradled in her grandmother’s embrace that she was, and looked past the pale arms to note the stiff smile carved onto Gremory’s beautifully black stained lips. “Of course not,” her grandmother answered smoothly, though Rias could feel the tension coiled within her.
Lord Ajuka did not deign to look up, instead he gave a single flick of a lone finger. Colors began to warp, and Rias blinked. In the next breath, she stood before her shocked parents.
-----
Ichigo’s Penthouse
Sirzechs laughed lightly and Rias looked around nervously. She was confident in her brother’s magic and privacy wards, but still, she’d rather this story not spread around. She didn’t want it getting out that the founders of House Gremory and House Bael nearly came to blows. The Pillars were constantly waging battles of subterfuge and sabotage against one another; and recent events had instilled in her a healthy sense of paranoia.
“Yes, Ajuka filled me in on your unfortunate encounter with those two monsters,” Sirzechs as he put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Worry not, baby sister, I’ve already told them off for their deplorable behavior and have given them an adequate lashing! No one bullies my Ria-tan!”
Rias gave him an annoyed glare, but inwardly she felt quite happy and secure in knowing her brother was looking out for her.
“What-what about ancestor’s accusation against Lord Ichigo?” she asked hesitantly.
Her brother snorted. “Deluded old coot, Ichigo never stole anything. It was given to him freely and willingly. Even happily, I’d say.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Wait, you know what it is? Lord Ichigo really has something the Great King wants?!”
Her brother winked at her. “Yup! But don’t bother asking me! That’s somebody else’s story to tell!”
“Wha-, Onii-sama!” She pleaded with him wide-eyed.
“Hah, nice try,” he said, bopping her on the nose, causing her to pout in irritation. “But something tells me you’ll find out soon enough if you stick around Ichigo. It’s one of the big secrets of House Bael, after all!”
“Oh, come on!” she protested.
“Nope!”
-----
Several Days Later
Rias stirred slowly, her breath catching as her senses returned. The sky above was a pitch-black canvas, a starless night sky that vague reminded her of Yfel, but without the red rimmed horizon and crushing air of evil. Beneath her, the ground shimmered with an ethereal translucence, a greenish hue that gave the illusion of walking on glass. And around them was a faint pinkish mist, one that she found oddly recognizable. But she couldn’t quite place why it looked familiar. Riad sat up, rubbing her sides, the disorientation itching like crawling skin.
“Rias?”
She turned at the familiar voice. Sona stood just a few feet away, arms crossed and brows furrowed, her usual calm fraying at the edges.
“Where are we?” Sona asked.
“I… don’t know,” Rias answered truthfully, her voice catching in her throat. The last thing she remembered was being in the middle of her shift in the Red Tower in Grevex. “One second I was…”
But before she could finish, another voice called out.
“Rias?”
She spun around in disbelief to see her cousin, Sairaorg Bael, jogging toward her, his expression a mix of wariness and confusion. He looked just as she remembered: broad-shouldered, proud, and calm even in these strange circumstances. “Am I hallucinating?” he asked.
“Do you hallucinate about me often?” Rias asked, teasing her older cousin despite the circumstances. She couldn’t help herself, despite the tensions in House Bael, she was very fond of her older cousin. He was like a second older brother, albeit much less embarrassing than her actual one.
He gave her a blank stare before smiling wide. “Nope, definitely the real Rias.”
A graceful figure strode in from the mist, looking just as confused as they were; Seekvaira Agares, her long golden hair fluttering with the strange mist. “So it’s not just the three of us,” she observed, as she waved over her old friend.
More figures began to materialize, one after another, young Devils, each distinct in their bearing and attire, clearly of noble blood. Rias recognized many of them as the heirs of other Pillar and Extra Houses. She even saw her ex-fiancé, Riser Phenex, standing awkwardly near the rear of the group, avoiding her gaze.
“Kings,” Sona said grimly, looking at the swelling crowd. “We’re all Kings under the age of one-hundred.”
Below them, the ground pulsed faintly with green light. Sairaorg crouched and peered down, eyes narrowing. “Hmm, that doesn’t look like the Underworld or Earth.”
Rias joined him and blinked in astonishment. “Eh? Where is this?!”
Sairaorg was right: below the translucent plane they stood on, a full planet hovered in the black void. A dark green world with banded and swirling white clouds, looking nothing like Earth nor the Underworld. The unfamiliarity only worsened her unease.
Then, with no warning, the void erupted in dazzling color. Pink fireworks bloomed above them, followed by shooting stars and swirling beams of black and electric blue lights. The air seemed to chime like boisterous laughter.
Sona let out a groan as she dropped her head in both hands. “Oh no. Not you.”
A radiant figure floated above them, spinning in sparkles and fluttering ribbons of magical power.
“Bow down, young Devils!” the beautiful young woman shouted, throwing glittering pink hearts into the air. “For I, Magical Girl Levia-tan, have come to guide you on a most wondrous journey!”
Rias stared, stunned into silence. Sometimes she forgot how ostentatious the lone female Satan was. And honestly, she could have done without the reminder.
“And to think, I was thinking my brother was the embarrassing one,” Rias muttered under her breath
Sona crouched down to make herself look small. “Please, just let me die now.”
Lady Serafall’s voice boomed over them all. “As the Youth Rating Game Tournament approaches, the Satans have gathered you all to showcase the depths of power we expect you all to strive towards! An educational and exciting exhibition match!!”
And with a wave of her hand, she summoned numerous gigantic screens, offering them a planet-side view of the continents thousands of miles below.
But then Rias’ eyes widened hugely as she caught sight of the center screen. And, more importantly, the two figures displayed within.
“Is-is that…?” Sairaorg pointed baffled.
-----
Ichigo stared amused at the green oceans and blue ground before him. “Ajuka made a copy of Namek? Why?”
Sirzechs shrugged. “No idea. I’ve been best friends with him for over a thousand years and I still don’t fully get his humor. That being said…,” Sirzechs trailed off.
“Yeah?”
“Ready to get your ass kicked in front of an audience, brat?” Sirzechs’ aura seared the sky crimson.
“Bring it on, asshat.” And Ichigo summoned Zangetsu with the promise to burn a world.
-----
A/N: RIP Ozzy and Julian Lefay, both of you were inspirations to my writings in different ways.
Comments
Ce-Nex
There are strata to being in any class. All Demons are Satan-class, but as mentioned in the interview with Mephistopheles, the class system was an invention of Falbium and Ajuka. All Demons are Satan-class, but are weaker than the Satans themselves. Low-class, Mid-class, High-class, Ultimate-class, Satan-class, Actual Satan.
jamal williams
How strong is the Demon Gremory and lord Bael are they satan class demons?
Fusion7447
Really appreciate the fact that you’re not trying to pair Ichigo and Grayfia together. I think a worse writer would have tried it and there’s not enough instances of platonic male/female relationships in media
