There was another reason I decided to leave Kira behind. I was slipping.

  Pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth no longer silenced the void gnawing at my core. It was an emptiness that started at my fangs, spreading through my gut like a creeping infection, a hunger that demanded I act. The ache was slow, insidious, ugly—haunting me. It wasn’t strong enough to make me lose control, not yet, but I could feel it cwing at the edges of my mind, cutting my thoughts short at the worst moments. For the most part, I had always managed to keep my bloodthirst under control. But there were days—rare and dangerous—when I needed to feed, and today, of all days, felt like one of them.

  The short exercise, followed by the girl’s panting, had really stirred my appetite. For a bloodfiend like me, an unharmed human who could no longer fight back was like steak on a silver ptter. Even if she had already been reincarnated as a Devil, it hardly made any difference to my most feral instincts. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was originally a human too, or a preference engraved on all vampires, but the smell of rushing, pumping human blood would simply mess with my head more than any other, unraveling me bit by bit. The only solution was distance—for both our sakes.

  “Oh.”

  A familiar figure blocked my path as I made my way toward Sector D, which loomed higher than the others, isoted. The area was unusually well-lit, but it wasn’t sunlight—the light here didn’t burn or discomfort me like the real thing would. The rge figure stood still, watching me as we regarded each other in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

  "You don’t look well, d," the old man observed, his gravelly voice echoing through. "Am I to assume you’ll be my final opponent?"

  "There’s no one else behind me for you to worry about."

  "Impressive," he said, though his tone held a note of disappointment. With a casual flick of his wrist, a butcher’s cleaver appeared in his hand. "I’ll be mindful of my strength, then. It would be a shame to disqualify myself, after all."

  I didn’t bother summoning a weapon this time. He looked strong, sure, but if my st fight was anything to go by... I had little to worry about. Chances were, this would be over very quickly.

  I leaped forward without hesitation, my demonic body spinning in the air, falling with an axe kick that could’ve cleaved through an oak tree. Yet, with a single gloved hand, the old man caught it effortlessly.

  “Ah… I see now. You are strong. Remarkably so." His tone remained casual, unaffected, even as his fingers flexed with enough power to stop my attack. "Tell me, are you a reincarnate?”

  The question was unnervingly calm. His strength, however, was not. The next moment, his cleaver arced through the air, faster than I could react. I barely evaded death, but not without a cost—a line of crimson streaked across my chest, blood spilling onto the floor.

  "I guess I earned that one," I muttered, gritting my teeth as I pressed a hand against the wound to coagute it.

  The old man chuckled softly, amused. "Oh, the youngsters these days... capable of all sorts of tricks." His eyes gleamed as he flicked his arm, blood spttering off the weapon. "Now, allow me to show you something worth boasting about."

  Before I could even brace myself, he raised a palm towards me, and my body was pulled off the ground, drawn towards him as if gravity itself had been twisted.

  “Second Hardblood Art — Split!”

  I reacted on instinct, breaking off the scissors again and fusing the two halves into a massive double-bded polearm. With the extended reach, I smmed the weapon down on his shoulder before he could tighten his grip on me and vaulted over his head, attempting to escape.

  But the old man didn’t flinch. He ignored the blow entirely, his fingers seizing the weapon mid-swing, and smmed me into the wall with bone-crushing force, sending a shockwave through my body before I even hit the ground. He followed up with a punch, which I managed to parry by deflecting his arm with my polearm, but he didn’t care. His knuckles smmed straight into my face, crunching against my nose.

  This man was a fucking monster.

  Staggering back, I gasped for breath, tasting blood. "How...?! Who the hell are you?!"

  "Me?" His smile was almost kind, which made it worse. "Just a simple old Devil, d. Don’t be too hard on yourself. How old are you?"

  "Nineteen," I spat.

  "Nineteen?" He ughed. "Oh my. In another nineteen years, I’ll be over six thousand."

  "Six thousand years… and you're applying for a peerage?!"

  "Well…" He shrugged casually. "At my age, you hardly pay attention to such things. I never imagined these silly games of fighting would become quite so important, but they’ve gotten quite popur, haven’t they? So I thought, why not join in the fun?"

  So this is how it feels to get casually bodied, huh.

  I stood back up and gripped my weapon more tightly.

  Split had always been my go-to form for tough opponents—a versatile, reliable weapon, perfect for a duel. It was fun, too, allowing me to switch things up mid-fight and catch my enemies off guard by changing forms. But here it wouldn’t be enough. Not against him.

  I exhaled slowly, emptying my mind as I focused on my own designs, summoning every ounce of strength I could muster. The familiar weight of my Sacred Gear responded to my call, the weapon vibrating in my grip. But this time, I pushed further, channeling my energy. The air around me grew dense, tinged with the metallic scent of blood as it coiled and hardened. Bit by bit, the weapon shifted, weaving itself, its jagged edges spiraling outward, forming into the intricate shape of a massive spear. A curling mass of razor-sharp blood, hardened to the point of no return.

  This was my most powerful weapon, but it came with a price. Each time I summoned it, the blood solidified to a degree that could never revert to liquid form. It was a one-time weapon, requiring me to sacrifice a significant portion of my reserves. I had to make it count.

  “Secret Hardblood Art — La Sangre.”

  The old man’s eyes filled with curiosity. "Ah… finally getting serious, are we?" he joked, taking a single step forward. "Good. I do not enjoy beating children.”

  I didn’t respond. There was no time for banter. This attack had to hit its mark or I wouldn’t have a second chance. I threw myself forward just as the spear started spinning, ready to turn everything in our path to blood and flesh. I was eager, greedy, excited, I wanted to know what this Devil’s blood would taste like.

  My opponent remained steady, putting one of his palms out again, but this time I found myself pushed back. It was as if the distance in between us grew greater and greater the closer I got, like trying to cross an invisible sea just to reach him, a dense mass that pressed me down the moment I gave an inch. Screaming to the top of my lungs, blood running down my nose, I managed to overcome the pressure and push through. La Sangre finally came into contact with his hand, and it took a merciless bite—she had always been a gluttonous one.

  He tried to punch me again, but this time he couldn’t just ignore my parry and push through. With the spear spinning by itself like a wall of broken teeth, all I had to do was hold strong and let him take the worst of the trade. Serious now, the man smmed his cleaver down, untangling herself from the messy trade and stepping away.

  “Child, would you tell me your name?” He shook his arm, blood spttering away.

  “Nyx. Nyx Cervantis.”

  “Cervantis?” He paused. “That does ring a bell… No wonder that old man Dracu was always compining about your people. Nineteen and already stirring up trouble. As a show of respect, I will end this quickly.”

  I braced for his next move, but before I could do anything, my body dropped to one knee. It felt like the world itself was crushing me, the pressure immense, suffocating. My bones groaned under the strain, and breathing became a painful task. My legs refused to move, pinned beneath the crushing force of his magic.

  “You’ve shown me a respectable effort. Now, succumb, under the hand of Marbas.”

  I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the weight was too much. I could barely move, my vision darkening as I slipped towards unconsciousness. The numbness was all-consuming, until—

  Boom!

  A wave of searing heat crashed into me, snapping me back to my senses. Fmes erupted, the explosion smming into the old Devil with a force that rocked the ground. My clothes were licked by the fire, but I didn’t care. The moment his concentration broke, I rushed forward, driving La Sangre straight through his body, impaling him from side to side. For a moment, he gripped the spear, and I feared he might still fight—but then, slowly, he began to fade, his form dissipating like smoke.

  I let out a ragged breath, finally turning around to see Kira standing there, her grin wide and wicked.

  “You know what they say,” she quipped. “Send a man to fight a Devil and be ready to pull him out… No, that wasn’t it… A man who pulls out… won’t beat the Devil. Eh, somethin’ like that.”

  Oh, god. She’s fucking retarded… I want her.

  Exhausted, I gave her a nod of gratitude, managing a weak smile. “Not bad for a human.”

  “Anytime,” she replied with an exhausted wink.

  And then, having spent all of her magical energy, she vanished too.

  ?

  “Kneel and be reborn under the grace of Satan.”

  The ceremony had required careful preparation, making us wait for quite a bit despite it being held in the same bureaucratic building we had been stuck in all day. This time, we were on the uppermost floor, standing within an ornate chapel that depicted the Underworld's history in vivid stained gss panels. Heavy clouds of brimstone filled the air, signaling the beginning of the rite. The crowd, if it could be called that, consisted mostly of minor, discardable familiars sent by those hoping to catch a glimpse of the next generation while keeping their own agendas hidden. Only a few families, those with no other choice at hand, had sent actual representatives. So, we stood surrounded by a sparse gathering of young reincarnates and ancient imps

  One by one, the three of us—the old man, Kira, and I—were summoned to the private sanctum, each returning to a brief moment of reverence and polite appuse after receiving our Evil Pieces.

  The sanctum itself was an excessive dispy of wealth, an opulent space with enough cushions and fur-covered seats to accommodate a small court. Yet, in this vish setting, there were only two people: the woman who had guided us before and me.

  I sank into one of the fur-lined seats, deliberately casual, disrespectful. If I was going to pretend to be the successful heir of an ancient house, I needed to act the part every now and then. She, however, remained unshaken, her impeccable composure intact. Without acknowledging my provocation, she gracefully reached for the teapot on the center table and poured, the motion smooth and practiced.

  “A number of esteemed houses have expressed interest in your future,” she announced with poise. “Shall we discuss such information, or would you prefer to first acquire your own Evil Pieces?”

  Unlike earlier in the morning, her tone had shifted completely, now acknowledging me with an air of reverence and implied submission, as if the demonic hierarchy had simply overridden all personal opinion.

  “I would prefer to see what fate has in store for me. It would be unwise to engage in negotiations without full knowledge of the matter at hand.”

  “As you wish,” she responded smoothly.

  With a graceful motion, she reached beneath the table and retrieved a lockbox, simir in form to the one Beelzebub had shown me. It was a sleek, metallic briefcase, though this one appeared almost impenetrable, like a single sb of steel forged to be untouched by curious hands.

  “Upon imprinting your blood seal on the surface, the box will bond to you as an inanimate familiar. You will henceforth be able to access its contents at your own discretion. However, do understand that we, as an organization, hold no means of divining what lies within. Whatever fortune or misfortune you may encounter is yours alone to bear, and we must beg that you withhold the bme.”

  I inclined my head in acknowledgment, biting my thumb and letting the blood seep onto the cool metal. With a swift stroke, I inscribed my signature into its surface. True to her word, the box gave a soft click, and its two halves parted, revealing its contents.

  The Evil Pieces awaited within, bck and smooth—perfect, save for one. The Queen stood out, jagged and fractured, much like my own piece had been so long ago. It felt appropriate, in a way; after all, Evil Pieces were said to reflect the will of their kings and owners. My choice of Queen would define everything. It was my one obsession, the one thing in which I couldn’t fail.

  And now, my opportunity had come.

  "Congratutions," the woman said, her tone polite but distant. "I would say you were lucky. But then again, your performance spoke for itself—even if it did require... unfortunate circumstances."

  “Which means?”

  “Well, while your use of a lesser Devil may have been strategically sound, it seems some families were... unsettled by the dispy. Speaking of which, shall I begin listing the propositions in any particur order?”

  I considered her offer for a moment. “Start with the most relevant.”

  “In that case, you’ll be pleased to hear that Lord Sirzechs Lucifer has expressed his desire for a private audience. He commends the resurgence of the House of Cervantis and wishes to reestablish the bonds his family once shared with your forebears.”

  And just like that, I was back into panic mode.

  ?

  There’s not much to say when a Satan sends word requesting an audience. It’s not as if you’re explicitly required to attend, but you are required to attend. Especially when you've built an identity from the ground up with just lies and now find yourself thrown into a delicate web of political power pys.

  None of the ancient records about the Cervantis family I had unearthed mentioned any clear ties between them and Gremory, but I wasn’t about to send a reply to Lucifer questioning his interpretation of history. Regardless of the other requests I’d received—from Sairaorg Bael, Ravel Phenex, and others—any business involving a Satan took precedence. That was the unspoken w of the Underworld.

  And so, it was clear what I had to do.

  One might assume that managing a single city-state would be enough to occupy any ruler, but Sirzechs Lucifer was no common man. As both a Gremory and a Satan, his dominion stretched far beyond a mere city. His combined territory and wealth were vast—so vast that it could rival some nations, all without the need for the kind of industrial revolution my creator had pursued.

  Our meeting took pce less than an hour after my promotion to High Css. The letter Sirzechs had left with the servitor included a teleportation crest, and upon my arrival, I was greeted by his wife—Grayfia Lucifuge—dressed in a traditional French maid uniform, a sight that absolutely had to be some kind of open fetish between them.

  To be honest, if I hadn’t had the foresight of a reincarnate, I might have said something extremely stupid when meeting her. Especially since I was still trying to sell the notion that I was a mysterious European vampire. Grayfia, as Queens went, was the epitome of discretion and grace. No doubt that pyed a rge part in why a Satan like Sirzechs had chosen her. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that his decision hadn’t been purely political. It was impossible to ignore Grayfia’s figure—an almost sinful, erotic hourgss that moved with effortless elegance. Watching her glide across the halls in that modest maid’s apron, it wasn’t hard to see how Sirzechs and Issei had bonded so easily and so quickly. She certainly had nothing to envy from Rias Gremory. The woman had more than enough "cake" to ensure her master never went hungry while managing his millions of subjects.

  Unfortunately for me, polygamy among noblewomen in the Underworld was a rarity. The harems were reserved for men, which meant the chances of me ever indulging in the pleasures of Grayfia’s "cooking" stood barely above zero. I pushed that thought aside and forced myself to look away as she led me through the mansion's grand halls to her master’s office. Then, without a word, she excused herself.

  The sound of the door closing behind me reverberated through the room, and I instinctively took a deep breath. Under different circumstances, such a dispy might have been considered improper, crude—an insult, even—but Satans understood better than anyone the overwhelming effect their presence could have on mere demons.

  "Lord Lucifer," I bowed deeply, offering the respect one should always extend when meeting an unholy god. "I am—"

  The man standing by the firepce turned with a grin that was both warm and mischievous. "You're Ajuka's kid, right? I never imagined we'd meet like this! Come, sit down. We should be celebrating your big day!"

  For a moment, my brain stuttered, struggling to catch up with the casual familiarity in his tone. "You… knew?"

  "Of course, I knew," Sirzechs chuckled. "As much as I despise politics, even I have to keep an eye on the major pyers at the table. Though…" He paused, his gaze sweeping over me with mild curiosity. "I’ll admit, I thought you’d be younger—maybe closer to my own son’s age. Imagine my surprise when you decided to suddenly abandon the shadows."

  I hesitated before asking, "Then may I ask why you have summoned me?"

  "Ah, straight to business, I see." He shook his head, though the pyfulness remained in his eyes. "For the important part. I wanted to meet my best friend’s… family? Son?"

  "More like a… bloody little brother," I muttered under my breath, still trying to make sense of his rexed demeanor.

  Sirzechs only ughed. "Since you're eager to get to the point, I won’t waste your time." His tone shifted as his expression turned more serious. "Nyx… Nyx Beelzebub. Would you consider joining my sister’s peerage?"

  My brow furrowed instinctively, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite myself.

  "She’s still looking for most of her pieces," he went on. "Rias might not be on my level, but make no mistake—she is a Gremory, and you’d be lucky to find a better King.”

  Walking over to the intricately adorned desk, I pnted my hands on its polished surface and locked eyes with him. "How much do you really know about me?"

  "Hardly anything, to be honest," Sirzechs admitted, shrugging slightly. "You two did a remarkable job keeping your existence under wraps. Ajuka barely mentioned you, even after I joked about it, letting him know I was aware of you."

  That sounded just like Ajuka Beelzebub. He was always a man who pyed his cards close to the chest. It left me with a few options—decisions on how much to reveal and how much to keep for myself. After all, when dealing with a Devil, it’s best to hold something valuable in hand and something even more valuable in reserve, should they ever start to doubt your worth.

  "And what about my… precognition?" I asked, testing the waters.

  "Precognition?" His eyes narrowed, intrigued. "Like divination?"

  I nodded, a bit more confident. "I possess… knowledge of certain events that will take pce over the next few years."

  Sirzechs leaned back, pressing a thoughtful fist to his chin. "So, you’ve already pnned your actions in advance. A long game…" He sighed, looking tired. "I should’ve expected no less from Ajuka's protégé. Alright then, give me an example. What do you pn to do?"

  I hesitated for only a moment before pying another card.

  "Just one," I said, voice steady. "I intend to become the next wielder of the Welsh Dragon."

  For a split second, Sirzechs scrutinized me, as if trying to see if I was being serious. Then, he ughed again—a deep, almost delighted sound. "Interesting… You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity now." With a snap of his fingers, a small fme flickered into existence, from which a white Rook appeared, floating in midair. "This is my st Evil Piece. I’ve been saving it for someone special. If you're not keen on joining my sister’s peerage, maybe you'd consider joining mine?"

  I shook my head with a quiet huff. "There is something you can do for me, though. If you want me to owe you a favor. I am pnning to attend Kuoh Academy this coming year. I wouldn’t mind if Rias were to… become aware of my existence. On her own terms. Maybe even curious enough to reach out to me."

  Sirzechs arched an eyebrow. "So, you refuse both my sister’s peerage and mine… yet you still want Rias to try and recruit you?"

  I met his gaze with a knowing smile. "Everything I’ve pnned would go smoother with Rias Gremory by my side. I’m no pawn, but when the time comes, I’ll protect her. Is that the answer you were hoping for?"

  For a fleeting moment, I caught something in his eyes—a flicker of concern hidden behind his friendly demeanor. "Am I to assume," he began carefully, "that these events you’ve foreseen will involve Rias in some way?"

  "Many," I confirmed. "She’ll be in danger... more than she should be. I’m not saying she wouldn’t survive on her own, but it’ll be easier with my help. I’ll do my best, at least."

  Sirzechs considered this as if weighing unseen options. "And all I have to do is write you a letter of recommendation?"

  I grinned, a pyful edge in my voice. "Well... and run the risk that I might end up making her my first wife. Unless my future Queen takes a sudden liking to me, in which case Rias will have to settle for being the second."

  The little joke seemed to break the tension, Sirzechs letting out a tired but genuine sound of relief. He sat up straighter, a bit of the previous weight lifting from the room. "I may need to remind Ajuka of his pce if all his creations start hitting on my sister. But for now... that does sound like a reasonable deal."

  He extended his hand across the desk, and I csped it firmly. The handshake sealed our silent understanding before I turned to leave, teleporting back to the Beelzebub estate for what would likely be my final visit for quite some time.

  Of course, no sooner had I arrived, the master of the manor was already there, waiting for me—undoubtedly aware of everything that had just transpired.

  “Change of pns?” he asked, his voice as neutral as ever.

  “No, but there’s something I need to ask.”

  “Wait.” Before I could turn away towards my room, he reached into his coat and tossed me a familiar, cold package. A bag of blood. “You did well. I’d hoped you wouldn’t have to reveal as much to pass the test, but it wasn’t anything our little narrative can’t smooth over. Good job.”

  Catching the bag in midair, I could already smell the faint, metallic tang of human blood, even before opening it. Where does someone even acquire bags of human blood in the Underworld at a reasonable price? Then again, that's exactly the kind of question you don’t ask out loud. And considering half of my scarf had turned a sickly, pale hue, like a drained body, and I could feel the faint beginnings of dizziness cwing at my mind, now wasn’t the time to get moralistic.

  “That girl who passed the exam with me.” I tore off the tip of the bag with my teeth. I didn’t need to drink it, but it always felt more satisfying this way.

  “Kira Manchester?” Ajuka raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of surprise, mild disappointment, and... was that disinterest? Concern? “What about her?”

  “Any idea who’s grabbing girls off the street and turning them into High-Css Devils?”

  The slight twitch in his expression was enough to tell me I’d just crossed into one of those questions.

  “There’s been... an increase in certain practices," he replied carefully. "All pure-blooded, High Devils are entitled to a set of Evil Pieces, but not all of them are interested in building a peerage.”

  The realization struck me like a punch to the gut. “So they sell their spots, give the humans a test ride, and sell off the ones that pass at a premium?”

  Ajuka’s gaze darkened, his lips thinning. “I’ve... been reflecting on how I feel about it myself. But yes, that’s the general idea. A lot of Devils would pay a fortune for a worthy pawn.”

  I swallowed a mouthful of blood, feeling the familiar warmth spread through my body, temporarily quieting the gnawing hunger. The silence between us stretched, heavy and unsettling.

  “They’re being treated like livestock,” I muttered, half to myself. “Sometimes I still forget we’re just doing svery with extra steps. Any idea who’s buying that idiot?”

  “You’re leaving for the human world tomorrow. I was hoping you’d be either too clever or too ignorant to get yourself involved.”

  “Well, that’s the problem with making people, they don’t always do what you want. Better to remind you of that before I leave, wouldn’t want you to get lonely and start working on another one.”

  “Careful, Nyx. You keep toying with that one chance at life.”

  “Are you going to tell me who’s buying her or not?” My patience was wearing thin, and the fact that he hadn't answered right away told me everything I needed to know.

  “There’ll be an auction ter tonight. Girls like her don’t come with a fixed price. But if I had to make a guess... the most enthusiastic and, unfortunately, wealthiest bidder would be Diodora Astaroth. He’s become quite known for… acquiring any promising young woman, for a while at least.”

  I took a deep breath before throwing the half-drained blood bag out the window, the gss shattering as it disappeared into the night.

  “Looks like I’m drinking straight from the tap tonight.”