Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Jamie Darkblight loved beautiful things.
That wasn’t to say he was biased against the ugly, of course, but it was simply that he had an appreciation for that to which the subjective mind attributed the trait of beauty.
He adored the shiny, the gaudy, the sparkling, and eye-catching. He was enamored with the bewitching, the resplendent, the beguiling, luscious and nubile. He could sit tirelessly to observe the radiant, the splendid, the sublime, and elegant.
The dazzling, show-stopping, flamboyant and toothsome! The exceptional, dollish, glorious, and pulchritudinous!
Indeed, there was no better measure of the worth of a thing than its beauty — and he did not mean this purely from an external standpoint, as his love of all things beautiful was not so shallow. Vanity was unsightly and his appreciation of beauty transcended flesh and form and delved into soul and character — into heart and mind.
His love for beauty had forced him to leave his father’s old castle and travel the world. It made him join his party of world-saving adventurers, Lightbringer. It spurned his soul to travel all of Faerun with but rapier and lute, spreading beauty through sonorous melody everywhere he went.
Jamie Darkblight was obsessed with beauty.
“Adriel, my good chum! I swear on my late father’s grave, that this is… exactly what it looks like.”
If Jamie had any complaints, it would be that his obsession with beauty came with a rather prominent downside in that others were not as keen as expressing that love themselves.
“Calista? Jamie?”
“A-A-Adriel! Y-y-you’re back! I-I thought you said your trip to the Feywilds would t-take a week —”
“He’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world and can cast Plane Shift at will, darling,” Jamie piped up. He reached for the goblet of wine beside the bed, pouring himself a full cup. “Care to join us, Adriel? I assure you I don’t mind.”
Adriel the God-Feller stood before them both within the chambers of the man’s large and exquisite bedroom at Castle Phoebus on Mount Vexamon. The Great Wizard stood with his long robes and staff, a long-aged beard protruding downwards from his chin. He was different than in his youth. Time had not been too kind to him, as he leaned his weight on his staff and appeared almost to crouch as he stood.
His knuckles whitened as his grip against his preferred weapon tightened, and Jamie smiled whilst he lay naked in bed with the man’s wife, Calista the Death Cure.
Even now, he could not help but admire the Elven woman’s flawless perfect skin and stunning green eyes. It was as though one had taken the forests of the world and placed them within those sparkling orbs. Her ears, pointed, were pinkish and thin, and Jamie bit his lip as he fought back the urge to continue nibbling on them as he had mere moments earlier.
Indeed, he fought back the great and terrible urge to ignore Adriel entirely, and devote himself to the exploration of Calista’s beauty, inner and outer. Her nipples stood, still hardened from their foreplay, her toned stomach and lean, muscled thighs spoke of the hardships of their journey across Faerun, and the light patch of blonde hair below her most sensuous of places almost seemed to be drawing him in.
His hands felt as though they would begin moving on their own to feel, to touch, to explore — to love all the beauty in her that there was to love.
“Darkblight!” Adriel growled. The room pulsed with his magical power. Everything shook. “You bastard —”
Jamie placed his hand to his chest, offended. “Rude. You know quite well that my mother had no choice in the matter.”
“A-Adriel,” Calista cleared her throat. “We — we need to talk.”
“Talk? Talk?” Adriel barked a laugh. “You’re in bed with him and you’re saying we need to talk?”
“Indeed, I’m rather not partial to talking,” Jamie patted the bed. “The night is still young and Calista is as beautiful as ever. You’re still welcome to join —”
The three bolts of pure magical power that came at him were expected, but still surprising. Adriel had never quite struck him as the impulsive type. Throughout all their adventures together, from the time he was a mere First Level Wizard, the man had always seemed calm and in control of his emotions, and always intoned that violence should be used as a last resort.
He moved to defend himself, but needn’t have bothered. Calista moved in front of him, extending her hand out. The Magic Missiles dispelled with a single wave, and Adriel took a step back, his eyes widening.
“Calista… why?”
“I feel unloved.”
The man recoiled backward, as though someone had slapped him, or otherwise announced the death of a family member.
“What?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Do you know what day it was yesterday?”
“Calista, how can you say that? You know how much I —”
“What day was it yesterday, Adriel?” Calista repeated. “Tell me.”
The Great Wizard hesitated. His expression soured as wrinkles formed atop his forehead. He seemed to be attempting with great effort to recall his hardest. Calista let out a bitter laugh. It was too bitter, Jamie felt. Someone as beautiful as her should never have to make such an undignified sound.
“You don’t remember.”
“It wasn’t your birthday. It wasn’t any of the kids birthdays, I’m sure I would have —”
“It was our anniversary.”
Adriel looked as though he’d swallowed a bitter lemon. “I-it — was?”
Jamie winced. He could not tell if the man was asking her or if he was asking himself. He looked lost for a moment, as though he were trying to understand how he got to this point.
“How many years have we been married?”
An awkward, piercing silence echoed between the elven woman and the aged man. Jamie sipped from his wine, making sure to stir it as he did so. Calista laughed again.
“This can't continue.”
“That’s — that’s not fair, Calista,” Adriel argued. “I’m only human and I’m older. My memory can’t compare to yours. You’ve lived centuries —”
“So it's my fault?”
Adriel flinched. "No, that isn't what I'm —"
"Is it my fault that I am the only one who remembers our anniversary?" Her voice began to rise. "Is it my fault, Adriel, that you've aged? That you don't remember? That you no longer desire the warmth of my touch?"
Adriel gripped his staff. "That is not true. I still —"
"When last did we make love, Adriel?"
Again, a long, awkward pause.
"You know I have been… busy."
"You're always busy," Calista spat. “All you do is spend time in your study, tinkering new spells and researching arcane mysteries. When you're not doing that, you head over to the College to teach magic and give lectures. Then next you’re busy brokering peace deals between nations, advising kings, playing mentor to young princes —”
“I have responsibilities!”
“And I have needs, Adriel!” Calista all but yelled. “We have been married for eighty-four years and I can count the number of times we have slept together in our bed! I can scarcely remember the last time your touch aroused my loins or the last time your warmth filled my insides."
Adriel recoiled. The old wizard took a step backwards. "You — you don't mean that."
"I do," she hissed. "I cannot lie anymore. I cannot pretend anymore. I have been starving and yearning for true sexual intimacy for so long that I stayed awake at night, tossing and turning as I pleasured myself and imagined someone pleasuring me. And not once, ever, was that someone was you, Adriel."
The old wizard shook. He looked now to be but a mere shell of himself. His head was bowed low as his features remained obscured. His shoulders slumped and his entire body was devoid of weight — substance.
It was the look of a man who was utterly defeated.
"And so… you went to Darkblight?"
"He was not my first choice," Calista admitted. "I caught him with Adrianna. I watched as he showed her love. Then, I caught him again with Calypso and Puriel. Then I found him with all three together and grew curious —"
Adriel jerked awake like a man who'd been slapped. His voice became low. "What?"
His head snapped to Jamie.
"The three… of them?" He whispered. "You… you've slept with… all three of my daughters… at the same time?"
"I tip my glass to you, old chap," Jamie rose his mug of wine. "They are all as beautiful as their mother. Though, far kinkier, strangely enough." Jamie paused. "Perhaps they get that from you?"
Adriel saw red.
"DARKBLIGHT!"
The man knew he'd lost. He knew that this was a losing fight and that his actions would forever separate him from his beloved, but there was no way in the Nine Hells he was going to sit back and allow Jamie-fucking-Darkblight continue to walk this earth after fucking his three precious angels, and his beloved wife.
His magical power spiralled in the room. There was a spell that his wife could not interrupt, at least, not with any level of success. It was a spell that would ensure the world would be rid of the Darkblight legacy, of the hellspawn before him, to whom he'd once considered a close ally.
"I'm going to kill you, and make sure you reincarnate as a bloody worm for all of eternity!"
Jamie winced, rising from the bed for the first time. His deep red skin and dark eyes narrowed as he sensed the build-up of power and knew it could not be avoided. Adriel had always been one of the heavy hitters of Lightbringer, and Jamie had no delusions about being able to counter or stall the Wizard's spell. Mégalo, Lightbringer's Tabaxi Warlock, or Àlympa, the Genasi Sorcerer were one of the only three people in the world who could match Adriel's sheer spellcasting power.
The third, fortunately, happened to be right in front of him.
"Jamie! Get behind me, now!"
If he was being entirely honest, Jamie was not worried. His pursuit of the appreciation of beauty had put him in harm's way many times and he knew it would do so many more times in the future.
If he did die for his crime of appreciating the beauty of a woman like Calista, it would be fitting and worthy of the type of life he'd lived.
Still, the Tiefling craned his neck left and right and exhaled as he dove behind the Elven beauty. His keen senses told him she'd cast an Anti-Magic Field at the Nineteenth Level and was now casting Globe of Invulnerability at the Seventeenth. He doubted it'd be of any effect, and rather than ponder, he placed his arms directly around the lower waist of the woman, and softly bit into her neck, before sucking deeply.
"W-w-what are you doing, fool!" She yelped.
"Leaving you something to remember me by," he said. "A shame there isn't enough time to leave more."
Oh, indeed it was a shame. He would have littered her entire body with his love bites were there enough time.
"I wish you would just die and be eternally reborn in a far, far away dimension as a pitiful creature in the lowest pits of hell!"
Ah, there it came. The greatest spell capable of being cast by mortal breath. Jamie had only ever seen Adriel cast it once. He knew that the greater the deed one attempted to accomplish with the Wish spell, the greater the chance for failure.
He knew there was no blocking it.
He knew it was instantaneous.
Yet still, as his body began to fade away into particles of light, Jamie questioned whether or not this could have been avoided had Calista not been so beautiful.
Gods, even now, dying, he could not help but admire her perfectly shaped behind. Every muscle spoke to him, her very outline was that of a goddess incarnated.
"Jamie! Jamie, no!"
Dear Lord, why was she so beautiful? Even as tears streamed from her eyes and her expression contorted into one of sorrow, she was still divinely perfect.
Ah, what a shame.
What a vast shame it was, that Adriel could not appreciate her true beauty. What a shame it was, that he would likely never again set eyes on Calista's splendorous form, nor hear her wonderful voice, or feel the deep warmth and tightness of her godly loins.
What a shame it all was indeed.
XXXXXX
Dimensional Gap
It sensed magic. Powerful magic. The most powerful kind of magic. It was mortal-wielded, which was strange. A condition of eternity was added. The concept of rebirth could be sensed within.
The path at which it was following was stranger still. Yet, it cared little for it. It only wished to slumber and rest and sleep, though that could not be done with the Great Red One disturbing its peace.
Lazily, it deflected the incoming magic at the Great Red One. The magic bounced off the Great Red One harmlessly, its direction now changed. The Great Red One did not seem to notice a difference.
In the end, it was mere mortal magic not worth either of their concern.
XXXXX
Paradise and Purgatory were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Indeed, one could not ever mistake the latter for the former, yet, upon awakening his eyes for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jamie Darkblight pondered whether or not he had arrived at a place where both were one and the same.
The room he was in was vast. Large and splendorous, as though he were in a mansion of sorts. There were lights attached to long cylindrical tubes of glass that operated on a sort of magic he was completely unfamiliar with.
Above his head was what looked like a child's toy, albeit, a very crude and outright sexual version with spiraling figures of men and women in different sexual positions.
He could not think of anyone who would ever be sane enough to believe such a thing was appropriate for a child.
Then he remembered his childhood in Castle Ever-Blight and began to remember that there were indeed a lot of truly mad individuals in the vast, vast world.
He was in a crib of sorts, one with themes of deep black and red, and more problematically, he was small.
Correction, he was infantile. His grasp of his own magic abilities told him that he was a baby.
This displeased Jamie greatly.
Contrary to what many would think, Jamie Darkblight did not like babies. They were not beautiful, in any sense of the word. They were hopeless without others and boundlessly naïve. They were utterly self-centered and had not yet developed anything possibly resembling a soul to which one may look inward to find inner beauty.
They were noisy, loud, time-consuming, dirty, smelly, and served no practical purpose as their own entity until after several years of investment and growth.
He did, however, like parenthood. There was beauty in self-sacrifice. He liked childhood. There was beauty in the innocence, bluntness, and inquisitiveness of a child beginning to question and explore the world as they formulated their personalities and laid the foundation for their souls.
There was beauty in the young lad, experiencing a crush for the first time and battling with the sentiment of romantic inclination. There was beauty in the young girl, learning her place in the world, who to trust, how to love and be loved, and all the chaos and glory that occurred in the transition from girl to woman.
He batted away his thoughts and irritation at currently being in the most un-beautiful of age brackets and instead contemplated his luck.
Considering he was not a worm or an insect and could feel a complete set of five fingers and five toes, along with the added accessories of two horns and a long whip-like tail, it seemed Adriel's spell had not gone as intended.
Something was, however, different. He had new features that he was absolutely certain he had not possessed before. Two, small, almost dainty, bat-like wings were attached to his back. They appeared and disappeared at a thought — a mental command.
They seemed too small and far too impractical to be useful. Yet, at the tiniest of mental commands to flap —
He began to rise.
He blinked. Once, then twice, to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. Indeed, he was floating. He made the mental command to go up, and he ascended higher, and he ordered the mental command to go left and left he went.
It was akin to using a crude and unrefined version of the Fly spell -
The thought brought him a moment's pause. He commanded himself now no longer to rise and go left but began to order his body as though he were under the effect of the Fly spell.
The effects were instantaneous. He swirled, swooped, dived, tumbled, and performed flips in the air effortlessly, spinning, pirouetting, and dancing on his tiptoes as he stood on sheer nothingness.
The wings on his back essentially granted him the ability to Fly at will. That was… unique. He could only count a handful of bipedal beings with that ability, and none of them were meant to be horned, heart-tailed Tieflings —
Wait. Heart-tailed?
Indeed he willed his jet-black tail to move in front of him, and the end of it was in fact shaped like a small, thin heart. His brows narrowed in confusion.
Before he could question it, the door to the room opened.
"Now, I've got just the right amount of special juice for my growing little —"
Jamie froze, mid-air.
The woman who entered froze just as he did, as she spotted him flying above his crib, standing on naught but air.
His breath immediately hitched in his throat. Dear, Lord. A wince of pain ran through his head at that moment, but he ignores it in favor of breathing in the sight before him. The woman who'd entered was unlike anything he'd seen in the Forgotten Realms.
Her skin was as fair as those of the elves and her hair was pitch black like an endless waterfall of pure ink. Her eyes were red and glowed pink at the edges, and her face was heart-shaped and full, with neither a blemish nor impurity in sight.
Her body was voluptuous. Her breasts were full and thick, and rounder than that of any woman he'd ever seen before at which point his brain tried its hardest to comprehend it. Her waist was smooth and thin and seemed impossible to possess when her chest was such a size. Her thighs were full, her laps were rich and rotund and she wore but a plain black apron with words written in common "Fuck the Cook".
My… god.
Again, a brief sharp pain entered his head, to which this time he did not ignore, wincing from the effects.
The woman in front of him reacted readily, her voice letting out a shrill cry of…
Glee?
"My little baby is a genius! Genius! Oh, I can't wait to rub it in those cunts faces! Figuring out how to fly at only two days old!"
She swept him into her arms, and it now only occurred to him that she also possessed a pair of wings. However, rather than being leathery and bat-like, they were long, elongated, and full, being more avian in nature despite the clear absence of feathers.
The woman before him also possessed a tail, though hers was far longer than his, and the heart shape at the end of the tail was large and full, rather than being thin and sleek. Jamie swore for a moment that the heart on the tail pulsed as she moved and twirled around with him in her arms.
"You're my ticket to the top of the world!"
The woman's eyes shone with emotions Jamie was all but familiar with:
Ambition. Greed. Pride.
He could sense none of the typical accompanying motherly feelings from within her that one would expect from a parent to a child. None of the warmth. None of the deep sense of love and affection.
Jamie looked into the woman's eyes and he felt deep and boundless disappointment.
His new mother was not a beautiful woman.
Her body was the most flawless he'd ever seen, but her soul?
Her soul emanated wave after wave of nothing but greed and ambition. He was not a child, to her. He was a means to an end. A being born only to fulfill one ambition of hers or the other.
Jamie hated it.
She reminded him of his father, Lord Malphas Darkblight. The Dark One, The Blight Bringer, The Ender of Days. The final opponent who'd stood in the way of Lightbringer. The Mad Warlock sought to meld the Nine Hells with all the realms to prove his devotion to Asmodeus and enslave the world with his army of fiends. The man to whom Jamie had been born as the son of his most prized slave — the Tarnished Queen of Elves, El' Via Aurora III.
He remembered how his father claimed he had been born with great mystical power and forced him to train in Castle Ever-Blight as a Sorcerer. He recalled brief days of a childhood with nothing but ugliness and unsightliness around him. Days of a home filled with riches but no beauty, power but no splendor —
He remembered bitter days of watching a beautiful Elven Queen, his mother, look at him with disgust, as though he were an unsightly pile of excrement she had accidentally stepped on. Days where his beautiful mother would stare with glossy eyes blankly into the world, while his father mounted her and grunted, so consumed with his own pleasure and uncaring of her pain and misery, the ugliness of his actions and of her vacant, soulless expression etching permanently into his mind —
Jamie hated those days.
He hated his mother's misery. He hated his father's self-centeredness. He hated how his father tried to make him into his successor, and how his mother could only look at him as the disgusting child born from her loveless, forced union —
On the scale of alignment, Jamie would never consider himself good. Yet, he would never be the sort of evil that his father was. At the very least, he would have ensured his mother enjoyed their sexual copulations, attempted his hardest to make her truly happy and capable of loving him —
He would have done anything to ensure such a beautiful woman did not end herself so unceremoniously.
"Foolish," his father had said, after finding her splayed on the bedroom floor with the bottle of poison.
Lord Malphas Darkblight had not seen it fit to give her a suitable burial. Instead, his father's servants had kept his mother's corpse to defile as they wished, and the man had done nothing to stop it.
Jamie had committed his first kills that night. He buried what was left of his mother in her garden — her only solace — and made his escape from Castle Ever-Blight.
He would only return twenty-two years later for his father's head.
Simply remembering the entire ordeal filled him up with a deep sense of bitterness. It had been ninety years since then, and Jamie had been unfortunate — or fortunate — to have been blessed with the lifespan of his mother, rather than his father. He was a rare anomaly, in so much as he was a Tiefling who aged like an elf.
Yet, all this and still was in a different life. A life to which he doubted he could return.
It was for that reason that he was not keen on his second life veering in the same manner as his first. He calmed his emotions as the woman spun him around, and tried, as he always did, to look for the silver lining in this new situation.
His new mother was deeply ambitious and expressed joy at his ability to fly. The way she’d phrased her sentence and the fact that she could also bound through the air unaffected by gravity, managed to imply that being able to fly was commonplace for their race, however, being able to do so shortly after being born was not.
Rather fortunate that she speaks Common —
Indeed, he was glad for that, at least. The writing on her apron and the language she spoke was that of the Common Tongue of the Forgotten Realms. He could not detect an accent, nor could he decipher where she was, or more importantly, where he was.
“Oh, that’s right, I’m supposed to feed you!”
Feed? Surely, you don’t mean —
Jamie Darkblight, the Blight-Slayer, the Blood Bard of Lightbringer, attempted all manner of rebuttals and refutals which translated as meaningless gargles and blubbering. In the end, he could not escape the grasp of the woman by flying away and had no choice but to watch as his ‘mother’ shifted aside her right breast from underneath her apron and summarily placed a hardened nipple into his lips.
He was not ashamed, for shame was an emotion he seldom felt. He was not embarrassed, for he had long since conquered the feeling of embarrassment through acceptance of the self.
Instead, the primary reason why Jamie attempted to resist being breastfed, besides being a one-hundred and eighteen-year-old man in the body of a baby, was the concern that he would grow to like it.
He worried he would find the beauty in it, and thus it would trigger something in him that would add another book into the endless library of his varied sexual tastes.
He could almost picture Lightbringer’s old cleric, Ignatz, laughing at his predicament. Surely, who would ever believe that Jamie Darkblight, the fool who once tried to seduce a Green Dragon, would one day be worried about getting addicted to being breastfed?
Tossing aside his primary hesitation, Jamie went all in. He first savored the woman’s nipple with a light taste, licking slightly. There was an unbelievable sweetness to it that could not have been natural. Jamie knew this to be true, because he had placed quite the number of nipples into his mouth in his lifetime, and absolutely none of them had tasted this delicious.
He’d have been worried if they had, after all. Yet, this woman’s nipples were just that. They possessed a savory, tangy sweetness, as though he were biting and sucking on a particularly delicious orange, or perhaps as though he were letting his mouth sink into the softest slice of lemon sponge-cake.
He found himself sucking on instinct and the milk which emerged utterly confounded him. It was unbelievably rich, thick and sweet. He felt refreshed immediately, as though he were drinking straight from the fabled fountain of youth. Energy poured into every pore and every vessel of his existence, and the taste left his tongue all but screeching for more.
He immediately stopped once he heard a moan.
He turned his attention to the woman before him. Now for the first time noticing her flushed cheeks, pink ears, and harsh breathing. Even more disturbing, he noticed, now, for the first time, that while both of her hands were holding him, her tail had found itself between her legs, and was making strange, stroke-like movements, up her apron.
…No, it can’t be.
Deciding he was imagining it, he continued to suck, only for the moaning to get slightly louder. Her face appeared hotter, and her tail began thrusting back and forth up her apron even faster.
What in all the Nine Hells?
Jamie was gobsmacked.
She’s aroused from me… from her child… sucking her breasts? She’s masturbating… with me… in her arms… while I’m sucking her —
Certainly, he was no stranger to his fair share of weird fetishes. He enjoyed the occasional play with tentacles, whips, chains, and toys, and could be rather curious about feet. He’d done it with Elves, Dwarves, Tabaxi, Dragonborn and even Fire Genasi, sometimes in groups, most times in pairs, but this?
He was never one to look down on another for their sexual proclivities, but there was something not quite right about a woman who got off from breastfeeding her own child.
It didn’t help things that her milk was simply delectable and a part of his brain simply refused to stop drinking and gobbling it up like a parched man thrown headfirst into a river. The sheer fact that he felt so compelled to keep drinking almost made him think that she was —
Could it be?
He immediately attempted to resist the compulsion.
Charisma Save Initialized.
Strange words floated themselves in front of his eyes in Common, and he blinked, three times, to make sure he was not seeing things.
Save Success.
Just as quickly as he’d thought of it, the compulsion died and the words vanished. The sweetness of the milk remained, but the all-consuming urge to keep on sucking left her, and the woman’s eyes went fully wide.
“Oh… my,” she removed him from her nipple, still leaking white, before raising him up to her eye-level. “...You’ve resisted mommy’s power. You naughty, naughty little boy.”
Her smile grew, wild and wide until it was almost distorted.
“Being able to resist my charms means you’re at least a High-Class,” she tilted her head. “You wouldn’t happen to have figured out how to use your incubus powers yet, would you?”
Come again?
“Try and seduce mommy,” she cooed. “Go on. Go on, now. Show mommy what you can do. Make mommy crazy.”
Things began to click into place. The wings, the heart-shaped tail, the red-eyes with pink haze. The sheer sweetness and irresistible nature of her flesh and fluids, all coupled with her exotically sensual body.
His mother was a succubus.
That meant he was reborn as an Incubus.
And people say fate does not possess a sense of humor.
He’d fought his fair share of succubi in his time. He’d also fucked his fair share of succubi in his time. They were allured in by the fact that his father, Lord Malphas, was an Archfiend so he was essentially a ‘Prince’ to them. They often liked to argue that he should technically be a Half-Fiend rather than a Tiefling, and it was likely only because of the potency of his mother’s pure Elven blood diluting his father’s genes severely that he was able to be born as a Tiefling at all.
Having spent enough time either killing or sleeping with the alluring species, he knew the abilities of succubus and incubus inside and out, so as to not only resist their effects but counter them. His mother, holding him up, seemed expectant for something, and Jamie pondered whether or not he should indeed live up to her expectations.
Eventually, she shook her head and exhaled. “No, no, Selena, Calm down. What are you thinking? He’s only two days old. No matter how much of a genius he is, knowing how to use his incubus powers off the bat is just…”
He had a name, now.
Selena.
He quite liked the name.
Well, then, lady Selena, if you wish to be amazed…
As a Bard, he’d learned how to cast Charm Person at will, but if his theory was right and he was an incubus, regardless of how young, it should be within his ability to simply… Charm.
He felt it rather than sensed it. There was no visible ray of light or effects of the ability, but he immediately sensed her attempts to resist the effects. He knew the very second after he’d used the ability that she would fail horribly, and she did.
Selena stood with him in her arms, and Jamie could swear that her pupils turned into hearts. He blinked, making sure he was not seeing things, but he wasn’t. Selena quickly placed him down and bit her lip, a wild, almost hungry look appearing in her eyes as kissed the side of his face.
“Oh, my, you’ve been a very, very, naughty boy.”
Jamie was concerned. This was not at all the effects of Charm as he knew it. He’d seen succubi use this ability a hundred times over to know that charmed creatures would typically become emotionless and rigid, and obey verbal or telepathic commands. Their pupils didn’t become hearts and they didn’t start attempting to senselessly copulate with the one who charmed them.
Stop.
Selena’s hands froze. She appeared incapable of moving, reacting, or otherwise speaking. Her eyes were still hearts, and her expression was still contorted into one of utter neediness, but Jamie was glad to know that commands would still work.
…Of course, I can’t command anything untoward.
She would remember the entire events of everything that happened while charmed, so, merely asking her to provide him with information would be immediately suspicious once she regained control of her body and began wondering why her two-day-old child was asking so many questions about concepts he shouldn’t have any idea about.
For a moment, Jamie pondered outright telling her the truth, that he was actually a reincarnated Tiefling who’d been reborn due to the anger of an old Wizard —
He immediately discarded the idea. For starters, she was not beautiful. Her soul was primarily self-centered and self-oriented. She saw him as a means to an end and breaking that illusion could cause her to outright become non-compliant with him. Despite being able to use a rather impressive Charm ability, he was still for all intents and purposes, in the form of a baby.
He would have to be patient. Until he at least got a stronger grasp of his surroundings, his environment, and his abilities. Most things could be played off as the natural inquisitiveness of a child, and others could be played off as prodigious talent.
He felt the effects of the Charm he’d placed on Selena begin to weaken as she struggled against it. Seconds later, her pupils transformed from hearts back to their regular round appearance, and Selena blinked, multiple times, before immediately picking him up and squeezing him close to her chest.
“Perfect!” she screamed. “You’re perfect! That was the most textbook use of the Beguile spell I have ever seen! You’re a natural! A perfect, flawless natural.”
Beguile? Jamie pondered. Perhaps they have a different name for things here?
Still, it was troubling. As far as he knew, the duration of Charm was supposed to last at least a full day. Instead, he had merely lasted five minutes. He could not tell if this was another oddity, if Selena was naturally resistant, or if it was because he was far too young and his magic was far too underdeveloped.
He’d been a 40th Level Bard in his old life, and the idea of re-learning all his spells did upset him somewhat, but it was something he could do once more.
For the sake of the beauty of this world —
For the sake of the beauty of his second life.
He would do whatever was needed, because he could not wait, at all, to see what forms of beauty this realm had in store for him.
Chapter 2: Origins
Chapter Text
“Can we get something to eat on our way back?”
“We have food at home.”
“You don't count, Selena."
“Call me mommy.”
“I would really rather not.”
"Mama?"
"No."
"I'll settle for just… mother."
"Selena works fine."
“When you were younger, you called me mommy all the time."
“I didn't know back then that it…"
"You can say it."
Jamie took a deep breath. "Selena —"
"It made me so fucking wet."
"Would you please not, for five minutes —"
"I'd be more inclined to be quiet if I had something in my mouth to suck on~"
"I'll make a note of getting you a lollipop."
Selena sniffed. “I don’t know where I went wrong with you."
"At birth, perhaps."
"Other succubi and incubi mother-son pairs have such strong relationships but you avoid me at every turn.”
“Perhaps because you’ve been trying to rape me since before I was old enough to know what sex is?” Jamie offered.
“I wasn't trying to rape you."
"Really?" Jamie intoned dryly.
"I'm a succubus. You’re an incubus. Having sex with others is what we were designed to do."
"And I suppose consent is optional?"
"Hmph! As long as they enjoy it, what do they have to complain about?"
"Right," Jamie said dryly. "If you're ever ganged up by nine men taking turns, I'll be sure not to bother you if you're having fun."
"Jokes on you. I love gangbangs."
"Supposedly, nine out of ten people do."
Selena barked a shrill laugh, and a large grin formed on her face.
"Have I ever mentioned how much of a turn-on it is to have a sense of humor?"
"Only the thousandth time this week, I'm afraid. Another dozen and I'm sure I'll remember."
"Oh, you're perfect, Jamie."
"For once, you've said something we can both agree on."
"It drives me crazy that you won't let mommy fuck you."
"And… it's gone."
“Every part of you came out of me. I just want one tiny part in me again to wreck me and fill me up so you can have some little succubi brothers and sisters.”
“We've been over this, Selena.”
“You know, If you weren’t so good at resisting Charm magic…” she grumbled. "But today… today, that all changes."
He yawned. "We'll see, Selena."
They flew downwards, making their way from home to one of the many vast, jagged pieces of arid and unutilized land that belonged to the underworld. Glancing upwards at the purple sky and artificial sun, Jamie still found it hard to believe that he was in hell, even after growing up here for the past year.
It was even stranger to learn about the planet, called Earth, a realm completely different from anything he knew of, where technology had taken the place of magic, and the vast majority of humans were incapable of casting the tiniest of cantrips.
The craziest of it was knowing that Elves supposedly did not exist in this world. At least, not in the manner he knew them. There were many varying myths, legends, gods, powers —
There was a lot of beauty to behold.
“Are you ready?”
Selena stood before him in a skin-tight bikini and cracked a long, black leather whip. Her breasts were almost bursting forth, and he could see her erect nipples through the fabric of the material. Her tail curled behind her, and there was clear precipitation on the bottom of her bikini which marked her blatant and absolute arousal.
“I'd rather not do this at all,” he took his own stance. “But as long as we're here, I might as well wrap things up before lunch.”
The sub-sonic crack of her whip echoed out in the air. “You’ve gotten cocky,” Selena smirked. “They grow up so fast.”
She was not wrong. As Jamie had come to discover, succubi and incubi aged faster than most species until they reached sexual maturity, then stopped aging entirely, relying purely on sexual intercourse to maintain their youth and essentially guarantee themselves immortality.
After three months, he was the equivalent of a six-year-old boy, writing, reading, interacting with his peers, and onwards. He’d spent the majority of the first three months learning about the culture of the Underworld, and how vastly it differed from the Nine Hells but also noting how similar they were.
He still remembered how learning that one of the Satans was named Asmodeus and it had given him cause for panic until he dug deeper to discover that they weren’t the Asmodeus that he knew.
Three more months and he was the equivalent of a twelve-year-old, a prepubescent teenager in the eyes of most. It was at this point that Selena dropped all guise of motherly love and care and made her advances clear about her desire to fuck him so he could inseminate her.
He’d seen his fair share of strange requests in the Forgotten Lands, but this was simply one he was not inclined on doing.
There was no beauty to be found in having children with Selena — a woman to whom her beauty was only purely external. He did not wish to bring fresh life into this confusing world when he’d yet to fully explore, grasp and discover what it had to offer, and the concept of being both a father and older brother to his siblings was not something he fancied.
He had turned her down completely. Selena had not given up. He’d been right about Selena being the type of ‘mother’ who had given birth to him entirely for self-centered goals, and that goal was getting his sperm into her by any means necessary.
She’d at first attempted to simply charm him in the middle of the night and rape him, but he’d grown resistant and eventually, immune to her abilities and stopped her before she could do so.
She then tried physical force, to subdue him with physical might and have her way with him —
And that ended with him charming her and ordering her to command of complete sexual abstinence for a month.
He’d discovered that while he could charm people for far less time than normal, whatever long-term orders he implemented while someone was charmed would still be carried out once the effects wore off.
Selena learned not to try to force herself on him after that.
Still not determined to give up, she offered a solution. A fight once a month. They would fight with their all on the line, and the winner could give one command to the loser, and that command must be followed and obeyed without question until the next fight.
Jamie agreed.
She’d first challenged him when he was six months old, or, by incubus standards, twelve years old. She’d assumed that he lacked any and all combat prowess and it would be a chance to teach him how to fight while also getting what she wanted.
He’d summarily beaten her in sixteen seconds and dispelled that illusion from her mind completely. He hadn’t even needed to use most of his spells. Just two simple cantrips: Hideous Laughter to make her collapse and unable to fight, then ordering Mage Hand to tie her up while she was too busy laughing.
It had given Jamie the opportunity to learn that his magic seemed to have different rules applied in this realm. For starters, Mage Hand was a lot more… versatile than initially expected, and the only solid limitation it had was that it could not attack people.
Only physically striking someone was considered an attack, which meant he could use the spectral hand to push, trip, drag, or just outright tickle or tap someone in the middle of a fight.
He’d ordered her not to bother him for another month. During that time, Selena vanished during the week, and came back, looking battered and tired, doing this, again and again, each night. He didn’t question it, as she’d left him with enough books and something called a ‘Computer’ to do comprehensive self-study on the beauties of the world.
A month passed, and their second fight began. She’d been able to resist Hideous Laughter, to Jamie’s surprise, and was fast enough to cross the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Jamie had been forced to disengage and retreat, and he tried a different tactic and cast his first true spell of this second life.
Selena did not have much training in resisting Sleep and summarily fell unconscious. Once more, he tied her up, and waited for her to awaken, before declaring it his victory.
And thus for another month, he had peace and quiet to read, study and research.
It had been eight months since his reincarnation now, and no one who’d look at him would believe he was a baby mere eight months ago. He appeared no different from what one would expect a sixteen-year-old teenager would look like. He wore his red skin proudly, stood at six-foot-two inches, and was robed in the manner of dressing one would expect of a young noble. His long black hair was tied neatly behind him in a short ponytail, and he wore comfortable black Oxford shoes along with a pair of dark-red socks.
Selena had not changed or aged a day in all eight months, but he was already taller than her and soon reaching true maturity in the eyes of the incubi community. At twelve months, he would be considered a full-fledged adult by their standards.
“Ready?” Selena called out. “Because here comes momma!”
Selena crouched low, before bursting forwards, the ground underneath her feet shattering as she approached. Jamie placed his hands into his pockets and exhaled. One of the main differences he’d learned between this world and his old one, was that beings of this world were all —
Fast.
Selena appeared in front of him, her right foot extended high in an axe kick. Jamie flew backward, not even bothering to turn as Selena's heeled boot made contact with solid granite and shattered it like glass.
Strong.
She blurred forward again, extending her whip. He placed his hands in his pocket as his eyes locked onto the object and traced the path. With a muffled whisper of Mage Hand, a spectral hand appeared right in front of him, catching the whip inches before it made contact with his face.
Jamie craned his neck and exhaled.
I still don't know how they do it…
The method of mana circulation utilized by supernatural beings in this world made them immensely faster and impossibly stronger compared to a regular human. People here moved faster than the blink of an eye, and it would taken some getting used to. In the Forgotten Realms, things were different. Most two-legged beings could move about sixty feet in six seconds, but he’d clocked in Selena’s max speed at covering a distance of one-eighty feet in zero-point-four seconds.
And, according to her, she was classified as Low-Class, which meant she was on the slower end of the spectrum.
I truly hope I don't have to fight people on the higher end of that asinine spectrum.
He didn’t know how else to deal with the knowledge that some creatures in this world were faster than sound — faster than light.
There were a lot of powerful beings in the Forgotten Realms, but he’d never gone up against anyone who could move faster than light. How would Wizards even have time to cast their spells if there was a person who could just… blitz you before you could utter the first syllable?
“You’re getting distracted!”
Her whip spun out of the grasp of his spectral hand and launched straight towards him.
I suppose now's a good time to bring this to a close.
He hadn’t used that particular cantrip in quite some time, and he wanted to see if there were any significant differences. With that knowledge, he opened his mouth —
And Jamie spoke.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a mother.”
The effects were instant. Selena’s head jerked as though he’d slapped her face. She lost focus on her whip, and the attack whizzed by him, the subsonic crack of the whip ringing slightly in his ears.
She dropped to the ground from her flying position. Genuine confusion wracked her face, but more than that, genuine… pain.
“W-w-what?”
Well, this is odd.
“Didn’t you hear me? I guess you must be as deaf as you are worthless.”
She recoiled again, acting, once more, as though someone had punched her square in the stomach. She collapsed on one knee, holding her head. “...W-w-what are y-you saying? I-I’m not —”
“You’re fighting your son just so you can fuck him? Disgusting. All I can think about is how much of a useless, piece of trash you are. You’re nothing but a dog — a worthless bitch in heat.”
Selena staggered, holding her head. “No, I —”
“Bark for me, bitch.”
“I — y-you — ”
“I said BARK.”
“Arf! Arf!” Selena got down on all fours. Tears were streaming from her eyes as she continued to bark. “Arf! I’m useless! You’re right! I’m a useless, horny, bitch!”
He’d seen enough.
With his hands in his pockets, he flew over to her, and stood before her. Her eyes seemed to be glossy and hazed over, and she approached him on all fours, barking and whimpering.
“Arf! Arf!”
“That’s enough.”
“Arf!”
“I said it’s enough, Selena.”
Calling her name seemed to do the trick. Her cloudy eyes cleared, and she rose, on her knees, before holding her head with her hands.
“My… my head hurts… what… what just happened?”
“Vicious Mockery.”
“W-what?”
“A spell of mine,” Jamie explained. “I was not expecting it to do…” He gestured to her. “All of that.”
Vicious Mockery was a staple cantrip of every self-respecting Bard. It dealt minor psychic damage to an enemy and ensured their future attacks would be more likely to miss due to their altered mental state. It was not that damaging to an opponent unless upcast at higher levels, but even then, he’d never just completely decimated an opponent’s will to fight with it like that.
Perhaps because I'm an incubus now, my Charisma-based spell-casting received a tremendous boost?
“I-it felt…” Selena shivered. “It felt like you were breaking into my mind. Telling me all the things I was, deep inside and forcing me to believe it. I couldn’t resist it. I couldn’t… couldn’t fight back against it or… deny it —”
“Was that your first time being hit with psychic damage?”
“P-psychic what?”
It seems I may have made a blunder.
"Have you ever heard of an intellect devourer?"
She stared at him as though he were speaking a foreign language.
"Hmmm… perhaps a mind flayer then?"
"You flayed my mind?"
"If I did, you wouldn't be speaking."
Selena pouted at him. "Don't go lobotomizing me just because you have a somnophilia fetish."
"...It seems you're fine if you can afford to keep making bad jokes."
She gasped. "How dare you! I make awesome jokes all the time!"
"Name one."
"I made you didn't I?"
He resisted the tug at his lips. "Touché."
"What… was that you did to me?"
"Magic that affects the mind," he said, briefly. "It seems you don't have any specific resistance to mental attacks. That's bad."
"It… is?"
"It means any two-bit wizard can pluck your thoughts straight from your head and compel you to do their bidding."
"Sounds…" Selena licked her lips. "Kinky."
"No, not kinky," Jamie said. "Dangerous. If you crumble from a cantrip as minor as that, it would be effortless for someone more powerful to make you their eternal slave."
"And that's bad… because?"
Jamie rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just… hold still, let me check to make sure there aren't any long term effects."
"Okay…?"
"Bark."
Selena grinned. "Arf."
He gave her a flat look.
"What?"
"Now's not the time for jokes, Selena."
It was, after all, an attack on one’s mind — the psyche. In the Forgotten Realms, the worst of the effects would wear off after a long rest or two, but this was not the Forgotten Realms. He already knew that a few of his cantrips operated on different rules here, and there was no doubt in his mind that a lot of his spells would be different as well.
“Either way," he exhaled "This still counts as my victory.”
Selena didn’t respond. There was no snappy rebuttal. No ‘I’ll get you next time’ that usually came with the announcement of his success.
"What, don't tell me you're finally giving up?"
"Those words you said… did you mean them?"
Selena looked up to him with a smile. He could tell at a glance that it was fake. It was a blatant and absolute caricature.
“Am… I really… that worthless to you as a mother?”
He flicked his finger directly into her forehead.
"Ouch!"
“I meant none of the words I uttered.”
"You… didn't?"
She laughed. It was an airy, light laugh. One that looked as though she'd let go of the weight of the world off her shoulders.
“My, Selena, I didn't realize you cared so much of what I think of you.”
“Of course I do!" She snapped "After all I—”
She stopped, abruptly, sharply snapping her mouth shut.
"You… what?"
"Nothing," she said quickly.
"Dear Selena, it is in your best interest to tell me what you were about to say," Jamie smiled. "Or shall I cast Hideous Laughter on you endlessly till you pee yourself?"
"You wouldn't —"
He lifted his right hand up.
"Okay! Okay!" Selena relented. She bit down on her lower lip and exhaled.
"Well?"
“The truth is… Jamie… I shouldn’t be your mother, to begin with,” Selena let out a smile. “I stole you… from someone more deserving.”
“Stole… me?”
She went from kneeling to sitting and gestured to a nearby rock beside her. Jamie moved to sit there, and she placed her head against his shoulders, before sighing loudly.
They sat there, for several minutes, in silence. It was rare for himself and Selena to be so close to each other yet for there to be no noise emerging between them. Usually it was banter. Playful and flirtatious from her, and deadpan and wry from him.
His senses, enhanced, could hear her heartbeat and he could feel the warmth of her body simply from how close she was to him.
“I’m not strong, Jamie."
"That much is clear, yes."
She laughed. "You're strong, though."
"I've had practice."
"But all you do all day is stay in your room and read books."
"They do say knowledge is power."
She laughed a second time. It was shorter. Briefer.
"I wish I had that, growing up."
"It's never too late to learn —"
"Not knowledge," she shook her head. "Power."
A terse silence followed her statement.
"...I was born with nothing."
She shrugged her shoulders, as though it were an immutable fact.
"Born to an older succubus who wanted to create her own family dynasty. Six sisters, two brothers, and I, the runt of the litter, the weakest, smallest, and least powerful."
"You had the biggest breasts, I'd like to think."
She pinched him lightly on the shoulder. "Flatterer."
Her cheeks burned a rosy red, to which Jamie found amusing.
"So, I have six aunts and two uncles?" Jamie asked. "Where are they now?"
She did not answer. Her gaze instead went to the sky. Empty. It took him but a minute to understand.
"Oh."
"It's not the strongest who survives, Jamie," Selena said. "It's the one who survives that becomes the strongest."
"How did they…?"
"Bad place, bad time," Selena shrugged. "Exorcists. Fallen Angels. High-class devils using them for…" she paused. "Entertainment."
The word was strained. Forced. It was clear it was not the type or kind of 'entertainment' she found pleasurable.
"I was a succubus born with nothing,” she said. “And I lost everything. So I dreamt big. I wanted to have a large, powerful family. One that wouldn't…" she licked her lips, which had become dry now. "One that would be able to survive anything. But I'm weak. I'm weak and useless, and can't do anything on my own, Jamie."
He placed his hand around her neck. The ground was not the most comfortable place. The winds that blew were harsh and strong, but he did not find it in him to care at that moment as he listened. As he found himself enraptured.
"I knew early on that the only hope of my dreams coming true was if I was impregnated by a powerful devil and bore their child.”
It clicked.
"I'm… part devil?"
Selena laughed. "Yes."
Jamie did not know what to make of it. He'd always assumed he was a pureblooded incubus. The knowledge that the paternal side of his family was made of devils was… odd.
As though it were something that should disturb him, but it didn't.
“Who's my father?”
“I… don't know.”
"You don't know?"
“No,” she said. “I’m a succubus. A low-end sub-race so weak that we’re barely considered devils. We derive our power from sexual intercourse and need to have sex regularly to survive, so it’s a given that we have a large body count."
"What does it matter?"
"It matters to devils. Most devils are prideful and want their wives to be virgins, or at least, they want the guarantee that they aren’t ‘used goods.’”
That was a surprisingly regressive fact about Devil Society he was not aware of.
“That aside, devils also have a notoriously low fertility rate. Even if I were to get married to a high-ranking devil as a concubine, the odds that I would ever bear their child were slim to none.”
She turned to him, a smile on her face.
“My dreams seemed to be just that… dreams.”
Jamie frowned. He did not believe it. He did not wish to believe it.
“Then, how am I here?”
Selena didn't answer. Instead, like a baby, she crawled between his legs and rested her chest on his thighs, looking straight up into his eyes.
From his position, he could feel her nipples graze his knee and the full weight and softness of her breasts on his legs. Her eyes which had always seemed so full of mischief now looked at him with deep, complete and utter earnestness.
A deep, pure, and absolute earnestness which did more to strangely arouse him than anything her naked body would ever be capable of.
Still, he steeled his mind, and asked again.
"How am I here, Selena?"
"Do you promise not to hate me if I tell you?"
"I can't make that promise beforehand. Not when I do not know what it is you are going to tell me."
She pushed deeper until she was on her knees and her breasts rested on his crotch and pushed against his lower abdomen. Her eyes sparkled, and Jamie forced himself to not look away, to match her gaze, even as he felt himself stirring and rising from the closeness of her touch, allure of her rose-scent, and pureness of her eyes.
Pureness and succubus were words which seemed oxymoronic to place together, yet, he could find no other suitable word for the look she possessed in that moment. It was the sort of look that was Jamie's biggest weakness.
"How am I here?"
He asked, for the third time. And finally, she relented.
“One of my devil customers, a regular from before I retired constant sex work,” Selena admitted. “When we had sex and I would read his memories. He worked for the Beelzebub. He and his crew had unearthed an ancient lab belonging to one of the old Satans. In it, they’d found a perfectly preserved sample specimen of semen belonging to old devils."
He felt his breath hitch in his throat.
"Due to an accident in transit, many of the samples were rendered useless. All except one —”
She rose on her knees to whisper into his ears.
“Yours.”
She returned down to her knees, still glancing into his eyes as she paid no attention to the strange tightness and bulge beneath his pants.
“A semen sample that belonged to the head of one of the Original 72 Pillar Houses of the Underworld. Perfectly preserved. I saw it as my opportunity. My chance.”
Selena exhaled. She slowly unzipped his pants. The sound of the zipper was deafening in Jamie's ears. He hissed, giving her a warning glare. She smiled, but otherwise did not relent.
“I beguiled him and had him steal the sample for me. I inseminated it and became pregnant."
His cock emerged from its constraints, hard, stiff, and hot. So hot in fact, that bits of steam emerged as the zipper opened. Selena's eyes went full and wide, before glossing over with deep yearning as she buried her nose into it, and took a deep, shameless whiff.
"My hopes were that I would have a strong son. A strong and powerful child that would protect his weak, useless mother. Love his weak useless mother. Find a use for his useless mother… one that he would enjoy, and that she would enjoy too."
She licked her lips and nuzzled his cock. The full length of which cast a deep shadow over her face and beyond.
"And then, we would have children. Succubi do not suffer the same effects of inbreeding as other races, so our children, your siblings, would be born strong. We would have a large family, a strong dynasty. And I’d be by your side, not as a concubine, not as a useless mother…”
She licked the underside of his cock, causing him to exhale sharply.
"But as a wife," she licked again. "A queen," and then, she licked a third time. "An empress."
Then, she smiled, planted a kiss at the tip of his throbbing cock.
"One totally devoted… to her family."
Jamie bit hard on his lip as he gazed into her eyes and found it hard for him to even so much as focus.
"You're throbbing."
"I can see that."
She placed her chin against his lap. "I've never seen you this hard. You're struggling so much not to blow all over my face. What… changed?"
"...You."
Selena tilted her head. "Me?"
"Your… honesty."
She moved her hand to her lips coyly and laughed. "You're aroused by… honesty?"
"By beauty," he corrected her sharply. "When one is honest, not only to others, but to themselves, it is one of the most beautiful things to see, and… it…"
"Arouses you?"
Jamie licked his dry lips. "Very much so."
She gently moved her hand over to his cock, and gripped it. Jamie cursed as his vision went white. His cock twitched as he clenched his buttocks.
A thick spray of white, gooey, viscous cum escaped burst upwards like a fountain, before coming down, splashing on Selena's face. The succubus laughed as the sticky material landed on her hair and nose, her eyes and chin. She stopped laughing once it landed over her mouth, and instead her eyes grew wide as she licked it.
"It's… thick. Like… glue. And this taste…"
Her expression contorted.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
Jamie was still reeling from the stars and the whiteness to fully understand her question. He could not, in all his life, ever recall having an orgasm quite as powerful as the one he just had.
"W-what?"
"When last did you masturbate?"
He blinked at the odd, seemingly random question. "I… don't."
She gasped. "You don't remember?"
"No, I… don't masturbate."
He hadn't since he was a teenager in his previous life. In this life, he'd never masturbated at all. There was simply too much to learn and —
"You idiot!"
Selena smacked him over the head.
"You're an incubus, Jamie!" She yelled. "You might only be half-incubus, but you're still growing! Sex is your life-line! You've gone this long without cumming once, so there's so much magical power backed up in your sperm! Your magical power is building up in there, and if you don't release it through sex —"
"Please don't tell me my balls will explode."
"You'll die."
He almost didn't want to believe her. It was the no-nonsense manner she uttered the words that made him realize she was serious.
"Come again?"
"Your soul is connected to your sexual activity and energy on a fundamental level. You have a high concentration of masculine sexual energy which needs to be balanced with a high concentration of feminine sexual energy."
"...again?"
Selena rolled her eyes. "As an incubus, think of your body as a vessel containing acid. Over time the toxicity and potency builds up, but you need to add some bases to reduce the acidity, or else the acid will become so strong it'll just melt through the vessel and destroy it."
That would not be good. He would rather avoid such an outcome if he could help it.
"You're telling me I need to constantly have sex if I don't want to… die?"
"Yes, dummy," Selena began to lick the remnants of his cum on her face. "Having sex balances the energy and tops it off. You can also drain the magical power, memories and skills of whoever you sleep with and use them to enhance yourself, make yourself younger, healthier —"
"Does the quality of sex matter?"
Selena blinked at the question. "As long as you derive enough pleasure and sexual energy — you should be fine."
I see…
"Are there any other racial features I should know that seem rather… important?"
Selena tilted her head. "Do you mean besides the basics?"
"Basics?"
She extended her hand and began to list off. "Our body fluids are delicious to all races and function as aphrodisiacs, we're capable of entering and hijacking dreams of people," she paused. "We can beguile, brainwash and seduce men and women into doing our bidding, we can heighten sexual feelings in others or cause emotions of jealousy, envy or inadequacy. We can sense emotions of lust, love, hatred and envy, we can also completely paralyze someone should they have any body parts in a sexual organ or vice versa —"
He didn't know a lot of that. It seems his education about the finer parts of his new race was sorely lacking. He'd simply been running on the assumption that things worked as they did in the Forgotten Realms…
That… that was something which would get him killed.
"Selena," Jamie said. "Would you be a darling and mind tutoring me on the finer parts of being an incubus? It seems I may be… lacking a bit."
Selena squealed.
"Yes! Yes!"
The way she reacted, one would think he'd asked for her hand in marriage.
"You seem rather… happy."
"I'm just… glad…" she wiped a tear from her eye. "Glad I can finally be of use."
Jamie glanced over the woman, and couldn't help but feel the tug at his lips.
Oh, you silly little thing… you've always been of use to me. You've just never known it.
"But… since we're coming clean, there's something I should tell you. It's about… your name."
"I do rather like Jamie as a name —"
"I didn't choose it."
Jamie blinked.
"It was… the name on the test tube. With your sperm sample. The name is androgynous, so it was designed to be given to either a boy or a girl that was born from the sample. Along with your last name… your family name."
Jamie inhaled.
"What is it?"
"...Malphas."
Jamie froze.
"Your full name is Jamie Malphas, Heir of the Fallen Malphas Clan of the 72 Pillar Clans of the Devil Underworld."
Malphas.
Lord Malphas Darkblight.
Jamie Darkblight was now… Jamie Malphas.
If fate was a true entity in this realm, Jamie decided that he was going to find her -
And he was going to fuck her.
Gods, he would fuck her so hard.
Chapter 3: Seek and Ye Shall Find
Chapter Text
Forty of the original 72 Pillar Houses are thought to be extinct following the Great War, and today, only 32 Houses remain. Several devils of the original pillar houses possessed notable Clan Traits which marked them as being born of a specific clan. The Bael Family's Power of Destruction and the Phenex Family's Immortality and manipulation over flame and wind are great examples of dominant traits that occur in Pillar Houses —
Jamie clicked his tongue as he skipped ahead several pages.
The Houses were also ranked, not only by prestige but by magical power. This system has of course fallen out of favor in the modern day due to the creation of Rating Games, however —
He skipped ahead again until he found it.
The Malphas Family, ranked 39th out of 72nd in overall power, falls just two steps below the Phenex Family. Most of the official records of the specifics of the power of Clan Malphas is lost to history, however, they did possess the notable physiological feature called Rubus Dermatitis, a condition marked with deep red skin, and horns — traits many humans today typically associate with images of devils.
Jamie exhaled as he continued reading.
In addition to their red skin and horns, the Malphas were thought to possess the power to control words. Utterances made by those of the Malphas Clan were said to be capable of shattering the wills of enemies, driving men to madness, or rousing entire armies. Some records claim that Lord Salman Malphas II was capable of killing his foes with a single utterance, but it is unknown how much of this is mere speculation. Many scholars have called into question the veracity of such claims, asking if such a feat is even possible.
Jamie snorted. Of course it was possible. Anyone who'd learned how to cast Power-Word Kill could do it. He could do it.
Well, not right now. Right now, he was only at about the strength of a Third Level Spellcaster. It was decent work. He’d only been reincarnated for eight months, after all. Considering he wasn’t running around killing monsters, his power was growing at an impressive, almost staggering rate.
Jamie placed the book down and leaned back into his chair.
Still nothing of a Malphas Darkblight, at the very least…
There were no mentions of his father in this realm. Perhaps, at the end of the day, it was merely a coincidence. Merely a coincidence that his father’s name was also the name of a Family of Devils. Jamie did not want to believe it. He did not believe in coincidences. The universe was too beautiful for sheer coincidences to occur without there being an originating point, somehow, someway.
A sense of unease permeated him. The sensation he felt was as though there was a hanging invisible sword atop his head, poised to cut him down. His mind was in disarray.
He decided to take a walk to clear his mind.
Exiting his scarce, almost minimalistic room and descending down the stairs, he momentarily froze at Selena standing on her tiptoes over the kitchen counter, her legs between the edges, as she gently rocked her hips back and forth and moaned softly. Breakfast remained on the table, half-cooked, and, to no surprise of his, the ingredients were all phallic shaped, from cucumbers to carrots and potatoes —
He ignored the fact that they were all glistening with fluids and tried to convince himself that it was merely water. Or precipitation. Yes, precipitation. This was what Jamie told himself, rather than accept that Selena had masturbated with the ingredients she was going to use to cook dinner.
Muttering a quick and silent Invisibility, he flew by her, right through the kitchen and into the small living room. He reached for the door with all the stealth he’d mastered in his long years of living —
Stealth Check Initialized.
And the strange words he’d seen months ago came back into the periphery of his vision. He’d learned to ignore them by now, as they seemed to mostly be harmless flavor text that prompted themselves whenever he performed an action.
He wasn’t sure if it was an oddity of his devil powers, his incubus powers, or being reincarnated, and truthfully? He did not care enough to find out.
Check Success.
The door opened with a silent click and he shut it behind him with an equally silent click. Selena and Jamie’s home was a quaint little inlet located at the edge of the borders of what was called the Agares Territory, in an area called Prejudice Valley.
The Agares Territory was built around a series of mountains and valleys, and there was segregation between the areas. At the outskirts, the Valley, the Low-Class Devils lived in medieval-styled homes and had the bare amenities, but clearly lacked luxury and wealth. Inwards, the Middle-Class Devils lived in an area called Envy City, which had modern-day european-styled chalets, and they possessed top-of-the-line entertainment, food, wine, and culture.
Then deep within, the Citadel of Pride held the High-Class Devils in their monolithic, giant buildings which stood hundreds of feet tall and pierced the skies. Finally built deep into, around and on top of the mountainous region, was Castle Agares — home of the Agares Family of the 72 Pillar Clans.
Jamie had never been to Envy City or the Citadel of Pride. He found Prejudice Valley to be… homely. The classic medieval housing and infrastructure reminded him of villages in the Forgotten Realms. Everything about Prejudice Valley appealed to him, the smooth cobblestone roads, ambient air of a rustic rural side and evening lamps illuminated and run on bottled lightning magic called electricity.
With his invisibility still in effect, Jamie flew around with his hands in his pockets, moving his body with naught but his mind and magical power. Down below, he found that many Devils opted to walk rather than fly. Flying was something that actually took effort, training, and required a decent amount of magic reserves to do constantly. One needed to be a Mid-to-High Class Devil to simply fly everywhere they went, which was another thing Jamie found odd.
Truly, so many, many oddities about this place.
The vast majority of devils living in the Valley were no different from common folk. They did not at all fit his preconceived notions of devils in hell.
They primarily farmed food, and fresh vegetables had complex social structures, formed and made interpersonal relationships, and possessed a hierarchy that was entirely dependent on magical power.
“Please! We didn’t know! We - ”
“Know your place commoner!”
A small commotion down below drew his attention and making sure his invisibility was still in effect, he flew above the scene of what appeared to be three young children being mercilessly manhandled by one smaller, clearly bratty child.
The bratty child had long, pale-greenish blond hair and wore spectacles, and his clothes marked him as someone who did not belong in the Valley. They were clean. Too clean, Jamie noted. Pristinely ironed to the point the lines appeared sharp, the boy was likely someone from the Citadel. The three other children, two boys and one girl, Jamie recognized. He’d seen them working the farms whenever he took his occasional invisible walks around, and they were decent, harmless kids.
The bratty blond huffed as he rose his hand, and a small, concentrated sphere of magic power appeared within it.
“To think I’m forced to breathe the same air as you maggots! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my mother is?”
“P-please, w-we didn’t mean to —”
“Shut up!” the bratty boy yelled. “Even if you didn’t intend to bump into me, your fate was sealed the second you did so. Allow me to show you the vast, incomparable difference between you and I!”
Jamie felt it.
Magical Pressure.
The air was saturated with a thick amount of magic so heavy that it began to exert an additional force on the surrounding gravity. The bratty kid may have been unsightly, but he did have a significant amount of magic running through his veins. The children before him flattened to the ground like pancakes from the pressure, their faces, and joints digging into the earth.
The boy stood, laughing as he crossed his arms. “Hahaha! Now, do you understand the difference between us? Kneel, maggots! Kneel and beg for mercy, and I may yet prove a just and forgiving lord!”
Unsightly.
The boy was repugnant. Hideous. There was nothing beautiful or remarkable about the strong needlessly oppressing the weak. There was no beauty in a child who’d been pampered and spoiled.
It soured his mood, seeing it.
Jamie decided to go somewhere else where there would be beauty abound, and where he would not have to watch the pointless display.
Despite what many would believe, Jamie was not a hero.
He pursued beauty and sought it out wherever it was, and he would rise to the occasion to defend the beauty of the world should there be anything that attempted to snuff it out.
It just so happened that in the Forgotten Realms, a lot of beings wished to snuff out the world’s beauty. If the world was taken over by fiends, it would be less beautiful, so he sought to kill his father, amongst other personal reasons.
If Illithids successfully ate the brains of everyone, the world would be less beautiful, so he sought to kill them during the Great Illithid Invasion that followed the Blight Purge.
If the world was razed to ashes due to the desire for vengeance possessed by an army of dragons, there would be no beauty to appreciate, and thus, Jamie sought to slay the dragons.
Thus, he rose to the occasion to stop the decimation of beauty again and again. He’d originally joined Lightbringer merely because the party consisted of beautiful individuals like the elf Calista and the Genasi Àlympa. Along the way, the idea of a group of mighty heroes slaying evil and regarding the world with their deeds had appealed to him as much as the sheer beauty of adventure, and thus he’d stayed.
Flying away from the scene, Jamie mused over the strange nature of the class stratification of devils. Devils were either low, mid, or high class at birth, and this distinction was calculated using their innate capacity and capability to use magic.
Zakara, his old Rogue companion and Xavier, the Barbarian of Lightbringer, would have hated it here. Zakara hated magic so strongly that she'd been on a quest to assassinate a group of Wizards when they'd first met, and Xavier believed muscles reigned supreme, to which the man backed up with the fact that he could cleave a dozen Wizards with his double-ended glaive faster than most of them could cast a spell.
“W-w-w-what are you doing?”
He stopped mid-flight, as his danger senses began to go haywire. He snapped his head back to the blonde boy, and now noticed something different. The boy was panicking, as a sphere of colorless translucent light began to emanate from his hand, growing and growing at a rate that seemed… dangerous.
“Silence! I — I have this under control!”
It’s always the confident ones…
He didn’t know what that sphere did, nor what power the boy possessed, but by the looks of things, it was about to go haywire. Jamie could care less about the children and the boy, but he’d come to rather like the Valley. The Valley was beautiful, and the last thing he needed spoiling the Valley’s nice ambience and calm days was some sort of disastrous magic accident in the middle of the streets.
He flew back to the boy’s location and landed silently behind him. Still invisible, he placed his right hand on the boy’s shoulder and cast the first Third Level Spell of his new life.
“Dispel Magic.”
The chaotic translucent ball of magic simply fizzled out of existence roughly around the same time his invisibility came undone. The boy stared, upwards, in confusion and shock, before turning to look Jamie straight into the eyes.
And, like the devil he was, Jamie smiled.
“Hello there.”
The boy shuddered. Jamie could feel it. He could smell it. Jamie didn’t know if it was his red skin and horns which had such an unsettling effect, or if it was the jaunty manner he’d introduced himself, or perhaps if it was the smile on his face that did the trick —
But for one reason or another, the boy in front of him was completely and utterly terrified of him.
Before he could say anything else, the boy’s fancy clothes burst in a ray of light and left him standing, stark naked, in the middle of the street.
Ah, that’s rather… unfortunate.
The boy glanced at his naked body, before Jamie felt a pulse of magic escape from the boy's naked form. The boy's eyes promptly rolled into the back of his head, foam sizzled from his mouth and he collapsed to the ground, motionless and unmoving.
…Very, rather unfortunate.
He turned to the Valley children, who were just now getting up on their feet, covered in scratches and bruises. Each and every one of them had their jaws glued to the ground.
“You three wouldn’t happen to know if Doctor Amri is home, by any chance?”
XXXXX
In the past eight months, Jamie only ever stepped out of his home officially three times. That is — the three times he and Selena did battle. He had, however, gone out numerous times, while invisible, to take a stroll in the moonlight or breath in hell’s fresh air.
This of course meant most of the village locals did not know him. It was also why Dr. Amri had been outright suspicious of him when he arrived with a naked and unconscious boy in his arms. The good doctor had shaggy gray hair and wore round-rimmed spectacles. He stank of nicotine and alcohol and walked with a bit of a crouch. Jamie rolled his eyes at the suspicious looks the good doctor shot him before the man caught a simple glance at the boy’s blonde hair and immediately declared:
“Fuck.”
Not much needed to be said before the boy was rushed into the tiny room. Jamie leaned back against the door of the man’s small, family-run clinic and watched as the man began to run all sorts of tests, checks, and examinations on the unconscious lad. It was strange seeing so much technology, especially considering the vast majority of it were things to which he could not fathom their purpose.
A few weeks back, as an apology, Selena had gotten him a magic tool called a 'Computer' which had access to something called the 'Internet' which was a global collective data storage of the world's knowledge accessible through some sort of sorcery done via the aid of technology.
It was the sort of thing that would probably have left old Adriel foaming at the mouth, merely because of how secretive most Wizards tended to be about knowledge and its value. The idea that anyone would simply create a magical library filled with all the world's knowledge that could be accessed by anyone, anywhere else in the world, was as asinine as it was dangerous.
Yet, there it was — there it existed, with seemingly no limitation, no restriction, no barrier to entry other than the utilization of the "Computer" device which was easily one of the strangest and most versatile magic tools he'd ever utilized.
Selena argued that it was technology, not magic, but Jamie honestly could not see the difference.
“All his vital signs seem to be in order. It seems to be simple magic exhaustion. He’s alive and well, and as soon as he regains his magical power he’ll wake up. So we’re not all completely screwed, thankfully.”
“Quite good to know, doctor,” Jamie pushed off the wall. “If that’ll be all —”
“Hold it,” the doctor waved his hand, and a large magic circle appeared over the door, locking it shut. It was the first time he’d seen a magic circle. His inner inquisitiveness sparked.
“I’ve lived in this Valley for seventy-three long years,” Dr. Amri said. “I’d sure as hell remember if there were someone who lived here with red skin and horns like yours.”
“I’m afraid I’m new.”
“That much I can tell,” Dr. Amri snorted. “Who are you?”
“Would you happen to know a lovely woman named Selena by any chance?”
Dr. Amri blinked. Once. Then twice.
“...Jamie?”
It was Jamie’s turn to blink.
“You know me?”
“Know you?” Dr. Amri snorted. “Who do you think helped your mother birth you?”
Well, that’s a surprise.
“Small valley,” Jamie said.
“Real small,” Dr. Amri nodded. “I heard incubi reach maturity over four times faster than regular devils, but seeing is believing. You're, what, four months old?”
“Eight,” he corrected.
“And that would be… roughly sixteen,” Dr. Amri rubbed his chin. “You’re almost an adult. At least, by incubi standards. By devil standards you’re still a brat.”
A tug pulled on Jamie’s lips. Devils lived near-indefinite lifespans he was told, so the old doctor could be anything from ninety years old to three hundred. Even if Jamie added his past life’s years to this one, he still technically could be younger than the man.
“Do you know just who exactly you’ve brought into my clinic?”
“A child in need of an attitude adjustment and better parental figures,” Jamie supplied. “His magic was going haywire. I’m afraid it’d have done considerable damage to the valley had I not intervened.”
“And how exactly did you intervene?”
Dr. Amri’s eyes were sharp. Pointed. He was searching for answers. It amused Jamie. The man didn’t need to be so openly suspicious.
“I dispelled the magic.”
“You… what?”
“I dispelled the magic,” he repeated.
Dr. Amri stared at him for a long time.
“How?”
Jamie blinked. How?
A sudden thought came to him.
Are spell-casters here not capable of dispelling magic?
No, that would be ridiculous. Dispel Magic was a Third Level spell. Every Warlock, Sorcerer, or Wizard worth their salt needed to know how to cast it. How else would you remove dangerous enchantments and curses from objects?
“Would you like a demonstration?”
He extended his hand to the door, and once more, silently uttered under his breath. “Dispel Magic.”
He felt the second and final of his third-level spell slots close up. The magic circle placed against the door shattered like glass and Dr. Amri took in a deep, sharp breath.
“In…credible.”
“From that expression, I take it dispelling magic isn’t common.”
“No,” Dr. Amri rasped. “The ability to dispel the magic of others with such ease is not something that anyone can just do. If it were commonplace, most enchantments, security measures, and magical protections that exist would just be… useless. It would —”
Dr. Amri’s face grew wild.
“You’re capable of rendering all geases, magical contracts, and binding oaths useless with a touch. If you can remove everything from family and slave crests to perhaps…”
Dr. Amri snapped his attention to the boy.
“That’s why he’s naked.”
“Come again?”
“His clothes,” Dr. Amrit explained. “There must have been layers of magical protection on his clothes! Dispelling the protection caused them to disintegrate. It’s also why he has magic exhaustion — you dispelled all the magic out of his body.”
That can’t be right —
Dispel Magic wasn’t supposed to be capable of just… removing the magic from a vessel —
Jamie paused for a moment, bringing his hand up to his chin.
That’s the intended purpose, actually —
The spell was designed for the explicit purpose of doing just that: removing magic from things. In the Forgotten Realms, people did not have magic flowing through their veins as they did manipulate the arcane tapestry around them. If he’d tried to cast Dispel Magic on an elf or Genasi, it wouldn’t do anything to them.
However, devils here are different. They are beings with an internal circuitry composed entirely of magic.
So the boy was treated as an object, and his magic was ‘dispelled’ from him.
I didn’t even upcast it. Am I to believe this devil child is weaker than most spells of the third level?
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this,” Dr. Amri said. “But it’d be best if you keep that ability of yours to yourself. If people learn that you have the power to break every magical barrier and seal with but a touch —”
Jamie laughed, shaking his head. “You’re overestimating me, doctor. It’s nowhere near that powerful.”
“That’s because it wasn’t used at full power, now was it?”
Jamie’s lips curled. “You could tell?”
Dr. Amri snorted. “I’m old, not blind.”
He rose and sighed, crossing his arms over the unconscious boy.
“This little brat here is Lookas Agares. Son of Lady Finderia Agares, sister of Lady Minobella Agares… Duke Agares’ wife.”
Jamie glanced over the unconscious boy and ran his hand through his hair. ”And pray tell, why is the Duke’s Nephew wandering about the Valley?”
“He was most likely searching for his cousin, Lady Seekvaira,” Dr. Amri sighed. “She’s been spotted visiting the Valley from time to time personally. No one really knows why she does it, but… she does.”
“Well then,” Jamie nodded and made for the door. “I’ll leave him in your gentle loving care —”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Dr. Amri grabbed his collar. “If he isn’t back home by sundown, Lady Finderia will raze the entire Valley looking for him. If they find out he’s in a clinic, they’re going to want to know who put him there.”
“This entire situation is starting to be quite the chore, doctor.”
“You’re telling me?” Dr. Amri scoffed. “Look, you’ve got two options. The first is simple. Find Lady Seekvaira and explain to her that her cousin is here, hopefully you’ll work some of that incubus charm and she won’t decide to immediately execute you. Get her to drop by to pick him up, and everyone lives happily ever after.”
“It sounds rather unlikely that things will proceed in that manner.”
“Your second option,” the doctor continued, “Is to somehow sneak this brat into his home compound or leave him in a place where he can be found safely by the Agares guards. Of course there’s the chance they’ll ask him about what happened when he wakes up and he’ll mention getting knocked out in the Valley, which will lead to a slew of executions — but there’s a chance he might not remember and we’ll all be safe.”
“Surely, you jest.”
“Do you see me with clown make-up on, brat?”
He’d rather not be bothered, all things considered. However, it was a threat to the Valley. The precious valley to which Jamie found beautiful. He could care less for the boy, but he would not let the peace of his beautiful valley be hindered.
“Where do you suppose I would find this…” Jamie tested the name. “Seekvaira?”
XXXXX
Seekvaira Agares hated complacency.
She loathed it. Contentment was the great killer of ambition and she had sworn to butcher the sentiment should a day ever arise where it attempted to wrap its shadowy hands over her heart.
The young devil wiped the beads of sweat that accumulated on her brow as she channeled her magic power through her body, once more attempting to impose her will unto an absolute fundamental force of the universe.
Within the forest, cracks appeared in the fabric of space and time as she grunted, and the world around her became distorted. Sounds muffled. Objects froze. The air went still. In the sky, a passing devilbird hung in the air like a puppet held from a string. Leaves falling from trees remained suspended — unmoving and still. She breathed hard, grunting as the squeezing sensation deep within her stomach told her that her magical power was running dry.
With a great gasp, she relinquished her hold on space-time. The area around her snapped back into place. Sounds resumed. The devilbird flew. The world continued, unperturbed, as she dropped to her knees, gritting her teeth and cursing her ineptitude.
I have to be better. I have to be.
The Agares Clan had been given a unique Clan Trait: the ability to manipulate time. It was a power that was far greater than being able to control water like the Sitri, and far more complex than simple manipulation of fire like the Phenex —
And yet her family's reputation lagged behind. Her father was too complacent. He was self-satisfied. His belly was always full, his coffers were overflowing, and his cock was eternally wet, so he sought for nothing and wanted for nothing. She had more ambition in a single drop of her sweat than her father possessed in his entire body.
Her mother was no different. She was a traditional devil woman, and her goals were simplistic and idiotic. Tea time, parties, social gatherings, dresses, gossip, sex-talk, more sex-talk, affairs, rumors, scandals, pleasing her husband and attempting to make sure her stubborn only daughter became the same dim-witted simplistic house-wife living the same vapid and insipid life.
Seekvaira took in a deep, sharp breath, as she examined her surroundings, before exhaling loudly. Then, once more, she began to channel her power.
That’s harsh, even for you, Seekvaira.
Feeling her power calm her down enough to think rationally, she let out a soft laugh. In truth, she valued her parents, despite their flaws. She would never claim to love them, perhaps, as most children did, but she valued them all the same and valued their contributions to her life.
Yet, they had put her in this position. The future of the Agares Clan rested on her shoulders, and her decisions and actions would determine the lives of the hundred thousand or so souls living in their territory. They had made her aware of this fact as soon as she was old enough to read, and while her contemporaries had childhoods filled with dreams of being princesses in castles whisked away by dragons, she was saddled with learning about the political impacts of a dragon attack and the resulting tactics to use in warfare against opponents with aerial superiority.
Speaking of superiority, it did not help that the vast majority of devil society considered her a lesser by mere nature of her absence of a cock. One would think that devils of all creatures would disobey and ignore the parts of scripture that implied her sole reason for existing was to spread her legs and moan, but they were wrong.
From the very second her younger cousin Lookas was born, she was treated as a third-class citizen by members of her extended family. Lookas was young, born with exceptional magic power, and most importantly, was born with a cock, so he was to be primed to be the proper head of the Agares clan, while she’d be utilized as a bargaining chip to accrue political and genetic power in the Agares family by accepting her role as maid, servant, slave, and incubator.
She swore she would never let that happen.
She could not let it happen.
It was why she threw herself all into her training. It irritated her that she had to come out all this way just to be able to ensure that none of the gossipy maids and serpent-tongued servants in the Agares household would watch her and make reports of her progress to those who wished her downfall. Her own home was not a place she could train without her successes or failures becoming the latest topic amongst her extended family members.
The lot of them were sycophantic once they heard her accomplish something great, but upon discovering she’d failed at something, they would offer insincere consolations and backhanded assurances. All the while they laughed in their secret gatherings and spoke in barely hushed whispers around corridors as to how it was only a matter of time before she was ‘rightfully’ put in her place.
Out here, in the space beyond Prejudice Valley, there was none of that to bother her. Here, she could focus only on getting better, on pushing the limits of her ability to manipulate time until she was truly capable of controlling the fundamental force. She would master all there was to her family’s magic until future and past were both hers to decide..
She was ambitious. She knew it. She’d never denied it. The flames of her ambition kept her going. She was not as naturally gifted as someone like Rias Gremory, and her intellect was not that of sheer genius like Sona Sitri, but through grit and effort, she believed she would grow to surpass both.
Or she would die trying.
The slew of words and disparaging remarks which came at her from her back was but a tailwind that would aid her ascent to her eventual success. They could call her heartless all they wanted. They could call her a bitch. They could call her cold, and unapproachable. It did not matter what they called her, so long as they knew deep in their pathetic little hearts that they would never have the guts to say any of it to her face.
Seekvaira grunted as she felt the last of her magical power fizzle out. She collapsed flat on the ground panting from exhaustion. Her clothes were covered in dirt and grass stains. Her body was cold and she shuddered from the feeling of her blouse sticking to her skin from the copious amount of sweat emerging from her pores.
She worked her hardest in private, so her adversaries would never see a drop of sweat emerge from her body in public.
No… I’ll never let them see me sweat.
"Beautiful."
Seekvaira froze.
The voice had come from behind her.
The voice had come from behind her.
She had not sensed the person's approach. She’d felt no footsteps. She’d heard no noise. She’d felt not even the faintest traces of magical energy. None of the alarm wards she’d placed in the vicinity had triggered. None of the detection spells she’d cast to ensure her privacy had activated. The magical barrier she had put up was still in place.
Yet, still —
Someone, somehow, had managed to bypass all of it, and sneak up on her while she was laying with her back to the ground, without her ever once detecting their presence.
She leaped to her feet, her heart pounding as she anticipated a stab to her back or an attack that would slit her throat from behind. When neither came, she summoned her wings and backed away from the voice, gaining as much distance as possible. She winced at the heavy tug in her stomach, the sensation of her magical reserves running on near-empty, and swore underneath her breath at her predicament.
She trained herself to exhaustion whenever she came out here. Now, she was beginning to regret it. She had barely enough magic to fly, let alone defend herself from an unknown assailant who was masterful in stealth enough to bypass all of her protective measures and sneak up on her.
A young man emerged behind a tree and Seekvaira’s brain did a double-take.
Her mind, well-read with everything from Shakespeare to Dickens, possessed a university education beyond that of her peers. It instantly conjured several adjectives to describe the man, and she loathed how the first which emerged was irresistible. She disliked how, on some instinctual level, her brain had decided that the man before her was alluring to a point at which it would be difficult, if not outright impossible for any heterosexual woman to resist him.
Even by devil standards, he was exceptionally alluring. She could not put a finger on it. On why. He was tall with lean muscle, which was not uncommon. He was well-dressed, like a young burgeoning noble, but that was not it either. His face possessed sharp features and was perfectly symmetrical, but still, this could not be why her brain had decided he was beyond conventional standards of attractiveness.
Perhaps, she decided, it was the rich, exotic red skin that contrasted him from the green forest surroundings and granted him a strange supernatural allure which made her feel like naive Faust standing before mighty Mephistopheles. Maybe it was the manner in which he floated towards her, in a pose not entirely unlike that of God touching Man in the Creation of Adam, and similarly to the famous fresco painting by Michelangelo, his very essence alluded to hidden greatness — to endless depths.
The two curved horns at the top of his head made him appear like the devils of yore, and his eyes were a piercing pitch black like one had fallen deep into a bottomless well; it was like one had crawled into a tunnel to which they were aware of the absence of light at its eventual end.
"I wasn't expecting you to be so beautiful," the man murmured. "This is a pleasant surprise."
Seekvaira was no stranger to flatterers. Accustomed as she was to the legions of sycophants who lined up at her doorsteps as the heiress of a distinguished clan, she’d developed a habit of being wary of people who offered compliments easily.
Yet, she could sense a strange sincerity in his words. She knew he was being sincere, as he’d not been addressing her, to begin with.
Had she the liberty to be a young, carefree maiden, her cheeks would have grown red at the compliment. She would have begun stuttering out a response or a rebuttal or ran through an entire gauntlet of emotions before settling on embarrassment. She would have felt mortified at being complimented on her beauty by such an attractive fellow. She would have felt honored.
As it was, Seekvaira Agares did not have that liberty.
She was beautiful?
What of it?
Her beauty was not something she worked for nor something she took great effort to maintain. Her father pumped his seed into her mother, and the resulting mix of their dominant genetic traits had brought forth features that were pleasing to the eyes. What was there to be proud about?
“Who are you?”
“The work with magic you were doing just now,” the young man continued, as though he had not heard her. “Manipulating time? Very impressive.”
He’d seen. Seekvaira was immediately on guard. The method at which he’d phrased it implied he was not aware that it was her ability. Yet, anyone who knew of the Agares Clan knew they possessed the Clan Trait of time magic. Either he was playing the fool to lull her into a false sense of security, or, worse, she’d apparently managed to catch the interest of an exceptionally talented devil who did not even know who she was.
“If you’re here to assassinate me,” she warned, “Do not believe that I will give you the satisfaction of an easy job.”
The man laughed. He descended, landing on the ground with both hands in his pockets. “You’d take me for an assassin?”
“You’d take me fool?” she responded. “This area was warded.”
He smiled. Goosebumps ran down Seekvaira’s spine from that simple action. She swallowed reflexively, and her feet turned to the left, towards an escape. She was not scared. No, she was cautious. She was almost empty on magical power, and her opponent’s capabilities were unknown, but he was at the very least, a High-Class Devil.
“You’re drenched in sweat.”
The words came from behind her.
Every instinct in Seekvaira’s body screamed as she spun on the balls of her feet. Like an expert tennis player desperate to reach the ball on the most important game of their life, she swiveled behind her, poised and ready to attack —
But there was no one there.
No.
She’d been fooled.
She’d been tricked, and now she had turned her back to a foe of unknown capabilities — like a complete and utter novice in the art of war.
Two hands landed on her shoulders, and a warm, foreign breath tickled the back of her neck.
“Simply breathtaking.”
He grabbed her hand and spun her around before she could respond — before she could react. Seekvaira found herself in the arms of the stranger. Her chest pressed against his, closely, intimately. His right hand rested gently behind her waist and his left hand held hers in a gentle embrace.
She met his gaze and found in his pitch-black eyes a warmth of the likes she had never before seen.
“Forgive me for startling you,” he moved her hand to his lips, and lightly kissed her knuckles. “My name is Jamie. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Seekvaira.”
His words flew like honey. Her ears felt caressed by it. Her body felt calmed by it. Goosebumps ran down her skin and horror dawned in her mind as she felt her heart skip a beat. The horror grew as she became overtly aware of the sound of her heart beating even faster than before. She gazed into pitch-black eyes and felt something in her stir.
“Let. Go.”
Her heart pounded. It raced. It tumbled, rose, and fell and rose again like a man forced into a hurdle race with an unkindness of screeching ravens at his heels crying for his blood.
She had never been this close to a man in her life. She had never had a man invade her personal space as blatantly and shamelessly as this — cur. One half of her mind sought nothing more than to reduce him into a smoldering pit of ash, but another, deep within her, burned and wrestled with newfound sentiments and emotions.
That part cried out with a tiny voice, that she did not want him to let go. That she wanted him to hold her tighter.
As though somehow hearing that tiny voice, the cur did exactly that. He held her closer until their faces were mere inches apart and she could no longer ignore his breath. He smelled of roses, honey, and wine. She could feel the heat of his warm skin through her clothes and she felt overly conscious of the knowledge that they were so close, despite the fact that she was currently covered in sweat.
The fiend holding her smirked — he smirked! With a level of audacity to which Seekvaira had never seen before, he leaned close to her ear, and whispered a single word:
“No.”
She did not understand why that word made her legs suddenly feel like butter. She could not fathom how being refused triggered something in her.
…No.
Seekvaira was mortified.
She was mortified because she could feel herself getting… aroused.
Here she was, in the grasps of a stranger —
An incredibly attractive stranger, her mind supplied.
A stranger, who’d snuck up on her and was now holding her hostage in his embrace, and she was —
Incredibly aroused.
She felt her nipples hardening. The sudden moistness she could feel in her underwear mortified her so much that her face begin to heat up. No doubt, they were beyond red at this point, and the mere realization that she was actively blushing mortified her further.
Forced into a situation she had no experience handling, her fight-or-flight instinct triggered and settled on flight. She pushed the stranger — Jamie — away from her, and backed away, doing her best to hide whatever visible signs of arousal she possessed.
Rather than appear offended by her actions, he merely chuckled, running his hand through his thick, long locks of glorious black hair, before extending his arms open and wide.
“You wound my frail heart, Lady Seekvaira.”
“W-what do you want from me?”
She cursed herself for stuttering right as the stutter emerged.
“Do you truly need to ask?”
The blasted cur had the gall to smile at her.
“No matter how attractive you are, it is sheer hubris to believe I would spread my legs for some stranger like some whore.”
Jamie tilted his head, his smile growing wider.
“Is that a challenge?”
She bit down on her lower lip and held back her scathing response. She did it because deep within her, she knew. He had not even been trying earlier. He had done nothing but hold her, refuse her, and she’d been reduced to a state that had her underwear flush with arousal.
Were he to actively make advances on her, she would crumble in seconds. Body would betray mind as she would become nothing but a toy for the sexual satisfaction of a man she did not even know —
And she would enjoy every second of it.
Jamie chuckled.
“I thought as much.”
Her cheeks burned with indignation. “You dare —!”
“Calm yourself, Lady Seekvaira,” Jamie said. “Perhaps this was too much for you, too soon.”
The strange devil named Jamie took to the air, and against her wishes, she found herself calling out. “Where are you going?”
“Your little cousin is in the clinic in the Valley,” Jamie announced. “Once you’ve been a dear and picked him up, we’ll continue this conversation.”
With those words, he vanished. Seekvaira stood there, unmoving. It took her a full second for her lust-addled mind to comprehend what had just happened, and another, for her to understand Jamie’s departing words.
Even then, all she could respond with was a dull, monotone:
“...what?”
Chapter 4: Ask and Ye Shall Receive
Chapter Text
There was no beauty in suffering.
No splendor was to be found in the eyes and souls of the downtrodden and oppressed. No glory existed in the heart of the repressed, exploited, and victimized; the helpless abused and underprivileged.
Jamie accepted that to live was to suffer. Existence carried with it the burden and responsibility of pain and demise. To be born was to condemned to face death; it was to be granted absolute assurance of misery and pain.
Yet, the soul persevered.
Through sheer perseverance, one would grow not to find beauty in suffering, but to find beauty in spite of it.
Divinity existed within the unyielding souls of mortal beings. Exalted was thee blessed an unwavering spirit, for they would find favor in the hearts of all men. Glorious was thee with the gift of persistence, for they would never falter from the footpath of triumph.
Jamie was enamored by such individuals. He found his heart fluttering at the sight of men and women to whom the blessing of tenacity was ordained. He was enthralled by the dilligent, the resolute and the assiduous. His heart and mind yearned for the touch of one with a soul tempered beyond steel. Child-like giddiness possessed him whenever he found one with a resolve which refused to chink; a resoluteness impervious to fractures.
Indeed, there was great sexual appeal to that which was unsurmountable — that which was unshakeable.
And nothing quite roused him as the thought of being the one to make the unshakeable shake.
Seekvaira Agares, the Heiress of the Agares Clan, stood before him, her gray blouse drenched in so much sweat that he could make out her white brassiere beneath it — he could see the pinkness of her nipples poking against her undergarments as she tried and failed to hide the clear signs of her physical arousal.
Her pale-greenish blonde hair was ruffled and disheveled, with bits and pieces of grass and dirt in-between them. The urge to run his hands through those locks and purge the offending debris away was strong. Just as the urge was, to stand before her and stare endlessly into her sharp pink eyes until the sun rose and set a hundred times, until she protested, groaned and pleaded, before he would look away, satisfied at having etched their radiance into the deepest parts of his mind.
The rectangular rimmed glasses she wore did nothing to distract from the striking nature of her eyes, nor did it at all defer her allure. If anything, Jamie would argue that it enhanced it; her glasses gave her character like extra little cubes of umami added to a chef’s simmering broth.
Seekvaira Agares was a woman with no sexual experience. He had known from the moment he took her into his arms and kissed the back of her palm. His body could tell, instinctively, that she knew nothing of the pleasures of the flesh. She knew nothing of self-love and appreciation. Not once had she touched herself, and not once had she thought to explore herself.
Tragic. Utterly tragic.
It was lamentable. How regrettable and vexatious was it, that she knew nothing at all of how to appreciate her own beauty? Like an artistic masterpiece unfeeling and unknowing of its own appeal, did that which was truly ravishing require an outside observer to decry to the world that it was magnificent?
Could the alluring not beguile itself for itself? Could the radiant not dazzle by itself and to itself? Did the beauty of a thing only exist for the sake of others to worship, marvel, and enjoy?
Surely not.
He wanted to make the young lady aware of her own bewitching nature. He wanted her to cast aside cloth and manners and wrestle down with him into the dirt of this nameless forest, so her voice would cry out gloriously as he granted her release from her maidenhood. He wished to have her close to him, so he could breathe in the musk of her sweaty breasts and let her know that her diligence was indeed rewarded. He wished to thrust himself within her moist grasp, as the spear that pierces all against her unyielding spirit, the shield that refused to be pierced.
He wanted to explore every square inch of her body and show her the beauty in places she’d never thought to look.
And therein lay the problem.
Jamie, the lover of beauty, desired her purely.
Yet, Jamie, the incubus, desired her impurely.
His incubus side was in agreement and it wished to merely ravish Seekvaira. He wished to utterly and completely use her as though her sole purpose for being born was to be a vessel for his cock. It wanted to have her begging, yearning, and mewling for his touch —
It wanted her to yield.
It wanted her to submit.
To him — and only him.
Jamie found it problematic that his pure and impure desires were finding ways to agree and blend into one.
“Your little cousin is in the clinic in the Valley,” Jamie announced. “Once you’ve been a dear and picked him up, we’ll continue this conversation.”
He cast Invisibility on himself and made himself sparse. He bit down on his lip hard enough for his mouth to feel the rich coppery taste of blood and sucked it to calm himself. The scent of Seekvaira’s sweat and her blatant arousal was triggering his instincts as an incubus, and his own desires were blending into his instincts, and the resulting mix was an overwhelming, all-consuming desire —
A desire driving him mad with lust.
He flew away from the forest, back into Valley, grimacing from the painful, throbbing erection which he’d hid from Seekvaira’s sight. He’d been careful in holding her at just the right enough distance to make sure she did not feel it bulging in his pants.
Dear lord —
The sudden desire to fuck was as primal as hunger or thirst. Nay, it was more primal than that. Surely, he could go centuries without food. Surely, he would survive decades without water.
Asking him to resist his urge for his cock to be slick with the fluids of another was as blasphemous as asking Peter to betray Jesus.
He made his way home and shut the door lightly behind him, collapsing, forward, exhaling as he did so. He fiddled rapidly with his pants, all but tearing the zipper as he forced it down and allowed his cock room to breathe.
What… is this?
His skin had always been red, so, a red cock would have been no cause for concern. Instead, his cock was bulging a thick, sickly blue, and the lightest of breeze forced Jamie to hiss and throw his head back, muffling out a curse. The veins of his member throbbed hard and he swore, with each passing minute, that his cock was getting larger, and the blue was spreading down all the way from his girth to his balls.
He could no longer think clearly. A repetitive mantra of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck — played over and over again in his mind, blocking out all rational thought.
Endurance Save Initialized.
Jamie collapsed to the ground, and it slowly dawned on him that he could no longer move. His entire body was rigid, as though he’d looked straight into the eyes of a gorgon.
Save Failed.
Pain wracked his entire body.
His eyes shot wide open. His back arched on instinct and a silent scream escaped his lips. It was agony, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt as though a swarm of bees had made their way into his bloodstream; it felt like a snake had coiled around his heart and was trying to burst its way out of his chest.
What’s…. H-h-happening?
Sounds begin to blur in his ears. His vision began to fade. The symptoms were familiar.
I’m… dying?
He could not fathom it. He could not believe it. Yet, his body refused to move, his cock stood, painfully blue, and he felt cold. Cold, like he’d been wandering through eight feet of solid snow in naught but his birthday garment. Cold, as though he’d opened the magic tool called a ‘refrigerator’ and decided to shrink himself down to the size of an ice-cube and make the freezer compartment his new home.
“...mie! …mie!”
Through his darkening vision, he saw Selena rush her way out of the kitchen towards him. He could not make out her words, nor understand what she was saying. He tried to smile, but even the muscles of his lips were too stiff to move. His body no longer listened to him — it refused his commands, and he had not the strength to do anything but —
His eyes snapped open as something tight suddenly wrapped itself around his cock. Something tight and incredibly, incredibly warm.
Tight, warm, and —
Oh my — FUCK!
A jolt traveled throughout his entire body as if he’d been struck with Shocking Grasp. The pain and darkness faded away and was replaced with deep, fiery heat and warmth which spread all the way from his cock up to his chest and beyond. Noises and sounds began to clear up as he regained his bearings and vision —
A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the tightness around his cock moved about, and he felt the added weight of someone sitting against his laps. Blinking to clear away the haze, he found Selena, wearing nothing but her apron before him. His eyes pierced passed the flimsy piece of cloth, to where his cock should be and found only that he could see her crotch there instead, sitting atop him.
“S-Selena? What’s… going —”
He felt her inner walls tighten and threw his head to bite back a harsh hiss.
Gods, she’s tight.
No woman he’d had before now had ever quite been as warm, and snug as Selena was. He’d had sex with succubi before, but he could even compare the difference. Selena was in an entirely different category.
“You idiot.”
Her voice lacked the usual warmth and playfulness he was used to. On raising his head back up, he met her deep, rage-filled pink eyes and resisted the urge to flinch.
He’d never seen her angry before.
“Devils are creatures of desire, Jamie,” her voice was cold. Frigid. Every word was ice, stabbing into his veins. “Succubus and incubus even more so. Do you know what happens when you go against your nature?”
“There must be some mistake. I wasn’t going against my —”
“You went out and met someone,” Selena interrupted him. “Someone you wanted to fuck.”
“Yes, but —”
“And what did you do?’”
“...Come again?”
“What did you do, Jamie?” she hissed.
“I deemed it wasn’t the appropriate time and lef -”
Selena’s inner walls tightened against his cock and Jamie swore. His cock was twitching inside her, desperate for the much-needed friction. His hips began thrusting through no volition of his entirely, but Selena’s grip made it so he would not be going anywhere unless she wanted him to.
It was… torture.
“You went against your nature,” Selena said. “You’re an incubus, Jamie. If you see someone and your instincts want to fuck — then you fuck. Don’t wait. Don’t hesitate. Don’t second-guess yourself. Your magic will sense if you do. It will revolt against you and begin to destroy you.”
Surely she’s not serious.
He didn’t want to believe her words. He really, truly, surely, did not want to believe her words. What sort of person would he be if he went around doing such a thing?
“You’re saying I should just throw myself at whatever catches my —”
“YES!” she screamed. “Yes, Jamie! That’s exactly what I’m telling you to do! You’re an incubus! You can beguile them! Charm them! Seduce them! It doesn’t matter if they’re not willing, it’s what you were made to do.”
Selena pushed on his chest and pressed him down to the floor.
“Imagine if an angel saw a little child about to die, has the power to save them, but, they decide not to,” Selena said. “They were made with the instructions to do good. Not doing good means going against what they were made for. That angel would fall from grace the instant they decided to go against their core nature.”
“Why?” he asked, curious.
“We are what we do, Jamie,” Selena sighed. “An angel that does not do good is not an angel. An incubus that does not have sex is not an incubus. Just as the Biblical God created Angels to be incarnations of good, the Original Lucifer created us, Devils, to be incarnations of evil — to tempt, beguile, corrupt, seduce, cheat, steal, kill and destroy.”
Jamie had never been one for needless temptations. Beguiling he could do, corruption he saw no need for, seduction was his bread and butter, but cheating and stealing were things he did only if absolutely necessary, and so too did those conditions apply to killing and destroying.
As the Tiefling son of Malphas Darkblight, he’d never been an avatar of good. He’d already been prejudiced against in the Forbidden Realms for his appearance and judged twice over for his heritage. He’d never paid heed to it, but he’d been aware of his differences from most from the very beginning. He was aware of his flaw as someone whom pursued beauty regardless of the harm it may cause to others and himself, and his time amongst the prim-and-proper paragons of light in Lightbringer had tamed a majority of his darker tendencies and desires.
Yet, he was no longer a Tiefling. He was an incubus now. He was a Devil — by all classifications, essentially a Fiend. A creature firmly connected with the evil alignment, to which many would hunt down and attempt to slay without so much as giving one the benefit of the doubt. He was the sort of being mortals were warned not to make bargains with — the sort of being many a man had sold their souls, wives, and children to in exchange for riches and glory.
It had not sunk in, truly, until this moment.
It was the absurdity of Selena lecturing him while his cock throbbed within her that created the cognitive dissonance within him. It was the conflicting desires of wanting to fuck Selena, yet trying to ignore the voice at the back of his mind which was repulsed at the notion of sex with the woman who birthed him.
The incongruity of the situation finally made him understand. He’d nearly lost life just now, and Selena had saved it. Saved it, by doing the one very thing to him that Jamie had tried his hardest to prevent her from doing for the past two months.
The sheer irony made him bark a laugh. The preposterousness that the warmth of Selena’s loins would end up saving his life was something that would never have occurred to him in a million years. The notion that he was now of a race where taboos were accepted and downright required for survival was jarring.
“What’s so funny?”
Selena dared asked, while his cock twitched inside her. She dared ask, while she sat on his thighs above him, her fleshy insides encasing his thickness like an aluminum bottle in a vice-grip. Her hardened nipples protruded visibly through her apron and asked what was funny, as he lay on the ground in their living room, having just survived a brush with death.
Jamie’s lips tugged.
“Everything, Selena.”
The fact that she could not see why his current situation was farcical made the farcicality of it greater. It was almost comically absurd.
Such a beautiful world I’ve found myself in.
Indeed, Jamie accepted that there was a beauty to be found in the ludicrous and the absurd. An inexplicable appeal lay in madness and one’s eventual descent down its blasphemous steps. There was allure in the forbidden fruit for a reason, because the iniquitous, sacrilegious and immoral had always existed side-by-side with sanctimonious, revered, and sacred.
“Move,” Jamie murmured.
“What?”
He rolled his eyes.
“It’s torture to have you just sitting there like that with me inside you.”
Selena blinked. A coy smirk emerged on the woman’s face.
“I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me?”
“I don’t want to have children with you,” Jamie corrected. “Sex is a different matter.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ve realized how amazing my insides feel.”
He licked his lips. He couldn’t entirely deny it. At the same time, he couldn’t tell her that she was the tightest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of taking his cock. For starters, Selena believed him a virgin, which he technically was in this life.
“Are all succubus like this…?”
“Nope~!” she sang, sounding proud. “Your mommy is just built different.”
She swayed her hips up —
And brought them down.
What in the heavenly —
Either the succubi he’d slept within the Forgotten Realms were rank amateurs in the art of love-making, or there was something about Selena that put her in an entirely different category. It was a single motion, just a little sway, and Jamie found that he’d almost blown his entire load from feeling her grip around his cock.
“I’m impressed!” Selena clapped. “You didn’t cum!”
“What kind of man would cum from just —”
“Ninety-five percent of men would.”
Selena grinned.
“Ninety-five percent of men would have blown their load just from that,” Selena purred. “My sexual techniques are augmented with magic. Magic that makes it so you feel enough pleasure to orgasm each time I bounce on your cock.”
She slowly lifted her hips up again.
“I’m constantly secreting an aphrodisiac that revitalizes you. So each time I bounce and you orgasm, you get revitalized, and you orgasm again and again, so I can squeeze every last inch of semen out of you and drain your life energy, vitality, and magic.”
Every time she moved, he would feel enough pleasure to orgasm? Jamie could not be sure if that was pleasure or torture. Succubus in the Forgotten Realms couldn’t do that. Oh, most definitely not.
“W-w-wait a minute, maybe you shouldn’t —”
He her hips slammed down a second time, and Jamie saw stars. He couldn’t hold it in. Pleasure assaulted his cock from all angles, and he grabbed Selena’s ass as he jerked his hips forward and upward. His cock slammed deep, hitting her cervix before it twitched and he felt the mind-blanking release of a hot, sticky substance pouring out into her warmth.
Selena whimpered, making a sound so pure to his ears that forced his hips to jerk as he blasted another buttload of his sperm straight into her womb. His grip on her ass tightened so much that he was practically digging into it. The woman tossed her head back as her legs trembled and she quivered, to Jamie’s utter surprise.
Both of them collapsed backward, in a sweaty-covered, panting, lust-filled haze.
“Your cum. It’s so hot,” Selena rasped. “I can feel the heat. Why is it — why does it have so much… magic. This potency — it’s — I — I’m —”
Jamie watched, flummoxed, as Selena’s back arched on the floor, her hips rising and her legs trembling as she came a second time. A full minute passed before she dropped back to the ground, her chest heaving. She lay flat with her legs spread, and the sight of his thick cum leaking slowly out of her was enough to rouse his girth back to full.
There’s no way she’s satisfied with just this.
He felt that way because he personally was not satisfied. No, he felt he could go at least two or three more times. His lust-filled approached her, and grabbed her by the legs, before lining his cock up against her cum-filled cunt. Just as he was about to thrust in, he heard the sound of light, soft, snoring.
She’s… asleep?
Indeed, Selena lay on the ground, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling steadily in a pattern that only one who wasn’t awake could have. Jamie snorted. Then, he chuckled.
His cock lay throbbing and erect, but Selena had already fallen asleep. He thought back on her words about following his instincts and questioned them. She likely wouldn’t mind if he continued to fuck her while she slept but at the same time —
It’s best to let her rest for now.
He picked up the woman in his arms, noting just how light she was for the first time. Wordlessly, he flew through the kitchen and up the stairs, before making her way to her bedroom.
As expected, Selena’s room was a mess. Numerous sex toys littered the floor, with most of them being large rubber cocks of different shapes and sizes. Most of them were not human-shaped, but rather, some looked to belong to that of a horse or a hound, and Jamie couldn’t help but chuckle at the predictability of the toys.
A few ball gags, bottles of lubricant, whips, chains, and paddles were scattered about. Plastered on the walls were erotic images and pictograms, but also several post-it notes. A cursory glance at several of them included memos for things like ‘cook dinner for Jamie’ and ‘don’t forget to buy Jamie a new pair of socks.’ A lot of them were months outdated, but it seemed Selena had never taken them down.
There were also pictures of him. A lot of pictures. The first few were innocent, pictures of him sleeping or in his crib as a baby. The next was as he grew older, his first meal, his first spell, teaching him to ‘read’ and feeding him —
Selena murmured softly in his gasp and Jamie smiled. He moved over to the bed and placed her into it. With a swift use of Mage Hand he untied the apron she was wearing and hung it on the rack. Following that, he made the spectral hand drag a blanket over her, and exhaled, smiling, as Selena moaned and mumbled his name in her sleep.
He turned around to leave the room, his erection having calmed down now. As he did so, a hand grasped out at his wrist.
“...Don’t… go,” she mumbled. “Come sleep with… mommy.”
“Selena, it’s only six o’clock —”
“Please?”
Jamie shook his head, smiling as he relented. “All right.”
He got into the bed, under the covers with her. It only now occurred to him that it’d been a while since they both shared a bed. He’d stopped sleeping next to her once she started trying to have sex with him, and moved into his own room.
He took the role of the big-spoon as he was taller, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She moved her naked butt and pressed intentionally close to cock, before giggling.
“I’ve… missed this.”
“You have?”
“I’ve… missed you.”
“I never went anywhere.”
“No… but… you weren’t here, either.”
Selena turned around and cuddled her head closer into his chest.
“I’m glad… Jamie.”
“That we had sex?”
“That you’re here with me.”
She moved in closer and lightly hit his chest with the side of her hand.
“You… made me drain all my energy, meanie.”
“I… did?”
“When a succubus and incubus have sex, they compete… to absorb each other’s energy. The one who with less magical power… gets dominated. I… couldn’t absorb your energy. It was… too much. It was like you’ve lived… for over a hundred years.”
Jamie did not respond.
“Jamie?”
“Yes, Selena?”
“Are you… still there…?”
“I’m still here.”
“...Thank you.”
He chuckled. “For the sex?”
“Yes,” she teased. “But… for everything. Before you were born I was… lonely. Empty. But now… with you… I feel… happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
Jamie did not respond.
“P-promise me… no matter what happens… even if you find someone you love more than me… even if you find someone who makes you happier than I do… promise you won’t abandon me.”
“Selena —”
“Promise me.”
“...I promise.”
Selena moved closer still, until Jamie felt her lips gently brush against his.
“I love you, Jamie.”
His throat felt oddly dry.
“Momma will always love you… no matter what.”
He wrapped his arms around Selena’s form. His lips wished to open, to give a suitable response. The words ‘I love you too’ hung on the edges of his mouth, but they refused to form. The utterance did not come forth. They did not come forth, because he knew the second he uttered it, it would become true.
Jamie had always possessed love for beauty. He possessed love for things.
He did not know how to possess love for people.
It was something he had never learned.
“Selena, I —”
Gentle snoring escaped from Selena’s lips. Whatever words he wished to say would no longer be needed. The woman had fallen well and truly asleep. Jamie chuckled and kissed her lightly on her forehead before he turned his gaze to the ceiling. He remembered the words she’d uttered just yesterday.
We would have a large family, a strong dynasty. And I’d be by your side…
He’d misjudged her.
Her dream was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
A strong dynasty… a large family…
In truth, Jamie had no quandaries taking up the responsibilities of fatherhood. He had always secretly wished for a son of his own, so he could be the kind of father his own father had failed to be. There was, after all, beauty, in the act of being a responsible, loving father. It was the type of beauty he would seek, sooner or later.
He still, however, held reservations against having children with Selena. Yet, he doubted that would be a problem. Selena would not mind him having numerous wives so she could have several grandchildren. Perhaps he could also find a few orphans to adopt and make his apprentices? Would she be opposed to concubines? He surely doubted it.
There was beauty in Selena’s dream and even greater beauty in making it come to fruition. Yet, If he wished to have a strong dynasty, he would have to accrue the necessary things: Strength. Wealth. Renown.
None of which he possessed at the moment.
Jamie closed his eyes and exhaled.
Jamie Malphas…
He did not wish to use that last name. He did not at all wanted to be associated with it. He’d been content to simply live out his days in pursuit of beauty, and leaving that name dead and buried. However, if it was to fulfill the beautiful dream that Selena had —
He would take upon that mantle and use it as his bedrock.
A strong dynasty, you desire?
Jamie lightly kissed Selena’s head a second time.
I will do my best to make that beautiful dream of yours a reality.
Strength. Wealth. Renown.
A large territory. Financial power. Physical and magical dominance. Numerous spouses of great magical ability and beauty to bear his children — Selena’s grandchildren. These were the requirements to fulfill Selena’s dream.
Jamie chuckled.
It seems I have quite the task ahead of me.
His pursuit of beauty had shown him quite an interesting path.
Now… where do I begin?
XXXX
Prejudice Valley,
Agares Territory
Amri’s Local Remedies
Dr. Amri Ravana did not believe in miracles. The old devil had half-expected his execution to be fast approaching and had taken to consoling himself with a bottle of hard liquor after sending out Selena’s son to do the impossible.
Somehow, the brat had succeeded.
He’d almost choked on his liquor once Lady Seekvaira Agares herself stepped into his lowly clinic, and had taken to clearing his throat, coughing and spitting before introducing himself and directing the young woman towards her unconscious cousin.
She’d stood, staring at the boy, for several minutes, before slapping him across the face. Dr. Amri winced at the sound and averted his gaze as the boy jerked to life, incensed and stunned.
“Who dares —” his words died in his throat. “...Seekvaira-neechan?”
Dr. Amri blinked. Nee-chan? He knew they were cousins, but using a Japanese honorific was… odd.
“I thought I told you never to call me that.”
“R-r-right! I — Um —”
The boy flummoxed in front of her like an awkward preteen and it was painful for Dr. Amri to watch.
“What are you doing in the Valley, Lookas?”
“I-I-I was j-j-j-just —”
“I warned you to stop stalking me.”
The woman’s voice was ice.
“Wasn’t it enough that you were caught sneaking into my room last week? Did you not have your fill masturbating with my underwear?”
The boy’s face turned red and burned. Dr. Amri rose an eyebrow, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
“The only reason I’ve yet to cut off that thing between your legs is that my mother somehow finds your antics amusing. She thinks it’s cute that you sexually fantasize about me and follow me around like a lost puppy. I do not. It disgusts me. You disgust me.”
Her hand came down, smacking the other side of the boy’s cheek. She dragged him off the bed, slammed him into the ground, and slammed her feet into his throat.
Dr. Amri stared at the duo with increasing worry. For the love of Beelzebub, don’t kill the boy in my clinic —
“S-S-Seekvaira —”
“When we get home, you will tell no one that you followed me here, or I will find and burn every last one of those pathetic Japanese porn comics you love so much. Do you understand?”
The boy sharply nodded his head.
“Good. Now let’s —”
Seekvaira froze.
“What… is that?”
“C-c-cousin Seekvaira, it's not w-w-what it looks like —”
“You have an erection.”
“I-I s-s-swear, I-I c-c-can’t control it —”
“I’m going to neuter you so you won’t have that problem anymore.”
Seekvaira Agares turned to him, completely calm.
“I take it you have sufficient anesthetics in this clinic?”
Dr. Amri cleared his throat. “...I’m afraid we’re all out, Lady Seekvaira.”
She turned back to her cousin.
“It seems I’ll have to go without it.”
Dr. Amri grimaced as he watched Seekvaira proceed to kick and stomp the boy’s crotch several times over. Lookas passed out, foaming at the mouth, and the girl adjusted her hair and exhaled as though she had not crippled a young lad’s chances of future progeny.
She tossed the unconscious boy over her shoulder and turned to him.
“Not a word of what happened here leaves this place. Is that clear?”
Dr. Amri made a zipping motion over his lips.
“Good. Now, while we’re at it, I want you to tell me what you know about a devil that resides in this area.”
“A devil?”
“I believe his name was…” the woman’s pink eyes pierced through him. “Jamie.”
Chapter Text
“Power.”
That single word had been her answer. The full moon had bathed them in its luminescence, and he’d clutched her breasts so hard they almost burst in his hands. She’d accepted nothing less; she’d demanded for nothing less. They rutted about like feral beasts on the ground, her nails pierced into the back of his flesh and made him hiss shortly after every grunt.
Not long after he’d explored the beauty of the Tabaxi he called his companion, she’d lain naked upon his chest, and he’d probed a question, to which her response was clear.
“Truly?”
“Have you ever known me to jest, Darkblight?”
Mégalo rose and rays of silver light exposed her fur-filled chest. Her still hardened nipples and striped fur aroused him once again, as did the glowing slits she possessed for eyes.
“Power grants me access to the greatest spell of them all.”
“You desire the Wish spell?”
Mégalo snorted. She extended her middle finger out to him, a universally understood gesture that transcended planes.
“The greatest spell is the ability to say: fuck you.”
“I wasn’t aware we were all great magicians.”
“This is why you vex me, so, Darkblight,” Mégalo sighed. “The power of fuck you is not something just anyone has.”
Her feline ears twitched in the wind. A soft, yet threatening snarl escaped from her lips, and quickly, she leaned forward, purring into his throat.
“Someone threatens to take your life?” She whispered. “With enough power, you can say fuck you.”
Her claws landed on his bare chest. She smirked as she slowly raked them down.
“Someone threatens to harm you? Fuck you. They threaten to kill your family? Fuck you. They threaten to lay a curse on you? Fuck you. They’re an annoying merchant? Fuck you. A Knight? Fuck you. A King? Fuck you. A genuine omnipotent god?”
Her hands raked all the way down, to his exposed loins.
“Fuck you.”
Mégalo laughed. His arousal returned in full blast. Before he knew it, their positions were reversed, and she was the one, naked and bare on the ground, whilst he held both her arms down, and gazed deeply into her feline eyes.
“Power, Darkblight. Power is why I joined this quest to slay your father. It is why I signed a contract with an eldritch being of the outer planes. It is why I do anything. It is why I do everything.”
Mégalo purred.
“If there ever is a day wherein you find yourself lost, wherein you are without direction or guidance, a day wherein there is only doubt and uncertainty, then heed my words…”
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, and he was forced to lean in to hear it.
“Seek power,” she rasped. “And all else will follow.”
XXXXX
Two pitch-black eyes opened in a dark room, and Jamie Darkblight, now, Jamie Malphas, was once again with consciousness. There was no transitional stage from grogginess to alertness. He’d fully awoken from the very instant his eyes opened.
In his old life, he’d attributed it to his elven blood and ancestry, as elves never needed sleep but could sustain themselves through trance-like states.
The blessing had stayed in this life. Due to it, he could always remember his dreams. The dream he’d had in particular was peculiar to him, because it was no dream to begin with.
It was a memory of events that truly conspired.
Mégalo…
A surge of conflicting emotions welled up within him.
Zakara jokingly referred to her as the ‘Cat Milf’ of Lightbringer. Mégalo in turn had taken to mocking the halfling by calling her the ‘jailbait’ of the group. It was fitting, because not only was Zakara the youngest, for a while, she’d looked a bit older than she was, even by the standards of her race.
Has it been that long, I wonder…?
Mégalo was the closest being many would consider Jamie's ‘lover’ even though such a word never existed between them. She would outright laugh at anyone were they ever to make such a claim, before immediately telling them that she had no heart for love.
She’d possessed no filter between her thoughts and her words, but her words were yet still so carefully chosen. Her thirst for power was the purest he’d seen. She’d been as raw and primal in her desire as one could be, uncaring of consequences and opinions of others.
She’d also been older than him by a fair amount despite possessing the body of a woman in her late-twenties. One night, after an intense session of ‘fucking’ — Mégalo refused to refer to it as anything else — she’d confessed to having sold her soul to her Divine Patron, an Eldritch God who bestowed upon her the ability to live Nine Lifetimes.
It was the greatest tragedy of Jamie’s life, that he’d only got to know her during her Ninth.
I haven’t dreamt of her since she made for the Outer Realms…
After their adventures, Mégalo decided she was grateful to her Divine Patron for granting her so much power, and made it her goal to find, kill, and usurp him before the end of her Ninth Life.
Her lust for power had been so great, she pursued deicide. She desired truly, to be able to look in the eyes of gods and say:
Fuck you.
Decades passed, and Mégalo never returned. Jamie would like to believe that she triumphed in her quest, alas, he knew better.
To dream of her now…
He knew why.
The weight against his chest, the mop of black hair tickling his nostrils, the remnants of dried drool clearly visible on his abdomen —
Selena slept wrapped around his arms, enclosed in his warmth, embraced in his presence. His thoughts of her no doubt weighed enough on his mind to influence his dreams. Here was a woman who loved him so unconditionally, Jamie knew not how to accept such love.
It matters little.
For now, he would accomplish her desires — and the answers would reveal themselves along the way.
With Mégalo, such a thing would never have been possible. Not only could he not acquire power on behalf of someone else, she would never have accepted it if he did. She had possessed a dream that could only be realized and pursued by herself and Jamie had respected her for it.
Seek power, and all else will follow.
It was a simplistic view of the world, Jamie would argue, but truth often lay in bed with simplicity. Once he could comfortably cast his Ninth-Level spells again, it would be enough to handle most, if not all of the problems he would face in this life.
He was currently only capable of Third-Level Spellcasting. This was not due to a lack of ability, but a lack of demonic power. His body as it was could output enough power for one Fourth-Level Spell or perhaps two if he pushed it, but it would no doubt be exhausting, if not outright crippling.
A soft snore escaped from underneath him, and he lightly ran his hands through Selena’s hair. He still recalled the events of the previous day clearly. Selena saving his life through sex, and the overwhelming energy he’d felt afterward —
Wait.
Jamie’s hand froze on her hair.
…Jamie, you fool.
His major roadblock was a lack of demonic energy to fuel his ability to cast higher-level spells.
But he was an incubus.
A race capable of absorbing energy and lifeforce of other creatures.
Does fate ever truly align so conveniently?
How blessed was he, to be of a race that made it so seeking power and seeking beauty were one and the same?
“Selena.”
He whispered her name into her ears, and lightly rubbed the back of her neck. She made a slight groan, but did not otherwise respond.
“Selena, it’s morning.”
He traced his hand down her back, feeling her spine, and she grumbled and buried herself deeper into his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
“It’s time to wake up.”
She grumbled even louder, and settled on burying her face into his chest. “Five more… hours….”
Jamie chuckled. “And here I was hoping I could have you for breakfast.”
Her head snapped over to him so quickly it was a miracle it did not break. Sleep seemed to vanish from her eyes at the mention of the magic words, yet a bit of drool seeped from the corner of her mouth.
“You — you mean — with me?” Her words came out rapidly. “Areyousureou’reokaywith —”
“After everything that happened yesterday?” He cupped her face in his palms. “What’s a little debauchery between us, hm?”
He’d barely finished his words before her lips smacked against him so hard that his head smashed against the wall. She sucked on his tongue as though it were her only lifeline, and bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Even fresh from sleep, she tasted like wine and honey. Morning breath was not a concept that applied to an entity of lust. She was sweet, succulent, as though he were biting into a juicy, wine-filled steak or a thick, honey-infused cake. The kiss was sudden and forceful, but it was also swift. She recoiled from him immediately, as though realizing what she was doing after the fact.
“I —” she was breathless. “Am I — is it —”
She was still uncertain.
She was worried he would hate her for her actions. She was terrified he would reject her for it.
Janie answered action with action.
He pushed her down unto the bed and pinned her in place. He locked his gaze with hers, and focused, purely, on her eyes. Her red eyes which glowed pink at the edges turned into hearts, and she squealed like a schoolgirl.
“40 points,” her voice came slowly. “You’re… um… not bad… that’s certainly… very um…”
“You’re grading me?” Jamie mused.
“W-well," she cleared her throat and tried to avoid his gaze. "It’s m-my job to teach you h-how to seduce women, s-so —”
Jamie leaned in close and let out a deep breath upon her ears.
“Do you really think I need to be taught?”
Selena bit her lip. It was all the answer they both needed. His fingers began their exploration with her legs, gently making a path between them. He commanded his tail to ensnare hers, and he planted soft, deep kisses on her neck, and began to work down.
His hands were exploring from bottom to up, but his mouth was exploring from top to bottom. It looked easy, but both Jamie and Selena knew it wasn't. Both worked flawlessly in tandem to amplify the feeling of gradual build-up — the feeling of excitement.
It was a multitasking feat as difficult as attempting to simultaneously draw a circle in the air with one's left hand and draw a square with their right.
"A-are you um…" Selena's expression was twisted in equal parts pleasure and conflict. "I mean, i-is this r-really your first…"
He silenced her with his right hand. He pushed his fingers into her mouth, and greedily, she sucked on them.
Jamie understood her conflict and turmoil. Were she any other woman, she'd be too engrossed in his machinations to question his skills. However, she was the person who'd lived under the same roof with him all his life. From her perspective, he was a fledgling incubus who knew nothing of how to please a woman. An incubus who avoided sex for so long, he nearly died because of it.
The beauty in the art of love-making could not be learnt from books. It could not be obtained from pictures. Experience was necessary, or at the very least, practice.
They'd lived under the same roof, and she'd have known if he'd done either.
Thus, to her, there were only two possibilities:
He'd practiced in secret, away from her, with other women.
Or —
He was a natural genius at sex.
Yet, the first possibility was out of the question, because had he had sex prior to yesterday, he would not have been in such dire straits. She had been the one to take his virginity, thus he could not have practiced in secret.
Which left only the second possibility.
And it was there, in the realization of the second possibility, that Jamie felt a bit of something deep within the heart of Selena.
"W-w-wait —" Selena removed his fingers from her mouth, and rasped. "W-w-wait just a minute."
Doubt.
She lay on the bed, underneath him, breathing hard, and she was the one telling him to stop.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"No! Nothing! Everything's great, in fact it's—" she looked straight at him. "You're really, really, great."
Selena bit her lip.
"But… that's kinda… the problem? I — I mean, you've always been amazing since you were born, being able to fly and use your powers at only two days old so I guess I should have seen this coming, but…"
Jamie watched her closely, seeing the thoughts play out in her mind. Her inner turmoil lay bare to him. Her every thought was open and clear as though she were a book he'd long since gotten acquainted with.
It was a sentiment many had complained to him about. The sentiment of finally getting that thing you desired, only to realize it's attainment did satisfy you as you thought it would.
"It's… not possible, to be this good," Selena began. "Not… not without practice. I mean even if you were the son of the god of sex… you couldn't possibly be…"
It was the equivalent of buying a piano for one's infant child who claimed to hate music, only for them to play Moonlight Sonata on it flawlessly the very first time they touched it. All without any exposure to music lessons, instruments, and having no knowledge of Beethoven prior to that day.
One would not think 'my child is a genius!'
One would think 'how the fuck did they do that?'
Genius was not a term that could explain it. Even geniuses had limits.
"As a succubus, I can instinctively tell the difference between the techniques of someone who's had tons of sex and someone with no experience… and you… Jamie… you… you have a lot of experience."
She stared straight into his eyes. Jamie found it amusing how she acted demure in the strangest of moments. Like now, here, where she covered her breasts with her hands like a shy maiden experiencing her first time.
"I'm flattered you think so."
Her cheeks puffed up indignantly. "How did you get so good?"
"I studied," Jamie smiled.
Her expression flattened. "You expect me to believe —"
"Does it bother you?"
There lay the crux of the matter.
"W-well - not really, but —"
His hand struck out to her right thigh. The sound of flesh being smacked echoed throughout the room. Selena let out a large yelp. She stared at him incredulously.
"D-did you just —"
"You lied just now," Jamie cut her off. "Every lie comes with a punishment."
There was something to be said about his warped sense of beauty, that he found it absolutely beautiful to relish in her stunned expression. It was a look of someone who realized they had no clue of who or what they were dealing with. It was the bedazzled silence of a person deep into something out of their pay grade. It was the gaping astonishment of a fish out of water.
"Selena, I'll ask once again," he kept his voice low. "Does it bother you?"
Her answer, inevitably, was a small, subdued nod.
"Good girl," he patted her head. "Honesty is my turn-on."
He didn't need his Incubus senses to tell him how much his words and actions had an effect on her. He had working eyes. From her flushed expression, to the way she squirmed, and the short gasp she let out, he could tell immediately.
"And being petted is yours," Jamie chuckled. "You just orgasmed because I called you a good girl."
Her cheeks burned red and her ears went pink. "I didn't —"
His hand came down once more. This time, to her right butt cheek. A loud 'eep!' escaped her lips.
"What did I say about lying?"
"T-this… t-this isn't fair!" Selena squeaked. "T-t-time out! Time out!"
"Oh?" Jamie's lips curled. "You think I'm that merciful?"
"W-w-wait —"
"My dear Selena," Jamie leaned forward until her lips barely brushed his. "Isn't this what you wished for?"
"It — it is, b-b-but at this r-rate you're going to —"
A burst of glowing purple light emerged from Selena's form, and Selena's eyes widened, before she let out a laugh that was tinged with complete disbelief.
"It's… too late."
The glowing light receded from her form and travelled down her body. It settled on her lower stomach, right above her crotch, where her womb lay. The light morphed into a strange glowing tattoo resembling the shape of a womb, but stylized with hearts and bright pink. The tattoo stopped fading, and instead became a permanent fixture on her skin.
Before Jamie could say anything, a similar looking tattoo appeared on the back of his right hand, before fading away as though it were never there.
"You've really done it…"
Selena exhaled.
"You've… completely beaten me…"
"I've… what?"
She gestured to her tattoo. "This only appears when a succubus is completely overwhelmed by a man whom she knows, in her deepest of hearts, she will never be able to conquer."
"You flatter me."
Selena started pounding him with her hands. "You big… dummy! Do you know what you've done? With this… with this…"
She crossed her arms like a recalcitrant child and her cheeks puffed up, making the image all the more comical. Eventually, she let out a brief shudder and bit her lip.
"You've marked me as your eternal cumdumpster…" her voice was low. "...I can't sleep with any other man in the world."
Jamie placed his hand on her lower stomach. "This little tattoo has that much power?"
"Remember what I told you about how we're beings made for a purpose?" Selena grumbled. "A succubus believing they can't conquer a man is like a monk lamenting to Buddha that they cannot break the cycle of suffering. It's like an Arabic imām tearing off his robes and screaming there is no god. Such a thing has dire consequences."
She pointed to him.
"For succubi, the consequence is eternal submission to the one who bests them."
Jamie laughed. It was only after realizing that she was still pouting at him, did he realize the possibility that her words were not made in jest.
"Truly?"
She continued pouting at him.
"I have zero intention of making you my slave," Jamie said immediately. "It seems I went too far. I'm sorry, let me just get rid of this —"
He placed his hand on her stomach, and she recoiled immediately.
"No!"
"Selena, this is no time for jokes —"
"The tattoo is bound to my life."
Jamie froze.
"If the tattoo is ever removed by any means," Selena continued. "The succubi bound to it dies immediately."
She was serious. He could tell. She meant it. A swift idea came to use Dispel Magic to see if he could remove the linking effect, but the risks were too great. He would not dare risk her life. Not for anything. Not for any reason.
Jamie felt saliva bubble up in his throat uncomfortably.
He hadn't known that deciding to have a little bit of fun with Selena would lead to this outcome.
"What are the effects?"
"I can't disobey a direct order and I can't willingly hurt you," Selena continued to pout. "Not that I ever would before…"
She was taking it considerably well. "...Is that all?"
"W-well since I can't sleep with other men, I'll become entirely reliant on your semen to fulfil my needs and refill my sexual energy…"
The tattoo was skewed in his favor. Jamie did not like it. He'd never liked uneven relationships. He possessed all the power, yet Selena did not seem to care. She was not worried. Her trust for him was just that great.
It was that blinding.
It never occurred to her that he could misuse that power. Were he not the benevolent son she saw him as, he would be able to abuse, use, demean and discard her and she'd be powerless to oppose him.
Jamie wanted to say he would never hurt her. He believed it. Yet, he'd never had absolute power over a person before. He knew not the temptations. He knew not the pitfalls.
Already, the darkest desires of his mind bubbled and simmered. Things to which he'd been curious for years, but could never find a suitable partner willing to indulge him. Means of exploring the feminine form he'd been dying to test out. Acts of carnality so taboo, that he'd been slapped whenever he'd suggested them, even in jest.
He knew not what Selena's boundaries were, but he needed to find them. He needed them found and drawn firmly.
If not for his sake, then for hers.
A loud rumbling interrupted his thoughts, as it did Selena's words. The sound came from Selena's stomach, and she blushed at its volume. Shame had made home in the heart of the shameless.
Jamie chuckled.
"What do you say we head down for breakfast?"
XXXXX
Castle Agares
Agares Territory
“I would have loved it if you had given me prior notice.”
“My dear child, you’re overreacting.”
“I had plans, mother.”
“Going off to the Valley to mingle with country bumpkins is hardly important. And besides, Lookas adores you.”
“I’ve voiced my complaints about his behavior.”
“He’s a young, growing devil, Seekvaira.”
“That makes his actions permissible?”
“It makes it understandable, dear.”
Minobella Agares gently placed her hand against her chin. Standing in her bedroom, dressed in another one of her long-flowing, elegant gowns, the woman stood in contrast to her, who sat about in a pair of free boxer-shorts and a loose t-shirt.
Even now, despite it being so early, her mother’s make-up was ever-perfect and presentable. Her blonde hair fell behind her in a neat combed pony-tail which she let grow out, and her purple eyes glistened underneath the lighting, as she smiled and gave off the feeling of a ‘proper’ noblewoman.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Comparing us.”
Seekvaira looked away. Her room’s mirror lay before her, showing the difference between them. Her mother was more well-endowed. She was soft-spoken. She stood and walked with grace and elegance. Whereas she sat with bed-head in casual clothes, slightly squinting without her glasses.
“Stop it.”
Her mother’s warm hand pushed her face back into position until they could stare at each other. Her purple eyes were stern, for but a moment, before relaxing.
“Envy is a good sin for a devil to have, but in moderation,” her mother shook her head. “You used to balance it so well.”
“Have I…” Seevaira hesitated. “Disappointed you?”
“No,” her reply was sharp. “Never.”
Seekvaira did not gaze into her eyes.
“Above everything, I want your happiness,” Minobella smiled. “I still remember when you used to play with those tiny little robot figures. You loved them to the death. What was it called? Gunman?”
“Gundam,” she corrected, on instinct. “That was just a phase. I’m not a child anymore.“
Her mother laughed. “You’ve lived barely two decades.”
“Is that why you feel you can make plans for me without telling me?”
Minobella’s purple eyes locked unto her pink ones, and her mother stood, exhaling calmly. Ever gracefully, she moved away from the bed, towards the mirror, and stood in front of it, smiling as she did so.
“I do it for your own good.”
“I fail to see how making me chaperone my cousin’s playdate is for my own good.”
“Do you know who set this playdate up?”
“What does that have to —”
“Venelana Gremory.”
The words died in Seekvaira’s throat.
“Millicas Gremory will be coming over to visit and play with Lookas. He’s such a cute little boy, don’t you think?”
No, she wanted to say. Seekvaira could not imagine using that adjective to describe a child born of such powerful monsters like the Satan Lucifer and Strongest Queen of the Underworld, Grayfia Lucifuge.
“Did you know they’re the only two devils in the same age bracket amongst the Pillar Clans?”
She didn’t answer.
“Venelana is also coming over.”
“Lady Venelana… is?”
“We’re having a spa day. We'll get our hair and nails done and enjoy a blissful sauna and some juicy gossip.”
Her mother turned around, a smile forming on her lips.
“Did I ever tell you that we’re distantly related?”
Once more, Seekvaira did not answer.
“My mother was her father’s second cousin. We never talked much, when we were younger. I envied her, being born with the Power of Destruction. The only trait I got from the Bael Clan was a nice set of purple eyes.”
Her mother moved towards her, looking her straight in her eyes, and she grabbed both of her hands, and held them.
“Your father took one look at my purple eyes and was enthralled by them all the same. He only has sex with me in positions where he can look into my eyes, and even after all these centuries, whenever I please him with my mouth, I have to look down. As soon as I look into his eyes, he fills my mouth with his cum instantly.”
Seekvaira felt her cheeks burn. “Mother, please —”
“You never listen to me when I talk about how I pleasure your father,” she said. “You don’t care for my lessons on how I manage his harem. Whenever I try to discuss the latest gossip about infidelity scandals in the underworld, you pay no heed to my words.”
“Those topics don’t interest me, mother.”
“They should.”
“I do not see why they —”
“For the connections, dear child,” her mother’s exasperated reply came. “I am acquainted with Lord Bael’s three favorite concubines and they tell me whether he is seeking to have another child or attempting to gain a new Peerage member. I gossip with Lady Phenex, and she discusses the woes of her sons and how she plans on making them settle down. We make connections through our talks.”
“That’s what you gossip about?”
Her mother shot her a coy smile.
“When we gossip and trade stories, we trade information. We create bonds. We have our little secrets, our inside-jokes, our sodality of shared experiences. We set up little play-dates and act the role of cupid and gently influence the fate of our families while pleasuring our men into being satisfied with the belief that they have all the control. That is how a female devil gains her power.”
Seekvaira ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t want that type of power, mother.”
“My dear, you’re a woman. We don’t get to choose.”
Minobella got up and neatly smoothed her gown. Her hands were folded inwards on themselves, ever-gracefully.
"I’m going to prepare to welcome our guests. I would suggest you do the same,” Minobella hummed. “You have an amazing figure, Seekvaira. You’re my daughter after all. If you put on something risqué, you might catch young Millicas’ attention.”
Seekvaira felt her back stiffen. “He’s still a child, mother.”
“We’re devils, Seekvaira.”
“Mother!”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” she huffed. “Your father is two hundred and eight years older than I am, and we consummated our marriage when I was thirteen.”
“That’s — that’s different.”
“Young Millicas is what, ten years younger than you? Eight?” Minobella let out a scandalized gasp. “Not unlike your cradle-robbing father, I suppose?”
Seekvaira bit her lip. “That’s not what I —”
“Seekvaira,” Minobella interrupted her. “Your friend Rias will be getting married to Riser Phenix soon. Young Millicas will be the head of the Gremory family, in addition to being the son of the Lucifer. Do you think other families are going to wait till his pubic hair grows before showering him with eager women?”
Minobella reached out towards her, gently cupping her cheek.
“It’s a blessing enough that little Lookas was born at the same time and managed to become Millicas’ friend, but the underworld is cruel, my dear. Friendships are made and broken easily. Bonds of marriage and blood are not. If we wish to ensure our family is not left behind in the dust, we must seize the opportunities we are given.”
Seekvaira knew Riser Phenex. It had been a while since she spoke with Rias, but she knew her as well. There was no way Rias would ever willingly agree to marry him. Rias was sacrificing herself as a tool for her family. Her brother was the Lucifer, and yet, not even she could escape the fate of spreading her legs for a man she did not love.
If someone like Rias Gremory could not do so, what hope did she, Seekvaira Agares, possess?
“...I understand, mother.”
“Good,” Minobella smiled.
Her mother turned around, moving gracefully as she made her way to the door.
“While chaperoning your cousin and little Lord Millicas, ensure they do not get up to too much mischief,” she warned. “Lookas has been taking interest in the opposite sex a lot lately. The last thing we need is Lady Grayfia asking questions about some low-class hussy taking her son’s first time."
“Yes, mother.”
The door closed shut behind her. Silence dwelled in the room, and Seekvaira plopped backwards against her bed and shut her eyes close. Her gaze turned her nightstand, and there, to the gunpla hidden behind the lantern. It reminded her of the smoother days of her childhood. It was all that was left of her once expansive collection, and it was the first one she’d ever been gifted.
What purpose does innocence serve to a devil?
She discarded her thoughts and rose from her bed, heading to the mirror. She always maintained a proper appearance whilst she was outside of her home and room, but she often felt it wasn’t enough. Looking at her own reflection, she understood, on some logical level, that she was pleasing on the eyes. Even with disheveled clothing and wild bed-hair, there were likely those who’d still see her and be roused at the sight. Her own cousin was madly infatuated with her, to her disgust. She did not understand it.
She’d never seen anyone and felt that feeling.
Until two days ago.
Her face burned with indignation as she recalled the red-skinned devil who’d broken through her defences and held her in his grasp. She hated the fact that her breathing picked up and her heart beat faster once she thought of him. She hated the fact, that had he pushed her just a little more, she would have gotten on her knees and done the unspeakable with a man she’d just met.
Seekvaira did not know how to handle the influx of conflicting emotions, and settled on converting them to outrage.
Yes, outrage.
She would find that deviant and beat him within an inch of her life. She would meet him again, just to confirm that it was not some trick he’d pulled on her. To prove to herself that he was nothing special. She would reassure herself of the conviction of will she possessed, and that would be that.
Still, all of that would have to wait.
For now, she needed to doll herself up to earn the the sexual attention of a boy half her age.
For the sake of her family.
XXXXXX
A jug of milk, a half-eaten slice of cheese, eight cucumbers, four carrots, three spotted-blue eggs and a large crate filled with vials of glistening fluids.
Those were all the contents of the refrigerator. Besides that, there was the half-cooked meal Selena had abandoned on the kitchen counter, which made Jamie's brow twitch.
He grabbed the jug of milk, closed the refrigerator, opened the cover, and took a sniff.
“Identify.”
[New Item Identified!]
Pitcher of Succubus Milk
Classification: Potion, Uncommon-Grade
Details: An uncommon potion with considerable value in Underworld and the larger Supernatural Community. The milk of a succubus is valued for being nutrient-rich and overflowing with demonic power. It possesses an analgesic, anti-inflammatory, and strong hypnotic effect when consumed that makes the consumer more susceptible to mental suggestions and commands. It is a favorite of devil mothers who wish to ensure their growing children are as pliable and obedient as possible.
Avg. Price: 800G - 1000G [800 Shekels - 1000 Shekels / $80,000 - $100,000]
Active Spells/Effects:
- Suggestion [Common]: The liquid within this object is enchanted to apply the effects of the spell ‘Suggestion’ onto the drinker. This effect can be resisted by individuals with a high enough Wisdom/Willpower.
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
Hidden Spells/Effects Detected:
- Reinforcement [Common]: This object is enchanted to be harder and sturdier to break than regular plastic, to account for the enhanced physical strength of devils.
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
- Stasis [Uncommon]: This object is enchanted to ensure that whatever liquid is placed within it is incapable of degrading in quality or spoilage, regardless of external circumstances.
Note: Enchantment is Uncommon-Grade, can be Dispelled with minor effort.
A voice emerged from the living room, but he was not focused on it. His brain was processing new information. The innate mechanisms of the method utilized to create plastic appeared as a series of still images in his mind’s eye. The nature of the liquid within the plastic followed. Selena’s form materialized, squeezing both her breasts, moaning and whimpering as she placed her nipples into the opening of the container and milked herself to orgasm.
The still images of Selena vanished. Images of a large factory came to be, with several hundred thousands of plastic jugs. Bored devils lazily pushed a button on machines which etched invisible seals against the bottom of plastic containers. Invisible seals granting the spells of ‘reinforcement’ and ‘stasis.’
The First-Level Divination spell, Identify, allowed one to identify the nature of magical and non-magical objects, learn its innate properties and mechanisms, learn if any curses, spells, or enchantments were on said item, and instantly know how to use said properties and mechanisms.
It was no different from psychometry.
Jamie returned the milk to the refrigerator and exhaled, before shaking his head at the oddity of the situation.
He'd never thought to question it before, but now, he was all but certain.
We aren't financially buoyant.
It was a more palatable way of saying: we're poor.
Poverty was a novel concept to Jamie. He'd never lacked for food or cloth in Castle Ever-Blight. Even after he fled from home, he'd possessed enough coin on his person to last him a while. Once he started performing as a traveling Bard, his income stream increased to a comfortable level, thus that he never felt financially strained.
He made his way from the kitchen towards the living room. Selena lay on the couch, wearing nothing but an oversized T-Shirt. Her gaze was locked onto the television, and Jamie followed it. There, on screen, a muscled man with slick black hair stood before a middle-aged woman, caressing her body. The woman, appearing demure, seemed to give the sort of willful non-resistance that accompanied women who desired sex, but were too bashful to admit their desires.
“Alejandro — oh, we can’t, my — my daughter! You’re to wed my daughter!”
“Isabella will understand, Abuela. For now, forget about her. Focus on me. Only on me.”
Selena’s gaze flicked to him. She patted the space on the couch beside her. He moved to sit beside her, and she snuggled close to him.
“La Pecadora,” she gestured to the TV. “It’s hilarious.”
A moan escaped the TV. The older woman mewled as the man known as Alejandro began nibbling on her neck. Selena snorted loudly, letting out a brilliant laugh.
“That man spends more time trying to find the clit than Moses did searching for the promised land.”
He focused on the television but found his attention slipping. He did not have the heart to tell Selena that he found the entire display to be mediocre.
The words of the performers did not stir him. Their motions and movements did not rouse him. Even if it was a mere pretense, it was pitiable. The hickeys he gave were barely skin-deep. The manner in which he groped her chest was half-hearted, as though he did not want to hold her.
Jamie had never seen such an atrocious performance.
Yet, Selena sat all the same, eyes latched on to the screen, drinking in the subpar performance with great amusement. Perhaps she gained some sort of humorous satisfaction from it? A twisted form of masochism perhaps?
She seemed to enjoy it, and that was reason enough for him to keep his thoughts to himself.
There was no beauty to be found in needless criticism of another person's choice of entertainment.
His gaze latched on to her exposed legs and he felt his saliva bubble at the back of his throat. The innate lust of an incubus was something difficult to tame, but now was not the time for such things.
He was lacking in power and he was lacking in wealth. Selena could subsist on nothing but his semen all her life, and he, in turn, could subsist on her fluids — but it was less than ideal.
Seek power, and all else will follow.
For his plans to come to fruition, he needed someone who knew the ins and outs of happenings in devil society. Someone well versed in the social, economic, and political climate. He needed to be able to trust this person, or, failing that, come to an equitable relationship with them.
Selena could not be that person.
“Where are you going?”
“I just need to check something. I’ll be back soon.”
He rose from the couch and flew, quietly, back up the stairs. He made his way into his bedroom and switched the light on. The sparse room space had only the magic tool known as the ‘computer’ located directly in front of him, and a bed with a red and black blanket kept to the side.
He approached the ‘computer’ and placed his right hand directly on it. “Identify.”
[New Item Identified!]
Eden’s Apple Laptop
Classification: Wondrous item, Common-Grade
Details: A common magic tool utilized throughout the Devil Underworld by people of all ages, but especially common among the younger generation of devils. This laptop is a computer, that is, a programmable electronic device designed to accept data, perform prescribed mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and display the results of these operations. It responds to a specific set of instructions in a well-defined manner, and it can execute a prerecorded list of instructions, called a program.
Details Cont.: This laptop was created by the Eden’s Apple Incorporation. It is specifically designed to enable denizens of the underworld to access the Human Internet — a global computer network providing a variety of information and communication facilities, consisting of interconnected networks using standardized communication protocols.
Details Fin.: In addition, this laptop is capable of accessing the Mythernet — a portmanteau of ‘Myth’ and ‘Internet’ — which is a specific connection of networks only available to supernatural beings from varying religions across the world. This enables the user of this device to communicate instantly and globally via social media platforms, perform financial transactions, carry out personal or professional business, and entertain themselves with videos, games, and other available digital media.
Avg. Price: 15G - 65G [15 Shekels - 65 Shekels / $1,500 - $6,500]
Active Spells/Effects:
- Sustenance [Common]: The battery within this object is enchanted to siphon energy from the ambient demonic power of its user while it is in use, in order to last far longer than otherwise possible
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
- Uplink [Uncommon]: This object is enchanted to connect to accrue and constantly update data from numerous sources across the underworld, enabling it to access the internet and mythernet.
Note: Enchantment is Uncommon-Grade, can be Dispelled with minor effort.
III. Devil’s Lock [Rare]: This item is enchanted to only be capable of being utilized by individuals possessing demonic power. Anyone who does not possess demonic power attempting to use this device will find it unresponsive and immobile.
Note: Enchantment is Rare-Grade, can only be Dispelled with significant effort.
Hidden Spells/Effects Detected:
- Reinforcement [Common]: This item is enchanted to be harder and sturdier to break to account for the enhanced physical strength of devils.
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
- Voyeur’s Eye [Common]: This item is enchanted to place a minor scrying effect on individuals utilizing it with demonic power recorded at High-Class or greater.
Note: Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
III. Wheat Against Chaff [Common]: This item is enchanted to detect and differentiate Pureblood Devils from non-Purebloods, and increases the speed and efficiency of its processing power for those of Pureblood status.
Note: Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
- Obsolescence [Uncommon]: This item is enchanted to slow down and degrade in its speed and power over a period of time. The rate of eventual degradation is lower for individuals possessing High-Class demonic power, and higher for individuals possessing Low-Class demonic power.
Note: Enchantment is Uncommon-Grade, can be Dispelled with minor effort.
The word ‘computer’ meant nothing to a man of the Forgotten Realms. No such thing existed in his old world. Upon utilizing Identify to grasp the true nature of the object, he immediately understood that no such thing could exist in his old world.
His mind was instantly flooded with mechanisms and concepts. The idea of a Programming Language would have seemed asinine to him before, but he understood it perfectly. He saw visions of men, sitting about in cubicles, rapping their fingers against keyboards as they programmed the device for each individual function. He saw glimpses of the creation and manufacture process, where the metals needed were mined, harvested, and forged, before all the tiny necessary parts, the microchips, the silicon wafers, the copper used for maximum conductivity —
The full scope of knowledge of what a computer was and what it did flooded his brain and he intrinsically understood. He understood the device, as though he’d been using it his entire life —
As though he’d made it.
Jamie staggered, moving his hand towards his head. He was certain he’d taken minor psychic damage just now, and he could easily fathom why. The sheer breadth of the knowledge which swarmed his mind was not mild. He’d gone from computer illiterate to technological savant in the span of a single spell.
Brilliant.
Jamie laughed.
BRILLIANT!
He’d loathed his lack of knowledge.
He saw no beauty in his ignorance.
No one would gaze upon the sight of a man uneducated and unknowledgeable in the ways of the world, and announce merrily that they were friends. Who wished to sit beside the unschooled? Who wished to banter with the uninformed? What pleasure was there in debate with the unlearned, unread and unenlightened? What madman would desire to engage in philosophical discourse with the benighted, unsophisticated, and unworldly?
Both god and the devil would sooner banter with enlightened sages than they would be found in the vicinity of uncultured philistines.
Knowledge is beauty.
Many a man and woman had fallen hopelessly in love with those who possessed the guiding light of wisdom and knowledge. No one, to Jamie’s knowledge, had ever gazed upon the foibles of a fool and found themselves smitten with their foolishness.
His thirst for knowledge was as insatiable as his thirst for beauty. Nay, it was perhaps greater. He had never felt this desire in the Forgotten Realms, for he’d been wading in familiar waters his entire life. He was never ignorant. He'd never been found-wanting.
Entering into this new world changed that. Now, he’d been pushed into the deep end of a lake of endless information and given the imperative to swim, drink, or drown.
He dragged the seat back and sat before the laptop.
"Dispel Magic."
Numerous Enchantments Detected.
Dispelling Common Grade Enchantments…
[Voyeur's Eye] Dispelled
[Wheat Against Chaff] Dispelled
Dispelling Uncommon Grade Enchantments…
A significant pull occurred within him. There was something taking away his stamina. He felt like he'd ran a marathon, and then engaged in eight rounds of sex with four different, highly enthusiastic women.
This is considered Minor Effort?
[Obsolescence] has been dispelled.
The pull vanished. Jamie fell backwards, crashing off his chair. Several harsh, ragged breaths escaped him. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat.
You have successfully dispelled the Enchantments.
"How dreadful," Jamie pursed his lips. "Had I only a Wizard with me…"
Adriel would have been able to dispel the enchantments without a sweat. He remembered how bright-eyed and optimistic the Wizard had been in his youth. He was obsessed with magic in all forms, always being the first to investigate any magical items they found while venturing through dungeons. Calista had confided in him that it was that wide-eyed zeal that drew her to him, to begin with.
The Adriel of youth and the old man he became were two different people. Zeal and passion became obsession and duty, and what was once a bright young boy with dazzling eyes that could pierce the greatest darkness, became a soured man burdened with endless responsibilities, who no longer had the time to cherish his wife's embrace.
Had the young Adriel been just a tad bit feminine, Jamie would have been smitten with him as well. He would not deny that it was one of the reasons he was not opposed to exploring the beauty of his daughters. He sought the same zeal of their father within them, and whilst they had been passionate, it simply failed to compare.
In a perfect world, Adriel would never have aged nor felt angered that he was in Calista's embrace. In a perfect world, a young Adriel would have joined them, and Jamie would have enjoyed the pleasure of Calista's gorgeous elven cunt while she savored her husband's cock.
Calista would have melted in pleasure, and everyone would leave, happy and satisfied.
Alas, there is no such thing as a perfect world.
Jamie sat up. and turned his attention back towards the laptop.
Seek power, and all else will follow.
He laughed.
I’m sorry, Még. I have my own ways of doing things.
He lacked information. He lacked capital. He was lacked understanding. He was akin to a Gnomish trader who’d lived their entire life in a cave, moving to the Elemental Planes to attempt to make a living. Doing this whilst having no knowledge of what sold and what didn’t, of what the denizens liked or hated, or of what was valued and what was taboo —
It was a set up for failure.
There is no beauty in ignorance.
Jamie clicked his tongue.
It seems I have no choice.
Rising from his seat, he moved into the center of the room, and sat down on the hard wooden floor, and closed his eyes.
“Borrowed Knowledge.”
XXXXX
Underworld
Unknown Location
A single candle illuminated a dark room with cloaked figures. Ten figures wore porcelain masks with horns, and the centered around the candle, whispering amongst themselves in hushed voices. Their cloaks were pitchblack, and their porcelain masks numbered them from one through ten.
“This seems a little… risky,” Number Ten murmured. It was a feminine voice. Soft and clear.
“Stupid is what it is,” Number Eight chided. It was a masculine voice, rough and coarse.
“Are we sure this intel is accurate?” Number Five probed. Another masculine voice.
“Our informant is a maid,” Number Two announced. “The information is trustworthy.”
“It could be a trap that witch set to catch us.”
“If something goes wrong, none of us will be safe!”
“This plan is too risky!”
“I agree! We should —”
“Silence.”
A single command had the room go quiet. The man who spoke wore a mask which was numbered ‘One.’ His voice was gravelly, making him out to be an aged man.
“How can we call ourselves Followers of True Satans, if we are too scared to take actions against our enemies?”
No one spoke. No one made to speak.
“I am old enough to remember our glory days. All before that brat Sirzechs came to power. His existence could have been the miracle we needed to vanquish our enemies, but he is a coward. Rather than give his all to slay the likes of Michael and Azazel, he would rather seek to make peace with them…”
Number One barked a loud laugh.
“Devils breaking bread with angels… the fool cannot realize how much of an abomination such a thing is. Even humans, with their feeble minds and lifespans, would be repulsed to see the forces of good and the forces of evil eating from the same pot.”
Number One coughed and hacked, his voice being the only thing audible.
“Unfortunately, that brat is a monster. Even if there were a million of us, we wouldn’t be able to scratch him. But Lilith be praised, all things in this world come with balance. Sirzechs may be powerful, but he has a prominent weakness.”
Number One cast his hand over the candle, and the flame spurred out. From it, two images emerged. One was of a young, beautiful red-haired girl, whereas the other was of an even younger looking red-haired boy.
“His sister, Rias Gremory,” Number One said. “And his son, Millicas.”
Number One flicked away the image of the girl.
“The sister is currently out of our reach, but, our informants tell us that his son Millicas will be leaving the safety of Gremory Territory with his grandmother to the Agares Territory,”
Number One waved his hand in front of the flame once more, and a new image appeared beside the boy. It was a young attractive woman with brown hair.
“Venelana Gremory is an… old acquaintance of mine,” Number One said. “Her powers are formidable, but she will be too occupied with Minobella Agares to pay attention to her grandson. Instead, we are to focus our efforts on the boy’s main escort —”
Number One made a gesture and the image of the boy and his grandmother vanished, and instead, the image of a sternwoman with white hair took its place.
“His own mother, the Gremory Family Head Maid, Grayfia Lucifuge.”
Loud murmurs burst forth. Several people complained at once. Number One cleared his throat.
“It will indeed be difficult to go up against the Strongest Queen of the Underworld…” Number One laughed. “But worry not brethren, for we have a trump card, granted to us by the Great One himself! A legendary item from his endless collection, to which I got upon my knees and begged the Great One to grant us… and he did!”
Number One extended his hands out, and the flaming image before him morphed.
“This legendary item, my brethren, is not only the ultimate counter to Grayfia Lucifuge, with it, we can even commence our plans of eliminating that disgrace, Serafall, and restoring Lady Katarea to her rightful place as Leviathan!”
Gasps escaped the room.
“It — it can’t be!”
“It is! It’s really —”
“The Great One is truly beyond our comprehension! To have such a thing in his possession —”
Number One laughed.
“Praise be Lilith! Praise be the True Satans!”
“Praise be the True Satans!”
“Let us prepare, brethren!” Number One roared. “For the Glory of the True Satans of the Underworld!”
Notes:
Yo.
I've added the AU tag to make it clear that this story is not a 1:1 copy of the canon world. For starters, (correct me if I'm wrong) succubi never appear, not once, in the entirety of DxD canon. No incubi appear either.
My interpretation of characters will follow canon as a guideline, but not as gospel truth.
I write with the belief that everyone -- even the lamest of villains -- is the protagonist of their own story. Using canon information as a guide, I try to imagine, how would a person x years old with y life experience from z cultural and social background behave in xyz situation?
The answers I come up with may not be 100% accurate, but that's why it's called fan-fiction.
Chapter Text
Jamie held a great distaste for the school of Divination.
Magic which could narrate past, reveal present and predict future left much to be desired. There was little appeal in knowing the who, the why, the what and the how of all things that happened. Those who delved deep into the magic of Divination sought not to live, but to be forewarned of living. They did not experience life, deprived of all surprises and spontaneity as they were.
His distaste for Divination Magic contributed to his downfall. A meagre utilization of Foresight would have warned him that Adriel was returning home and perhaps even foretold of the Wizard’s plan to kill him. Perhaps, he would have departed before the wizard ever arrived to find him entangled in Calista’s arms. Perhaps he would have stayed. Perhaps his future would have gone completely differently.
The Ninth-Level Spell Foresight granted the ability to see the immediate future and was commonly used in high-level combat to predict attacks before they landed. Jamie had no qualms using it in such instances, as possessing nigh-omniscient control of the flow of battle was a beautiful thing in it’s own right. Outside of the battlefield, however?
He loathed the nature of a spell which would deprive one of all the surprises in the world.
And yet, the circumstances compel me.
Borrowed Knowledge was a Second-Level Spell he’d picked up at the Strixhaven School of Mages on the plane of Arcavios. He’d learned the spell from Vepalia, a young, buxom Half-Elf Sorceress who had been too focused on her study of the arcane for a social life. Far too focused on her study of arcane, to the point at which she’d happily engaged in sex with him to conduct an ‘experiment.’
Jamie smiled warmly as he remembered the occasion. She’d been looking up at him, floundered as to what to do once he’d disrobed and gently placed his cock in front of her. Then, she cast the spell. Gone was the floundering maiden, and in her place was a devious vixen who buried the full length of his member down her throat without so much as a moment’s hesitation.
After their ‘experiment’ she explained that the spell was designed to draw upon knowledge from departed spirits and souls of the past and to incarnate said spirits into one’s body in order to know what they knew, and be capable of doing whatever they could do.
It granted one such proficiency at skills that it could transform a fledgling pickpocket into a capable thief and grant an apprentice blacksmith the confidence and expertise of a well-trained veteran. A hapless student would find themselves becoming nearly as learned as their professors, and one utterly inexperienced in sensing the arcane would suddenly become a skilled novice in the study of magic.
There’d been some caveats and extra details with the spell she’d explained, but he’d been too engrossed with his tongue between her legs to remember the specifics.
Upon casting the spell, he’d half expected to see some dancing spirits around him taking his hand or the spirit of an aged man possessing his body. She’d taught him how to cast it, but he’d never used it due to his innate dislike of Divination magic.
“Did the spell miscast perchance?”
Jamie casually bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for an effect. When Vepalia had cast it, the effects had been instantaneous. The look in her eyes had changed and she’d become confident — experienced.
“Could the world be interfering in the spell?”
It was supposed to grant him knowledge from spirits. Were there no spirits to give him knowledge in this world?
Unlikely.
He pondered a bit on the matter and closed his eyes.
“What currency does the Underworld use?”
History Check Initialized.
A jolt ran through him. Words, unbidden, rushed into his mind. An overwhelming assault of information slammed into his psyche as he rejected the notion that he was ignorant of the topic. Nay, he knew this topic — he was a master of this topic.
Check Success.
Words began to float in his vision. The same familiar words he saw now and again, re-arranged themselves and vanished.
Knowledge poured into his brain.
“Devils of old utilized the souls of the damned as their preferred store of value,” he realized. “The rarer the soul, the greater the value. Virgins and young children were considered especially valuable and their souls could be traded to acquire vast scores of land…”
Jamie placed his hand on his chin and paced about, performing a textbook imitation of a distinguished history professor lecturing an auditorium of students.
“In modern times, Devils utilize the shekel as a standard means of currency,” he added. “The shekel is the currency used in the Hebrew Scriptures. It is, however, only one of the numerous supernatural currencies currently in circulation and is only slightly above the Greek Drachmae in value…”
Jamie stopped pacing around and his lips curved upwards.
“The purchasing power of the shekel is immense. Land within the devil underworld, though abundant, costs tens of millions of shekels. The upkeep of an estate belonging to a member of the pillar clan is in the hundreds of thousands. Despite this, the amount in circulation is surprisingly low and the highest denomination is the five-hundred shekel note…”
Spells like Borrowed Knowledge and Identify were aspects of the Divination School he did not loathe in their entirety. This was only because of they did not grant him the power to predict the future, but instead, granted him knowledge of the past. From there, it was up to him to make his own predictions and deductions.
A mere minute ago, he would have floundered if asked the price of a loaf of bread. Now, he could confidently walk in front of a stage and give a lecture on the macroeconomics of the underworld.
It was truly disgusting.
On one hand, Jamie loathed ignorance of all sorts, and any method to which he would use to rid himself of such an unsightly flaw was perfect.
On the other, in a matter of seconds, he’d circumvented hours if not years of study, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth to reap the fruit of a seed he did not plant.
Such was his internal conflict: a hatred of shortcuts versus a hatred of ignorance.
Between the two evils, he knew which he found worse. The time and effort he would use to acquire the knowledge would prevent him from pursuing other endeavors without his ignorance being made clear.
Jamie would rather be called a cheater than a fool.
There was beauty in the laugh of a deceiver, but not in the lament of the gullible.
To what extent does this spell go, I wonder?
Could it tell him everything he did not know?
He snorted. That would be absurd. It was a mere Second-Level Spell that only let one get knowledge from spirits. Granting omniscience was surely far beyond its capabilities.
Although, Vicious Mockery, a mere cantrip, crumbled Selena’s will to fight…
This was not the Forgotten Realms, a fact he needed to constantly remind himself. A different plane of existence meant different rules and different effects of magic.
A minor test then?
“I would like a summary of the origin of the Devil Race.”
Religion Check Initialized.
Another jolt ran through him. This one was far stronger than the previous one. Jamie felt as though he’d been struck with lightning. Every inch and nerve of his was suddenly alive with fire.
Check Success.
Jamie staggered and fell, nearly smashing his head into the wall of his room. His vision was blurry. He blinked numerous times to try and regain his bearings, but each time he did so, the blurriness of his vision intensified. His eyes turned pure white and his vision left him.
Gone was his room. Gone was his laptop. Gone was everything, except darkness.
A brilliantly shining angel with twelve wings appeared. Tears welled up in Jamie’s eyes. The angel shone and radiated like the brightest of stars. It shone, beautiful beyond words and beyond thought.
Then, something changed. The beautiful radiant angel cursed against a being on a throne. From there, it was chaos. The angel's wings were ripped brutally from his back, and the angel was sent into a fall, deeper and lower, until his form morphed into something eldritch — something beautiful, yet, tragic.
The images vanished, and Jamie stood in front of a large garden. A naked man and a naked woman were present, both, oddly, without navels. The naked woman was beautiful. Stunningly so. Jamie’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. Supernatural arousal rose from deep within him, to which he did not understand.
Within time, the naked man attempted to force the naked woman underneath his heel, and Jamie growled. To his pleasure, the naked woman would not listen. She did not bend. Soon, a bellowing voice came from the heavens, and the naked woman was cast out of the garden. Two angels barred the gates before here. She cursed out against the man and against the voice, but neither could hear her.
One of the ribs of the naked man vanished from his chest. From it, flesh and blood grew until that rib formed into another naked woman, almost as beautiful as the first. The naked man happily pounced on this second woman, and she did not resist.
Again, the images changed. Now, the subservient naked woman stood alone in the garden, and from within, a slithering creature crawled. Though it lacked legs and took the form of a serpent, its aura was of something otherworldly. The woman did not sense it, and with a few words, the serpent convinced the woman to eat a glowing fruit off a tree.
From there on, the subservient naked woman took the fruit and gave it to the naked man, and both hid in the bushes and fashioned clothes out of figs and trees. Not long after, a thunderous voice condemned them, and they, too, were banished from the garden.
Once more, the images changed. The once brilliant angel encountered the first true woman, and both, burning with their hatred, consummated atop an altar. With every thrust into her, she cursed out the man of the garden, and every time she did, a creature was born. It took seventy-two thrusts until her womb was filled with seed, and seventy-two beings of malice, spite, and hatred were born.
A true-born son would come from the womb of the woman much later. The once-brilliant angel took his seventy-two kin, his son, the first woman, and gathered an army of extras, and all raced skyward, following him and his gleaming sword. Angels descended from the heavens en masse, with glowing wings, and both forces collided.
Without warning, Jamie’s sight returned.
Gone was the brilliant battlefield. Gone were the angels. Gone were the seventy-two generals. He sat, staring at the plain walls of his bedroom, at a significant loss for words.
“Origins of Sin…. the Defaulters of Eden,” His lips moved on their own accord. “The First Rebel: The Bright and Morning Star. Mother of all Devils; Lilith. The First True Wife of Adam… the Deceiver Samael, the Mother of Humans, Eve —”
Jamie struggled a strange sense of loss. He was overwhelmed with an uncertainty that had not existed before. He could still smell the blood and guts of the chaotic clash as though he’d walked freshly off the battlefield. He could perfectly recall the sheer hatred and vitriol on the face of Lilith as she gladly took Lucifer into her, all so she would birth the ones that would bring the downfall of Adam and his descendants.
His lips curled into a snarl as he thought of Adam. A man so weak he’d demanded subservience of Lilith, and had her banished for her unwillingness to do so. He thought of Eve and felt disgust, at a creation made only to serve Adam’s will — to act not truly as his partner, but his subordinate. Her actions had eventually led to both their downfalls.
A thick feeling entered his throat at the thought of true perpetrator, the being on the throne, the one who ripped the wings from the beautiful Lucifer, the one who banished Lilith from the garden.
Jamie clicked his tongue in disaste.
He was not the sort to force accountability on the son for the sins of the father, but he did believe in making reparations. As Jamie Darkblight, there was a lot of reparations he did to reverse the harm his father had brought to the world. He did not need to do so, but it was, in Jamie’s mind, the right thing to have done.
Surely, the humans had sought to atone somewhat for Adam’s folly?
Jamie closed his eyes once more.
History Check Initialized.
The pain was far less significant than before.
Check Passed.
He was wrong.
The Children of Adam had not sought at all to atone for the injustice committed against Lilith. The devils had not the time to destroy them, because they had other enemies.
The Great War.
The war in his vision had continued for millennia. There were two enemies: those known as the Grigori, consisting of a race of Fallen Angels, other beings who had yet rebelled against their creator, and the Armies of Abrahamic God, consisting of the Angels.
The Three Factions had never officially ended the war. They had been at a ceasefire for decades now to recover from their losses. Local conflicts and skirmishes arose over the centuries, many of which threatened to respark the flames of war completely.
He remembered Selena’s words as to how her members family died. Wrong place, wrong time, she had said. Exorcists and Fallen Angels —
The more he learned, the more irate he grew.
“Reincarnation?” he laughed. “Is this some sort of jest?”
Satan Ajuka Beelzebub had created a method to combat the dwindling population utilizing Evil Pieces. With it, any High-Class Devil could take beings of other races, and convert them into Devils.
Such a thing would have been met with outcry in the Forgotten Realms. It would have spelt war. He couldn’t imagine how horrifying it would be, if Fiends could simply kill an elf and then reincarnate them into becoming a Fiend afterward. It was akin to an Undead Necromancer creating more of his ilk with no limitation.
The entire world would have come together under one banner to eliminate a race that could convert other races into their own without their consent. That was how taboo the idea was.
Yet such a thing was accepted here, and even commonplace.
“And still, they use humans…?”
Humans were the most common target of reincarnation. Devils would have them absorbed into their peerage, and they would be known as Reincarnated Devils.
Jamie could not fathom it.
One would be incensed if they possessed a spouse who kicked them out of their home because they wanted to be the head of the family. One would be annoyed to learn their ex-spouse barely waited before getting another partner. However, to learn that your descendants were inviting the children of your cowardly and insecure ex-spouse into your family with open arms?
Revolting.
Were Lilith’s cries in vain?
What of Lucifer’s true-born son? Where was he? How could he sit back and allow this? Regardless of how low the birth rates were, to resort to using humans…
Jamie was never human. In his previous life, he was a Tiefling born of a Fiend and a High Elf. In this life, he was an incubus born of a Devil and a Succubus. He held no love for humans. He possessed no camaraderie with them. Even then, the Forgotten Realms had been such a place that no one race was overtly favored over the others. All races had their own deities, their own respects, their own strengths and weaknesses.
Here, it seemed that was not the case.
“Jamie, is everything okay?”
Selena’s voice came from the other side of his bedroom door.
“I heard a loud noise. Are you masturbating? Do you need help?”
Jamie got up to his feet and opened the door. Selena pouted at his unflustered face, whereas Jamie’s mind still reeled from the information he’d digested. It was more than he bargained for. He’d come out of the entire experience with a newfound love for his kind and a cautious dislike of humanity.
How could he not love his kind, when its progenitor was a being as beautiful and radiant as Lucifer?
How could he not dislike humanity, when its progenitor was a being as insecure and cowardly as Adam?
“Jamie?” Selena tilted her head at him. “Is everything alright?”
“It’s perfectly fine.”
Selena pushed her body up against his, and his mind momentarily faltered from its thoughts. Breasts, K-Cup, 32 inches. Waist, 22 Inches. Hips, 42 inches. Extraordinary proportions for a succubus. A body perfectly designed for the seduction of allies and enemies alike —
“What’s wrong?”
He felt his arousal grow, and Jamie sent his mind elsewhere. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking once more, of Lilith’s beauty. His arousal grew worse, and he found himself recalling the grace and brilliance of Lucifer. There, his arousal began to diminish.
It was a shame he was not attracted to the male form in any way. If Lucifer had been female… or perhaps just effeminate…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
He banished his thoughts once more. This would not do. His head felt cloudy. His mind was unfocused. This seemed to be an aftereffect of casting the Borrowed Knowledge spell. He needed clarity. He needed perspicuity of mind and thought. Failing that, he needed the inverse. An absolute cloudiness that blocked out the concept of lucidity. Yes, in truth —
Jamie needed a drink.
Alcohol. He had not had a sip of it since he was reborn in this world. To say he drank like a fish would be to insult the aptitude of fishes in water. Alcohol had become his bread and butter, as many members of Lightbringer, such as Xavier, Zakara and Mégalo had been heavy drinkers.
There was no beauty in drunkenness, but there was to be found in drunken revelry.
“Do you happen to know where I can pick up drunken women?”
Were he to utter such a statement to anyone else, they would think poorly of him. Yet, Selena’s eyes shone with a glint of understanding, of deviousness. A temptress true and true.
“I can think of a few places…”
XXXXX
Lookas was drooling.
Seekvaira found it hard to hold back her disgust. She found it hard to keep at bay her repulsion. She failed to fathom how an individual with her own blood running through his veins could be so repellent that she’d rather dip her hands into excrement than let him touch her.
Worse still was the knowledge that he got off on her disgust. Somehow, the more repulsed she acted towards him, the more his blatant attraction to her grew. She could beat him within an inch of his life, and he would only find bliss in the process.
“W-wow,” Lookas whispered. “Seekvaira-onee-sama, you’re really —”
“Another word from that vile mouth, and I shall sever your tongue.”
His gaze lingered on her far past the point of propriety. She was aware she never truly dressed up. She could not recall the last time she wore a gown outside of public functions. The lime-green dress she’d worn now was skin-tight, and stopped well above her knees. The matching heels she wore added an inch or three to her height, and the curved earrings with the symbol of the Agares Clan served as her accessories.
The make-up had been done by one of her maids who was more experienced in such matters. The green lipstick, in Seekvaira’s opinion, was unnecessary. The powdering of her face and application of mascara, foundation, blush, eyeliner and Lucifer knows what else made her feel like a clown.
No, worse, she felt like a whore.
From the brief glimpses she’d seen of the male servants, to the manner in which Lookas drooled at her thighs and breasts, it was clear they saw her as a slab of meat than a person. She would never let her discomfort show on her face, but every passing second dressed in this manner whittled away at her pride.
“Now, now, dear, play nice with your cousin.”
Her mother approached in an elegant viridescent gown. Lookas was dressed in semi-formal clothes, and Seekvaira’s urge to slap him grew upon seeing the lustful expression which came upon his face. It was not enough for him to be obsessed with her, but for him to lust after her own mother —
“Aunt Bella!”
He ran up to her and hugged her close. Minobella laughed, and hugged him in turn. He buried his face within her cleavage and shamelessly had the gall for his grubby hands to try and subtly grope at her chest.
“My, my, you’re a naughty little boy, aren’t you?” Minobella smiled. “What’s this I hear of you getting into trouble?”
As expected, he was spoiled rotten. Her mother would say nothing unless he overstepped his boundaries. She’d just let him hug and grope her as he wished without so much as batting an eye.
Seekvaira pondered if such a day would ever come for her. A day where she treated her body and herself as merely a tool to be used, unworthy of sanctity and deprived of sacredness.
“Oh, I was just exploring the Valley looking for Seekvaira-nee and —”
Seekvaira loudly cleared her throat. She shot a glare to Lookas which he caught. He understood immediately. Another word and she’d set alight his entire beloved collection.
“And?” Minobella probed.
“Oh, it’s… nothing! Nothing at all!”
Minobella shot a questioning gaze towards her, but Seekvaira did not let her expression falter for even a single moment. Lookas departed from Minobella’s embrace, and her mother approached her, smiling as she focused on her choice of attire.
“Very good dear, but it still needs a little more… skin.”
Her mother waved her hands. Her gown which was previously at an already scandalous length above her knees shortened considerably. Seekvaira’s face burned. The length was short enough now to barely cover her thighs. As it were, should she so much as attempt to bow forward, her underwear would be visible for all to see.
“Mother!”
Behind her, Lookas’ eyes widened. His face was almost as red as hers. He swallowed unevenly and brazenly stared at her legs. “...W-whoa.”
A bulge emerged in his pants, and the disgusting being she called her cousin did not even try to hide it.
Minobella hummed, and appeared pleased with herself at the results. “That’s much better.”
“I — this is —!”
“Come along now dear, our guests should arrive any minute.”
Minobella gave her no time to voice her complaints. She headed along first, and casually guided a spellbound Lookas forward, leaving her behind to stew in her thoughts. Seekvaira took a deep breath, and marched forward, following in her mother’s footsteps.
Moments like these, she wished she possessed a close confidant to which she could complain to. She knew that Rias had her friend Akeno, and even Sona Sitri possessed a young female devil as her right hand and Queen.
Seekvaira’s mistake was that she’d initially selected a young man to play that role. Alivian was never truly a man to begin with, and had in fact been a dragon. Seekvaira had recruited him for the role of her butler, but then, she’d been too naive. The fact remained that Alivian was male and she was female.
Male Queens were almost utterly unheard of in the underworld. There was only one devil who possessed one, the Extra Demon, Mephisto Pheles. A Devil who’d been alive far longer than Seekvaira’s great-grand parents. His Queen was none other than Tannin, the Lord of Dragon Mountain, a Former Dragon King.
There were no other precedents of Devils possessing Male Queens. Worse still, there was no precedent whatsoever of a female devil possessing a Male Queen.
Devils were sticklers for tradition, and as the old saying goes, the nail which sticks out will be hammered down. Her mother warned her that many were threatened by the idea that female High-Class Devils would realize they could take on Male Queens, and loathed the concept of female harems so much that they would not stand for it.
Seekvaira had ignored the warnings.
It wasn’t long before vile and incessant rumors spread. Individuals within and outside her family began calling her chastity into question. Her butler was berated, criticized and vilified by everyone in the Agares household. Her mother had cracked down on the rumors, and Alivian, realizing his presence beside Seekvaira would do more harm than good, begged her to relinquish his role as her Queen, not for his sake, but for hers.
In the end, Seekvaira had no choice but to respect his wishes and trade him off for an unused Queen Piece. She realized, bitterly, that devil society would only allow her to have another woman at her side. The problem would not have arisen if he were a pawn or a knight — but a Queen?
They would not stand for it.
It was why she’d lost nearly all interest in Rating Games. It was one of the reasons she’d decided to focus purely and primarily on improving her skills.
Because at the end of the day, the only person she could rely on was herself.
They arrived at the entrance and witnessed the magical rail come to a stop. From a distance, one of the Agares servants ran forth, and stood beginning an ancient tradition from an era long past. A long red carpet was rolled out before the train car and the doors were extravagantly swung open.
“Now announcing, the arrival of Lady Venelana of the House of Gremory!”
Venelana Gremory was, as Seekvaira expected, beautiful. She lacked the red hair her household was known for, being a Bael originally, but there was an elite grace in her motions and movements. Predictably, she was dressed in Gremory-red and wore an outfit which was reminiscent of noblewomen of the Victorian Era. She smiled as she descended from the train, giving off a graceful, yet, intimidating presence.
“In her escort, is her grandson, Millicas, Son of Sirzechs, Grandson of Zeoticus, and Heir-Successor to the House of Gremory!”
Seekvaira could not say much about Millicas except that he was young. He had short, blood-red hair as expected of one from the Gremory Clan, but he seemed to also have red eyes which added an unusual layer to his appearance. He moved demurely and gracefully, and more like a young girl than a boy. Seekvaira’s lips thinned at the sight of him.
He looked innocent and naive to the troubles of the world. She glanced down distastefully at her own cousin, and wondered how it was even possible that such two contrasting individuals managed to become friends.
“Finally, accompanying Lady Venelana and Lord Millicas, is Lady Grayfia of the Lucifuge Clan, Queen of Lord Lucifer, and Head Maid of the House of Gremory!”
Seekvaira’s breath hitched in her throat. She shot a swift, immediate glance to her mother. She could tell, from her mother’s unpleasant smile, that she had not anticipated on Lady Grayfia being present.
Lady Grayfia emerged from the train car, and Seekvaira’s breath hitched a second time. She was a beautiful young woman appearing to be in her early twenties with long, silver hair tied into braids on each side. Small blue bows were wrapped at the ends, while the rest was let down.
Her outfit was a blue French Maid’s uniform, one which was neat and immaculate enough to grant the woman both sexual appeal and an element of cuteness. Yet, her eyes were a deep blood red, sharp and cold. Seekvaira’s temperature dropped significantly just from accidentally meeting her gaze, and she swallowed uneasily as a chill passed merely from the effects of Lady Grayfia’s presence.
“Minobella! It’s so good to see you again!”
Lady Venelana was the one to speak first as she approached. It seemed like a minute detail, but even Seekvaira understood that this was intentionally done to set the power dynamics between them.
“Venelana,” Minobella curtsied. “You’re positively glowing, dear. Lord Zeoticus must take very good care of you.”
There was something in Minobella’s words that was hidden. Seekvaira, lacking suitable knowledge of feminine doublespeak, could not recognize it.
“Oh, stop it,” Lady Venelana responded. “My husband takes good care of all of us. It’s the least a man can do for his family, after all.”
The words my husband had more focus on them than needed. The words seemed to make her mother to smile more than intended. Yet, Seekvaira knew the clear difference between her mother’s polite smiles, and her true smiles. Right now, her mother’s smile was just barely enough to be called polite.
“Speaking of men and family,” Minobella turned to address Millicas. “It’s a pleasure to have you at our estate, Lord Millicas.”
Millicas Gremory tried to puff his chest out and looked dignified, but almost fumbled in doing so. “T-t-thank you, Lady Minobella! It’s — um, my pleasure to be here!”
“Ah, so this is your friend, is he?” Lady Venelana asked in turn. “Lookas, was it?”
Loathe as Seekvaira hated to admit it, it was moments like these in which her cousin displayed his only merits as a devil. In contrast to Millicas’ attempt to appeardignified, Lookas possessed the natural grandioisity and self-assuredness that only a truly pampered brat could have.
He bowed in the textbook manner, approached Lady Venelana, and graciously kissed the back of her knuckles as he spoke.
“It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Venelana! Millicas told me of your beauty, but I can see that he clearly downplayed it for the sake of modesty!”
It was a beautiful line. It was a noble sentiment. It would have been textbook perfect behavior of a gentleman that would have had Seekvaira feel bad for constantly demeaning her cousin.
That is, at least, if Lookas hadn’t said all of it with his gaze locked greedily unto Venelana’s chest.
“Oh my, what a charming young thing,” Venelana giggled. “I see why Millicas took a liking to you.”
Does she truly?
Seekvaira found his gaze to be unsightly. To her surprise, Lady Grayfia was also looking at Lookas with a gaze tinged in disgust. Both women met each other’s eyes, and for the first time in her life, Seekvaira finally felt she’d met a kindred spirit.
“So charming,” Lady Venelana smiled. “You must take after your mother. I wonder, where is she? I’d love to meet the woman responsible for such a charming child.”
“Um…” Lookas faltered. “She’s a bit —”
“It’s time we allow boys to be boys, don’t you think, Venelana?” Minobella interrupted him. “My daughter, Seekvaira, has volunteered to chaperone them. With her guidance, they can be free to wander throughout the estate and territory and leave us to our own devices. We’ve much to catch up on.”
Lady Venelana turned to regard her for the first time. Seekvaira felt paralyzed to the spot. The woman’s violet eyes were several shades more intimidating than she expected. Seekvaira found it hard to so much as breathe in her presence, yet alone speak.
The Gremory Family was well known for being the ‘softest’ of devils. Soft, in so much as they were considered ‘kind’ and ‘merciful’ to their slaves and sometimes, even their enemies. However, this did not apply to anyone who attempted to harm their family. It applied even less, to Lady Venelana, who had married into the Gremory Household, and as such, it was not in her nature to be ‘soft.’
She was the woman once known as the Brown-Haired Ruin Princess. The woman feared by many as the Flaxen-Haired Madame of Extinction.
“My, you’ve grown into a stunning woman,” Lady Venelana said. “You’re as beautiful as your mother was in her youth.”
“You honor me, Lady Venelana.”
Lady Venelana regarded her mother.
“She’s almost as beautiful as my Rias,” Lady Venelana let out a sigh. “There must be countless men falling left and right to ask for her hand.”
Seekvaira did her best not to show any expression. Her mother’s smile was telling.
“But of course,” her mother said. “She’s of marriageable age after all. It’s only a question of picking the best man from the rabble.”
It was a bold-faced lie. Seekvaira currently had no suitors asking for her hand. Many considered her too standoffish. Most had outright called her a bitch to her face. Many wanted her for the disgusting satisfaction of breaking her will, as nothing made the cocks of insecure men harder than sexually dominating a defiant woman. There were not that many eligible bachelors in the Devil Underworld to marry. Her mother knew this. Lady Venelana knew this too.
“Wonderful!” Lady Venelana said. “I’ll be expecting a wedding invitation. I’m sure Rias and her fiancé would be happy to attend.”
It wasn’t direct. It wasn’t overt. Yet, it was still a slap in the face. This was one of the reasons Seekvaira did not like to be in the company of female devils. The males were at least blunt or direct in their insults. They would be quick to violence, certainly, but they were quicker still to reconciliation.
Venelana and her mother claimed to be acquaintances, yet still committed to such petty displays of power and superiority. Social status mattered enough for them to never outright be hostile, but it did not change the fact that everything seemed to be a competition for them — a contest.
Seekvaira was sick of it.
Lady Grayfia stood in the back, and it seemed she would not speak unless spoken to. She was the Strongest Queen of the Underworld, but she was still the daughter-in-law of Venelana Gremory. She was still a servant of the Gremory household, just a servant who’d managed to enrapture her son and bare his child. The difference in status was grand.
It was appalling.
Here was the Lucifer’s wife, someone one would expect to be on an equal social footing, but instead, she was no different from the dozens of Agares guards keeping their heads down and avoiding the gazes of their masters.
“Lookas, why don’t you show Millicas the way to the chocolate fountains?”
“Yes, Aunt Bella!” Lookas grabbed Millicas by the hand. “Come on, Mill! You’re going to love this!”
“Seekvaira, be a dear and accompany them.”
Seekvaira bowed. “Yes, mother.”
Both boys ran off, and Venelana turned to Grayfia.
“Grayfia.”
“Yes, Lady Venelana. I’ll be sure to keep them in my sight.”
Seekvaira’s heart pounded in her chest as she utilized her demonic energy to summon her wings and chase after her cousin and the Lucifer’s son. The fact that Grayfia was behind her did nothing to calm her nerves. Consciously, she knew that the woman wouldn’t kill her for no reason as it would mean declaring war with the Agares Family, but it didn’t stop her from being nervous.
Before they could catch up to the boys, a cold — so, very, very cold — hand landed on her shoulder. Seekvaira did not dare turn back. She did not dare move.
“If you approach my son with impure intentions,” the voice behind her said. “You will never feel the pleasure of warmth again.”
No other words were said. Nothing else was uttered. Grayfia flew ahead of her. Seekvaira hovered there in the air and did her best to calm her nerves.
No matter how much she tried, her body did not stop shaking.
XXXXX
Jamie couldn’t call it music.
It lacked melody. The notes repeated themselves to the backdrop of lyrics sung over and over, as though the singer were incapable of thinking of further words to utter. The devils around him either did not care or did not notice, as they moved their bodies in venereal dances to the sound of heavy drumbeats and increasingly synthetic instruments.
He sat at the bar and felt the cold drink in his glass gradually warm from his touch. The loud music made it nearly impossible for anyone to hear anything, and the sight of women gyrating their hips and waists against the crotches of their male companions made his lips tug to the side.
Bright neon strobe lights flashed and occasionally illuminated the darkness of the room. He counted three couples having intercrural sex, attempting to some degree of success, to match their thrusts to the rhythm and believing themself inconspicuous. Two others stood in the corner, lightly jerking a third in the darkness. Another group had their nostrils plastered in glistering white dust, all of them cheering with mad, frenzied exhilaration.
“Aren’t you going to dance?”
The Bartender, a young, dark-skinned woman with a thick black afro leaned in closer to him. Her lips were painted with a glowing turquoise lipstick which made them pop out in the darkness, and had him curious as to their texture. She wore a loose-fitting tank top which granted him the sight of her cleavage, and the crude image of a two-legged pink unicorn tattooed against it.
“And steal the show?” he rose his half-full glass in the air. Precipitation could be seen forming on the ends of a surface. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The bartender gave an airy laugh.
The music switched to a louder, more irritating melody. Jamie tried as hard as he could to ignore it, but his face showed his displeasure. He’d come here on Selena’s recommendation to get a good cheap drink and unwind from his thoughts. Once he was done, it was his intention to find a suitable woman to take home for the night to explore her beauty, whilst at the same time increase his pool of demonic power, and ergo, increase the strength of his Spellcasting.
He just had not anticipated on the music being so horrendous.
“Not a fan of hip-hop?” the bartender asked.
“Hip… hop?” Jamie mused. “Is it meant to make people's hips hop about?”
“More or less.”
Jamie listened to the lyrics of the song about ‘Wet-Ass-Pussy.’ He was no prude by any means, but even the most brazen of bards in the Forgotten Realms would go red in the ears if they publicly had to sing about sexual organs in a manner that raw.
This world was truly a paradise for the uninhibited.
“I suppose that’s why that girl over there has been bucking her pelvis so furiously?” Jamie gestured with a tilt of his head.
The bartender followed his gaze. “She’s just twerking.”
“...Twerking?” Jamie dared ask.
“What, haven’t seen someone twerk before?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the displeasure.”
She laughed once more. This time, she placed both palms underneath her chin.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’d remember someone with your features.”
Jamie recognized the hook for what it was. Slowly, he lifted his glass to his lips, and sipped on the liquor. They called it ‘Whiskey.’ It was different from the various ales and beer he’d drank in the Forgotten Realms. Somewhat weaker in taste, in truth.
“I’m new in town.”
“What brings you to Envy City?”
“Care to guess?”
She looked him over. He’d taken to always wearing a suit and formal clothes, as being well-groomed was in his nature.
“Business?”
“Close.”
“Pleasure?”
“With you?” He smiled. “Certainly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I swear, you tourists get smoother with your pick-up lines each year.”
Jamie chuckled. ”You believe I’m a tourist?”
“I’m willing to bet you’ve already gone to Agreas,” she continued. “No one spends money to visit Envy City and doesn’t go to Agreas.”
Jamie took another sip. “I’ve never been, unfortunately.”
“Really?”
“Is there a reason to visit?”
She snorted. “Agreas, the Miraculous Floating Alcazar! Home of the Rare Ores Used to Create the Evil Pieces! Birthplace of Cutting-Edge Devil Tech! The Island that saved the Devil Race from extinction! Agreas — Where Dreams Come True!™”
“You don’t sound like you believe the hype.”
“I don’t,” she shrugged. “I mean, most of it is true, but everyone knows the real reason people come to Agreas is for the casinos and the Rating Game Tournaments.”
“Yes,” Jamie slowly swirled his liquor in his glass. “Everyone knows that.”
He made a note to research more on both the Casinos and Rating Games.
“So,” the bartender looked him over. “What really brings you here?”
Jamie smirked. “Would you believe me if I said I’m on a quest?”
“What type of quest?”
“I’m but a humble traveler in search of riches, glory, and power.”
She laughed. “Who isn’t?”
“And beauty,” he added. “Riches, glory, power… and beauty.”
“And you came… here?”
The Bartender gestured to the dancing devils.
“This is Zuleika’s Respite — it’s the sleaziest bar in the entire City. Not exactly the kind of place to find your Princess, Mario.”
“Princess?” Jamie repeated. “Mario?”
“Y’know? Mario? The plumber?”
“I’m not acquainted with him. Do plumbers here typically go in search of… princesses?”
“No, no, he’s Super Mario, from that video game — Super Mario Brothers?”
“Right,” he smiled. He knew what a video-game was thanks to his use of the Identify spell, and he could even program one if he desired. Alas, he did not have the slightest clue who these Mario Brothers were supposed to be.
“Of course. The Mario Brothers. I’ve heard of them. They’re rather famous, I’ve been told. Excellent Princess Hunters.”
The manner in which she burst out laughing indicated to Jamie that he may be completely out of his element. He wanted to have it in him to be embarrassed, but embarrassment conflicted with his nature of beauty. He wanted to backtrack and admit that he was unknowledgeable about the topic, but Jamie loathed the admittance of ignorance of any kind. Having already been caught, he decided his only option was to move forward.
“Where would you say I’d go in search of my ‘princess,’ so to speak?”
She cleared her throat, stopping her laughter for a moment. “I don’t… know? Why did you come here?”
“I needed a place to unwind and…” A fond smile came upon his lips. “It’s a bit of a tradition.”
“Tradition?”
“Some old friends of mine and I” Jamie paused. “We’d often start quests at disreputable inns and taverns. The seedier the better. We’d begin with a pissy drink, for the most part, then grill the local bartender for gossip and rumors. I suppose I found myself here coming here out of some misguided pursuit of nostalgia.”
He glanced at the rowdy nightclub and chuckled.
“But it’s not even close.”
“Inns?” the bartender asked. “Taverns?”
“I’ve been made aware such things no longer exist commonly. Only hotels, brothels and bars,” he took another sip. “A travesty.”
"You're… odd."
"So I've been told," he gestured to his glass. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
With another twirl of her finger, his glass refilled to the brim with liquor.
"Fascinating spell, that is. Care to teach me?"
"You want to learn the activation spell for the refill function?” She teased. “What, and put me out of a job?"
Jamie glanced at the glass. He felt it now. It was faint. He needed to stretch his senses to feel it, but it was there.
"This glass is a magic object?"
"I can't tell if you're messing with me or if you're just really drunk."
He swirled the alcohol in his mug a bit further, before whispering a quiet, “Identify.”
[New Item Identified!]
Glass of Perpetual Refill
Classification: Wondrous item, Common-Grade
Details: An extremely common item found and utilized at numerous bars and nightclubs in the Underworld and the larger Supernatural Community. The main purpose of this item is to be filled with a liquid of any sort, and, upon utilization of its unique activation spell, this item will continually refill the last liquid poured into it to the brim and no further. Note: This only works with liquids of the Uncommon Grade or lower.
Active Spells/Effects: This object possesses a spell similar in nature to ‘Create Water.’
Hidden Spells/Effects Detected:
- Reinforcement [Common]: This object is enchanted to be harder and sturdier to break than regular glass, to account for the enhanced physical strength of devils.
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
- Anti-Tamper [Common]: This object is enchanted to ensure foreign substances added into the liquid such as drugs or poison will dissipate harmlessly and fail to take effect on whoever drinks it.
Note: Enchantment is Common-Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
His brain was abruptly filled with the innate mechanisms of the glass, the nature of the liquid within the glass, the method utilized to make both the glass, and the whiskey. In his mind’s eye, the entire life and legacy of the object within his hand became clear. Everything from the process of sand being harvested, to the glass being blown, to how the glass was blown, to the enchantments being added, and how to add said enchantments flooded his mind.
“...Amazing.”
“Perhaps you’ve had a little too much to drink um…”
“Jamie Malphas,” he gestured out, lightly collecting the Bartender’s hand. “A pleasure.”
For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, Jamie cast his spell underneath his breath, “Identify.”
[New Creature Identified!]
Devil (Low-Class)
Classification: Fiend (Lesser)
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Details: A Low-Class Devil belonging to the portion of the Underworld restricted to the Devils of the Abrahamic Mythos. These are the most-common type of devil, possessing significantly lower demonic power and abilities compared to their Middle-Class, High-Class and Ultimate-Class counterparts. They typically serve as maids, butlers, servants, patrolmen, office-workers, farmers, slaves, entertainment or administrative staff, and run the day-to-day operations of the underworld for their superiors. They are known to be innately submissive to those of higher standing, and most have little ambition or desire to climb up the hierarchy.
Active Spells/Effects:
- I. Language [Common]: An innate, passive spell possessed by all members of the Devil species. This spell enchants people of other races listening to them to hear them speak in the language they are most familiar with and vice-versa.
Note: Common Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
Note (2): Dispelling this spell will render a devil unable to communicate with members of other races.
- II. Demonic Spellcasting [Unique]: An innate, passive ability possessed by all members of the Devil species. This enables the conjuration of any conceivable phenomena through the sufficient use of imagination and the requirement of adequate demonic power.
Note: Unique Grade, cannot be Dispelled unless certain conditions are met.
Hidden Curses Detected:
- I. Weakness-To-Holy [Legendary]: A powerful innate curse possessed by all members of the Devil species. Objects and abilities possessing the ‘holy’ attribute deal a minimum of tenfold to a maximum of a thousandfold more damage to the bearer of this curse. Touching or going near objects with the ‘holy’ attribute will weaken, hurt and drain the curse-bearer. Uttering the name of the Biblical God, prayers, rosaries and crosses will cause physical harm.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
- II. Weakness-To-Scripture [Legendary]: A powerful innate curse possessed by all members of the Devil species. Biblical quotations uttered in the Original Adamic Language, Latin or Hebrew may be utilized to bind, condemn, exorcize, rebuke or compel a devil to follow one’s suggestions, instructions and orders. The likelihood of failure increases with the potency of the devil’s demonic power.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
- III. Weakness-To-Good [Legendary]: A powerful innate curse possessed by all members of the Devil species. Doing or engaging in altruistic deeds will cause mild physical pain, discomfort, nausea and headaches. Exposure to individuals with pure and altruistic souls will cause severe pain in short doses, and extreme agony in long doses.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
- IV. The Curse of Eve [Deific]: A divine innate curse placed on all female beings of the Abrahamic Faction by the Biblical God. This curse guarantees the existence of pain during childbirth, implants an intrinsic desire for masculine domination, and subconsciously compels subservience, submissiveness and deferentiality to strong male creatures.
Note: Deific Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
The information which swarmed Jamie’s mind staggered him, and his breath hitched in his throat. He’d once cheekily told Selena that knowledge was power, but Jamie was beginning to understand that he’d had no idea as to the depths of just how true that sentiment was. Identify had gone above and beyond what he expected it to do. It laid out information on devils as a species and the knowledge rushed into his brain in a manner that guaranteed complete and utter understanding.
Madness. Absolute madness.
Jamie could not for even a second comprehend the absurdity that was Demonic Spellcasting. He could not accept the idea that Devils could simply use their imagination as a basis for creating spells. He could not believe that as long as they had the demonic power necessary, they could create any spell they desired.
It was outright spitting in the face of all conventional magic theory.
Anyone with a sufficiently powerful imagination and the demonic power needed to bring that imagination into reality would be indistinguishable from a god.
Do they not realize the ramifications of such power?
Wizards, the supreme magic-users, were defined and united by the spells they cast. They drew upon the subtle weave of magic that permeated the cosmos to cast spells, conjure monsters from other planes of existence, glimpse the future, or turns slain foes into zombies. Yes, their mightiest spells could change one substance into another, call meteors down from the sky, or even open portals to other worlds —
But not even the most powerful wizard could just create spells at a whim. Adriel would be hyperventilating if he’d learned there was an entire race of beings who could do so. Mégalo would have been utterly enraged at the idea. Álympa would have melted in bliss.
Wizards lived and died by their spells. Everything else was secondary. They learned new spells as they experimented and grew in experience. They could also learn them from other wizards, from ancient tomes or inscriptions, or from contracts with creatures steeped in magic like the fey —
But if Devils were the nigh-omnipotent magic casters Jamie believed them to be, then the smartest and most logical route for a Wizard was to simply sign a contract with a devil for the ability to create any spell of their choosing.
It was not an exaggeration to claim that Wizards would give their firstborn child for such a blessing. Adriel, no matter how much he loved Calista, would have sacrificed ten of her on altar if it would grant him this boon.
I’m also a devil. Doesn’t that mean…?
Jamie felt as though he’d suddenly been splashed with ice-water from head-to-toe.
My spells. The spells I’ve been using.
Vicious Mockery was strong enough to break down someone into a weeping mess. Mage Hand was a lot more versatile than he remembered it. The minor and innocuous Charm Person made someone immediately infatuated. Dispel Magic could completely eject all magical power from a creature’s body. Identify granted him absolute psychometry on a grander scale than he expected.
I haven’t been casting the same spells I know.
It hit him all at once.
I created brand new spells that are near-functionally identical.
“U-u-um, not t-that I mean to i-intrude, sir, but…”
The Bartender’s voice drew his attention back to reality. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that he’d yet to let go of her hand. Her dark complexion appeared to have paled considerably. Her tone was also different.
“Oh, forgive me.”
He let go of her.
“I-i-it’s no p-problem at all, sir!” she said nervously. “Please… feel free… to use me as you… wish.”
Jamie’s lips thinned. “For what reason? Where did such madness come from?”
“Y-you have a last name, s-sir.”
“What of it?”
“O-only devils belonging to Clan or Family have a last name —” she said quickly. “W-w-which would mean you’re a H-h-High-Class Devil.”
He swiftly recalled the information he’d gotten about Low-Class Devils. Known to be innately submissive to those of higher standing, Jamie recalled. Seeing how quickly her attitude towards him had changed, he understood this to be true.
Someone who was openly chatty and flirty could no longer look him in the eyes. No, worse than that. She was scared of him. Jamie disliked it. He disliked it tremendously.
“Please don’t bother with such formalities around me.”
Somehow, that only made her go paler.
“Forgive me, sir, I — I can’t,” she said immediately. “I would not dare to put myself on equal standing with you.”
“I insist. I do not feel comfortable with your formal manner of speaking.”
She shook her head vehemently. Tears begin to build up in her eyes. “P-please, please, please sir — don’t — don’t make me — I can’t —” her voice was shaky. “If a low-class devil like myself is seen casually referring to someone of your stature, it will spell the death of me. If my boss doesn’t kill me, my superiors will remind me of my place. If they don’t, another customer might overhear, and they’ll kill me the minute you leave.”
She looked at him with begging eyes.
“I — I don’t want to die..”
Jamie was aware of numerous pairs of eyes in his direction. He found it absurd. She’d truly be killed just for talking to him casually? He’d learned that devils were a hierarchical race, and breaking that hierarchy was greatly frowned upon, but this was beyond even his expectations.
…Distasteful.
“Very well,” Jamie said. “You may address me formally.”
The bartender exhaled a large breath. “T-thank you, sir.”
Jamie’s mood was sour. The drink in his hand had lost his interest. The glass too, had lost his interest. Worse still, the beautiful bartender with the turquoise lipstick had lost his interest.
He’d come here to clear his mind, but instead, this had happened.
It was not her fault. Logically, Jamie understood this. Even then, he found her fearfulness to be unsightly. Mere seconds ago, he’d been considering taking this woman home to explore the beauty of her every crevice —
Now, she possessed less beauty to him than a piece of lint on his jacket.
She continued to avoid his gaze. Her witty banter and questions were gone. It seemed she would no longer speak unless spoken to. It irked Jamie. She’d clearly been attracted to him mere minutes ago, but now, after learning of the difference in their social status, she buried away that brief attraction and delegated herself to the role of an unassuming servant.
There was no beauty in cowardice.
It was even more upsetting in context with his latest discovery. Here was a being of a race capable of creating any sort of magic she wished, but yet, she kowtowed easily to fear. Granted, others around her could do the same, but was her imagination truly so frail, her confidence truly so shallow?
Was it the lot of the weak to remain weak forever? Did insurrection not exist in the heart of a devil? Had the embers of rebellion never sparked in their souls? If they had it not in them to question or resist, what distinction existed between the terms ‘Low-Class Devil’ and ‘slave?’
She wore no collar on her neck, and he held no chain, but where lay the difference?
Odd, Jamie thought. I’m… angry?
It was a rare admission.
Why am I angry?
Why indeed, was he so incensed? For her? A bartender whose name he did not even know? Was he angry at her? At her desperate pleas to live? At her fear and desire for conformation?
Was he angry, because he’d been wrong in his judgment? Because he’d initially considered such an unworthy person to be beautiful?
Was he angry because he possessed a spellcasting ability that would be the dream of every Wizard, and he would never be able to inform the man who’d sent him here of the greatness of his gift?
Was he angry at the horrible excuse for music grating his ears in the background? Was he angry at the fools who believed gyrating their hips like feral dogs was worthy enough to be considered dancing?
Or was he angry at the absurd people of this world who somehow deemed it all so?
Perhaps he was angry at the madness of a world that was not his. Yet, he was angry at himself for being angry, because it was madness to be angry at a world that was not his.
Even so, he felt anger.
If a cherished loved one died, one would bury them and accept the loss. How did one bury a world? How did one accept it? How did one mourn it? How did one even begin to explain it?
Would he tell Selena? Could he tell her?
There was beauty to be found in the joy of shared experiences. Jamie had just discovered something ludicrous, something amazing, but who could he tell?
Who could he turn to and explain this mystifying thing, who would not only share in his enthrallment but celebrate with him in drunken revelry?
Who in this world would he decry: ‘this is amazing!’ without watching their respect for him fall, their gaze furrow in confusion, and their head shake in dismay, wondering why he saw the divine in that which they considered mundane?
Perhaps it was this realization that made him angry. Perhaps it was the previous factors. Perhaps it was all of it. Perhaps it was none of it.
Jamie knew not.
All he knew was that he could not explain to another party the source of his anger.
He slammed the content of his drink down his throat, and gestured to the glass with a finger. “Another.”
The Bartender made a gesture, and his drink was refilled to the brim. Once more, he swallowed it in one gulp. It was mild. The liquour of the Forgotten Realms was designed for beings like Orcs, Half-Orcs, Dwarves, Dragonborn, Aasimar, Gnomes, Genasi and even Githyanki. Different races had different constitutions, yet, the ale was always strong enough to knock out even those as Goliaths or Loxodons.
“Another.”
The refill came. Again, Jamie drank. He drank not only for himself but for his companions. For Xander, the Half-Orc, swinging his giant glaive and yelling out the supremacy of muscles. He had the biggest heart of all.
“Another.”
He drank for Zakara. The devious little halfling who could steal the undergarments from right underneath the nose of a man fully dressed. Her bright and brilliant smile, now gone eternal.
“Another.”
He drank for Álympa. The beautiful Ice Genasi to whom Jamie had only ever explored once. They’d been bitter enemies at first, as his father was responsible for the extinction of her race, but they had come to realize they had more in common than they thought, and she became the older sister Jamie never had.
“Another.”
He drank for Calista. The High Elf. He knew not how to thank her for allowing his final moments in his old home to be in her embrace. He wished and prayed that she would find it in her not to blame herself for his demise.
“Another.”
He drank for Adriel. His wonderful Adriel. No matter how much Adriel would loathe him, Jamie would never hate him. For his attempt to bring Jamie great suffering had instead brought him to a world that Adriel himself would have sacrificed all to see. He wished from the bottom of his heart, that Adriel found a way to reconcile with Calista.
“Another.”
“Sir —”
“Do not challenge me, slave,” Jamie spat. “Now is not the time to find your flame of rebellion. I said grant me another.”
The ale was filled to the brim, and Jamie only recognized the vitriol in his words after he’d uttered them. Yet, he had not in him to take it back. He glanced upon his own reflection in the murky liquid, and he saw staring back at him, a face he could not recognize.
…What are you doing, Darkblight?
He laughed at himself. His companions would not wish to see him like this. Of them all, Mégalo would find his current form pathetic and unsightly. Here he was, the man who pursued beauty to the detriment of his own health and life, mourning the loss of the beauty of a thing he’d never wanted to have.
Lightbringer had broken up years ago after their final campaign against the Dragons. He’d never mourned the breakup then.
He’d never realized how much beauty they had brought into his life.
You’re a fool, Darkblight. You should have… cherished them… a little more.
Jamie’s eyes closed as his ears tuned out the world. He didn’t know when, or how, his consciousness drifted into blissful sleep.
XXXXX
Jamie was not sure how many hours passed since he’d fallen asleep at the bar. All he knew, was that he was in a different place. A place where he could hear hushed voices. Two women, it seemed, were arguing.
“What were you thinking? Bringing him here?!”
“I — I couldn’t just leave him! He’s a High-Class Devil!”
“Damn it, Adelaide! Today’s the day. She told us not to do anything that’ll draw attention —!”
“Carrin, listen, he said he’s from the Malphas Clan!”
“What does that have to —” the first voice, Carrin stopped. “...Malphas?”
“Yes!”
“The last member of the Malphas Clan died during the Great War.”
“No, they died during the Civil War,” the second voice said. “Don’t you remember? There was still someone with the Malphas bloodline on our side! Lord Dunamis!”
“The Black Voice?”
“Yes!” Adelaide said excitedly. “He went toe-to-toe with Serafall. He almost beat her too.”
“I remember that fight,” Carrin snorted. “That icy bitch ambushed him from behind, and he got cornered into a two-on-one situation. Then she ripped out his throat.”
Jamie slowed his breathing. He did not speak. He did not move. So far, it seemed the two women were unaware that he’d regained consciousness. There was a mild headache from drinking, but he’d had far worse. Instead, he focused clearly, on listening.
“Huh… red skin… horns… it fits. He really is a Malphas,” Carrin muttered.
“See?”
“That doesn’t mean he’s on our side, Adelaide. For all we know, he could be another devil with a weak mentality —”
“I thought that at first,” Adelaide said. “But he’s not. I didn’t know he was a High-Class at first, so I tried flirting a bit with him.”
“You flirted with a — are you insane?!”
“I didn’t know!” she blurted out. “Once I found out, I told him I couldn’t talk to him informally. You should have seen the way he looked at me afterwards. Like I was a maggot that wasn’t worthy of licking the dust off his feet.”
Jamie felt his stomach drop.
“Wow…” Carrin said. “That’s.. hot.”
“I know! It turned me on so much I couldn’t believe it.”
…What? Jamie was not sure his ears were working correctly.
“I was worried at first thinking he wasn’t a proper devil, but after he started drinking and I tried to tell him we were closing, he told me off. Do you know what he said?”
“What did he say?”
“He told me not to challenge him,” Adelaide breathed. “He called me his slave.”
“Fuck,” Carrin whispered. “He’s drop-dead gorgeous and he’s properly evil? I wish he’d take me as his slave…”
“Hey, hands off! I saw him first! If Lord Malphas is going to take any slaves, I’m first in line!”
“He’s a Lord of a Pillar Clan, Adelaide. He can take as many slaves as he wants. You can be his first slave all you like, but I’m gonna let him rape me first.”
“What? No way! I’m the one who carried him here! Why should you get raped first?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m stronger than you.”
“I won’t accept it! I’ll challenge you for it!”
“Hah! If you think you’ve gotten any stronger, be my guest!”
…What in the Nine Hells is this conversation?
For the first time in his life, Jamie Malphas found himself completely and utterly perplexed.
Notes:
A slightly longer chapter to make up for the absence.
Side note, the Magic System in DxD is insane in how unrestricted it is.
Issei, with just a few months of practice at the very most, managed to create spells as broken as Dress Break and Pailingual.In Dungeons and Dragons, Dress Break would be absolutely game-breaking because all damage is calculated based on AC aka Armor Class, aka, Armor. The higher your AC, the harder you are to hit. A spell that lets you destroy clothes aka Armor, and effectively reduce your enemy's AC to 0, would mean you would ALWAYS be able to hit your enemies, with no guarantee that your enemies can hit you on their turn.
Pailingual on the other hand... would not go down well with a lot of players. A spell that tells a character's inner thoughts and cannot be blocked or saved... Oof. The fact that it only works on female characters would only make it that much worse.
Chapter 7: To Sin Against Thy Own Flesh
Chapter Text
Millicas could sense their fear.
He was akin to a pariah in their sight; a leprous being to which they strived their hardest not to touch, approach, or so much as breathe upon. Old and young, male and female alike. Their gazes were locked unto the elegant lime-green tiles of the floor, their heads were bowed, and their hands were clasped in front of them in absolute displays of subservience. Their fanciful French Maid outfits and refined butler robes were ironed and clean to a sparkling fault, yet, he could count no less than ten of them holding their breaths as he walked down the halls of the Agares’ Family home.
It was a sharp contrast to the servants of the Gremory Household.
Millicas couldn’t imagine Teliano, the aged Butler, approaching him in the mornings without his smile as he served him tea. He couldn’t imagine Camern or Sabas not cracking jokes or whistling jauntily as they worked. He couldn’t envision Sloane without her blushing smile, or old Darissa not obsessively asking him if he’d eaten.
In the Gremory House, servants were family.
In the Agares Household, they were slaves.
Lookas walked beside him, his hands placed behind his head. His companion saw nothing wrong with the bowed heads of his servants, and Millicas knew he would be considered bizarre if he brought it up. He would be the anomaly, the oddball, the freak.
What sort of devil treated those beneath them as their equals? What self-respecting being of the underworld, dared spit in the face of generations of established hierarchy?
Lookas noticed his discomfort. “Is something wrong?”
Millicas forced his lips into a smile. “...It’s n-nothing.”
“Oh, by the way,” Lookas leaned in close to his ear and cupped his hand. “Your mom is not going to follow us around all day is she?”
“She… has to.”
Lookas let out an exasperated huff. “That’s sooooo lame.”
He shot a glimpse behind him. Though she stayed at a far enough distance to not be intrusive, his mother was present. She was wearing her ‘public’ face. An emotionless, dispassionate expression that brokered no room for conversation. If the servants of the Agares household were scared of him, they were terrified of her. They gave her a wide berth, one done so subtly it was impossible not to notice.
“She still follows you everywhere?” Lookas snickered. “You’re such a momma’s boy, Mill.”
Millicas offered a polite smile in response.
It’s for your safety, Millicas, he’d hear every time he asked for independence. Your father has a lot of enemies, Millicas.
He shot another glimpse behind him. The hall they were walking through was grand and spacious, enough for numerous servants to be lined up on both sides with enough space for a jeep to drive through. His mother maintained a distance from them of about fifty feet. She wouldn’t come any closer unless he called for her.
He stifled a sigh, and his gaze flickered away from his mother to the young woman with greenish-blonde hair and pink eyes in the eye-catching green dress.
Millicas’ heart skipped a beat. The response was natural. Nay, it was outright instinctive. The dress she wore was skin-tight. Every contour of her body made its way into his eyes and was translated by his brain into a primal and innate language.
Her dress was short enough for him to see everything from her thighs to her ankles. Her legs, long, fair, and toned were displayed in full view. Her thighs were thick and ample, possessing a nigh-perfect ratio of muscle-to-fat. It was unusual to see on a woman, much less on a female devil. Millicas could tell she worked hard. She trained hard. His gaze lingered on her legs, and saliva slowly bubbled in his throat.
She noticed his stare. His red eyes caught her pink orbs. Millicas snapped his head forward immediately upon being caught. His heart roared. His cheeks scorched as though assaulted by hot coals.
Lookas shot him a knowing grin.
“Like what you see?”
“Why are y-you asking me that?”
Lookas placed his arm over his shoulder as they walked. “I’ve got one of her panties in my bedroom. Want it?”
Millicas’ distaste for Lookas increased. His respect correspondingly decreased.
“I didn’t say I’d be giving it for free,” Lookas caught his look and mistook his disgust for suspicion. “You’re going to have to trade for it. Underwear for underwear.”
Millicas frowned. “Whose underwear would I-I —”
Lookas jerked his head to the side. Millicas’ frown deepened.
“She’ll kill me,” he whispered. “And then she’ll kill you.”
“And what a way it’ll be to go,” Lookas sighed. “If I could just bury my face into her chest —”
Millicas ‘smiled’.
“Whoa, whoa, Relax, Mill — I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I swear!”
Millicas ‘smile’ vanished. “I don’t like it when you say things like that about my mother.”
“I know, I know,” Lookas exhaled. “Look, we both know why my aunt and your grandma keep arranging play dates for us — so we’ve got to keep it up, for now, right?”
“T-they want me to act more like you.”
“And want me to be more like you,” Lookas clicked his tongue. “...It’s ironic, isn’t it? If they knew what the real you was like…”
“I-I d-d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” Millicas stammered.
Lookas gave him a dry look. “Riiiight.”
Millicas shot him a smirk. Lookas in turn rolled his eyes. The two snickered, and then, in a matter of seconds, burst out laughing. Millicas made sure his laughter was stifled as much as possible.
“You know,” Lookas cleared his throat. “We really shouldn’t be talking about this out loud.”
“It’s fine. I’m destroying all soundwaves that attempt to travel beyond a distance of two feet from us.”
Lookas glanced down the hall, to the servants, and then to his cousin and Grayfia. “So… no one can hear us?”
“Not even if you screamed.”
Lookas took in a deep breath of air —
“They’ll still see you screaming,” Millicas frowned. “And then they’ll figure it out.”
He exhaled the air like a deflated balloon and then turned to Millicas. His right eye twitched in annoyance.
“Ugh, I hate you, you insufferable bastard.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Lookas stuck his tongue out at him. “At least I don’t have to fake a stutter two-four-seven.”
Millicas’ right eye twitched.
“Why do you even bother with it anyway? It’s overkill.”
“Remember what you said when you first met me?”
Lookas coughed into his hand. “You’re way too timid to be the Son of the Lucifer.”
Millicas nodded. “My dad was the one who taught me. He says it’s better if people underestimate you than the opposite.”
“But your mom?” Lookas cautiously shot his gaze back. “She thinks you’re a spineless baby. Don’t you think you can tell her?”
“...No.”
“No?”
Millicas shook his head. “No.”
“But —”
Millicas shot him a level stare. “No.”
His tone brokered no room for discussion. Before he could say anything else, he noticed Grayfia closing the gap between them.
“She’s moving within hearing range. I’m taking down the sound destruction barrier. Remember what we practiced.”
“Ugh, fine.”
The transformation was psychological, but it still showed physically. Millicas moved with uncertainty in his steps. His eyes lost the sharpness they’d possessed and instead carried with them an apprehensive taint. His voice became softer, and his expression unsure.
“I had plans for us to head to Envy City,” Lookas said out loud. “But there’s no way we can go if your mom doesn’t let us out of her sight.”
“Envy City?” Millicas asked. “N-not Agreas?”
“We can’t get that at Agreas,” Lookas grinned. “Plus, I heard Envy City’s got the best brothels.”
Millicas blinked. “Y-you’re still not planning on —”
“Of course I am,” Lookas’ face was uncharacteristically serious. “And you’re coming with me.”
“I can’t —”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Millicas bit down on his lower lip. “If s-she finds out —”
Lookas groaned. “You’ve got to learn to impose your desires on others, Mill. Even humans can do that much! If you don’t impose your desires on other people, others will impose theirs on you, and you’ll be strung along for the ride.”
Millicas frowned. “Isn’t that… what you do?”
“It is,” Lookas smirked. “But I always tell you I’m doing it, don’t I? You think most devils will be nice enough to ever let you know they’re taking advantage of you?”
“...No,” he muttered. “They won’t.”
“Exactly,” Lookas clicked his teeth. “So, can you tell your mom to go do some cooking or laundry or something?”
Millicas shook his head. “S-she w-won’t leave. I-it’s for my safety.”
“We’ve got to give her the slip somehow,” Lookas murmured. “This is for your own good.”
“F-for my good?”
“Well, yeah,” Lookas snorted. “We’ll be turning thirteen soon.”
“A-and?”
“Do you not want a social life?” Lookas frowned. “It’s going to be awkward going on dates with her hovering over your shoulder. Can you imagine going clubbing or partying only for everywhere to get real quiet cause you showed up with your mom?”
Millicas’ ears turned red.
“Besides, we’re at the age where we need to see one live,” Lookas grinned. “Have you ever touched one?”
“T-touched?”
“I wanted to mess around with some of the maids,” Lookas continued. “But Aunt Bella made it clear they’re off-limits. Can you believe it? I can’t even ask them to strip for me or give me a handjob or they’ll tattle to her. The most I’m allowed to do is grope them a bit, but no touching below the waist. It’s frustrating!”
Millicas frowned. “You shouldn’t t-treat your servants like that.”
Lookas snorted. “Coming from you? Don’t you have a secret collection of maid douj—”
Millicas swiftly cut him off. “D-d-don’t!”
They turned down the corridor and were momentarily out of sight of his mother. Millicas exhaled a loud breath of air, waved his hand to recreate his sound-destroying barrier, and then shot a dirty look at Lookas.
“That wasn’t part of the script.”
“Ah… oops?”
Lookas did not at all look apologetic.
“Lookas —”
“I still don’t get why you try so hard to hide it from her,” Lookas grunted. “At the rate you’re going, some ugly bastard will come along and seduce her and have sex with her in front of you while you cry with your dick in your hand.”
Millicas gave him a blank look. “You’ve completely rotted your brain with that genre.”
Lookas huffed. “Well since someone refused to hand over the latest volumes —”
“I told you I can only make the orders when Rias-nee is home. My mom goes through all the packages I receive to check for threats.”
“Doesn’t she go through your aunt’s deliveries as well?”
“She does.”
“Does your aunt know you’ve been using her name to order?”
Millicas did not answer.
“You’re telling me they think she’s the one who reads entire volumes of all that —”
Millicas again did not answer.
“Pfft!” Lookas covered his mouth. “No wonder your family is eager to marry her off.”
Millicas remembered the sheer look of disgust on his mother’s face when she’d entered his room and found one of the milder editions on his bed.
It was a relatively vanilla tale of a boy who fell in love with his maid and the beautiful sex they had afterward. Grayfia had taken one look at it and regarded it as though every page was smeared with excrement. Millicas played the fool and said he’d taken it from his father’s study out of curiosity.
It had been an embarrassing ordeal, watching Grayfia sternly lecture his father about ‘appropriate’ content for children. Even more mortifying was his father who sat through the entire thing and played along, all while secretly shooting several thumbs up at Millicas, praising him for his maid-fetish.
“You know, Mill, anyone ever tell you you’ve got some questionable taste in porn?”
He didn’t need to be told. Millicas was more than aware. It was why he used Rias’ name to make his purchases, because, in a sense, it was her fault.
When he was just five years old, Rias bought him a brand new videogame console and something called an ‘Otome game’ as part of his birthday present. To this day, it sparked conflicting opinions in Millicas as to whether or not Rias knew the game she’d gotten him was considered an eroge.
The game served as Millicas’ introduction to sex and Japanese-drawn depictions of it.
The female protagonist had enjoyed sexual relations with a handsome prince, a mercenary king, a swashbuckling pirate, a high-ranking military general, and a revenge-driven villainous mastermind.
He’d worked hard to get the good harem ending where she got them all because that ending possessed the only group h-scene in the entire game.
He could not count how many hours he’d spent enjoying that one scene over and over again. The scene was etched in his brain so deeply, that he could draw it flawlessly from memory.
Afterward, Millicas became Alice, and Japanese Erotica became his rabbit hole.
“I’ve got it.”
“What?”
Millicas turned to his friend, and Lookas had a large grin on his face.
“I’ve figured out a way for us to give her the slip. For real.”
Millicas held his doubts.
“Remember that volume you showed me? With the magical girls stuck in a wall and the dude with the stopwatch?”
“...I remember.”
“We’re doing that, but with a chikan variation.”
“Don’t you have problems controlling your demonic power?”
“I did,” Lookas breathed. “But not anymore.”
Millicas frowned. “Not anymore?”
“It’s really weird,” Lookas rubbed his neck. “It happened one day after I went to the Valley in search of Seekvaira-nee. My power was going out of control again, but then… some bishounen-looking dude appeared. Red skin, horns, black eyes… he was terrifying.”
Lookas shuddered. It was a scene odd to Millicas. No one, to his knowledge, had ever managed to make his friend shudder in terror like that —
Except him.
“He put his hand on me and muttered some words, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, it was to Seekvaira-nee berating me, but something… changed.”
Lookas extended his hand outward. A perfect sphere of translucent rotating demonic power emerged, and within it was the power of Time.
“It’s like something was blocking me from controlling my power properly before…” Lookas frowned. “And that scary dude removed it.”
Millicas’ gaze lingered on the sphere. The output Lookas possessed was beyond all expectations. It was the kind of power that he knew even Rias would be hardpressed to match. Lookas had always shown talent before, but his control now was extraordinary. There was no doubt in Millicas’ mind that Lookas would become the head of the Agares Family.
“Do you know who he was?”
“No,” Lookas grumbled. “I’m sure Seekvaira-nee knows something, though. I overheard her talking to one of the low-class peasants about him. I hate to admit it, but I owe that guy my life. If he hadn’t shown up when he did…”
Lookas shuddered again.
“Anyway,” Lookas cleared his throat. “If he lives in the Valley, I’ll run into him again someday. For now, let’s focus on giving your mom the slip.”
Millicas shook his head. “Even if you’ve gotten better control, it won’t be enough.”
“See, that’s where you come in,” Lookas grinned. “You can use your clan trait to destroy soundwaves without problem, right?”
“Right.”
“Well… what if…” Lookas leaned in and whispered into his ear.
The more Millicas heard, the larger the smile grew on his face.
XXXXXX
Monochrome.
For the longest time, that was all there was.
Black and white. Good and evil. The contrasting colors were muted and dull, weaving a bland tapestry in the daily yoke upon her neck which she called existence. She lived to serve and served to live. Just like her brother, her father, and his father before him.
Lucifuge, Satanachia, Agaliarept, Fleurety, Sargatanas, and Nebiros. The Six Houses of Lucifer. Their purpose was a simple one:
Servitude.
It was for that reason they were all lost when Rizevim declared his lack of interest in the throne of Hell. What were they to do, when the blood of their master had no wish for them? What purpose were their Houses meant to serve?
All they had known was obedience. All they had desired was one to whom they would thrust upon their unwavering loyalty and pledge themselves eternally. The True Son of their Lord and Master had discarded them, and they’d fallen into despair.
The Civil War was to many, a chance for them to make things right. To ensure the children of the Satans claimed the throne of the Underworld — to ensure that they would still be able to fulfill their purpose.
She, too, had believed this. She’d fought, as expected, on the side of the Old Satan Faction.
Until she’d met him.
The shade of gray.
A red-headed fool too strong for his own good. A being born with more power in his index finger than many devils would ever attain in their ten thousand-year lifespans. An anomaly to all she believed in. A bright spot. A contradiction. A problem. An enemy she had to destroy.
A foolish enemy, who’d spared her life after devastating her in battle. An enemy strong enough to do so time and again. An enemy she began to begrudgingly respect. An enemy that one day confessed his attraction for her.
She remembered laughing. It was a vivid scene. Surrounded by the bodies of her dead comrades, the fool with red hair wielding a power that destroyed all it touched proclaimed his sexual and emotional desire for her. What else, indeed, was she to do but laugh?
She indulged him.
To this day, she did not know why. Curiosity, perhaps? Amusement? Or perhaps, in the end, she was merely following her programming. Perhaps it was merely the result of her bloodline’s innate desire to find, follow, protect and serve the strong.
The story had gotten spread and twisted into some grand fanciful tale as to how they’d fallen in love with each other at first sight, and how she betrayed her allies just to be with him. There was even some laughable cinematic production based on that premise which she found utterly deplorable.
The world was monochrome.
And Sirzechs Gremory was a shade of gray.
That was all there was to it.
Servitude was in her blood and thus she became a servant of the House that had birthed the strong. She did her job diligently. She worked without complaint. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, ten years a decade, ten decades a century —
Grayfia Lucifuge served.
Many a time, women had attempted to coerce from her details of how deeply she supposedly loved Sirzechs. Grayfia did not understand the meaning of the word. What purpose would it have served those born underneath the Six Houses of Lucifer to feel such things as love? Does one require a broomstick to love them? Would a blacksmith forge a sword with the concept of letting it feel love in mind?
Devotion was a different matter. Allegiance and loyalty were acceptable terms. These terms, however, were not unconditional. She’d made it clear from the beginning, that should ever a day come wherein someone worthier of her service came along, her allegiance would change.
Sirzechs had no problems with this because there were fewer than a handful of beings in the hells and heavens stronger than he.
Roughly twelve years ago, however, something changed.
That something was the little red-haired, red-eyed boy who currently stood before her, his hands clasped in a pleading motion.
“M-may we mother?”
“Agreas?” Grayfia said. “Very well. Let us depart.”
The boy’s face lit up, he embraced her in a swift, hug.
“T-t-thank you, mother.”
Grayfia’s lips thinned. Time and again, she’d warned him against calling her such and performing displays of affection when she was on official duty. Time and again, she would chide him for it. Time and again, he would make the same mistake.
He bore his father’s red hair and temperament but had her eyes. They were red, but not Lucifuge red. It was almost tragic. He had inherited the best traits of his father, but the worst traits from her. She saw it in his actions and his uncertainty. She saw it in the way he second-guessed himself and in his desire to be inoffensive and agreeable.
Lucifer was no fool. The Bright and Morning Star, the First Devil, the One Who Rebuked the Lord… he had indeed been cunning. He had not trusted anyone. For that reason, his closest servants, those born of the Six Houses of Lucifer, possessed something different that made them stand out. He made it so they would never seek to rebel against him as he had rebelled against the Almighty.
The men born of the blood of those Six Houses would only blossom and attain their full power under servitude. Be it absolute servitude to another or absolute servitude to an ideal.
Grayfia knew from experience how much harder it was to dedicate yourself unfailingly to an ideal than it was to dedicate yourself to a person.
“C-come on, Lookas! Let’s go!”
Her son would never reach his full potential until he found someone or something for which he was willing to lay down his life. Someone or something he would serve till his dying breath. Someone or something he would place above and beyond his flesh and blood.
She’d told her husband of this. Sirzechs laughed it off as he always did. He told her not to worry about it. It was one of the few times they got into a serious disagreement. She saw it as him looking down on a curse that had plagued her bloodline.
He’d casually declared that if the curse were to limit Millicas’ growth, he would simply destroy it. He’d joked that Millicas having a limit on his growth would help him. He’d laughed, claiming that in time, Millicas would destroy the curse on his own without him needing to interfere.
His cavalier attitude enraged Grayfia.
No matter how much her husband was hailed as a Super-Devil, it was akin to blasphemy to think he would never hold a candle to the being who had almost struck the killing blow on God himself. It was sacrilege for him to believe that Lucifer’s machinations were so easily undone.
Lucifer was to all Devilkind what Christ was to Christians. The Lucifuge Clan regarded Lucifer in the same vein as the Pope regarded God. No matter her current alliances now, making light of Lucifer’s power and influence was something she could never do. She had killed for far less.
Grayfia had been cold to Sirzechs since they had that argument. He’d tried to butter her up in his usual manner with jokes, kisses, and public displays of affection, but he’d yet to apologize. He told her, with uncharacteristic seriousness:
“I’ve said nothing I need to apologize for.”
Grayfia accompanied her son and his companion, her thoughts never explicit on her face. In the end, her role as Millicas’ mother was merely still an extension of her service. For what, indeed, was a mother, if not a woman who put the lives of her children above and beyond herself?
She would lay down her life for him, as she would his father. She would kill for him, as she would for his father. She would protect him to her detriment, as she would his father.
If one were to ask her, ‘Do you love him?’
Her answer would be ‘Does it matter?’
If she did all the things a loving mother would do for her child regardless, did the inner rationale behind her actions make a difference?
In the corner of her eye, Grayfia saw the Young Lady of the House of Agares. Her magical power was considerable for her age, and her temperament was not disagreeable.
Yet, Grayfia disliked her.
The Young Lady of the House of Agares was not someone worthy of her son's devotion. She carried too much doubt and too much self-interest. What she sought was not a mutually-beneficial partnership, but a parasitic relationship — one which would prey on Millicas’ inexperience with the opposite sex.
Grayfia would kill her were she to carelessly approach Millicas with such obvious intentions. The only person worthy of her son would be someone who could stand on an equal level with him. If he were to love someone with all his heart, and they loved him in turn, but they were not an individual capable of withstanding the gravitas of being the spouse of Millicas Gremory, then Grayfia would never approve.
For starters, she did not believe in ‘marrying for love.’ The notion was almost unheard of for devils. The vast majority of marriages were made out of political convenience than they were for any fleeting romantic sentiments. They were a race of beings who lived well into ten thousand years, a time frame that most humans could not grasp.
‘Love’ alone would not and did not stand a test of time that long. Humans were obsessed with it because the vast majority of them would barely live a century. It was easy to ‘love’ for a century. Two centuries, however? Three? Eight? Ten?
Human existence was fleeting and temporary — so why would they not wish for that short amount of time to be spent in the embrace of merely one person?
Her husband had his concubines kept hidden from the public, but even if he were to announce them, not a single person would bat an eyelash. His announcement would only bring applause and jubilation, for who, indeed, did not desire their strongest devil to breed more of his ilk? Who would stand and tell Sirzechs that he should not increase his odds of gaining more children? Who would refuse to increase the overall power and potential of the devil race?
The only reason she and Sirzechs kept up the appearance of a monogamous couple was to deter Lords of the Pillar Houses from throwing their wives and daughters at him. Ajuka avoided this dilemma merely by being too occupied in his work and research and generally being the less approachable of the two Super-Devils. Sirzechs could only avoid it by having the whole world believe he was so madly in love with Grayfia, that he refused to entertain other women.
But they were devils.
No devil would ever love another so much. It would be their greatest and most exploitable weakness. If Sirzechs truly did love her as much as the rumors and media liked to portray, it would have disgusted Grayfia to no end.
Devoting himself entirely to her and none other was no different than a man choosing a god and worshipping it.
She could accept being loved. She would never accept being worshipped.
Ding! “The Agreas Express is now arriving. Please stand clear. The Agreas Express is now arriving. Please stand clear.”
Upon arrival at the private train platform which served the Agares Household, Grayfia felt something off. It was a different platform from the one she had arrived in and only existed to move members of the Agares Household within and about the Agares Territory.
The gathered servants kept their gazes low. Millicas and Lookas moved ahead and eagerly chatted amongst themselves while the train approached from the distance. It was a bullet train in the same style as the first-ever Japanese shinkansen, and it ran on specially constructed magic tracks. The Agares Crest could be seen in deep jade-green enamored all over the front end of the train, and two conductors were operating it.
A loud hissing sound emerged from the engine as the train came to a stop before them. The doors swung open, and servants hurried to roll out the carpet leading into the train car. Lookas entered first, then his cousin, the Young Lady of the Agares House, and then she accompanied Millicas into the car.
As expected, the inside of the train car was lavishly furnished. There was no shortage of gold decorations accompanying the diamond chandelier. The furnishing was of master-level craftsmanship and the entire car was temperature controlled. It was more akin to a five-star hotel room than it was a simple train car.
The Agares House was one of the wealthier ones, she recalled. The material used by Ajuka to make Evil Pieces was exclusively mined from a floating Island in their territory, and it had brought them a significant amount of wealth. They were also one of the highest-ranked in tourism, which contributed to Lord Agares’ infamous laidback and laissez-faire attitude.
Ding! “Now departing Castle Agares. Next stop, Agreas, the Floating Alcazar —”
The Young Heiress of the Agares House sat closer to the door and got herself a drink. Millicas and Lookas seemed busy in idle chatter, and it left Grayfia with her thoughts once more. As the stoic maid of the House of Gremory, she was always left with her thoughts. She had far more of them than most would believe and even took to keeping a diary. That said, she ensured to never let her inner introspection get in the way of her duties.
After about thirty minutes, Grayia’s lips curved into a frown, Millicas and his friend still chatting away in the same manner as once they’d started, a full thirty minutes into their trip. What in the world could they be talking about?
Even worse, the Young Heiress was still drinking her wine. How long did it take to —
Grayfia’s eyes narrowed.
She was certain the bottle of wine was more than half-empty last she checked. She shot her gaze over to Millicas and found that his lips were still moving in the same way they had once the journey started.
The exact same manner.
His hands moved in a looped motion, and his mouth and lips uttered muffled words that continued again and again. Grayfia felt, instinctively that she’d seen this exact event occur before —
Temporal dissociation.
Grayfia’s eyes sharpened.
A strange effect occurred whenever an individual capable of manipulating time utilized their power. Reality would try to ‘knit’ itself together seamlessly to ensure perfect continuity of the flow of time, but there would be tiny snippets that let one know a temporal anomaly had occurred. The biggest giveaway was the overwhelming sensation that one had experienced a particular thing before, despite having no recollection of doing so.
Humans called this phenomenon: déjà vu.
She flexed her demonic power and the world around her shattered like glass. The train was no longer moving. The position of the faux sun in the sky had changed considerably. Millicas was nowhere in sight, nor was his friend, nor was the Agares Clan Heiress.
Her first, instinctive thought, was disbelief.
Closing her eyes, she reached for her senses —
And for the first time in a long while, something akin to fear gripped her heart.
…Millicas.
That brief moment.
A single hug she’d dismissed without a second thought.
In that one moment, her son used his power on her. Her son had destroyed her ability to sense demonic power.
Grayfia struggled between being impressed and outraged. From the depths of her soul, a conflict between pride at his accomplishment and indignation at his audacity filled her.
There were Eleven Stages of Mastery of the Power of Destruction.
The first stage of mastery was using the Power of Destruction to destroy solid matter. The second was mastering the destruction of liquid matter. The third was mastering the destruction of gaseous matter. After which, in the fourth stage, one mastered the destruction of plasma and plasma-like matter. In the fifth stage, one had mastered the destruction of demonic and magical energies.
In the sixth, you mastered the destruction of all matter affected or imbued by energy. In the seventh, you mastered the destruction of abstract things on a micro-scale, such as an idea from someone’s mind, someone’s beauty, confidence, or courage. At the eighth, you were a master of destroying natural phenomena such as gravity, tides, biological processes, and electromagnetic oscillations or waves. At the ninth stage, you mastered the destruction of abstract concepts on a macro scale, such as destroying an idea from the world completely or removing the concept of beauty and love from existence.
At the tenth stage, you mastered how to destroy abstract entities. Your power could destroy Death, Time, or Chaos itself.
Rias was yet to reach the Fourth Stage. Millicas’ grandmother, Venelana with all her years of experience, only managed to reach the Sixth Stage.
What Millicas had done, destroying her ability to sense demonic power, counted as the destruction of natural phenomena. It was an Eighth Stage utilization. Mastering a Stage took decades at first, but after the crossing Third Stage, it took centuries. Yet, Millicas, not even thirteen, was capable of using an Eighth Stage level ability.
She knew once she told Sirzechs of this, the red-haired fool would dance and celebrate all day long instead of chiding his son for using his power recklessly.
The mere thought of it brought a faint smile to Grayfia’s lips.
Impressive as his usage of the Power of Destruction was, it was still lacking in efficiency. Grayfia could tell that the effects were temporary. Had he been more efficient, or more malicious, she would have lost the ability to detect demonic power forever.
Such a fate would have inevitably spelled her death.
Being unable to detect demonic power was the same as being blind. She wouldn’t know she was being attacked until after it connected. She wouldn’t be able to sense incoming danger, nor would she be able to track or find individuals who used the most basic of illusion spells. Attacks that she should be capable of dismissing with a wave of her hand would strike her true because they would be all but invisible to her senses.
The thought of it made her shudder.
Due to his meek and conflict-averse demeanor, she’d forgotten just how terrifying the power that flowed through her son’s veins was. It was more terrifying given the curse that lay on the Lucifuge Clan.
He has this much potential… while being limited?
Again, Grayfia shuddered.
She would protect him at all costs.
Channeling her demonic power within her, she estimated it’d be at least two hours before she regained her senses. Two hours before she could track him down. Two full hours before she would be able to find him.
In the timeframe of the Underworld, two hours was an eternity.
XXXXX
Did I misinterpret something?
She squealed in the manner of a recalcitrant child in the hands of their tickling parent. Her hands latched unto his and she whimperingly implored him to cease his attacks.
“W-w-wait, L-Lord M-Malphas, p-please —”
Her skin was profoundly white, reminding Jamie of a Shadar-Kai he’d encountered in his youth. Not the typical pink hues possessed of the light-skinned humans, but well and truly white, closer in hue to ashes than salmon.
Her hair was jet-black, akin to the rich feathers of a Kenku. Her eyes were cobalt-blue and reminiscent of the beauty of a particular Air Genasi he’d once known. White skulls decorated her well-manicured nails, forming a collection of Jolly Rogers.
She wore a black spiked choker around her neck tightly enough for Jamie to make out light bruising. Accompanying her accessories was a short blue jean skirt, black flat heels, and a glossy black leather tube-top. Her feet sported a matching pedicure to her nails, and the shade of black lipstick she wore was glazed as though made from satin. Two piercings complemented her outfit — a nose ring and a little diamond stud on her navel.
He had her pinned down to her bed but had yet to relieve her of her clothes. A gentleman when he needed to be, and a beast when the occasion demanded it — he’d been neither so far.
Thus Jamie pondered why her eyes were glazed over and why her legs were slammed shut as she held both his hands at bay.
Had she not been the same vixen, gloating mere seconds ago about how she’d be the first one to be ravished? Was she not the same temptress who submitted numerous sultry gazes?
Then from whence came the sudden hesitation? Out of what pit did her mortified stuttering crawl?
Her wide-eyed companion knelt beside her, trying and failing to hide how she rubbed her thighs together. She peered at him as though he were the messiah’s messiah — greater salvation sought by salvation itself.
“Is this your first time?”
“N-no,” the she-devil all but whispered. “It’s just… this… what you were doing… with the touches… and the kisses…”
“Foreplay?”
“Yes,” she rasped. “N-no one’s ever done that to me before.”
Silence deafened the room. All Jamie could offer was a thin smile.
“Do devils not know what foreplay is?”
“D-devils are… selfish,” her companion, kneeling at the side, spoke softly. “For the majority of male devils, sex is about being pleased. They focus on pleasing themselves or having their partners please them… but t-they don’t often reciprocate. T-they don’t see the need.”
He knew of such individuals in the Forgotten Realms. Countless times, he’d encountered men who’d confidently declared ‘the female orgasm is a myth!’ or ‘women just aren’t as interested in sex as men!’
Those poor unfortunate fellows, to whom Jamie had taken great pity on their wives and lovers. Men whose skills in the bedroom were so woefully inept, that he would have them incarcerated in camps and forcefully educated about what the clitoris was and where to find it, were it within his power.
The tragedy of one is the fortuity of another.
With just the right amount of force, he separated her quivering legs. Her lacy black underwear was sticky and moisture-laden. It clung to her maidenhood like honey to a spoon. Jamie drank in the smell of her thick arousal, and a near animalistic sound of approval emerged from his throat. Mind and body were in unquestionable agreement and he dove in head first.
A loud squeak interrupted him. “L-Lord M-Malphas, I-I’m but a mere low-class devil — you — you do not need to sully your tongue with my —”
Her complaints were drowned out by a sharp gasp. Her legs wrapped against his head tightly and confirmed what Jamie already knew. She may as well be a virgin in this regard; a person utterly unused to, and afraid of, her own pleasure.
Jamie was not satisfied.
All he'd done was lightly trail his tongue around her inner thighs. He’d yet to pleasure her drenched wetness proper. He was a man devouring an appetizer of a three-course meal and being given the bill. He was a chef sharpening his blade against a whetstone being told his customers were thanking him for the meal.
Were all devil women so alien to their pleasure?
His thoughts went to the Agares Heiress, and how, she, too, had been a stranger to ecstasy. He’d assumed it was because of her status as a high-born woman, but he was wrong.
“W-w-wait — L-Lord Malphas — you — you s-shouldn’t —”
Several women he’d lay with had once narrated to Jamie the frustration they felt when their partners were incapable of lasting longer in bed. He’d never understood their plight. He’d never been able to relate to it.
Until this very moment.
With a light nibble of his sharpened incisors, he held unto her underwear. He rose her hips and in a smooth motion, pulled backward. He emerged with her underwear dangling on the corner of his mouth, and his quarry's hips buckled like a dame atop a wild bull.
Her back arched. A cry escaped her lips. Something splashed against him, and he glanced down, to his dress shirt, now stained, and the bed, flush with proof that one had reached sexual climax.
Surely you jest.
Were it not for her labored breathing and her mortified expression in which she covered her face with both hands, Jamie would have believed it to be a grandiose prank at his expense.
After all, how many men could claim to have brought a woman to orgasm merely by depriving her of her underwear?
Jamie kept the underwear aside. He took off his shirt in a swift motion, unbuckled his belt, and let his pants drop down. He’d been discomforted by them for a while, and his erection could no longer be calmed.
Finally, Jamie dropped his boxers.
“D-dear… Lucifer…”
Their observer, the dark-skinned bartender, whispered.
The she-devil underneath him peeked between her fingers and the light momentarily faded from her eyes.
"P-please, L-Lord Malphas a— a m-moment's rest,” she spoke quickly. “I-I need a m-moment’s rest.”
Jamie could sense it. Equal part excitement, and equal part sheer terror.
"We've barely begun, and you desire rest?"
She bit down on her lip "I — I —"
"Very well."
She hadn’t expected such a response. He grabbed the underwear he’d kept aside, crumpled it into a ball, and promptly stuffed it into her mouth. She did not resist. Jamie grabbed his belt, and wrapped it around her eyes securely, but not too securely. He made sure to ‘accidentally’ leave room for her to be able to see.
Deprived of speech, and deprived of sight, Jamie paid her no heed and regarded her kneeling companion.
"You, bartender."
"Y-yes my Lord?"
"What was your name again?"
"A-Adelaide, m-my lord."
"Make me some tea."
"A-at once, my lord!"
The sound of liquid pouring into a container reached Jamie's ears. He sensed the magic of the kettle, allowing it to heat water to boiling point in mere seconds. The loud whistling it emitted was the most audible in the room, competing against the whirr of the ceiling fan, the low hum of the refrigerator, and the overwhelming heartbeats of both she-devils pumping into his ears.
The one-bedroom apartment was small and cramped, even far more so than Selena’s place out in the Valley. The bedroom and living rooms were the same, and there was barely enough space for a television, a game console, and a desk with a computer attached.
The colors of the apartment were a splash of red and black. There were visible skulls kept as trophies of sorts, rugs containing skins of what he assumed were exotic animals, and the room was enamored with several unlit red candles and scribbled pieces of paper with complex-looking magical circles on them.
"Y-your tea, my lord."
Adelaide offered him the cup, and Jamie glanced into the steaming green liquid to his reflection within.
"Take a sip from it."
"M-my lord?"
"Did you not hear me?"
Adelaide obeyed. She sipped from the edge of the teacup and offered the tea to him once again.
"Now, take a mouthful but do not swallow."
"M-my lord, it's… it's s-steaming hot —"
He affixed her a straight, dispassionate stare. She balked. With shaky hands, she rose the cup to her lips and took in an entire mouthful of the green liquid. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and he possessed no doubt now that the insides of her mouth and tongue were mildly, if not completely, burned.
"Gargle it."
Once more, she obeyed, gargling the hot liquid in her throat. Steam emerged from her mouth as her eyes reddened, but still, she obeyed.
"Swallow."
She swallowed the liquid, and let out a gasp as she did so. She clutched at her chest, feeling the heat travel down her throat as it made its way to her stomach.
“Show me.”
A dazed expression came across her face as she hung her mouth open, steam still emitting from the hot liquid which had been from within.
Jamie grabbed her and claimed her mouth as his. He felt the residual heat and savored the leafy tang of tea along with her oral orifice.
He caressed her tongue with his, and sucked deeply, richly, as though she were a ripe orange in the maw of a parched child. She had no time to resist, nor would he let her. From pain to pleasure, from damnation to delectation — the pendulum swung too rapidly and wrought havoc upon her unexpecting mind.
She melted in his arms like a stick of butter in the clay maker’s kiln. Delight and torment collided like hot oil and water; apprehension and tension gave way to titillation and stimulation of the likes neither her heart nor brain was ready for.
A massive drop in her heart rate and blood pressure followed, and Adelaide slumped in Jamie’s arms as her consciousness left her body. Only then did Jamie depart from her lips, dropping her to the ground like a worthless sack of unleavened bread.
Beneath him, his quarry saw it all through. Try as she might mask her arousal, Jamie knew better. Indeed, how was one to react to a man who could deprive women of their minds with but a simple kiss?
He removed her underwear from her lips, tightened the belt across her eyes, and spoke with a throaty voice.
"Carrin, was it?"
"Y-yes, L-Lord Malphas."
"I am about to inflict upon you pleasure the likes of which you have never experienced before,” Jamie's eyes flickered to her body. “I apologize."
"A-apologize?"
"All the men you’ve lain with before me will be forgotten, and all after me will be found wanting."
Jamie roughly cupped her chin.
"I apologize for the profound sense of disappointment you will henceforth feel upon laying with a man not named Jamie Malphas."
Jamie heard her heart stop.
"Now, spread your legs," Jamie said. "I itch to fuck."
Chapter 8: Forgive Us Our Trespasses
Chapter Text
All things began as dust and all things would return to dust. Heaven and hell existed in balance, good and evil, truth and deceit, cold and heat, yin and yang, life and death -
Male and female.
Incubi Racial Trait: “Reaving Coition” has been initialized.
You have drained 2 Constitution from your Prey.
You have drained 1 Strength from your Prey.
You have drained 3 Dexterity from your Prey.
You have drained 1 Intelligence from your Prey.
You have drained 2 Charisma from your Prey.
You have drained 1 Wisdom from your prey.
You have drained 250 Points of Demonic Power from your Prey.
You have drained 200 Points of Demonic Power from your Prey.
You have drained 422 Years of Life from your Prey.
You have drained 1191 Years of Life from your Prey.
Your Siruka Rating has increased.
Character Sheet Updated.
Two women lay splayed out before him, skinny and emaciated. Once beautiful and lustrous, Carrin was now dull, faded, and cracking. Adelaide’s previously glossy black skin was shriveled and wrinkled. Their faces were sunken and hollow, and they had not the strength to lift their hands, let alone use their raspy voices.
There was not an ounce of fat to be seen on their bodies. Their breasts were sagged and shrunken. Their laps were thin akin to the wishbones of feathered birds, and there was no longer any evidence of their youth.
The expressions on their faces were unsightly. Tongues outstretched, eyes rolled deep into the skull, mouth ajar in mind-rupturing bliss. The expressions were akin to morbid, erotic tattoos. An actual tattoo could be found, glowing on their lower abdomens. A brilliant red sigil that would remain branded on their flesh from now till their dying day.
In contrast, Jamie glowed.
His red skin possessed a gleam-like varnished chrome. His dark eyes swirled with the pitch-blackness one would expect only of artificially produced paint. His horns grew longer and curved majestically to the sides and inwards, like that of an aged and wizened goat. His tail thinned until it was the breadth of a steel wire and the tip became razor-sharp.
He’d grown in height and now stood at seven foot two inches, taller, even, than in his former life. His musculature had compressed significantly, allowing him to possess a lithe build resembling that of a veteran swimmer. His face gained definition and tone, adding finishing flourishes to what was already a masterpiece.
The greatest change, however, was in his voice.
“Excellent.”
His voice was immensely and satisfyingly deep. He would need to practice with it.
Jamie rubbed his chin and felt a stubble that had not been present previously. His body had gone through numerous changes, all of which were triggered by having sex — essentially narrating to his incubi genes that he’d reached adulthood.
He’d drained from Carrin and Adelaide the number of years they’d been alive. Were they humans, they’d have died immediately. Fortunately, Devils had long lifespans, so taking one thousand years off Carrin’s lifespan and four hundred off Adelaide’s would not be a problem.
You have completed a rite of passage for your species.
You have successfully reached the age of sexual maturity for your species.
Campaigns Unlocked.
Racial Legacy Quests Unlocked.
Bloodline Quests Unlocked.
Feats Unlocked.
Character Sheet Unlocked.
Oh?
Initializing Character Sheet…
Initialization Failed.
Full Access Not Granted.
Requirements:
Complete (1) Campaign.
Available Information Will Be Limited.
Character Sheet
Name: Jamie Malphas
Class: Bard (8) | Sorcerer (5)
Spellcasting Level: 4
Total Levels: 13
Race: Devil [High-Born] | Incubus (Variant) | Hybrid
Attributes: [REDACTED]
Alignment: [REDACTED]
Damage Resistances: Cold, Fire, Poison, Psychic; Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing from Nonmagical Attacks.
Damage Vulnerabilities: Holy, Divine, Light.
Damage Immunities: N/A
Racial Traits: Flight, Language, Darkvision, Shapechanger, Dreamwalker, Dreamweaver, Aphrodisiac Anatomy, Devil Physiology, Reaving Coition, Demonic Spellcasting.
Bloodline Trait: Parlance [Tongues]
Class Feats (Bard): Bardic Inspiration, Psychic Blades, Words of Terror, Cutting Words, Silver Tongue, Unsettling Words, Mantle of Inspiration.
Class Feats (Sorcerer): Sorcerous Origin: Demonic Ancestry, Font of Magic, Flexible Casting, Metamagic.
Character Feats: N/A
Siruka Rating: 1850
Accumulated Life Energy: 1613 Years
Accumulated Wealth: 0 gold/shekels
Accumulated Land: N/A
Accumulated Property: Carrin (Low-Class Devil) [Enslaved], Adelaide (Low-Class Devil) [Enslaved], Selena (Succubus) [Enslaved].
Accumulated Influence: 0 [Mr. Nobody]
Destiny Distortion Value: 0.45
Additional Information: [REDACTED]
Jamie shot his gaze to both women and the glowing red tattoos on their crotches. He could feel it. They were connected to him through it. As long as it was in effect, they possessed no magical resistance to his spells. They were vulnerable to his magic — to his words, his might, his orders, and his instructions.
"This is what it means to be an Incubus?"
His mind was a whirl of thought and contradiction. Images came and went, flashing unbidden. He saw himself as a young girl, fleeing down a dirt-covered street. He saw a broken doll, a vile drunken mother, a group of shady, sniggering men encroaching in an alley —
Are these… their memories?
Wisdom Save Initiated.
Over a thousand years of memories came pouring; a sudden cloudburst of thoughts feelings and sentiments flooded and slammed into the walls of his mind. He only had a hundred years of life experience to compete with, and to compress over a thousand years into that was akin to forcing the ocean into a bucket of fresh water.
The memories surged. A broken bottle. An evil witch. A bartender. Cruel and vile masters —
A failure to compete. A destiny of servitude. The first night with a lover, laughable, regrettable, and forgettable —
Jamie inhaled sharply,
An individual of lesser will would have their ego corroded immediately. They would forget who they were and assimilate traits and aspects of the being’s memories. He could feel such a thing trying to occur — he could feel the accumulated memories trying to form an ego within himself.
“Filth cannot find home in the land of the pure.”
He closed his eyes.
“Begone,” Jamie whispered. “You are not my equal.”
The existence that was Jamie Malphas, the ego that was the being who pursued beauty as a man possessed — it stood above and beyond the trifling existences of two low-class devils. Their egos, used to suppression, acquainted firmly with subjugation, could do nothing but hiss and cry as they were consumed by the all-consuming bottomless pit that spurned from the depth of Jamie’s soul.
He was a being who sought to explore all the world’s beauty. He knew not contentment. He knew not complacency. How, indeed, could they compare?
Aas, Devils were creatures of desire, and how many, indeed, possessed more desire than he?
Save Success.
The memories remained, but the egos did not. Separate within his mind, Jamie organized and categorized them according to relevance and value. He browsed through them in the manner a learned professor would go through library books.
His ignorance, to which he'd hated so sorely, now lay bare, shrinking and shriveling, rolling in pits of despair as Knowledge approached, wielding a sword.
Yes, Jamie grinned. YES!
Knowledge struck. Ignorance cried out in agony. Again and again, the relentless swords of understanding hacked against the flaky flesh of foolishness and drew blood.
Jamie swirled, taking a formal bow as was expected of an individual of his status. He walked around the room, his gait now replicating that of a Lord of a House, as was in the memories of the two women he'd obtained.
His black eyes shone, his lips curled, and an electrifying sensation pulsed from his toes to the very tips of his fingers.
Beautiful.
Knowledge was truly beautiful.
Knowledge of Underworld Customs. Knowledge of the 72 Pillar Clans. Knowledge of the human realm. Knowledge of their technology. Knowledge of their psychology, their physiology, biology, philosophy, economy, sociology —
Jamie danced in the room, ignoring the confused and frightened expressions of the drained women, his deep rumbling laughter contrasting with the expression of bliss upon his face.
Neither she-devil had been able to make him reach climax. They were not his equal truly. Alas, the wealth and breadth of his plundered wisdom more than made up for it.
Amazing.
Jamie plopped against a chair, his cock throbbing hard, as his mind lost itself in bliss.
Simply amazing.
This world did not lack beauty.
Was it in the sheer scope of technology? The existence of Genetic Engineering, Neuroscience, Nuclear Physics, and Nanotechnology?
Was it in their philosophy? In Nihilism, Existentialism, Consequentialism, Determinism, Empiricism, Absurdism, and Cartesian Skepticism —
Perchance it was in their leaders? From Genghis Khan to Alexander the Great. Attila the Hun to Julius Cesar. Cyrus the Great to Napoleon Bonaparte —
Or was it in their Mathematics? Pi, the Fibonacci Sequence, Euler's Equation, the Pythagorean theorem, the Collatz Conjecture —
Jamie laughed. Beautiful!
Even their inventions! Their inventions! Things as seemingly banal as electricity, the internal combustion engine, and the steam engine would have completely changed his world —
Here, some were commonplace, and others, outdated.
Where do I begin?
There was too much beauty in this world. Were ten thousand years enough to explore it all? To bask in the beauty of it all?
Was it too little?
Jamie did not know.
This world had its depths. Their philosophy was beyond anything he’d ever seen in the Forgotten Realms. Their science and technology boggled the mind. Their history, their techniques —
He wanted to learn it all.
…But I can’t.
Jamie leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes.
The knowledge he'd gotten from the two she-devils was skin-deep. They'd only been alive a thousand years between them, and neither had dedicated their lives to the study of any particular thing.
Thus Jamie knew about a lot of things —
But he did not know anything.
A paradox was born. In his attempt to rid himself of ignorance, he had only succeeded in magnifying it. Before, there was a lot he did not know, and he did not know how little he knew.
Now, there was a lot he did not know, and he knew how little he knew.
His hopes of curing himself from ignorance in its entirety and successfully becoming erudite was not a task he could accomplish in a night. He doubted he could accomplish it in a century. The Forgotten Realms had a complex history, but some sages and scholars were capable of learning and reciting it all.
Here?
No one mortal could claim to be capable of such a feat.
Until now.
Despite his newfound erection for the beautiful knowledge of this world, Jamie had not lost sight of his promise to Selena.
The two goals were not mutually exclusive.
He would search for the most talented person in every field of knowledge and make them into his concubines. Exploring their beauty would grant him their knowledge. Those who were worthy enough to be at his side, he would take as wives.
And if the most talented person isn't female?
The thought randomly came.
I suppose I'll make them into women.
The only spell Jamie knew to be capable of this was the 9th Level Spell, True Polymorph.
He was not there yet.
After draining the two she-devils, Jamie was now once again capable of casting any spell at the Fourth level or Lower. Should he push himself, he'd be able to cast one Fifth Level Spell.
I need to increase my powers.
He sat up, craned his neck, and instead began his search through their memories anew. This time, he dove into the personal lives of the two she-devils to learn more about them.
The more he recalled, the further his lips fell, and the greater his disgust grew.
They were not beautiful.
Not even in the most exaggerated definition of the word.
New Campaign Available!
The Legacy of Lucifer
Length: Epic
Category: Legendary
Details:
The Devil Underworld is currently a pseudo-federalist state ruled by Three Arms. The Four Satans are the Executive Arm, the Lord Council functions as the Legislative Arm, and the Elder Council acts as the Judicial Arm.
Conflict exists between the Three Arms as the Four Satans push for a more progressive Underworld, the Elder Council wishes for a more conservative one, and the Lord Council remains undecided.
Many devils wish for a firmly United Underworld, and this has caused the rise of numerous factions and individuals who wish to topple the Executive Arm and instill their chosen candidates in their place — individuals possessing the bloodline and legacy of the Original Four Satans.
You are Lord Jamie Malphas. You start with neither riches nor glory to your name, but you are the last living member of a Pillar House, its Lord, and ergo have a seat at the Lord Council.
However, it is one you must earn.
First Task :
Gain a seat at the next Lord Council Meeting in 182 Days.
Requirements :
500 Influence or Higher.
1,000,000 Shekels Net Worth or Higher.
1000 km 2 of Territory or Greater.
100 or more Serfs in your Territory.
10 or more Maidservants/Slaves.
5 or more Businesses, Industries, or Trade-Worthy Income Sources.
3 or more Contracts with High-Profile, Famous, or Wealthy Humans.
1 or more Castles, Mansions, and Estates.
Bonus/Optional Requirements:
Make at least (3) Allies from the Pillar Clans.
Meet at least (2) of the Four Satans.
Meet at least (1) Member of the Elder Council.
Acquire Evil Pieces and add a Queen to your Peerage.
Have a Siruka Rating of 2500 Points or More.
Jamie wished to laugh, but he could not find it in him to be amused. The floating words were becoming stranger now. He'd ignored them at first, paid no heed to their existence in the least, but now, they seemed to be guiding him down some sort of path?
Note:
Campaigns are formulated based upon the inner desires, wishes, and current set goals of the character.
The only consequence of refusing to participate in a Campaign is a lack of valuable rewards.
The rewards for the campaign are hinted at in the name of the Campaign itself.
Jamie glimpsed over the name once more, and this time, a chuckle did escape his lips.
These words which only I can see… are you some sort of deity?
There was, as Jamie predicted, no response.
You have not met the requirements necessary to learn more.
Requirement:
Complete at least (1) Campaign.
A loud laugh barked from Jamie's throat.
That's how it is, is it?
Had he been tasked with this a day ago, he would not know where to begin. Alas, that was a day ago. Every day brought with it little changes, and in this case, Jamie’s actions had brought forth a big change.
Nothing in this “Campaign” directly contradicted any of his goals. If anything, it supplemented them. Creating a Dynasty would involve all of the aforementioned requirements if not more, and it would be a lot easier to move and explore this world’s beauty from a position of power.
Thus, Jamie plotted.
He got off his chair and pointed his hands at both women.
“Polymorph.”
There was no resistance. Adelaide’s body shrunk, morphing instantly to that of a four-footed, black-furred leporine creature, more commonly known as a rabbit. Carrin, similarly, morphed into a white rabbit. Jamie picked up the helpless rabbits and placed them atop his shoulders.
“Nondetection.”
A light shimmer overtook his form before fading away. The Third Level Abjuration spell, Nondetection was the most underrated spell in the entire school of Abjuration. Jamie used it once, earlier, to bypass Seekvaira’s barrier and sneak up on her. It was a spell that made him immune to the effects of divination magic. It made him incapable of being detected by any magical methods of sensing or scrying.
To an individual who relied more on their magical senses to see or hear than their actual eyes or ears, they would be incapable of perceiving his presence.
“Freedom of Movement.”
Once more, a dark shimmer appeared upon him. This was a Fourth Level Abjuration spell, another one of Jamie’s favorites from the School of Abjuration. As long as it was in effect, he would be unaffected by difficult terrain. Spells or other magical effects would neither reduce his speed nor cause him to be paralyzed or restrained. In essence, anyone who knew this spell could not be captured slowed, or hindered as long as it was in effect.
“Greater Invisibility.”
With neither delay nor flourish, Jamie, along with everything he was holding on his person, vanished from sight.
Layering spells as he did was not easy. In fact, for most Spellcasters, it was impossible. Each spell demanded a portion of space in the mind to utilize. Were he to use modern terminology, every spell cost a large amount of RAM, and most people only had enough RAM to keep one sustained spell going at a time.
Colloquially, this was called one's "Concentration."
However, about fifty years ago, Adriel invented a technique to increase the available "RAM" of Spellcasters. It was not that Jamie no longer needed to concentrate, but rather, his brain was capable of holding on to as many as eleven different concentration spells simultaneously.
To do this, however, one would need to completely shut down the brain's access to the primary controls of the body.
In essence, Jamie's body was now entirely moving on subconscious will.
His workaround for this was another spell.
"Puppet."
Clenching his palm into a fist, Jamie exhaled.
Now, for the coup de grace…
“Dimension Door.”
XXXXX
Minobella had not changed.
Water was poured over the hot rocks in the sauna, and the steam increased significantly. Venelana let out a soft sigh as one of the Agares maids worked on her feet in a manner that was skilled, but not too skilled. The maid, nervous and fidgety, appeared to be a reincarnated devil, most likely a human found and then reincarnated for the explicit purpose of servitude.
The Agares Household was the only one that could afford to waste Evil Pieces in such a manner. There was a literal goldmine floating above their heads after all. When she was younger, she would not deny that it disconcerted her. She’d once pondered if she had gotten the short end of the straw with her marriage to Zeoticus.
Now, older and wiser, she knew better.
Minobella could have the Agares fortune. Venelana had Sirzechs.
Minobella knew this well. Sitting across from her in the Sauna, the blonde woman was doing everything she could to try and close the gap. Her beauty had not waned at all in the years since they were at the Bael House. She’d taken great care to ensure her breasts remained firm, her hips full, and her stomach toned. More care than Venelana cared to admit. No one would look at Minobella and believe she was anything other than a woman in her early twenties.
Her skin enjoyed the most lavish and expensive treatments, no doubt conducted daily. She could certainly afford it. Her purple eyes glowed and hummed through the thick steam, and she sat in a manner that embodied grace, playing the part of the benevolent queen as two female servants attended to her feet, and another attended to her hair.
When they’d been younger, Venelana had been the late-bloomer. She’d been the tom-boy brunette with a coarse mouth and a spiteful attitude. Minobella, despite being younger, had been the prim-and-proper one. In a sense, Minobella had been the ‘Akeno’ to her ‘Rias.’ They had been best of friends, closer even, than Venelana was with Salma Sitri.
It all changed after Zeoticus Gremory entered the picture.
Like such predictable friends, they’d both been enamored by the same man. It began a healthy, and dare Venelana say it, fun rivalry between them.
It all ended when Zeoticus made his choice.
Venelana, at the time, didn’t believe it. Minobella hadn’t either. Right up till their wedding day, Venelana hadn’t believed it. She knew it was ridiculous to expect them to compete for the same man forever, and they’d always joked about doing it till they were gray of hair, but she still had not believed it till she was naked and Zeoticus took her virginity.
Minobella grew distant from her not long after. Venelana, at the time, felt frustrated at her distance. She’d argued that had Zeoticus chosen differently, she would have been depressed for a while, but in the end, she would have respected his choice and congratulated Minobella for winning.
Venelana would not have ended their friendship over a man.
Minobella countered that it meant she did not truly desire that man.
Their viewpoints were irreconcilable. Shortly after, Minobella got engaged to Huntjager Agares, and that was that.
“You should truly give this shampoo a try, Venelana,” Minobella called. “It does wonders for my hair.”
Venelana smiled. She knew a trap where she saw one. Asking for the name of the shampoo would result in Minobella faking surprise, and decrying ‘You’ve never heard the name of such a popular product?’
Refusing would force Minobella to ask, ‘Oh, and what shampoo do you use?’
If she answered that, Venelana would lose. She would lose, because Minobella no doubt used the most expensive of products which were extremely hard to acquire, and whatever Venelana used would seem inferior in comparison, thus, she would seem inferior in comparison.
Accepting to use the shampoo, however, would put her hair in the hands of Minobella’s servants. Venelana would not allow it. Minobella could easily order a servant to ruin her hair, and then execute that servant for following orders all while offering condolences and apologies.
Accepting was a trap, and refusing was a trap. The only proper answer lay in-between.
“It certainly does,” Venelana smiled. “You look younger than ever. I’m sure Lord Agares must be pleased.”
It threw her off. Venelana could tell. She could always tell. Responding with a compliment made her intentions clear. Minobella gazed at her for ten long seconds.
A silent agreement came between them. A temporary ceasefire from the endless attempts to outdo or outperform.
Not many would have noticed how Minobella’s posture relaxed. Venelana did. Minobella had been on guard for a long time, and like a soldier deployed to fight an unending battle finally coming home to rest, Venelana saw the sheer exhaustion in her eyes.
The exhaustion and the gratitude.
Despite everything, she had more to lose than Venelana did. Her social position as Lady Agares was immense, but not as immense as the position that came with being the Lucifer’s mother. Thus, if Venelana sought a temporary ceasefire, agreeing was more to her benefit.
“My husband doesn’t care much for such details,” Minobella snorted. “I could dye my hair blue and he’d not notice.”
“Zeoticus is much the same,” Venelana teased. “Some days, I change nothing about my appearance and ask him if he’s noticed anything different.”
Minobella smirked. “How devious.”
“You should see how he sweats the whole time nervously trying to find an answer,” Venelana laughed.
“I could never try that with Huntjager,” Minobella exhaled. “You know how traditional he is.”
“I assumed he changed after you gave birth?”
“He’s a doting father. But as a husband?” Minobella smiled. “He is, and has always been, what he is.”
Venelana did not say anything. She knew how fortunate she was, marrying into the Gremory House. They were one of the more progressive Houses amongst the Pillar Clans. Their status had been somewhat low because of it, but after Sirzechs was born, no one could look down on them. Yet, she knew, many still considered them ‘odd.’
A maidservant poured more hot water over the heated stones, and the sauna’s steam intensified. Sweat dripped from Venelana’s form as she enjoyed the satisfying heat. There was also a scent of something mixed in with the steam which she could not decipher.
“Is that —”
“Alicorn,” Minobella gestured to a servant. Not long after, the servant produced a long, nine-inch, rainbow-colored conical object, possessing several spiraling grooves from tip to base. The tip was sanded off to be round and blunt, and Venelana gazed upon it with wonder. It was not every day one saw the horn of a unicorn.
“They’re infused into the stones. When heated and cooled, they have a special restorative effect.”
Venelana did not need to ask. She could already feel it.
“It must cost a fortune,” Venelana appraised. “I assumed the beasts were extinct.”
“One of my husband’s contacts from the Ancient Qing Faction breeds them in secret,” Minobella said. “You would not believe what sort of mystical items those cultivation-obsessed fanatics possess.”
The servant brought the horn towards Venelana and gestured it to her. Venelana took the object in her hand, not realizing how alive it felt. Rather than feeling keratin or similar material, it felt like she was holding a pulsing, throbbing —
“You can have that one.”
“I’m flattered, but Zeoticus is rather satisfactory.”
“It may be more beneficial for your daughter.”
Venelana blinked. A crease came across her face and for a brief moment, she wondered if Minobella just decided to break their unspoken truce.
“From what I’ve heard from Rivella… She’ll be needing it.”
Venelana knew of Rivella Astaroth, formerly, Rivella Phenix. She was the younger half-sister of Lord Phenix who’d been married off to the Astaroth House. Her Phenix bloodline had been weak compared to her brother, and thus, she became the Second Wife to Lord Astaroth, a peculiarity, due to Lord Astaroth's well-known… obsession.
Despite that, she possessed close family ties with her brother’s children, and was the paternal aunt to Rizer Phenix, Rias’ betrothed.
Venelana found herself in a problematic situation. As they’d agreed to the truce, it meant Minobella was being sincere. Yet, sincere or not, the gift could still be seen as a backhanded attack. Accepting it would mean accepting the implications that came with it.
The Phenix family possessed a great bloodline, and although there were unsavory rumors about Rizer, none of them were particularly out of the ordinary for a young devil, and the worst of them was so far unsubstantiated. On paper, he had a stellar record of successes in Rating Game Tournaments, possessed a charming character, and was considered one of the strongest devils amongst his peers.
On paper, he was the perfect spouse for her daughter.
On paper.
Venelana glanced at the loaded gift. "I —?"
Did it just —
"If you'd rather not have it, there's no need to —"
"No, that's not it," Venelana interrupted her. "For a moment I could have sworn it turned red."
Minobella rose an eyebrow. "That's impossible."
"Which is why it startled me," Venelana agreed.
"An alicorn turns fiery red and burns hotter than lava in the presence of a male creature — it wouldn't just flash red for a moment," Minobella mused. "What would that even mean? That it thought it sensed a man but was wrong?"
Venelana glanced around the sauna. There were only female maidservants present. The range of the alicorn was limited, so it could not have sensed outside the sauna. Had it truly been but a trick of the light? Had she been mistaken?
“I —” Minobella went rigid. “...Leave us.”
All of the maidservants turned to her. “Lady Minobella?”
She waved her hand. “All of you, leave now.”
Venelana watched the display, her confusion growing. The servants bowed respectfully and took their leave, every one of them departing from the sauna. A full minute passed in silence, and Venelana’s patience grew thin.
“Is something the ma —”
Her words died in her throat. A person materialized in front of her. Years of dulled combat instincts spurned to life and Venelana lurched to her feet, channeling the Power of Destruction into her hands.
Always strike first, were words drilled into her centuries ago by her father. Even now, Venelana did not hesitate. Her power coalesced into a thick, reddish-black miasma that consumed the very light around it. The miasma gathered, and Venelana commanded it to descend upon the intruder —
Her magic vanished.
Venelana flinched.
She stepped back instinctively and lost her footing. Venelana crashed into the sauna’s wooden floor and landed on her buttocks. She stared at her hands in disbelief. Her brows furrowed as she tried to fathom what madness she’d just witnessed. Her power was… dismissed? Slapped away?
She’d been alive for thousands of years. Thousands of years. Such a thing had never happened. Ever. Paranoia and uncertainty blended into a dangerous cocktail, as she shot a sharp glare at her former friend, who sat and made no move to attack the intruder.
Was this a trap? Had Minobella invited her into an ambush? Surely, she wasn’t brazen enough to try to kill her? Did she not know the consequences?
“Stop looking at me like that,” Minobella exhaled. “This is a surprise to me as well.”
Eventually, the being materialized.
Something hitched in Venelana’s throat.
If one were to ask Da Vinci to create a rendition of a devil, the being in front of them would be it. His skin was blood-red, akin to the ever-flowing rivers of Phlegethon. His horns, magnificent and black, curved in such a way that reminded Venelana of a descendant of Baphomet. A sharp, thin, whip-like tail emerged from behind him, swirling dangerously in the air.
His eyes were the sort of pitch-black one could only experience from total blindness. Similar to the Hole ability of the Abbadon clan, it absorbed the light around it, and the longer she stared, the more she felt she would lose herself to its endless depths.
Venelana had seen her fair share of handsome males in her lifetime, but none could compete with the being before her. It was a sentiment that came to her subconsciously. Even if her conscious mind rebelled at the thought, deep down, she could not deny it.
The being turned to her wearing a god-forsaken smile, and to Venelana’s utter mortification, her heart skipped a beat.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Venelana’s ears were caressed. She could not explain it any other way. A legion of tiny angels invaded her eardrums and proceeded to play Ave Maria.
The devil’s voice had the cadence of an authority figure. It was the voice of a man who stood atop the battlefield and barked commands at soldiers for the glory of his King. It possessed the air of a grizzled mercenary, who would wisely advise you to pay him his due lest your life be forfeit. It was reminiscent of an Emperor, who would extend his hand out to his courts, and make declarations to decide fates and destinies; utterances that would become reality.
It was the voice of a man’s man.
Against her will, Venelana shuddered.
For the first time in thousands of years, she felt like a girl, rather than a woman. She became overly cautious of her appearance — overly aware of the fact that she was naked in front of this man whose peerless black orbs locked unto her with an inscrutable expression.
For a moment, she pondered if Minobella had ordered a gigolo for them. Upon flickering her gaze to her friend and seeing her just as beguiled, Venelana dismissed it.
“I hope you will pardon my breach of decorum, Lady Venelana, Lady Minobella,” he took a formal bow. “My name is Jamie Malphas. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His voice was rapture to her ears. Every word was a restrained roar. Each syllable was deepened, prolonged, and low. A shudder ran through Venelana once more, and then a third time.
“The Malphas Clan went extinct during the War,” Minobella said. “And even if you truly were a Malphas, invading my home unannounced was not wise.”
Venelana could not sense the heat in her words. Rather, it sounded forced. Minobella sounded like she was trying her hardest to be offended. The devil, Jamie, her mind supplied, simply chuckled in response.
"That would be true if there were someone here capable of posing a threat to me."
He exuded an aura of confidence that told her he believed it. He believed every word. It moved Venelana. No one, not even her son, would dare intrude on the home of another devil without a care in the world, unbothered as to the potential threats or ramifications.
"You believe I cannot —"
"Lady Minobella, had I wished you harm, you would have died without ever being aware of my presence."
A chill ran down Venelana's spine.
"However, I came here to make allies, not enemies."
"And intruding upon the home of another is how you make allies?" Venelana queried.
"Passionate sex is how I make allies," Jamie smiled. "But you may have your reservations about that method."
Every time he spoke, he stunned Venelana with his audacity. She couldn't recall the last time someone spoke to her in such a manner. Who would dare?
Venelana grew flustered. It had been thousands of years since anyone bothered to seduce her, and she'd forgotten how to react to such flirtations.
“Or perhaps you have fewer reservations than I assumed?”
Venelana bristled. “You dare.”
Outrage was the only emotion she could fall back on. Indignation was her final defense. No sooner had her outrage emerged did she realize that she’d fallen prey to altogether mild provocations. Her outrage was far more damning than her silence would have been. Had it been anyone else who uttered such words, she’d have laughed at them or dismissed them.
The only reason she’d been outraged was that he spoke the truth. Devils were prone to strong emotions as they gained power from their desires, and for the first time in years, a part of her desired something she knew she could not have.
“There has to be a limit to one’s arrogance,” Minobella huffed. “Did you truly intrude in my home merely to offer yourself on a platter?”
“Far, from it, Lady Minobella.”
The devil snapped his fingers. A white rabbit emerged upon his shoulder. He placed the rabbit on the ground, and before Venelana’s eyes, the rabbit morphed into the appearance of a young female devil.
“I assume you are acquainted?”
Minobella glanced at the unconscious female devil.
“I believe she is a maid in the service of my younger sister. Cara, was it?”
“Carrin,” the devil corrected. “Tell me, Lady Minobella, what is your preferred punishment for traitors?”
Minobella’s eyes sharpened. “Execution.”
“Even if that traitor is your flesh and blood?”
Minobella went silent.
“Shall we continue this discussion in private, or would you rather I proceed with Lady Venelana present?”
Minobella rose immediately.
“Pardon me for a moment, Venelana,” Minobella exhaled. “It seems I have family business to attend to.”
XXXXX
I’m going to die.
“I-I-I can’t believe that actually… worked.”
Lady Grayfia is going to kill me.
“Well, actually… it kind of… didn’t?”
Lady Grayfia is going to kill me, slowly.
“W-w-what do you mean it didn’t work?”
Seekvaira took in a sharp breath as they arrived at Wanton Station. It was one of the five main-line stations available in Envy City, and stepping off the platform with two boys in tow, she drew several curious and unsavory gazes. Several individuals were rubbernecking at her as though she were the site of a ghastly accident. turning to shoot the occasional glimpse. One fool whistled underneath his breath and thought she could not hear him. Another stared long enough that his female acquaintance promptly slapped him across the face and walked off in a huff, leaving the boy rushing to appease her.
She offered a sharp to many and made the message clear that their gazes were unwanted. Were she at full power, nay, were she at one-fifth of her full power, she’d have flared her demonic power and have them running for the mountaintops. As it were, it was hard enough to stand straight. It was harder to keep her legs from shaking.
Her ears rang. A high-pitched whine muffled the sounds of people speaking and the announcements over the speakers. Her vision was doubled. Before her, Millicas and Lookas chatted away, and she saw two of each, unsure of which was real and which was not. A thin line of sweat hung atop her brow, which, under normal circumstances, would have been evaporated by her ambient demonic power.
Through it all, her face showed not a single inkling of her numerous dilemmas. Even as her legs screamed to collapse and her hands battled demanded to shake, Seekvaira would let none of it show.
Lookas turned to her, the foul imp giving her a thumbs up. “Seekvaira-nee, you’re amazing—”
“Not another word.”
“W-w-wait,” Millicas Gremory took a single glance at her. The boy was quick on the uptake. “...T-that was… you?”
She had not the strength to refute it. Her hands were starting to shake. Her knees were crying to give out. She desired nothing more than to collapse face-forward but she could not do so in public.
“I-I d-don’t understand —”
“Well, um,” Lookas awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “Your mom is scary strong. I… couldn’t affect her at all. No matter what I did with my power, it was like I was trying to punch a hole in a steel wall by tossing eggs at it.”
Millicas blinked. “T-then… how did we get away?”
“See… about that… —” Lookas cleared his throat. “I uh… tried adding a bit more power but… I couldn’t control it so… S-Seekvaira-nee… hijacked my spell… and… saved our… lives?”
“She… what?”
“Have you any idea,” Seekvaira finally found the strength to speak. “How many things could have gone wrong?”
Lookas shrunk underneath her gaze.
“You’re lucky your power was so weak that Grayfia could barely sense it,” Seekvaira uttered coldly. “She’d have cut you down the very second she realized you were using your power on her.”
Millicas uncomfortably cleared his throat. “A-actually… I was the one… who made it so my mom… couldn’t sense demonic power.”
“You —” Seekvaira regarded Millicas with a disbelieving gaze. “You were in on this?”
The boy’s bashful expression told her all she needed to know. Seekvaira bit her lip and resisted the urge to laugh. Perhaps things were better this way. If Millicas was in on this ploy, it meant she’d still survive to see tomorrow.
Hopefully, the Murder-Maid of Gremory would consider this all to be an amusing prank.
Am I… that weak?
It took everything she had to thrust Grayfia into that spell.
Or is she just that strong?
“U-um,” Millicas looked up to her with wide red eyes. “H-how did you… do it?”
“Yeah!” Lookas nodded eagerly. “I always knew you were something Seekvaira-nee, but to think you could deceive Lady Grayfia without breaking a sweat —”
Seekvaira laughed. Both boys mistook her laughter as cockiness, or perhaps, confidence. They were not aware of the inner turmoil going on within her body. They knew not how loud the ringing in her ears was, nor did they understand how it was sheer pride keeping her standing. Indeed, were it not for her damned pride, she’d have long flopped on the ground like a helpless sardine in the boat of a fisherman.
Without breaking a sweat? She wanted to cry. What do you take me for?
“The Agares Clan bloodline allows us control over the aspect of time,” she explained briefly. “With enough training one can create localized distortions in time called ‘bubbles.’ I created a bubble and encased it around Lady Grayfia. Within that bubble was a pre-recorded instance of us in the train which I played on a set loop.”
Millicas’ eyes widened in understanding. Lookas let out an ‘oooh’ sound. Both boys shot her such earnest looks that revolted her. They were vastly overestimating her capabilities.
The only reason it worked was that Millicas had done something to mess with his mother’s senses. It was easy to cover someone’s head with a bucket if they were blind and deaf. They would only be able to react to your ‘prank’ until they felt the bucket touch their skin.
Regardless, even if Lady Grayfia couldn’t sense demonic spells being cast on or around her, she would have detected something was wrong once the loop started. Thus, Seekvaira threw in an effect of time dilation within her bubble and on the woman herself. Her perception of time would move three times slower than it was.
None of this had been easy to do.
She’d caught her cousin’s haywire spell, rewired it, and utilized it for her purposes in the span of a few seconds. It was the equivalent of catching up to a fleeing horse on foot, lassoing the creature, performing surgery to implant wings on it, and then teaching it to fly amid a sudden hurricane.
It had utterly drained her.
Spell Hijacking was a high-level ability. Grasping at your enemy’s magic, breaking it down, and recycling it for your purpose was a feat reserved for Master Magicians. She’d been able to pull it off just now because she and Lookas had similar magic signatures, and were both of the Agares blood, hence manipulating his power was made easier.
Even then, the cost of doing so was great. The backlash on her body and her reserves had momentarily sent all her organs ablaze. She’d mitigated the worst of it by forcing the backlash into her demonic power — turning it to kindling to satiate the raging fire.
There was not a lick of demonic power left in her body. She often trained to exhaustion, but this was beyond even that. Seekvaira did not have enough demonic power to evaporate her sweat. She did not have enough demonic power to summon her wings and fly. As it were, she may as well be just a slightly sturdy human female.
Not that she let any of it show.
She’d be damned before she let any of it show,
“Now that you’ve both had your fun, I believe it’s time to head back.”
“Head back?” Lookas frowned. “What? No way! I’m going to show Millicas around the best spots in the City —”
“That was not a suggestion, Lookas.”
She couldn’t defend them if things went wrong. She would be a liability if things went wrong. Her name alone might be enough to deter most individuals from stirring up trouble, but there would always be those who wished to try their luck.
If something happened to either of them on her watch, it would be her neck on the line.
“I-I think w-we should l-listen to her, Lookas.”
“Oh come on! We just got away from your mom’s supervision! This is your chance to —” Lookas stopped. His expression went ashen. “S-S-Seekvaira-nee b-b-b-behind you.”
Seekvaira frowned. “Do you truly think I’m stupid enough to fall for such an obvious —”
Everything stopped.
Seekvaira saw the world through black and white, and memories unbidden flashed through her mind. She saw herself, as a young girl, playing in her bedroom with her favorite toys. She saw herself, slightly older, pushing said toys aside as books upon books piled on her desk. She saw her mother, her father, the birth of her bratty cousin, her excitement at seeing him, her attempts to tutor him, her gradual discomfort at the ways he seemed to find excuses to initiate physical contact —
She saw her butler, his arrival and departure, her friends, and how they eventually left her, and she saw herself, alone, standing, amid a dark forest, screaming out at a tiny, dwindling flame.
Then she was back again, standing before Lookas, his eyes wide in terror, terror so genuine it could not be faked. She saw it then, in the reflection of his light green orbs, the hooded figure standing behind her, and the blade already swung in motion, heading towards her neck.
Death.
Seekvaira resisted the urge to let out the sound bubbling in her throat. She had always assumed that seeing your entire life flash before your eyes before you die was an exaggeration — a hyperbole. Now, she knew what it truly was. Her life flashing before her eyes was merely brain striving, through all her memories, all her life experiences, to find an answer, to find salvation, to find a way out of this inevitable predicament —
Just as it seemed there was no answer, Seekvaira recalled a passage she’d read once, dismissively. A story told of their greatest ancestor, Videvelox Agares, the devil who’d mastered the control of time to such lengths that she’d won the begrudging respect of Gods like Chronos and Shiva.
Yes, Seekvaira recalled her legacy. She recalled how it was ultimately buried in the dust. She recalled her fall into damnation, hatred, and ridicule, and how her descent into madness forced her to be put down by the very individuals who once hailed her as their savior.
There, in her blood, lay the answer.
The frozen world remained frozen, and a faceless being emerged before her. With alabaster skin and two long, extended horns, the faceless being stood naked. It tilted its head and offered his hand out.
“Trade?”
Seekvaira reluctantly reached out.
Endless rows of white teeth emerged where the eyes should be, where the mouth should be, where the nose should be. Sharpened like daggers, a thousand mouths covered the entity from head to toe, and all at once, they curved into a smile.
“Accepted.”
She knew not whether the faceless entity was real or not. She could not tell if all this was a figment of her already strained mind, or perhaps, merely a metaphysical representation of the task she’d set out to accomplish. Ultimately, Seekvaira did not care.
Her answer had been found.
The forbidden spell of Videvelox Agares was hers to use. A spell that could only be utilized when one was deprived of demonic power. A spell that spat in the face of gods and greater entities at a great and inexplicable cost.
The world around her resumed, and Seekvaira felt wetness around her neck. A moment later, her head fell off her shoulders —
Her lifeforce sparked alight.
Six hundred years of her lifespan ignited as the universe backtracked three seconds.
Her head returned to her shoulders. The world resumed, and an all-consuming instinct roared out to her.
DODGE .
Her body swayed backward like a ballet dancer readying a backflip. Not even one millisecond later, a black scythe swung through the air where her head once lay. Several locks of her hair were sliced clean, and Seekvaira backed away, breathing hard, as she came eye-to-eye with the man who had nearly taken her life.
“...You dodged that?”
The voice was appraising. It was impressed. Seekvaira grit her teeth. The man in front of her was massive. Massive, yet she’d never sensed him until he’d almost taken off her head. He wore a long black cloak with the sigil of a golden eye in the middle. In his right hand was an equally massive black scythe which he held lazily over his shoulder. His gray hair was wild and unkempt, as was his beard.
Yet, she could feel the sheer amount of demonic power running through him. He was a High-Class Devil at the very least.
No.
He was Ultimate-Class.
“Hmmm… You didn’t dodge. I felt a Temporal Dissociation. You did something, didn't you?” The devil exhaled. “This is why I hate time manipulators.”
His black scythe was absorbing all the light in the area. A thick, pungent miasma began to spread from it. A chill ran down Seekvaira’s spine as she recognized the weapon. Dread accumulated in the pit of her stomach, as she now knew the identity of the one she was facing.
“...I guess it just means I’ll have to cut you down again.”
XXXXX
Grayfia could not find them.
The Agares Territory was large, and searching every possible area was not something that could be done with her senses deprived as it was. This was most likely Millicas’ intention, to begin with, however, she’d felt something off in the air. A sixth sense of sorts was telling her that something was wrong.
With her wings fully extended, Grayfia began a sweep of all the train stations within the Agares Territory. She’d raced through the train station on Agreas as a dull white and blue blur, creating minor shockwaves as she flew by, her eyes scanning for any sign of red hair.
The Agares Territory was far too lax. In the Gremory Territory, there were cameras on every train for security, but no such thing existed here. It was as if Lord Agares could care less about the safety of his serfs. Had there been even one camera in place, tracking down her son wouldn’t have been a challenge in the slightest.
She flew down from Agares and began a swift sweep of Envy City and all the surrounding train stations. Being forced to rely on her eyes and ears was a novelty, and Grayfia could not shake off the strange sense of worry she felt.
She made a stop at another train station but strangely found it empty. There were no people present. No devils, no train staff, and no civilians. The hair on the back of her neck stood on edge as she breathed, and a potent mist escaped her lips.
“Lady Grayfia.”
A man approached her. Grayfia was on edge. She’d not sensed the man’s approach whatsoever. He stood tall and looked to be someone in his mid-thirties, with long auburn hair and cold charcoal-grey eyes. A braided black beard hung from his chin, and his robes indicated him to be a man of high status, and indeed, Grayfia knew who he was.
“Lord Naberius?”
The Lord of the Naberius Clan himself stood before her. Grayfia did not know what to make of it.
“I still remember that day, Lady Grayfia,” Lord Naberius stroked his beard. “For ten days and ten nights, you and Serafall fought without end. Lord Zereikel Asmodeus was stunned by your ferocity. No one dared approach the battlefield, as we watched, transfixed. You permanently etched yourself in the hearts of devils as a thing to be coveted.”
A strange mist permeated her surroundings. Grayfia grew cautious. Lord Naberius’ sudden arrival was unusual. So too, was his abrupt desire to converse about the Civil War.
“It was a shame,” Lord Naberius continued, “When the deadlock was broken as Sirzechs arrived. We loathed him for it. The greatest battle between the strongest female devils in our history was put to an end by a man’s arrival. How terribly predictable. To be honest, it baffles me you chose to marry him.”
“What is the meaning of this, Lord Naberius?”
The mist grew thick enough for it to completely blanket their surroundings. Grayfia felt her strength leave her. She couldn’t turn around and leave without risking an attack, nor could she lunge first and attack without plausible reason.
“You are no fool, Lady Grayfia. Surely you should understand that many hold bitter resentments as to your actions. You betrayed us. You betrayed the noble name of a House of Lucifer. Is it true your father wholly approved of your marriage, or is that another revisionist tale intended to deceive the masses?”
“I would advise you to choose your next words carefully, Lord Naberius. ”
Lord Naberius laughed. “Do you believe I would dare show my face before you if I weren’t prepared?”
From the mist, several devils in black cloaks emerged. A dozen, to two dozen, to twelve dozen. There were no less than a hundred men, but no more than a thousand.
However, they were still yet to launch any attacks. Grayfia was cautious. Lord Naberius smiled through it all, and she felt her patience for the situation run dry.
“Lord Naberius, do you understand what it is you are doing?”
“Lady Grayfia, please,” Lord Naberius shook his head. “I am not a savage. I won’t be sullying my hands to wrestle you in the mud. As far as the world will know, I was never here.”
Lord Naberius extended his hands outwards.
“If by some miracle you escape, it will be your word against mine. Even if you were to inform your husband of my words, but it will make no difference. I am the Lord of the Naberius Clan. If Sirzechs kills me unjustly, he draws the wrath of the Lord Council. If he imprisons me, he makes himself no shortage of enemies.”
Lord Naberius brought his hands down.
“However, you won’t be escaping here, Lady Grayfia.”
The devils in black cloaks stepped forward, and three of them bowed before Lord Naberius, before offering him a crude-looking stick. Grayfia sucked a deep breath at the sight of it. The stick looked no different from any plain stick one would find on the ground or upon a tree, but waves upon waves of power emanated from the depths of it. She felt as though she were standing before an immense and powerful holy artifact.
Neither Lord Naberius nor his cloaked followers seemed to be affected by the holy energy the stick was emanating. They were cloaked, somehow, from its influence.
Lord Naberius lifted the stick into the air, and swung it a bit, as though it were a magic wand.
“Our Lord presented us this gift, from his timeless collection. You can feel the Holy Power within it, can you not? A Low-Class Devil would have been engulfed in flames already at its presence, and even High-Class Devils will be forced to balk from its influence… yet, here I am, holding it without care.”
Lord Naberius smiled.
“This little stick, Lady Grayfia, is a fragment of the original Staff of Moses. I need not recant the tales of the one who delivered God’s people out of the hands of Egypt. A mere fragment of the staff is this powerful, as the original was a conduit of pure divine power. Moses used his staff to summon ten plagues which befell the Egyptians and he also performed the grand miracle of parting the Red Sea.”
Lord Naberius flicked the stick. A terrifying crack echoed within space itself, absorbing everything around them for a fraction of a second before the crack vanished. Grayfia’s eyes widened.
“It seems you understand,” Lord Naberius said. “This stick is but a fraction of the original staff, and even then, its power is akin to that of a Longinus. Within it, the concept of Severance exists, to sever any bond and sever any connection.”
Lord Naberius chuckled. The fog grew more intense. Grayfia understood immediately. The fog was made by the stick, which meant —
“In accordance to our Master’s will, we used it to sever the connection between our existence as devils, and our agonizing weakness to holy energy. We are no longer weak to light. We may pick up a holy sword and swing it with no adverse effects.”
“Impossible.”
“It should be,” Lord Naberius acquiesced. “Alas, Michael cannot account for every loophole in God’s System. He is not almighty nor all-knowing. This artifact was created in a time when God lived and where he still living, it would not be capable of performing such absurd severances.”
Lord Naberius extended his hand out once more.
“Do you not see, Lady Grayfia? This artifact was given to us on a whim by our Master. We beseeched him for a tool to help us restrain you, and with a cavalier attitude, he handed us a means for us to vanquish our long-held enemies!”
Lord Naberius laughed.
“And yet you turned your back against him! You chose to follow Sirzechs Gremory! The greatest tragic figure and fool of your Household, is you, Lady Grayfia. It is why at this moment I, one who has respected your exploits and deeds, have come to relieve you of your tragedy. I have come to grant a foolish woman the meaning of enlightenment.”
Something smacked into her face and forced it into the ground. It dragged her along the rough cobblestone and asphalt, digging her deeper and deeper into the earth.
Two giant serpents coiled around her arms and legs and bound her in place. Serpents were creatures the Staff of Moses could command at a whim, and the serpents possessed the same severing ability as the staff, cutting her off from her demonic power.
Grayfia attempted her hardest to remain calm. “You are committing treason, Lord Naberius. ”
“I have never recognized Sirzechs as my leader. My master is, and has always been, those of the Lucifer Legacy.”
Lord Naberius approached her, and slowly held her chin.
“Once your son is ours, and you return to your rightful place at the Master’s heel, Sirzechs will acquiesce to our demands and undo the grave insult he has committed by bearing the title of Lucifer. Serafall and Ajuka will obey or fall, and the underworld will be as it should be — United and Glorious.”
“United and Glorious!”
“For the Glory of the True Satans!”
“FOR THE GLORY OF THE UNDERWORLD!”
“...My son?”
Grayfia’s voice was low.
“Of course,” Lord Naberius said. “I’d rather we kill him but he is of much greater use to us alive. As we speak, my colleague should be retrieving him from —”
The snakes bounding her exploded. Grayfia grabbed Lord Naberius by the jaw and slammed him to the ground. A gargantuan shockwave followed from the point of impact, sending the cloaked devils soaring into the air. Lord Naberius’ eyes widened with disbelief.
“I-impossible! I — I’ve severed your connection to your demonic power! Y-you shouldn’t be able to —”
“Demonic power?”
Grayfia chuckled.
“I don’t need it to deal with insects.”
The last thing Lord Naberius heard before darkness claimed him, was the bone-chilling laugh of the Silver Queen of Annihilation.
Chapter 9: Let There Be Light
Chapter Text
After a performance at a local tavern, the innkeeper’s son had bought him a round of drinks, and drunkenly lamented his woes. Jamie listened out of politeness and amusement as the man offered his list of redeeming qualities, yet bemoaned how he never seemed to be able to earn the attention of women.
He was a hard worker. He was kind. He was respectful. He was not dismissive of the strength of women, nor did he view himself superior to them. He prattled on, and begin to complain about his older brother, the innkeeper's bastard son. His older brother was a scallywag, a criminal, a sexual deviant who slapped the arses of barmaids unprovoked and had been arrested and thrown into dungeons multiple times.
He’d bemoaned how the bastard attracted the attention of women and was far more successful than he, the modest, moderate, and diligent hard worker. He’d gotten on his knees and begged for tips on success with romance.
Having a reputation to maintain, Jamie offered him two words.
“Push boundaries.”
Minobella Agares stood before him in naught but a short towel and Jamie saw the clear resemblance to her daughter, Seekvaira. He did not believe the woman was anything older than twenty-two, and it was a testament to the devil race and the amount of work she’d put into her appearance.
They stood in her study, and the woman’s much shorter nature granted him the ability to see not only the top of her head but down her towel, to her cleavage. Her legs possessed a luscious allure that drew him in, and her purple eyes were a shade of amethyst he was certain he’d never encountered before.
By all means, she was a beautiful woman.
“P-please — please Lady A-A-Agares, I-I - I had no choice —”
Witnessing her stomp her bare feet in cold fury against the devils at her mercy did not at all detract from her beauty.
“Execution is far too merciful for the likes of you.”
“L-L-Lord M-Malphas, p-p-please — I —”
“Do not sully my name with your foul tongue.”
Jamie often questioned the existence of fate. He had his concerns about what it meant for one to possess a destiny. During his time in Lightbringer, the party faced numerous fortuitous situations. A guard deciding to be lazy on his shift, a secret entrance being stumbled upon, a random trinket they picked up being the long-lost artifact of the Castle Lord —
Providence guided Lightbringer’s steps in a manner so uncanny that he’d felt it was the doing of the divine patrons of the party’s Cleric or Warlock.
No such divine patrons were looking over him now, and yet, fortune smiled on him.
Carrin and Adelaide. Two ‘nobodies’ he’d encountered on a whim.
They were not mere ‘nobodies.’
They were valuable ‘bargaining chips.’
Carrin was a maid in the employ of Finderia Agares. Finderia Agares was Minobella’s sister, Duke Agares’ sister-in-law, and simultaneously, the Duke's third cousin-in-law.
Adelaide worked for a woman called Zuleika, of Zuleika’s Respite, the sleazy bar Selena recommended. Zuleika was a High-Class Reincarnated Devil and the Queen of Lord Agares’ Peerage who served as his most trophied concubine.
Finderia and Zuleika were in contact, and both women were conspiring together for a single purpose —
They wished to kill Minobella Agares, the Duke’s wife.
A snort escaped Jamie’s lips at the absurdity of it all. Carrin and Adelaide lay on the ground before them, trying to beg their way out of the situation. Lady Minobella was deep in thought, whilst he watched, dispassionately, as the two traitors continued to beg in hopes of salvation.
How fortunate was he to encounter two women working underneath individuals plotting to assassinate the Duke’s Wife, on his first true outing to the Devil Underworld?
He’d gleamed the full story through their memories. Zuleika was Duke Agares’ most favored concubine and she reasoned that if Minobella perished, she would become the new Lady Agares.
Finderia was Minobella’s younger sister, who looked very similar to her older sister. She believed, that if Minobella died, the Duke would turn his interests towards her, given their similarities.
They were working with each other, competing against each other, and trying to undermine each other. One wished to kill her sister, the other wished to kill her Master’s wife.
The entire thing amused Jamie.
“Are you satisfied, Lady Minobella?”
”This… this is not enough.”
“I am aware.”
Lady Minobella regarded him, a light laugh on her lips. “Are you?”
“If you were to bring charges against your sister and your husband’s Queen based on the words of two low-class devils, you would be the laughing stock of devil society.”
“And knowing this, you still brought them before me?" Minobella probed. “Could it be that they kept written records? Proof of—”
“Unfortunately,” Jamie interrupted her. “Neither of them were that foolish. There is no concrete evidence you can use against them.”
“Then of what use are these two to me?” Minobella exhaled. “I am aware my life is always in danger. It comes with being the Lady of Pillar Clan.”
“Did you expect to be targeted by your sister?”
Lady Minobella laughed. “...No, I cannot say I was expecting that.”
“Therein lays your advantage.”
Jamie sauntered over to the desk and leaned casually against it. He extended both hands open.
“Your sister does not know you are aware of her treachery. Neither does your husband’s Queen. As far as the devil underworld is concerned, you have no incentive to harm them, nor have you any reason to wish their downfall. Thus, if said downfall was to happen…”
Jamie grabbed a pen off the table. He flicked it around his fingers, before flicking it forward. The pen embedded itself into the door on the other side of the room with a heavy thud.
“It would be… tragic.”
Minobella’s eyes never left him. Truly, being an Incubus was far too powerful a boon. Her emotional state made its way to him without effort. Her expression, stoic and unreadable was but a facade that his enhanced senses, primed to search for feminine weakness and exploitability, could see through with ease.
“And I suppose fate will be fortunate enough for them to simply encounter ruin without any action on my part?”
His lips curved upwards.
“Fate works in mysterious ways.”
“I wonder,” Minobella approached him, her eyes sharp. “What will fate ask of me in exchange for such magnanimity?”
Jamie pushed off the table. He approached one step slowly taken after another, until he stood before the woman, towering above her. He took the woman's hair into his hands and took a deep, long whiff.
Her face was expressionless, but her eyes held doubt. Jamie could all but hear her thoughts. Surely, he would not dare, her mind raced. He knows who I am, who my husband is. He knows what we are capable of.
Since absorbing the memories of Adelaide and Carrin, Jamie grasped the fundamental basics of devil society. The reason it could operate despite the innate nature of devils to scheme and betray each other was due to unspoken agreements. There were lines one did not cross. There were things that even the most brazen did not do or say without thought.
There was a fear of consequences.
"From Eve to Delilah and Helen to Cleopatra…” Jamie mused. “What has fate always asked of its most remarkable women?”
He backed her against a wall in her own home. He had her, dressed in naught but a towel before him, and held neither shame nor fear as he buried his knee in between her legs.
Her calm visage could not maintain itself in lieu of his audacity. Indeed, it was in the deepest recesses of sheer audacity that Jamie Malphas found his refuge. The more audacious he acted, the more brazen he behaved, the more unpredictable he was deemed - the more dangerous he became.
For a devil who feared no consequences was a devil who could do anything.
"Fate asks of them only one thing…"
His hand slithered down between her towel. He pressed his lips against her ear and had his deep, rumbling voice send a vibrating message straight into the deepest parts of her soul.
"Fate asks of them… to betray."
Eve betrayed Adam. Delilah betrayed Samson. Helen betrayed Menelaus. Cleopatra betrayed Antony. The legacy of the women of this world was mired in tragedy and betrayal. The most well-behaved of their gender earned naught but footnotes in history’s pages.
It was with this knowledge, that Jamie’s fingers moves until they made their way to touch moist flesh.
"It is rather unfortunate,”
Minobella’s right hand came down and held his. She wore a dangerous smile.
“I have no intention of being a remarkable woman."
The words brought Jamie pause. Her hand, holding his, brought him even further pause. He did not allow his expression to change. Within his mind, laughter reigned. Ah, it seems this shall play out as I calculated…
"Are you certain?"
"Are you surprised?"
She released his hand, and Jamie backed away from her. “No,” Jamie chuckled. "Merely disappointed."
"Is this a first for you, Lord Malphas?”
“A first?”
“You seem unaccustomed to not getting what you want, Lord Malphas."
Jamie couldn’t help how his lips curved. "And you seem accustomed to not having what you want, Lady Minobella."
Minobella laughed. It was a pleasant, shrill little laugh. Her laughter momentarily confused him, but at the same time, he understood.
Jamie was vividly aware via his Incubus instincts, of how deeply aroused the woman was. Her hardened nipples probed against her towel. His knee and fingertips held residue from her drenched wetness. Her pupils were dilated. Her breathing was sharp and shallow. She kept swallowing from hypersalivation, like a Pavlovian dog primed to answer a ringing bell. Her cheeks were flushed and red, her legs shaky and her knees bent. She was akin to a thread in the wind, ready to flail at the tiniest of provocations.
Yet, despite all of this, despite how stimulated she was —
Minobella Agares was not a woman he could have.
Jamie knew that he could push further. There were boundaries yet untested. There were taboos yet unbroken. However, that was not necessary. It was not needed.
Not yet.
For now, this was his loss.
"Your husband is a rather fortunate devil.”
"More so than he will ever know, I’m afraid."
Jamie turned around, departing from the woman. There was a bittersweet taste in his mouth. To know that there were women out there who could reject him despite their clear and overwhelming physical attraction to him filled him with a strange sense of… relief.
He was not omnipotent, after all. He was a man like no other. A man who could not fail could not grow, and a man who did not grow was not beautiful.
A brief silence stretched in the room that was neither uncomfortable nor unwanted. Carrin and Adelaide knew better than to speak, and did their best impressions of wives of the rich and powerful: they were seen, not heard. The death of sexual tension had brought a strange calm. It was the kind of lull found between friends who decided to amicably end their romance.
“Fate will not be aiding you, Lady Agares.”
“I’ve never relied on fate, to begin with,” Minobella smiled. “I have my means of solving problems.”
Jamie did not doubt it. Minobella was a capable woman. What he’d offered her to was never to solve her problems for her, but to do so in a manner that could not be tracked. No loose ends. No pesky nuances. No strings.
No consequences.
The appeal of action without consequence was a thing very few could refuse. This was his bargaining chip. Alas, he’d underestimated the woman. She would rather face the troublesome consequences than giving in to his seduction.
"I assume you'll be taking them with you?"
She gestured to the silent groveling she-devils.
"As much as I would love to see them sorely punished, were I to have them executed or imprisoned, word would reach my adversaries.”
"I assure you they’ll be put to good use.”
Minobella smiled. “Wonderful.”
"I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome, Lady Agares," Jamie said. "It feels sinful to have taken so much time out of your day."
"On the contrary, Lord Malphas, I’ve quite enjoyed your company,” Minobella's eyes twinkled. "Feel free to return at any time. I would however prefer if it were through the proper channels. I am a married woman you know.”
“A fact I find quite regrettable.”
“Such compliments do an old lady like me no good,” Minobella giggled. “I do, however, happen to have a daughter your age who’d be delighted to hear from you."
"We've been acquainted."
Minobella went rigid.
"You… have?"
"Worry not," Jamie smiled. "She's still chaste."
"I didn't mean to imply —" Minobella exhaled. "Was my concern too obvious?"
"It was warranted," Jamie laughed. With a soft chant of Polymorph, both she devils were once again turned into rabbits and Jamie quietly placed them on his shoulder.
"While we're on the topic of making acquaintances," Minobella cleared her throat. "Would you be so kind as to explain how you managed to bypass all of my household's security measures?"
"That would be a Malphas Clan secret, I’m afraid," Jamie smiled. “Perhaps if our two clans were united… it would be a different matter.”
"Forgive me for saying this, Lord Malphas,” Minobella’s eyes were sharp. “But you are a Lord in name only."
"There is nothing to forgive. You’ve merely called a spade a spade," Jamie said. “Come year’s end, I hope you’ll arrive at Castle Malphas to sample the festivities.”
“You believe it will take you a year to rebuild a clan?”
“Certainly not,” Jamie shook his head. “It will take six months. The year’s end is when I plan to throw the gala.”
Minobella Agares’s eyes widened. Her lips curled into a large smile, and a soft, ladylike giggle emerged.
"I must ask, Lord Malphas, from what well do you gather your unending confidence?"
"From the same well you gather your eternal beauty, Lady Agares.”
Minobella swayed her head, another soft laugh escaping her lips. “For both of our sakes, may that well never run dry.”
Jamie grabbed her hand softly and kissed the back of her palm.
“I pray it doesn’t.”
With those departing words, Jamie Malphas vanished.
Minobella waited for five minutes. She could still feel the echoes of his touch. The soft sensation of his lips placed against her skin. She swiftly cast a spell to check for intruders, and only after she was certain he was gone and she was alone in her study, did she move from her position.
Quietly, Minobella closed the windows of her study, locked the door behind her, and made it five steps into the center of the room before collapsing onto the ground, panting and gasping.
Oh… my…
Her body convulsed. It took every ounce of her self-control to stop herself from moving her fingers towards her drenched cunt. She bit hard on her lips and threw her head back, swearing softly as ecstasy traveled throughout her entire body. She collapsed forward, face into the ground, and could no longer control herself as her fingers moved down and she slowly inserted them, one after the other, her entire body shaking madly.
In the end, her decision to refuse Jamie Malphas’ advances was not born out of loyalty to her husband. It was not because she was a respectable wife. It was not because she loved Huntjager or cherished her marriage or even because she saw no benefits from such an agreement.
The only reason Jamie failed to seduce her —
Was because he succeeded at seducing her.
An affair with you? Minobella rasped, shuddering as she recalled his touch. You would destroy me.
Devil women knew frighteningly little of how to respond to seduction. Seduction was a tool in their arsenal. It was their means of attaining power. Most learned from a young age how to use it, hone it, sharpen it, and point it at their targets so they may acquire their heart's desire.
They were never taught how to defend against it. Why would they? Who would waste valuable hours learning such a thing? The vast majority of male devils would never bother with seduction. They were woefully inept at the art.
Men with power did not seduce. They took. Zeus would sooner rape a woman who refused his advances than win her over with words and romance. Odin would rather send his crows to pluck out the eyes of those who witnessed him fail to acquire a woman than improve his methods.
A man who could not be seduced was a man that could not be controlled.
Such a terrifying young man… Minobella bit down on her lip. Does he know how terrifying he is?
Minobella had a strong, innate desire for control. Huntjager was a man she could control with her just her eyes. He was a man who’d do anything she asked of him the minute she tied up her hair and got on her knees. To have that power, to have that hidden ability of domination turned against her was terrifying.
Had it been anyone else in her place, they'd already be on the table, legs spread east to west, lost in carnal bliss. Venelana, despite how much she loved Zeoticus, would have long been on all fours sucking the young devil's cock.
Should I make use of him?
Jamie Malphas was a nuclear warhead. Minobella could count on one hand the number of female devils capable of resisting his seduction. This meant she could count on one hand the number of female devils he could not turn into his willing puppets.
I have to. I have no choice.
If controlling him was impossible, an alliance at the very least was necessary. There were a lot of young female devils working as servants, secretaries, or maids in the devil underworld. Many knew valuable information about their households. Many were directly in charge of cooking meals, feeding, or serving their masters. Every single one of them was now a tool in Jamie Malphas’ arsenal. Minobella knew the insane depths women would go to for the men they believed they loved. All he needed to do was seduce them, and Minobella did not doubt he could.
That much power in the hands of one devil was dangerous. She needed him on her side. Seekvaira would be no different from putty in his hands, but Minobella could think of no other way to make the young Malphas Lord her ally without surrendering her own body. Even then, there was no guarantee doing so would succeed.
Fortunately, he has a weakness…
His gentlemanly demeanor worked against his despicable existence. Deep in the bottom of her heart, Minobella knew that had he chosen to force himself on her after she stopped him, she would have gladly let him. She, the Lady of the House of Agares, would have put up a mockery of resistance and let herself be ravished by a devil several centuries her junior atop her desk.
Just like that, an insidious doubt crept into her mind.
What if he didn’t push further, because he wished to have me obsess over him?
Dread settled in the pit of Minobella Agares’ stomach.
Is this still a part of his seduction?
The more she thought of it, the less sense it made. For someone so audacious, the odds that he’d have stopped simply because she told him to was frighteningly low. He must have known she’d have let him continue. He was not dense enough to not realize how aroused she was.
She was the Lady of the House of Agares. She had near-unlimited spending funds, a famously unambitious, lackadaisical husband, and a daughter considered by many to be unmarriageable and lacking in feminine charm.
For a young male devil attempting to rebuild his Clan, she and her family were the perfect targets.
Then why… why did he not push further?
Minobella’s head snapped up.
…Venelana.
She’d all but forgotten about her friend waiting in the sauna. Venelana would get suspicious if she took too long to return. Venelana would be able to smell the difference if he’d pushed further. That would put her in an unfavorable situation. She did not trust Venelana enough not to use that information against her.
Could it… be?
Venelana was his trump card.
She wasn’t the only Lady of a Pillar House who knew of his existence. Venelana also knew of his existence, and she would have questions. If Minobella downplayed Jamie Malphas’ capabilities to her friend. Venelana would know immediately she was hiding something and set up her meeting. If she acted nonchalantly or did not mention him, Jamie had left such a strong impression that Venelana would do her investigation and arrive at the truth.
If Minobella was honest and told the truth, then Venelana would come to the same conclusions she had.
Even if one did not want or need a nuclear weapon, if they were told that there was only one available, and their rival would have them, they would do everything in their power to prevent that from happening, and that includes taking it for themselves.
Venelana was not a fool. She would not hesitate to drop her current arrangements with the Phenix family and offer to help Jamie rebuild the Malphas Clan. For starters, there would be greater feelings of gratitude, and thus a stronger bond and locus of control. Throw in a betrothal to Rias and it was all but her guaranteed victory.
Regardless of what Minobella did, Venelana would unravel the truth of Jamie Malphas eventually. And the very minute she did?
It becomes a race.
It would be a race to earn his favor. It would be a race to see who would aid him first — who would aid him more. The one who succeeded was the one he’d align with. The mere thought of Venelana of all people having Jamie on her side filled Minobella with endless amounts of revulsion.
If she had to attend the wedding between Jamie and Rias and see Venelana’s smug face, Minobella would drink poison and kill herself.
She could not let that happen.
She had to be the one to help him first.
She had to be the one who won.
It did not escape Minobella’s attention, that this was exactly what Jamie Malphas wanted. He’d put himself in a win-win situation. Regardless of who aided him, he won. Regardless of why they aided him, he won.
The only way his plans would fail was if both Minobella and Venelana decided he was not worth their investment.
But with such a flamboyant entrance and presence, with such a strong grasp of seduction and his mysterious allure —
Such an outcome was impossible.
Her own psychology was being used against her, and yet, there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was a fly caught in a web that would happily compete with another fly to see who could reach the spider’s stomach first.
Jamie Malphas…
Minobella laughed.
You really are a magnificent devil.
XXXXX
She’d had nightmares that started like this.
In those nightmares, she fought shadowy wispy beings that were the representation of her fears and demons and was almost always naked. In those nightmares, she could never quite run fast enough. In those nightmares, her demonic power failed her, and her enemy was too overpowering.
In those nightmares, she always awoke once she died.
This was not like those nightmares. This was reality. Her opponent was of unknown skill, she had no demonic power to speak of, and she had two young wards beside her she needed to protect with her life. Had she not burnt off six hundred years of her life, she’d already be dead.
Yet, even burning her lifespan would not be enough to fight the devil in front of her.
All around them, people rapidly dispersed. They could tell that some sort of conflict was brewing, and none of them wanted to be caught in the center of it. For a brief moment, Seekvaira contemplated calling for the guards. They’d be of no use. The amount of demonic power emanating from the man in front of her told her they’d barely be an inconvenience.
“T-that scythe —” Millicas’ eyes widened. “You-you're…”
Seekvaira shot her gaze to him. “You recognize it?”
“T-that's a Death Scythe,” Lookas stammered. “W-what’s a Grim Reaper doing in the devil underworld?”
There was no mistaking the demonic energy the being was emitting. He was most certainly a devil. At the same time, a Death Scythe could only be wielded by Grim Reapers.
Could it be… a reincarnated devil?
Seekvaira’s heart raced.
Who… out there… has enough power to reincarnate an Executive-Class Grim Reaper?
It was as insane as trying to reincarnate a minor deity. You’d have to have either an absurd amount of demonic power to pull it off or —
You’d have to be a Super-Devil.
Yet, that made no sense. There were only two Super-Devils and neither of the two had any reason to be an adversary.
“We have to run,” Millicas’ voice was uncharacteristically serious. Had she not heard it, she would not have believed it came from the boy. The same boy who always seemed shy and soft-spoken barked out the command as though he’d been possessed by a demon. “Now!”
He grabbed her by the hand and grabbed Millicas by the other hand, and turned tail. Seekvaira’s mind was a mess. For a boy his size and age, Millicas was deceptively strong. She could barely resist when he dragged her and began to flee into the crowd, a tactic so devious and foul that she would never have thought of it.
A shudder ran through her spine. Through a glass window, she saw the devil lift his scythe.
“Get down!”
She pushed both boys down the floor and dove down herself. There was a glint of light. A flash of silver. After which, blood. Geysers of blood, gushing like numerous fountains of red. The screams were deafening. The roars of outrage and terror were numerous. Through the chaos, Seekvaira grabbed both boys and fled. It burned at her. It ached at her heart. Sacrificing the people of her territory merely to live another minute was not a thing she ever believed she’d do.
Yet, it was all she could do. The Grim-Reaper Devil cared so little for collateral damage, that it was only a matter of time before someone powerful stepped up to oppose him. She just needed to buy herself some time. She needed to buy enough time until Lady Grayfia, or her father’s Knight, or his Queen arrived. She just needed enough time —
She raced down the street, holding unto the hands of both boys with her mind racing. Lookas was white as sheet. He’d never seen anyone die before. He’d never seen anyone die in front of him. He’d never seen anyone die because of him. Now, his face and clothes were dyed red and his green eyes lacked color.
In contrast, Millicas’ face was dark. It was grim and serious, and his eyes darted left and right, searching not only for alleyways they could run into but likely for someone capable of assisting them. Prior to this event, if one had asked Seekvaira how either boy would react to such an occurrence, she’d have expected their roles to be reversed.
“We need to find my mother,” Millicas said sternly. “Or failing that, we need to contact Uncle Ajuka. There’s no one else nearby who can stop him.”
Running in her heels as she did, she nearly skidded to a stop once Millicas dragged her in a different direction, and she found herself following the boy rather than leading him.
“Who is he?”
“Someone we can’t fight.”
“That’s not an answer —”
“He’s just toying with us right now,” Millicas hissed. “Toying with us. Don’t think about trying to fight him. A single touch of his scythe will kill you.”
Millicas cursed underneath his breath. They quickly entered into a tram car, packed with numerous other devils, all of which gave them strange looks. Covered from head to toe in blood as they were, it was no surprise. Millicas dove his head underneath her skirt, causing Seekvaira to go rigid.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“My hair makes me stand out,” he said, all while between her legs. “There’s only one clan of devils in the underworld with hair like mine.”
“Couldn’t you just transform —”
She inexplicably found herself invisible. Not only herself, but also Millicas, and Lookas as well. The other passengers in the tram suddenly turned their gazes away, as though they were trying their hardest not to look at them.
Millicas removed his head from underneath her skirt and exhaled loudly.
“What… what did you do?”
“I destroyed our presence.”
Millicas moved in front of an elderly devil in the car and waved his hands. No matter how much he waved it, the elderly man did not respond.
“We currently can’t be perceived through the five senses or any magical sense, and we vanish entirely from people’s short-term memories.”
Seekvaira glanced at him cautiously. “You can… do that?”
“The Power of Destruction lets me destroy anything. It’s just a matter of knowing what to destroy…” Millicas exhaled. “We should be safe for now. He shouldn’t be able to figure out the trick… but we still need to keep moving.”
Millicas offered her a weak smile.
“I'm sorry.”
Seekvaira frowned. “This isn’t your fault.”
“My dad gave me a list, you know?” He said. “He expected this, so he gave me a list of all his enemies, placed in tiers.”
“Tiers?
“D-Tier for his enemies I can kill in my sleep. C-Tier for his enemies I could fight on even terms with. B-Tier for his enemies I would struggle a bit with, but could still defeat. A-Tier for enemies that I would need to give my all against just for a draw. And then… S-Tier.”
Seekvaira couldn’t imagine it. She’d always believed her parents held her to unbelievable standards, but this was something else entirely. “That devil that’s after us… he’s S-Tier?”
“No,” Millicas shook his head. “He’s SSS-Tier. An enemy I can’t win against without a hundred years of training.”
A cold chill ran down her spine.
“You know what’s funny?” Millicas laughed. “This trick… destroying my presence, my dad taught it to me after my mom berated him for finding porn in my room. I lied and said it was his, and so, he showed me how to erase the presence of objects so I would never get caught again. It isn’t even something he taught me to save my life…”
The laugh died in Millicas’ throat. It came out forced and empty.
“He’s… he’s always so busy. Sometimes I go months without seeing him. I guess I should be glad that he never misses a birthday and that he loves me but… sometimes… sometimes I hate him. I hate how the world is so scared of him. He’s just a big goof who happens to be powerful… but because of that… I can’t live a normal life. I can’t have friends. My mom watches me all the time. And the one time I give her the slip… this happens.”
Seekvaira realized she’d been wrong. Millicas was affected in the same way her cousin, Lookas, was affected. Except, whereas the threat to his life had completely made Lookas silent and quiet, it’d done the opposite to Millicas. He was rambling because he was scared. He was talking to her about everything because he was terrified.
She didn’t blame him. Devil or not, they were still children. Seeing people butchered in front of you was always a harrowing experience.
“She… she’s never going to let me out of her sight again, is she?” Millicas asked.
“Knowing what I do of Lady Grayfia… it seems unlikely.”
Millicas laughed again. He twiddled his fingers idly. The tram continued down its path and they both stood there, in silence. Seekvaira reached out and held his hands, stopping them from twiddling. She looked into his eyes and found the lost innocence of a child. She saw herself in so many ways, and it hurt.
Millicas’ face beamed a light shade of red as he averted his gaze. “U-um… t-t-thanks.”
“I should be thanking you,” she said. “You’ve saved our lives.”
“If it weren’t for me… your life wouldn’t be in danger.”
It was a sentiment she couldn’t deny.
“The devil that’s chasing us…” Seekvaira said. “He’s one of your father’s enemies?”
Millicas slowly nodded. “His name is Nyxdolor.”
“Nyxdolor?”
“According to my dad, whilst the entire world was fighting for the throne of hell during the Civil War, the Son of the Original Lucifer was going through his um… what was the word he used…?”
Millicas snapped his fingers.
“Whore-phase! That’s right. His whore-phase!”
Seekvaira blinked. “...What?”
“I think it means —”
“I know what it means,” Seekvaira cleared her throat. “What I mean is… how does your father know this?”
“Oh, they’ve met. My dad complains about him a lot.”
Seekvaira was not sure she’d heard correctly.
“Your father… complains of… the son of the Original Lucifer?”
“Rizevim Livan Lucifer,” Millicas nodded. “That’s his name. My dad hates him. He says that if he’d just accepted his responsibilities the Civil War would never have happened, and so many devils wouldn’t have died —”
“Please wait,” Seekvaira brought her hand up. She took in a deep breath. “We were talking about the devil that’s chasing us. How does he have anything to do with this?”
“That’s kind of the part I was getting to,” Millicas said. “My dad says Rizevim has a hobby as a… serial… um… rapist.”
“He is the son of the Prince of Hell…” Seekvaira exhaled. “Why does that matter?”
“Well… you know how devils have really low fertility rates?”
“Yes?”
“Even if you sleep with like, thousands of women over thousands of years, you’d only have like a one-in-a-thousand chance of having a child… so, according to my dad, Rizevim forced himself on tons of goddesses when he was much younger and stronger… and well… that one-in-a-thousand chance happened.”
Seekvaira did not want to believe it.
“The devil chasing us —” Seekvaira paused. “Nyxdolor… Nyx’s… Pain?”
Millicas nodded.
“You’re telling me, we’re being hunted by the Lucifer’s Grandson… who also happens to be a son of the Primordial Greek Goddess of the Night.”
Millicas nodded, this time, far more grimly.
Seekvaira found her brain overloading with information. She had not even known devils and gods could copulate and successfully bear children. Was a he demigod? A demi-devil? A god-devil? What sort of term would one even coin for such an unholy union?
No, to begin with, what sort of monster was Rizevim Livan Lucifer to be able to force himself on a goddess?
Goddesses, rather. Millicas had used the plural term. Goddesses.
“I had assumed he was a reincarnated devil… but rather than that, he's a Pureblood?”
“He’s is,” Millicas nodded. “And he’s really, really strong.”
There was no justice in the world.
She understood now, why Millicas acted the way he did. She understood why he’d forced her to flee. She was not capable of fighting a literal god. She could barely hold her own against ordinary devils. She’d already died once to Nyxdolor’s scythe, and going back to face him would simply lead her to her second death.
“Would… would your father be able to… beat him?”
“Hm?” Millicas blinked. “What sort of question is that?”
“What I mean is —”
“He’s strong, sure, but he’s nowhere near my dad’s level.”
He’s nowhere near my dad’s level.
Seekvaira slumped and took an empty seat on the tram. She buried her face into her palms and resisted the urge to laugh. What sort of incomprehensible monster was the devil known as Sirzechs Lucifer, that even a literal son of a goddess was not his equal?
Demonic Power, like all things, could be measured. After the invention of the Rating Games and the ranking system that followed, it behooved several participants to create an equivalent tiering system of demonic power. Chess possessed the Elo Rating System named after Arpad Elo, and the Rating Games being inspired by Chess, adopted a similar system to measure Demonic Power called the Siruka Rating.
A newborn devil infant was given a Siruka rating of 10. An adult Low-Class Devil was given the Rating of 100. An adult Middle-class Devil was given the Rating of 250. A High-Class Devil started at the Rating of 500 and an Ultimate-Class Devil started at the Rating of 1500.
The rating was not linear. Anyone who played Chess would testify that there was a world of difference between a 1000 Elo Rated Player and a 1500 Elo Rated Player.
For instance, a 1500 Elo Rated Chess Player was considered to be slightly above average at the game, or just entering into the intermediate level.
A 3000 Elo Rated Chess Player, on the other hand?
They would be a Grand Master or the World Chess Champion.
There were only two exceptions to the Siruka Rating that could not be quantified: Sirzechs Lucifer and Ajuka Beelzebub.
Giving them Ratings would make the entire system meaningless, and it was for that reason their names were used in honor of the system. The Siruka Rating — with exceptions Sirzechs and Ajuka.
They were unratable.
Seekvaira was only now beginning to grasp why that was.
“You should… um… try to talk to him.”
Seekvaira’s brain snapped back to the present. Her cousin stood there, blank-faced, covered in blood, unresponsive and unmoving. Sighing, she tried to wipe the blood off him, but all it did was smear it even further. She’d always believed her cocky cousin to be unflappable, but it seemed she’d judged him too harshly. In the end, he was far more innocent than Millicas.
Or far more pampered.
“Lookas. Lookas, snap out of it.”
She snapped her finger in front of him several times, all to no avail. He was in shock. Frowning, she brought her hand down and smacked him across the face as hard as she could. The slap worked. His eyes regained color.
“H-h-huh? W-w-what?”
“We’re safe, Lookas.”
“R-r-right. S-s-s-safe.”
He was jittery.
“A-a-are we — we safe?”
“For now.”
“I — I don’t want to die, Seekvaira-nee,” he stammered. “I’m scared. I’m scared of dying. I — I can’t die. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t —”
“You’re not going to die, Lookas.”
“You… you’ll protect me… w-won’t you? I - I know I c-c-can be annoying and I-I d-do stuff you don’t like but, but you’ll still p-protect me… right? Y-y-you won’t let m-me die? Right?”
She tried to keep her expression plain. She wouldn’t let him die, of course. It was her duty. Yet, she found herself disappointed. She found herself disgusted. Compared to Millicas, who still had a level head, her cousin, the so-called hope of the Agares Clan, was scared witless. There was not a lick of courage to be found in his eyes. There was not an iota of bravery.
Her mother had spoiled him too much. So much, that Seekvaira pondered if her doing so was meant to be a form of sabotage against him. She would not put it past her mother to make Lookas so incompetent, that she, Seekvaira, would shine brightly in comparison.
“Lookas, you —”
The tram came to a sudden stop. Lookas barreled into her, and other passengers swore and complained. Millicas turned to her, eyes sharp. “Something’s wrong.”
Seekvaira rose and peered through the front. A cold chill entered her heart at the sight of the cloaked man standing in front of the tram, wielding a giant scythe.
“T-that’s impossible,” Millicas whispered. “H-how did he find us so quickly? H-he shouldn’t be able to —”
His scythe rose into the air.
She dove for both boys and leapt out of the tram car. In that same instance, the entire car was bisected horizontally. The top end went flying into the air, as did the top halves of every single passenger, perfectly divided from their midsection and legs.
The screams were horrific. The sight of young and elderly alike crawling on the pavement without their legs, bleeding out was something that would forever haunt her dreams.
The cloaked reaper-devil turned to them, his scythe lazily resting on his shoulders. “I’m impressed. I can’t see you, or smell you… I can’t hear you either. It’s such an annoyance because the more I think of you, the quicker I forget you….”
He crouched. Seekvaira still could not see his face. However, the smile he wore was the stuff of nightmares.
“But,” he pointed a finger. “You cast shadows, so I always remember you’re here.”
Seekvaira glanced behind her. He was right. Despite being entirely translucent, somehow, they still had shadows. Millicas swore. Seekvaira grabbed his hand and made to run —
“Stop.”
Seekvaira froze solid. She could not move. She glanced down and found her shadow immobile. Rather, her shadow was being held in place by his own shadow, despite the fact that his body was not moving. His shadow moved on its own accord, like a liquid marionette.
“I have a curfew,” he said dryly. “I borrowed this scythe and I need to return it soon.”
“S-stay back!” Lookas yelled. S-stay back! I’m w-w-warning you! My Seekvaira-nee will kill y-you if you come any closer —”
There was a silver glint.
“So noisy.”
Lookas went quiet. Seekvaira gazed at her cousin, A thin line of blood ran down from his forehead to his throat.
“S-S-S-Seekvaira… nee-chan?”
One half of Lookas slid to the ground whilst the other remained, exposing the insides of his brain, his eye, his bone, and organs. Then, the second half collapsed, both parts falling to the ground. Organs collapsed on the pavement as blood gushed out of his motionless body.
Seekvaira could not move. She could not speak. Faintly, she heard Millicas let out a roar. Blasts of all-consuming blackness tinged in red fired from his hands at the scythe-wielding devil. A shadowy blob emerged and batted away the blasts, all of which smashed into concrete and erased it, or smashed into buildings and left emptiness in its place, as though an omnipresent god had taken an eraser to reality.
“NYXDOLOR!” Millicas roared, lunging at the scythe-wielding devil.
Several tendrils of shadows rose from the ground and ensnared him, holding him in place. No matter how much Millicas destroyed them, the shadows quickly returned to trap him.
“Please don’t scream my name,” Nyxdolor murmured. “It’s cringey.”
Seekvaira couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything except stare at the bifurcated corpse that belonged to her cousin. Words failed her. Thoughts failed her. She’d always said how much she hated him, but even then… even then…
“Well, I have what I need so, I’ll be —”
“Daylight.”
The sun descended.
There was no other way to describe it. A brilliant ball of all-consuming bright light arrived in the middle of the street, so dazzling that nothing could be seen through it, and it could not be gazed upon directly. The shadows holding Millicas retreated with pained, frantic hisses, and Nyxdolor himself hissed, backing away from the center of the source of light.
A familiar red-skinned devil descended from the sky, basking in the glow of the light. He held Millicas in his arms, barely restraining the boy from charging at Nyxdolor in a blind rage.
“I’ll kill you!” Millicas roared. “I’ll kill you! I swear! I’ll —”
The familiar red-skinned devil muttered a single word, and Millicas went stiff and motionless in his arms before his eyes closed and he fell asleep. The miniature sun in the center of the street rose slightly into the air, and Nyxdolor buried his scythe into the earth with a sigh.
“Ah… another annoyance:”
The red-skinned devil landed on the ground. He turned to her, making Seekvaira aware that he could indeed see her. He placed Millicas into her arms and turned around craning his neck.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Nyxdolor asked.
“Me?”
The red-skinned devil chuckled.
“I’m just a Lightbringer.”
Chapter 10: Forgive Me, Father
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Pests.
They were all pests. All of them. Even with her demonic power severed and her lacking the ability to sense magical attacks, she could not deem any of them to be more than mere pests.
“Stop her!”
“For Lord Naberius!”
“For the Glory of the True Satans!”
They rushed her like a frenzied mob, attacks firing in tandem. She blurred from one place to another, her hand extending outwards. Every time she struck, a pest died. Every time she punched, a pest died. Every motion she made brought death along with it. Her maid’s attire was dyed with the blood of countless pests, yet, they continued to rush out of the woodwork, endless, brazen, and fanatical.
The fact that they believed they held a chance to kill her hurt Grayfia’s pride more than their attacks hurt her body. It had been centuries since the Civil War, granted, and she’d possessed so few opportunities to display her prowess in battle, but had her name declined so greatly that even mice and cankerworms believed themselves to be her equal?
Two devils rushed at her wielding holy swords and Grayfia evaded the blades, redirecting the hand of the first so he sliced of the head of the second, and lightly tapping the hand of the second so he disemboweled the stomach of the first.
A silver halberd slashed behind her, and Grayfia evaded it at the last minute. The wielder, a young woman, let out a frantic battle cry as she rushed her, thrusting forward. Grayfia stomped down on the blade and punched through the devil’s ribcage emotionlessly. The woman’s expression did not falter. A mad glint entered her eyes.
“F-for… t-t-the g-glory… of…. L-Lord… R-R-Rizevim…!”
A deafening explosion covered the area.
The she-devil turned her demonic energy inwards and detonated herself. Had Grayfia been able to detect demonic power, she’d have sensed it happening. Had she access to her own demonic power, she’d have been capable of stopping it before it occurred.
Grayfia took the blast at point-blank range. The impact sent her careening through the street, bouncing and skidding against the concrete like a stone skipping across a lake.
Her ears rang. Her vision was blurry. She coughed and wheezed, and knew immediately that the shockwave had damaged her lungs. She glanced down, finding her bare chest exposed. The explosion had burnt her clothes to a crisp and left scars all over her chest. The minor enchantments she’d placed on her signature French Maid outfit were never designed to handle intense combat.
Grayfia grimaced. In severing her demonic power, Lord Naberius had also severed the protective power that was inherent in the Queen Piece within her soul. Else, such an explosion would never have harmed her. That artifact, the fragment of the Staff of Moses, it was beyond dangerous. She would rate it on the level of a Longinus — an unfair existence that broke the balance of the world.
“She’s wounded!”
“We have her!”
“Now! All together!”
“To all believers of the True Satans! Give your lives!”
Grayfia clicked her tongue. This was different from the War. In the War, she fought individuals who held value to their lives. Regardless of how much they believed in their cause, they would not brazenly sacrifice their lives for it.
In contrast, the devils she fought now were akin to a cult.
No matter how many of them she slaughtered, they were not cowed. Rather, the more she killed, the more roused and brazen they became. Every body added to the pile became another martyr for their cause, another reason to believe they were being persecuted.
Another devil rushed forward towards her, and Grayfia snapped the devil’s neck in one swift motion, only to curse as his entire body glowed and another explosion shook the street.
Within seconds, the entire flow of the battle changed.
Grayfia tumbled, her ears ringing painfully. She was not given a moment to rest. A dozen devils rushed her at once. They dove for her and attempted to latch onto any piece of her body they could get. One latched unto her foot, one held on to her hair, and another shamelessly grabbed at her breasts. Grayfia kicked aside the devil latching at her foot and ripped off the hands of the one who dared touch her breasts, only for the one latching on to her hair to detonate in a crazed scream.
The explosion propelled her forwards. Her wounds accumulated. A nasty burn covered her back. Her hair, previously kept in pristine condition, was now burned, cut, and frazzled. Bruises covered her flesh from the grabby hands, and she was all but nude now, as her maid’s uniform could not hold up to the ceaseless attacks.
The entire situation frustrated her. It infuriated her. Individually, her attackers were weak. She could kill ten thousand of them before a bead of sweat would form on her brow. However, the circumstances were against her from the beginning. With her demonic power severed, she had been limited to close combat.
Under normal conditions, this would have been more than enough to kill them, but they had no fear for their lives. They would all gladly die just to inconvenience her momentarily.
If such was the case, killing them all was a pointless endeavor. A pyrrhic victory awaited her at the end of that pursuit. She would succeed, certainly, but at what cost?
The answer was obvious:
Time.
Lord Naberius had stated that his cohort had gone after Millicas. Her son was in danger. All of this was merely to buy time. They were throwing their lives at her to keep her from interfering — to keep her from doing her one task and job as a mother.
Worse, they were succeeding.
The thick fog surrounding them was created by the fragment of the Staff of Moses. Had Grayfia possessed her ability to sense energy and demonic power, she’d have been able to navigate through it. Her son’s innocuous action of destroying that ability of hers had become a great and burdensome hindrance.
She could not escape from the fog. She could not fly without demonic power. The fragment of the Staff of Moses was a holy artifact on the level of Excalibur, so she could not wield or use it.
Her only option was to fight until she or all her enemies died.
With her mind resolved, Grayfia took a deep breath and prepared herself for a lengthy battle.
All she could do was hope it would not be too late to save Millicas by the time she was done.
Because if anything happened to her son —
Grayfia would burn the world.
XXXXX
Nyxdolor was bored.
For as long as he could remember, he’d been in a perpetual state of ennui. He didn’t know exactly when it began or when it became his default mode of existence.
When he got bored of being bored, he would commence the task of tracing how he became this way. He theorized it started when he’d been born and his mother retched and vomited for hours after seeing his face. He believed it started the first time he met his siblings, saw they were all incomprehensibly older than him, and felt their hatred and killing intent.
Once, he pondered if he became this way after his sisters, the Erinyes, abducted him and took turns torturing him endlessly in Tartarus. From making him roll Sisyphus’ boulder to having him endure Tantalus’ torment, to outright just raping and mutilating him as a young, idiotic child.
For most of his life, he’d never known why they hated him. It wasn’t until his other sister, Clotho, told him of the truth of his origins. He was a sore spot to them all and a blight in the eyes of every Chthonic Deity. His father was a vile, monstrous creature who’d abducted his mother, the primordial Nyx, and raped her for seven days and seven nights. His face bore a striking resemblance to that foul creature, who happened to be the Prince of a different Pantheon’s Underworld.
His every breath was proof that the unthinkable had happened. His existence was a constant reminder that another pantheon had sullied one of their own and gotten away with it.
Many times, Nyxdolor pondered why he was born. He wondered why his mother allowed his existence to come to pass instead of terminating him as soon as she could. Clotho and her sisters never gave him a straight answer. Being cryptic as ever was their entire deal as the Fates, and over time, Nyxdolor simply stopped questioning it.
Pondering why he became the way he was, he mused that it must have been because of his brother, Hypnos. The only member of his family who didn’t hate him, merely because Hypnos was too lazy to hate. In a sense, he was raised by the God of Sleep more than he was by his biological mother.
Perhaps that was the real reason was he was constantly bored, forever trapped in a state of lackadaisical stupor, eyes half-lidded, uncaring and unconcerned to the world.
There’d only been one day in Nyxdolor’s life that his boredom was extinguished entirely.
It was the day he met Rizevim Livan Lucifer.
The entire meeting had been ordained by the Fates. Rizevim was hunting individuals with the power to foresee the future, and Atropos had asked him that day to take a visit to the Oracle of Delphi.
Nyxdolor had no clue what to expect upon meeting his father. He’d even been prepared to kill him if only to appease his mother’s side of the family.
He’d been a complete and utter fool.
Rizevim dug his fingers into Nyxdolor’s scalp and ripped off his face, declaring that he was not worthy to bare his likeness. When Nyxdolor began to plead, Rizevim tore off both of his arms, stating that his hands were far too filthy for a lowly half-breed to use in seeking clemency from a Prince of Hell.
Nyxdolor fled, terror in his heart. The torment he’d endured for centuries at the hands of his mother’s side of his family was nothing compared to the pain and misery Rizevim inflicted upon him in the span of a few short minutes. He’d fully braced himself for death, fully anticipated his demise —
His brother Thanatos arrived at the last minute, having sensed his impending death. Seeing how merciless his own father was shocked him. Thanatos attempted to bargain for his life at first, and upon failing, fled with him in tow.
After returning to the underworld, face-torn and with lost limbs, he was treated with favor. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and he’d proven himself no ally to his father. The same siblings who once sought his death began to treat him warmly, the Erinyes who once tortured him began to train and spar with him, and even his mother, whom he’d never seen since his birth, could suddenly stomach his presence.
Yet, after that day, Nyxdolor’s ennui returned.
It returned greater than ever.
The only time it vanished, the only time his blood began to pump and he felt alive, was once he heard the name ‘Lucifer.’
As though he were a being possessed, anything and anyone bearing the name Lucifer became Nyxdolor’s target of obsession. He hunted down his half-brother, a devil named Razevan, an existence so laughably weak he could not believe he was truly Rizevim’s son and killed him. He searched for any more of his father’s bastards, finding only three other individuals equally born of goddesses like himself. Their battle had set his blood pumping, but in the end, he killed them and found his boredom return.
He’d heard tales of a devil called Vali Lucifer, the child of the cowardly Razevan, but found himself unable to approach after discovering the child was protected by a Cadre-Class Fallen Angel.
His obsession could not be sated.
His desire to abate his ceaseless ennui grew stronger and stronger.
Thus, he turned his gaze to the one who bore the title of Lucifer, and the whore beside him who was of a clan sworn to defend that name.
Sirzechs destroyed him.
Nyxdolor did not hold a candle to the Super-Devil. He could not scratch him. He could not touch him. His enmity with the Lucifer name and legacy was something Sirzechs claimed had nothing to do with him, announcing that his title was merely perfunctory.
Sirzechs Lucifer’s greatest mistake, in Nyxdolor’s eyes, was not killing him. Rather, the Super-Devil had attempted to recruit Nyxdolor into his peerage.
For that sole reason, Nyxdolor’s hatred of Sirzechs grew to unfathomable lengths.
Regardless, he was not stupid. He knew he could not act against Sirzechs directly. His power was not enough. Thus, he prepared. He discovered a fanatical cult of his father’s and hid his true identity to join their ranks, claiming to merely be a Grim Reaper with a vendetta against the Gremory Family.
His target was Millicas Gremory.
With the boy’s blood, hair, soul, and bone, Nyxdolor knew he would be able to get his brother’s acquaintance, Hermes, to contact Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. With her help and the aid of his sisters, the Fates, he believed he could craft an enchantment that would make him immune or at the very least, highly resistant to the Gremory Bloodline and their accursed Power of Destruction.
Without the Power of Destruction to hinder him, he would kill Sirzechs Lucifer. Once he accomplished that feat, then, and only then, would he have the heart to stand against his father once more, and completely eliminate the accursed bloodline and legacy of Lucifer from the world entirely.
After that, Nyxdolor felt he would no longer be bored.
“I’m just a Lightbringer.”
Another fool entered his vision, utilizing the moniker of the one who brought light —
And Nyxdolor knew the ignorant devil would have to die.
XXXXX
What a rather dangerous fellow.
The brilliant light of the Daylight spell illuminated the corpses of the deceased devils around him. His nostrils furrowed at their final expressions, agony etched upon their faces like a burn scar seared into the flesh of livestock.
The one responsible wore a dark cloak and wielded a massive scythe, bearing a resemblance to the grim reaper. A foreboding aura wafted from the devil before him, accumulating into an enormous shadowy apparition that hovered behind him like a grandiose demon.
Pressure unlike anything he’d faced in this world came slamming down unto Jamie’s shoulders and suffocated him. His throat felt parched. His lungs felt constrained. Behind him were two individuals he needed to protect, and in front of him was easily the most dangerous foe he had encountered since his reincarnation.
…Incredibly dangerous.
Had he access to his Fifth and Sixth Level Spells, Jamie would not be on guard as he was now. Unfortunately, he was limited to spells of the Fourth Level, and could only squeeze out one or two of the Fifth Level. He was currently weaker than himself in his prime with only half of his usual repertoire. His enemy’s apparent ability to manipulate darkness and shadows would be problematic.
He’d momentarily neutralized that ability with his Daylight spell, but a devil which forced chills to run down his spine would undoubtedly have countermeasures for such an occurrence.
I may need to go all out.
Since his reincarnation, Jamie was yet to face a proper enemy. His spars with Selena barely counted. By her own admission, she was an insect in the eyes of the more powerful individuals that roamed the world.
The memories he’d absorbed of Adelaide and Carrin did not at all help him estimate his strength. Cockroaches could not gauge the distance between continents, yet alone the vast difference between the earth and the sun. They’d never experienced the true majesty of power and had nothing to compare their existences with.
Likewise, although Jamie could tell he was stronger than the commonfolk and the average devil, he knew not where he stood amongst the world’s elite.
This would be quite the perfect opportunity… if only I wasn’t hindered.
Behind him were two wispy, ethereal forms of the boy he knew to be named Millicas Gremory, and the rather beautiful Heiress of the Agares Clan, Seekvaira. His eyes could perceive them because he’d cast See Invisibility, but their strong emotions would have easily given them away even if he hadn't.
The boy had been torn with so much anguish, fury, and rage, that it drew an incubus like Jamie to him like a moth to a flame. Minobella’s daughter, on the other hand, was drowning in a veritable sea of shock and emptiness.
He couldn’t let either of them die.
For the sake of his future plans, and of course, because Seekvaira was a beautiful woman.
Her demise would ache Jamie’s heart heavily.
“Lightbringer,” the cloaked devil sighed. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
His opponent disappeared.
A chill gripped Jamie’s heart.
His eyes could not track his opponent. They could not follow his opponent. Jamie had fought against Archfiends, Archdemons and Adult Dragons alike in the Forgotten Realms, but he had never fought a creature capable of moving faster than the eye could see. No matter how fast Selena moved in their spars, he could still track her.
I have no choice.
He could not afford to pull his punches. His opponent could and would speed-blitz him.
“[Detect Thoughts].”
Eight milliseconds passed.
Twelve milliseconds.
Twenty milliseconds.
“Worthless little defect.”
At the fifty-seventh millisecond mark, a blade stopped nanometers away from Jamie’s neck.
“What?”
The devil wielding it was frozen in place.
“Pathetic half-breed,” Jamie scoffed. “Still struggling with your absence of emotions?”
“You…” The devil’s expression couldn’t be seen beneath the hood. “Who are you?”
“I sense nothing from you,” Jamie continued. “No glee. No joy. No sadness. No rage. Nothing. You are empty. Vacant, void and vapid. You are an abomination. A thing born without a soul.”
The devil took an uncertain step back, the blade left Jamie’s neck. “That tone… those words —” the devil hesitated.. “It — it can’t be —”
“Fool.”
Jamie sneered.
“Are you so intellectually wretched to not grasp the answer despite its obviousness?”
The devil snarled.
“You can’t be him. Who the hell are y —”
“Kneel.”
The devil fell unto both knees.
“H-h-how did you —”
“[Phantasmal Killer].”
With a single spell, the battle was decided.
“F-father?”
Nyxdolor sharply inhaled.
“W-what are you doing here? You — you shouldn’t be — no, no — I — I’m not questioning you, I would not dare try to question you, my lord, father, I — I merely wished to know how it is that you’re —”
He collapsed.
“N-no, no — please. I beg of you. I did not mean — I beg you, not again — not —”
Nyxdolor screamed.
XXXXX
I’m a fool.
Those words repeated over and over to herself, playing in the background of her mind. There was a concerto, a tiny legion of ephemeral spirits, an orchestra in her subconscious dedicated to performing a symphony that highlighted her boundless foolishness.
Surely, she had to be a fool. What else could she be? Time and again, her foolishness displayed itself. Time and again, she acted a whore and flirted with death, sitting on its laps, placing its bony phalanges against her thighs, and demanding to kiss its skinless lips.
She’d already escaped being ravaged by it once today, somehow overturning her own fate at the cost of her lifespan. Yet, even that was not enough, and it seemed as though death would finally grasp her in its embrace.
Until he appeared.
He'd changed since she last saw him. He was taller. His voice was deeper. His horns were longer. His tail was sleeker. Power reverberated from his every pore and his eyes hummed with unspoken mysteries. Seeing him again had caused the orchestra in her mind to begin the second movement of its lamenting symphony, reminding her that she’d actually believed herself capable of not only fighting but defeating the young devil before her.
She was a fool.
Nyxdolor lay in the middle of the street, screaming like a man who had lost everything he had to live for. The devil abandoned his weapon, rolled and crawled, and slammed his head into asphalt and concrete, begging for forgiveness, begging for mercy.
Jamie stood, arms crossed, abyss-like eyes unflinching at Nyxdolor’s torment. They were alight with an unholy union of disdain and amusement, of apathy and relish, of glee and disgust, and gazing into those eyes made her feel like Dante descending the Nine Layers of Hell.
“Forgive me! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again father! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”
Nyxdolor’s hood was thrown back. The true face of the devil underneath was revealed. He was unsightly. The upper portion of his face flayed off, revealing pure white bone and various strips of flesh held together like viscous, half-melted cheese. The bottom part was partially healed, but still clearly disfigured, appearing similar to a massive collection of scars and scabs than a face.
Snot poured down his nostrils and slobber drooled down his mouth as he loudly wept. His wailing sent uncomfortable vibrations down her bones. She would never be able to forget them. The horrific sound would haunt her dreams for years to come. He sounded more animal than man, pained, anguished, primal — akin to a beast being tortured repeatedly.
“FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME, FATHER! FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE M —”
A disgusting squelch echoed across the street.
Nyxdolor’s head fell from his shoulders.
The object rolled, only stopping as it reached the pavement. Two empty, tear-streaked eyes gazed into her own pink orbs and Seekvaira did not even have the courage to breathe.
Jamie swirled Nyxdolor’s scythe in his hands, the blade slick with blood. He approached her, one step at a time. She wished to flee but knew not where to go. Millicas lay unconscious in her arms and she had no demonic power to speak of. She could not flee. She could not hide. She sat there, unmoving, unthinking, as the seven-foot-tall, red-skinned, horned thing in devil’s flesh approached her, all with a casual smile on his lips.
He mumbled some words, waved his hand, and she became visible once more. So to did the unconscious Millicas Gremory in her arms. Try as hard as she could, Seekvaira could not raise her head. The words of appreciation bubbling in her heart could not emerge.
“Are you scared?”
His voice was deep. Rich, thick, and indescribably deep. Every syllable came out as a rumble.
“You needn’t be.”
He tossed Nyxdolor’s scythe before her, saying nothing else. She glanced at it, her mind blank.
“W-w-what did you… do to him?”
“Nothing.”
“N-nothing?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Seekvaira flinched. Her savior crouched in front of her and lightly cupped her chin into his hand. Her chest tightened. He offered a chilling, blood-curling smile.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself properly when last we met,” he took her hand into his and landed a soft kiss on the back. “Jamie Malphas, at your service.”
Seekvaira’s breath hitched. All the names and lords of the 72 Pillar Clans were engraved in her memory. She knew no one bore the name Malphas because the entire clan was extinct.
“I have recently come to understand my place in this world,” he mused. “It is… glorious.”
“I — I do not understa —”
He tapped her forehead.
“[Heroism].”
Seekvaira’s mind went blank.
“You owe me, Lady Seekvaira,” he rumbled. “I’ll be waiting.”
With those words, he vanished.
Seekvaira did not know how long she sat there, unable to move, unable to react. Minutes, seconds, or perhaps hours later, a woman with silver hair and red eyes arrived, topless, nearly naked, and covered in all manner of burns, cuts, and bruises.
The silver-haired maid of Gremory examined the scene. She walked over to Nyxdolor, her eyes going wide as she recognized him. She snapped her gaze over to Seekvaira, to the scythe before her, to Nyxdolor’s severed head, and to her son, asleep in her arms. She took Millicas away and turned, with a bland, expressionless face, to the corpse of her cousin beside her.
Only then, did the Envy City guards and main security forces arrive. Only then, did her father’s Queen arrive along with the elite fighting force of the Agares Clan. The corpses of the deceased were moved. The bodies were collected. Seekvaira continued to stare, vacantly, into space. Her eyes bore no light in them. Everyone who saw her avoided her, as they examined the headless corpse of Nyxdolor. The assumption on their faces was all the same. Expressions tinged with fear and disbelief, they made the same mistake Lady Grayfia had.
The journey home was faint in her memory. All she remembered was the look of respect Grayfia had shot her. Respect and gratitude. All she remembered, was the expressions of the servants on the train being filled with complete adulation. Servants, male and female alike, could not look her in the eyes nor raise their voices before her.
Her eyes were still devoid of light as she returned to Castle Agares. They’d rushed them quickly to their family’s infirmary and hurried to treat their wounds. The Agares Family Doctor asked her numerous questions, none of which she felt the need to answer, merely staring straight at him with a dispassionate expression.
The doctor off-handedly mentioned something about her demonic energy and soul being older than her apparent age, and the hushed whispers increased.
Her mother and Lady Venelana arrived and saw their battered states. They spoke with Lady Grayfia in hushed tones, and the misunderstanding spread. Lady Venelana approached her and bowed.
“Thank you for protecting my grandson.”
A scream wanted to rip forth from Seekvaira’s lungs, but it never left. It couldn’t leave. The number of questions she’d been asked was disgustingly sparse. They looked into her eyes, devoid of life, blank of color, empty and cold, like that of a monster on the periphery, a barely restrained beast, a witch gone mad, and they deemed all questions unnecessary. Whatever methods she used to attain ‘victory’ were hers and hers alone to know.
Only her Aunt Finderia, weeping over Lookas’ corpse, had been brazen enough to ask questions. Only a grieving mother had the courage to slap her, scream in her face, and accuse her of murdering her own cousin. Seekvaira’s response was a calm, hollow stare. A vacuous, glassy gaze and a deep length of silence. Silence deep enough to make even the grieving mother back away, her entire body trembling. No words were spoken. No words needed to be spoken.
Seekvaira returned to her room. She’d allowed the maids to bathe her for the first time in years, too absent-minded to refuse their request.
Night came, and she stared up at her ceiling, her mind replaying the day’s events over and over again.
Over and over, the sight of Nyxdolor screaming and begging played in her mind.
Over and over, the amused expression on Jamie’s face returned.
Millicas had been unconscious during the fight, and there were no other witnesses. As far as the devil underworld would know, she, Seekvaira Agares had been the one to kill the Ultimate-Class Nyxdolor. No one would bother with an autopsy. Even if they did do, it would not disprove her capabilities.
You owe me, Lady Seekvaira.
She knew what he would ask for in exchange. A deviant such as him clearly only wanted one thing from her. Seekvaira wanted to laugh. The one thing he would likely ask of her was a thing he was the only devil in the underworld she would now gladly give it to.
I’ll be waiting.
Seekvaira did not get any sleep that night.
XXXXX
Mégalo would certainly not approve of my performances today…
Jamie’s mind was a wellspring of thoughts as he flew towards a familiar location in the depths of Envy City. With Greater Invisibility cast on his body along with Nondetection, no one saw him fly and move about unhindered.
The entire city was in a state of lockdown. The security was tight, as guards patrolled in search of remnants of the attackers that had plagued the city, and attempted to reinstall peace and order in lieu of the massive loss of life.
Although Jamie was confident in his skills to return home to Selena in Prejudice Valley, now was not the time. Unfortunate as it was for the numerous lives killed by his foe, it was a wellspring of opportunity for Jamie. Merely thinking of it made Jamie chuckle.
Nyxdolor… was it?
The series of events that led to his enemy’s defeat were quite unfortunate. Jamie was aware of his limited capabilities. By all means, he should have lost. He was lacking in speed, strength, and overall lethality, His opponent could have outpaced him and evaded all of his spells, and, it would have spelt his end.
Alas, Nyxdolor, the tragic fool, had never fought against a Bard. Thus, he’d made the one mistake every individual who encountered a Bard was known to make.
He’d let Jamie talk.
Every word Jamie uttered had been lathered with Vicious Mockery. The cantrip dealt psychic damage to Nyxdolor with every word, attacking his mind directly, instilling doubts, breaking his concentration, and planting deep-rooted seeds of uncertainty.
In the Forgotten Realms, psychic damage was negligible. One could deal enough psychic damage to a creature to nearly kill them or drive them to the brink of insanity, and after a nice long rest, the creature would awaken the following morning with no long-term side effects or ramifications whatsoever.
Alas, this was not the Forgotten Realms.
Moreover, Jamie possessed Demonic Spellcasting, and all his spells were demonic variations of their originals. His first realization of this was when he’d utilized Vicious Mockery on Selena during their spar. The spell harmed her psychologically and left a lingering effect.
After absorbing Carrin and Adelaide’s memories, he’d searched thoroughly for any records of individuals who were well-known to be masters of the mind arts.
Amongst devil-kind, he’d found only two names: Mephisto Pheles and Johann Faust.
There were a staggeringly low number of beings who used spells that directly assaulted the mind, and consequently, there were a staggeringly low number of individuals who trained their mental fortitudes. Neither Adelaide nor Carrin possessed the tiniest sliver of mental defenses. Seekvaira did not possess any, thus why Jamie could cast Heroism on her without resistance. Her mother, Minobella, had equally been found lacking. Selena’s mind was all but an open book.
Jamie deduced that only the most powerful and paranoid of devils trained their mental fortitudes. Only devils with deeply entrenched secrets or devils cautious and prudent against foes who sought to seek harm to their minds ever bothered learning methods to raise their psychological defenses.
Nyxdolor was not amongst that number.
Detect Thoughts was a Second-Level Divination Spell that let one browse through the surface thoughts of another creature and learn what was most on its mind at that moment.
It could also be used to probe deeper into the same creature’s mind. Typically, when probing deeper, the target would be able to resist, but that had not been the case for Nyxdolor. With far more ease than Jamie had been expecting, he’d gained insight into his foe’s reasoning, emotional state, and a thing that loomed large in his mind — Nyxdolor’s greatest insecurity.
Jamie ruthlessly attacked it.
For someone with weak mental defenses, Vicious Mockery, was as the name suggested: vicious. When targetting the insecurities of the enemy, the effects were twice as brutal. The weaker the enemy’s will, the more potent his words, and like a river chipping away at stone, it left Nyxdolor’s mind more vulnerable and open, enabling Jamie to gleam more of his insecurities and use them to further assault his mind in a deadly positive feedback loop.
Finally, Jamie launched the coup-de-grace:
Phantasmal Killer.
It was a Fourth-Level Illusion Spell. With it, the caster would tap into the deepest, darkest fears of a creature and create an illusory manifestation of that fear, visible only to that creature. If one possessed enough willpower, they’d see through and break the illusion. If they didn’t, they would take massive amounts of psychic damage as they would feel whatever harm they envisioned the illusion doing to them.
With doubts instilled in his mind and uncertainty plaguing his thoughts, Nyxdolor believed, wholly, that the illusion was real. Lost in a terrible nightmare that only he could see, he was unable to defend himself from the killing blow.
Had Nyxdolor been an individual who trained his mind and mental resistance, had Nyxdolor’s greatest fear not been so debilitating, had he been capable of overcoming that fear, had he been deaf and incapable of listening to Jamie’s words —
Had even one of those factors changed, Jamie would have lost.
How amusing, Jamie chuckled. For someone wanting in skill to be capable of troubling me so…
His mind-oriented spells were an anomalous existence. Devils were creatures of emotion to begin with, making them more susceptible to being enraged or seduced. As long as his opponent was not a monk-like being who sat in meditation for hours or a person who possessed boundless amounts of patience, willpower, and a heart akin to that of the Buddha —
Jamie would not lose.
Thus, his confidence increased. Thus, the scope and range of his plans were extended.
Jamie was no mastermind by any means. Far from it. Compared to Mégalo, he was a mere learner in the art of scheming and plotting. Indeed, the vast majority of his knowledge lay in the art of manipulating people, not events.
Jamie landed at his destination, his feet soundlessly hitting the pavement. Above him, the words, Eternal Envy Crematorium hovered unhindered. He moved through the gates and felt a slight ripple pulse against his skin. Fortunately, with Nondetection active, no alarms went off.
“[Locate Object].”
According to Carrin and Adelaide’s memories, devils did not bury their dead. To begin with, it took centuries if not millennia for a devil’s body to break down and decay in the manner a normal human body would. The remnants of demonic power lingering within the flesh, skin, and bones acted as a natural barrier to decomposition.
In addition, the bones and corpses of one’s family members could be used as conduits for powerful, vile, and dangerous spells or enchantments. Failing that, they could be summoned by necromancers, used as puppets, or seeing as they took so long to decay, were often the object of many who wished to defile them.
For that reason, most devils were cremated upon death. This was doubly true when the deceased were nameless middle-class or lower-class devils.
“There you are.”
Deep within the crematorium, Jamie stumbled upon a dark room filled with numerous corpses kept uncovered. The room was cold, although it needn’t be. Even if the corpses before him were kept underneath a scorching sun, there would be no sign of decay for multiple decades. The more powerful the devil was before death, the longer it would take for the corpse to decay.
The room of corpses was composed of every devil that had been killed in the city within the last twenty-four hours, with the exception of high-value names. Nyxdolor’s corpse would not be found here. There were, however, numerous individuals in black cloaks similar to the one Nyxdolor had worn, along with individuals in civilian clothing who had all died to the devil’s blade.
Jamie searched around and found a young female devil of somewhat passably decent appearance. Judging from her clothes, make-up, and jewelry, he estimated her to be an individual of considerable wealth. He stood before her and hummed.
“[Speak With Dead].”
The woman’s eyes opened. She did not sit up from the table. She did not blink. Rather, she stared, straight at him, as though in a daze.
“Oh. Hello. You’re quite handsome. Is this… is this a dream?”
Jamie smiled. “My name is Jamie Malphas.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Malphas. I’m Rabia,” Rabia said. “Um, forgive me, Lord Malphas but… I do not recall how I got here. Where am I?”
“The crematorium.”
“Oh, dear me. What am I doing here? “
“You are unfortunately no longer amongst the living.”
“Oh,” Rabia whispered. “That certainly explains it.”
“You believe me?”
“I… do,” Rabia said. “I don’t know why but… I can feel it. There’s nothing in me. I’m empty. Cold. I don’t feel… right.”
Jamie made a mental note of that.
“Do you remember how you died?”
“I was… walking down the street. I’d just returned from the Sitri Territory. We’d finished shooting a new episode… Magical Girl Sera-Tan vs the Evil Dr. Tenta-Slime… I remember… feeling really happy when Serafall-sama praised me for the script… I was on my phone editing some parts of it after coming down from the train and then… someone… something… slashed me from behind…”
“I see,” Jamie said. “Do you have any business left unfinished?”
“Unfinished… business?”
“Letters you would have me give your loved ones, or affairs you would wish to have in order.”
“Well, no,” Rabia said. “Nothing of the sort. I lived alone. My parents used to work in the Glasya-Labolas Territory but were lost in a chess match to Lord Sitri, along with tons of houses and property. They died a while back. I was single and too obsessed with work, so….”
“How tragic.”
“It’s not so bad, Lord Malphas. But, if I could make a last request —”
“I can’t sleep with you, Miss Rabia.”
A smile appeared on the woman’s face. “It would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it? ”
Jamie nodded. “It would.”
“Forgive for me for being so blunt, Lord Malphas, but… why did you animate my spirit to talk with me?”
“I’m experimenting with some of my more obscure spells,” Jamie admitted. “I’ve always found it relaxing to speak with the dead. They’re never lacking in fascinating stories, information, or life lessons. They also do not remember any conversations they’ve had while deceased, so they’re excellent for one to confess their greatest sins or hidden desires without worry.”
“Are you here to confess your hidden desires?”
“I’m certain you’d enjoy hearing that,” Jamie chuckled. “No, not this time I’m afraid. If I may be so shameless, I’d like to inherit your possessions. Despite being a lord, I’ve not a single shekel to my name.”
“Oh!” Rabia said. “Oh, certainly, Lord Malphas. Take whatever you find in my apartment. It’s Apartment No. 301, on 21 Glutton’s Avenue. I have a book of all my passwords and the deed to a small plot of land on the outskirts kept in a safe behind a nude portrait in my bedroom. I don’t think I’ll be needing any of it where I’m going.”
Jamie smiled. “I rather appreciate it, Miss Rabia.”
“It’s the least I can do. I don’t really have many fascinating stories to tell or life lessons to give. Apart from my work on the production team for Serafall-sama’s show, there isn’t much I really know.”
“You must have interacted with her often, no?”
“With Serafall-sama? Of course. It was a major part of the job, ensuring Serafall-sama was at peak condition to perform.”
“What does she like?” Jamie mused. “What is she like?”
“Oh, she’s amazing! She’s perfect! Somedays, I wish I was male just so I’d have a chance at wooing her. She’s really fond of her younger sister, Sona, and talks about her a lot. She has a sweet tooth. Her favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry-mango —”
The information poured out in a neverending torrent. Jamie categorized everything, memorizing and keeping the most important aspects, and swiftly removing anything he found to be of no value whatsoever to him.
After about thirty minutes of non-stop banter, smiling, laughing, and discussing with the deceased woman, Rabia’s body returned to its quiet, motionless state.
Then, Jamie moved on to the next young, relatively wealthy-looking corpse of a female devil killed in her prime.
“[Speak With Dead].”
“Oh… oh wow. You’re… I-I — wow. I can’t even… just wow. This is definitely one of the better dreams I’ve had.”
A pleasant smile emerged on his face.
“My name is Jamie Malphas.”
XXXXX
The hours passed.
Grayfia did not count how long she stood at the side of Millicas’ bed, unmoving, unflinching, unblinking, and unthinking. She could not let herself think, else she knew she would find faults and fears within her, and she would curse herself, and hate herself, and seek punishment upon herself.
To keep her mind busy, she’d cleaned his bedroom twice. She re-arranged the books on the shelves, but away the toys and the game consoles, swept, vacuumed, and mopped the bathroom three times over until it shone so brightly it hurt her eyes. After all was done, she would return to his side, his form appearing criminally small on the king-sized bed, his eyes closed and unmoving.
Ever so often, she would move her face close to his and let out a sigh of relief once she confirmed he was still breathing. He’d been entirely uninjured, which was already a miracle, but he’d yet to awaken.
Thus, she did not leave his side.
The thoughts and doubts continued to eat at her. What would have happened if the young Heiress of the Agares Clan had not been able to protect her son? Would she have returned home, empty-handed, to look Sirzechs in the face and tell him that their child had been abducted? What would he think of her? What would he even say to her?
Logically, Grayfia knew Sirzechs was too forgiving a fool to find the fault with her. She knew he would not have blamed or held her responsible. Yet, she would have held herself responsible all the same. Lady Venelana would have held her responsible all the same. It was her one job, and she’d almost failed it.
The worst possibility of them all would have been arriving to find her son’s corpse, just as she had found the corpse of his friend.
Grayfia knew in the depths of her soul, that something in her would have broken.
She knew herself. Had she found Millicas dead, she would have gone on a rampage throughout the underworld and killed everyone even vaguely connected to the incident. Fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, pets, servants, livestock, and cattle —
Everyone responsible would die at her hands.
After which she would bury a knife in her heart to atone for her failure.
Fortunately, Millicas was not only alive but unharmed. Even then, the doubts crept in. Would she be trusted to accompany Millicas anywhere again? Would her husband not find fault in her methods? Would there not be doubt and uncertainty in his heart? What sort of mother let their child nearly be kidnapped right underneath their noses?
Grayfia Lucifuge was a stranger to failure. Her battles against Sirzechs in the war could be considered her loss, but it was not her failure. Her arguments and separation from her brother were not her fault, and thus, not considered failure.
This was the closest she’d come to failing her duties in her life, and it rattled her.
The door to Millicas’ bedroom opened, and a young woman with auburn hair entered. Her violet eyes landed on Millicas's slumbering form before a sigh escaped her lips.
“He’ll be heartbroken when he wakes up. He really adored young Lookas.”
Grayfia did not trust herself to speak. After all, the fault lay with her. She’d been entrusted to guard and protect both boys but had the wool pulled over her eyes, and as a result, one of them had died.
“You should get some rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“Thank you, Lady Venelana, but I feel fine.”
Venelana walked over to Millicas’ sleeping form, sat on the corner of the bed, and gently ran her hand through her grandson’s hair.
“Not a single hair is out of place…” Venelana smiled. “Minobella raised a good daughter.”
“I…” Grayfia closed her eyes. “I misjudged her.”
“As did I,” Venelana hummed. “I’m almost envious. As much as I adore Rias, she wouldn’t have lasted two minutes against a devil of Nyxdolor’s caliber.”
“Are we truly certain she’s the one responsible for his death?”
“No other traces of demonic energy could be found at the scene of the battle,” Venelana exhaled. “Besides, didn’t you feel the girl’s aura?”
“It was… different,” Grayfia acquiesced.
“It was dangerous,” Venelana corrected. “Even I felt it would be unwise to provoke her, and I’ve never felt that feeling before. Her presence was like a blade ready to slit the throat of anyone she deemed an enemy.”
Venelana smiled.
“It reminded me of… me.”
Grayfia knew just how great such praise was.
“Do you suspect foul play?”
“Slightly.”
Venelana hummed.
“Minobella hinted to me that her daughter utilized a Forbidden Technique of the Agares Clan. She seemed to know more but was not keen on sharing. However, it cannot be denied that young Seekvaira sacrificed several thousand years of her lifespan to protect Millicas.”
Venelana rose from the bed, her expression sharp.
“We owe the Agares Family, and young Seekvaira in particular, a huge debt.”
Grayfia bowed. “I understand.”
Venelana moved towards the exit, as graceful as she entered.
“That reminds me,” she stopped at the door. “The Naberius Household is claiming they were unaware of the actions of their current Lord and had no part to play in his treachery.”
Grayfia’s jaw clenched.
“Are we to believe that?”
“Unfortunately,” Venelana exhaled. “We cannot ask for reparations without seeming like tyrants. They have lost their Lord and their Heir is a child not yet ready for the burden of leadership. We cannot raze them to the ground either, not without earning ourselves the ire of the other Pillar Clans.”
“Lady Venelana, you cannot mean to suggest we simply… let them be?”
“Absolutely not,” Venelana’s eyes were sharp. “The Naberius Clan dared plot against my family. Sirzechs is capable of great kindness because he has unfathomable power. I am not my son. I am not powerful enough to afford kindness to my enemies.”
Grayfia did not say anything, albeit, she struggled to maintain her dispassionate expression. In many ways, she adored her mother-in-law.
“There is a young devil lordling of the Malphas Clan. His name is Jamie Malphas. Once Millicas recovers, I want you to find all you can about him.”
“I — I do not quite understand what this has to do with dealing with the Naberius Household.”
“We devils have long memories and even longer lifespans,” Venelana smiled. “Bringing retribution to an entire Household is not something we need to do overnight nor is it something that needs any connection to the Gremory name.”
Grayfia frowned.
“You do not intend to tell him.”
“My son doesn’t need to be concerned with every gnat that tries to disturb him,” Venelana’s words were sharp. “Nor does he need to know of any unfortunate mishaps on your part whilst we were in the Agares Territory.”
The threat hung. Grayfia was not stupid enough to not sense it. Venelana was right. Grayfia had nothing to gain and everything to lose from telling Sirzechs that she’d been given the slip by three children and almost lost their son in the process.
It was entirely possible he would not mind. It was entirely possible he would laugh it off or be amused at the entire situation. It was also entirely possible he would see her in a different light. The odds were low, but they were never zero.
She could bare separation from Sirzechs, this was true. However, Millicas was a different story. Grayfia did not believe she could survive if she were separated from him. Yet, Sirzechs did have that power. With but a single word, he could instruct her not to see Millicas for a period of time as punishment, and such a thing would destroy her.
Of course, he would never do that. Sirzechs was not so cruel.
Grayfia, however, was.
She could only estimate the actions he would take were she in his shoes and were she in his position. In her mind, she would have deemed a mother incapable of protecting their child as a failed, laughable existence. Were she in his position, she would have herself punished.
“I understand.”
The fragment of the Staff of Moses had been taken by the Agares Family. No devil could use it, so it would most likely be sent up to the Agreas Research Facility and end up in the hands of Lord Ajuka. She did not need to worry about it.
Lady Venelana would handle the matter with the Naberius family, as she seemed to have her own plans. Nyxdolor was dead, and Grayfia had killed hundreds of those insane cultists with her own hands.
The Devil Underworld was large. Territories owned by devils were akin to countries and continents. Thus, the day’s events would not spread. Rather, it was more likely that the Agares Clan would suppress the information of a massacre occurring within their territory, as tourism was their major source of income. No one would wish to travel to a territory that was in the news for having a bloody massacre.
With the exceptions of the death of Lookas Agares, Nyxdolor, and Lord Naberius, it could be said that the entire day never happened.
“It pleases me to know we are on the same page, Grayfia.”
Venelana departed from the room and left Grayfia once more to her thoughts. Sirzechs would likely find out about the day’s events later on. Either Millicas would tell him of his friend’s death or he’d hear second-hand about the death of Lord Naberius, but Grayfia did not doubt he would find out.
Thus, she stood, patiently, and cherished every second in Millicas’ presence. The boy mumbled, and both his eyes slowly opened. Relief unlike anything she’d ever felt flooded through Grayfia.
“M-mother?”
Grayfia did not know when her own body moved. She did not know when, or how, she’d thrown her arms around her son and wrapped him in her warm embrace.
A small part of her, began to question, to ponder —
If this was what it meant to love.
Notes:
This concludes what is more or less the 'Introductory Arc' of this story.
Next chapter, we will have a time-skip which will bring us to the start of what is typically considered the beginning of DxD 'Canon.'Also, there will be some more porn to go with the plot... I feel there hasn't been enough of that lately.
Chapter 11: Honor Thy Mother
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"...leading to the total death toll of one hundred and twenty-four devils. Were it not for young Lookas Agares, heir-apparent to the Agares Clan, and Lady Seekvaira Agares, we fear the toxic gas would have spread into the heart of the City —"
Selena reached for the remote and flicked to a different channel.
"...heroically sacrificing his life in the course of duty, a week of mourning has been declared by Lord Huntjager Agares. The funeral ceremony for young Lord Lookas Agares is scheduled to commence on the eve of the seventh, and a statue commemorating his sacrifice is currently under construction —"
A loud groan escaped her lips. Once more, she changed the channel.
“...will be renamed to Lookas Agares Station, in his honor. In addition, a bounty of 5,000 shekels has been put out to combat individuals spreading disinformation as to the nature of the incident. Several alarmists and scaremongers have already been arrested for spreading misinformation claiming the incident was a result of a terrorist attack —”
“I just want to watch my telenovelas, damn it!”
She laid across the couch and stared vacantly into the air.
I thought I’d gotten used to this.
Selena was accustomed to loneliness.
She’d never had female friends, being what she was. When she was younger and so much dumber, she’d kept acquaintances with a group of gal pals. It didn’t take long for them to exclude her from outings. She was barred from any outing which would include men they were attracted to or interested in.
They saw her as some sort of man-grabbing whore who’d steal their objects of affection with but a single whisper. Of course, she could, but Selena never needed to. The men were beneath her standards. Laughable, arrogant, typical devil males she wouldn’t give the time to even if they were to crawl on their bellies and lick at her feet.
Keeping male acquaintances never worked either. Not for a Succubus. Either she fucked them or she didn’t. If she did, it was the end of the friendship. If she didn’t, they’d grow snappy and bitter about being ‘friend-zoned’ by a literal being of lust. They felt she owed her body to them. Selena grew disgusted with such men. She sought nothing to do with them.
Females were envious and wary of her and males wanted to rearrange her intestines. With such extremes, it was impossible for friendship to blossom. So she’d lived, as she had for the longest of times, alone.
Until, of course, Jamie was born.
Things were different now. She didn’t know how to be alone anymore. She didn’t believe it was possible. After two days passed and she’d heard not a single word from him she’d pondered momentarily if something had gone wrong. A creeping doubt settled into the deepest recesses of her mind.
What if he abandoned me?
The thought played endlessly, gnawing at the deepest recesses of her mind.
Of course he has. He’s perfect… and you’re… you.
Selena wasn’t obtuse to her flaws. She knew she was a poor mother. She was a shameless existence who wanted her biological son to fuck her senseless. She was lonely, pitiful, and desperate. She was clingy, foul-mouthed, and obscene. Besides her body, which she was proud of, there was really nothing special about her. There was no reason to want her.
There was no reason to love her.
She couldn’t count the number of days she’d created her little fantasies in her dream. Eight bouncing, bright-eyed little kids jumping around her as she fed them snacks. She imagined herself wiping off the cookie crumbs from the rounded cheeks of a little boy. She pictured herself sitting back and braiding the hair of a little girl. She dreamed of staying awake late into the night reading her lewd re-writes of Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood to lovable twins tucked in bed, only to be chastised by a stern-faced, but tender-hearted husband.
She’d envisioned carrying a little boy atop her shoulder as he eagerly pointed to toys in the supermarket. She pictured storming into a school to defend her daughter with pride, after telling her to kick the balls of any boy who tugged at her pigtails. She saw herself, sleeping in bed with a large, warm man, who’d hold her close and whisper earnestly: I love you.
Selena chuckled. She knew such a beautiful life was not meant for a creature like her. Happy endings were reserved for innocent princesses.
Where did a whorish succubus get off believing she deserved such a privilege?
Yet, Selena dreamed.
Even if it wasn’t perfect, even if it was the most dysfunctional and toxic version of such a life, even if she’d found herself underneath the thumb of a man who would never whisper sweet-nothings into her ears and even if she birthed children who hated and loathed her —
As long as she wasn’t alone —
Selena would be happy.
The third straight day passed with no word from Jamie. She wasn’t crazy enough to go out looking for him. What would she say if she did meet him outside? Haha, I got worried you abandoned me, so I came looking for you? How would he view her? Wouldn’t that just disgust him even further? Wouldn’t that just make him hate her even more?
The news continued to report a toxic gas incident, which Selena identified as a blatant cover-up. She wasn’t worried that he was dead. She wasn’t worried that he was injured. His mark remained on her womb, the brand proving she belonged to him burned hot. So she knew, she knew, he was not hurt, or dead, or injured.
And yet —
Three days, and not a word.
Do I… mean that little to him?
Had she pushed too much unto him, too quickly? She remembered seeing his conflicted expression once he found out about the tattoo. She hadn’t put much stock to it then. She hadn’t cared. She loved him too much to care. She convinced herself that even if he did not love her as much as she loved him, it wouldn’t matter.
And yet —
Yet —
A loud click interrupted her thoughts. Selena sat up, with bated breath. No one who knew her knew she was here. She’d escaped all of her debtors from the Sitri Territory and faked her death to her acquaintances in the Gamigin Territory. She couldn’t sense any demonic energy, nor could she feel any emotions.
The door swung open. Selena charged forward, summoning up her demonic power into a concealed weapon —
“What are you doing?”
A shudder ran through her. The voice was deep. It was thick and heavy, and those four words alone sent signals into her endocrine system to begin the production of estrogen.
The man in front of her dwarfed her by a good bit. She’d always been a bit on the short side, but the man in front of her was around seven-foot-tall, if not greater. Familiar red skin and curved horns made its way to her, but she almost didn’t believe it. It wasn’t until she examined his face and saw his deep, black, abyss-like eyes which absorbed all the light in the room.
“J-Jamie?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Again his voice emerged, and Selena’s heart skipped a beat. The next second, it began to race. Her gaze grew slightly clouded. Her breasts twitched. Warmth flooded to her cheeks.
Reason and desire fought within her brain. Reason told her this person could not be her son. She could not sense his presence. He had no presence at all. Her ears could detect no noise or sounds from his movements, and her senses as a succubus could feel no emotional fluctuations, as though she were a statue.
“Y-you —” she hesitated. “Why can’t I sense you?”
His eyes twinkled. “Give me a moment.”
More words escaped his lips, and before Selena could question it —
An explosion of information assaulted her. His scent, dense and concentrated, was a mucilaginous gas that wafted into her nostrils and began to suffocate her. Her eyes watered, her mind grew hazy, an irrepressible feeling of vertigo took hold of her.
A rough hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward before she could regain her bearings. A tongue slipped its way into her mouth, forcing her eyes to widen. Her body trembled. A pair of warm, heavy latched unto her with such ferocity that her entire body went limp instinctively.
He was ravenous. Like a starved beast, his kiss deepened, his tongue dominated her mouth, and his arms pulled her in close until her breasts pressed against his chest with so much force she whimpered in protest that they would burst. Even then, he didn’t let go. She moaned into his mouth, her eyes rolled into the back of her eyes, her toes curled inwards, and she trembled, mind adrift.
His lips departed from hers with a wet smack. Her breath came out in short, quick gasps, while a deep rumble emerged from his throat, as a playful smirk made its way to his lips.
“Did you miss me?”
“I —”
Selena’s mind spun, she wanted to speak, yet, her brain froze as she suddenly felt the presence of someone else in the room.
“Who… who the hell is she?”
XXXXX
Earlier…
To think she’d not been lying…
The painting on the wall was indeed that of the young deceased devil woman known as Rabia. The nude portraiture had her in a sensual pose, her nether regions carefully censored with a serpent. An apple lay in her right hand which she bit down upon sensually, and Jamie could not deny the entire painting was splendorous. His appreciation for the art grew, as did his curiosity for the nature of the artist.
Pushing aside the painting, he found the hidden safe, along with the treasures which lay within. Without hesitation, he scooped out the treasures and tossed them into a comically large sack that he now held, containing the valuable possessions of numerous deceased young women.
A Bag of Holding would certainly come in handy.
His haul was beyond his wildest expectations. Envy City possessed no shortage of Middle-Class Devils, and thus, the vast majority of Nyxdolor’s victims were individuals of the working class. Many had lacked children or loved ones they wished to leave inheritances to, and the few who did possess such, Jamie was able to convince them to bequeath to him their wealth and possessions regardless.
However, his real haul was not in monetary or physical gain, but in the wealth of information, he’d been able to obtain.
“Neither the Bael Clan nor the Agares Clan?”
“That is correct.”
“Surely it’s not the Sitri Clan or the Gremory Clan?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“The richest faction in the Underworld,” Jamie mused. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Who is it?”
Jamie recalled Maya, who’d provided him with details of the richest group in the Underworld, whom Jamie’d never heard of.
“He’s a sociopath, Malphas-sama! A complete sociopath! He can’t read social cues at all!”
“The Beelzebub? Truly?”
“I shudder just thinking about him. To Ajuka-sama, we aren’t alive. Everyone is just a collection of data, numbers, and figures. Do you know, before the whole Evil Piece thing, he'd hatched some crazy plan to ensure no Pillar Clan would ever go extinct again?”
“Oh? Did he now?”
There was Constance, who’d revealed to him the inner workings of the Agreas Facility, and the nature of the Beelzebub.
“And they just let it happen?”
“Oh, yes love. Every territory has its seedier parts. You think Lord Agares cares about the drugs, the sex, and the trafficking?”
“I’d heard assumed he didn’t have much interest in the territory.”
“Well, love, you heard right. Lord Agares’ Queen technically runs the show. She finds the prettiest girls from all across the Underworld and puts collars on our necks. We cater to a lot of weird tastes, but she’s rather mild and forgiving. At least, compared to that bitch over in the Phenix Territory…”
“Which bitch would that happen to be?”
He certainly could not forget Skylar, a woman who had been a mistress to a Devil Drug Lord — a thing Jamie had not even realized existed, the fact that devils did drugs — before being trafficked into the job of prostitution in Envy City.
He’d talked to about a total of thirty-four deceased women, and out of that thirty-four, twelve of them had provided him invaluable information, whereas the other twenty-two provided him aide in the form of material wealth or miscellaneous knowledge.
Women were ubiquitous and often in what Jamie felt were advantageous positions. As long as there existed a man in power, there would be a woman who knew either his secrets or his weaknesses.
…Perhaps it’s time I take a page out of Zakara’s playbook.
He exited the bedroom of the deceased woman and stepped into her rather elaborate living room. Rabia had worked for Serafall Leviathan as a Script Writer for her television program and had wealth that was fitting for her position. Now that she was dead and Jamie had inherited her belongings, her apartment complex in Envy City was his to do as he wished.
He had no plans of leaving the comfort of Selena’s home yet until he moved out of the Agares Territory entirely, but, this place couldn’t be put to waste. He’d been given a lot of leads recently, and he could not investigate them all one by one, which meant it was time to diversify.
amie reached into his pocket for two Polymorphed little rabbits and brought them forward. Undoing the effect of the spell, both collapsed immediately on their knees, with neither of them daring to look him in the eyes. After draining them for their demonic power and their lifespan, neither of them was appealing to the eyes. Their breasts were deflated and sagged, their skin was rubbery and faint, and there were wrinkles on their foreheads and aged, haggard expressions on their faces.
They were skinny and malnourished, lacking in healthy fats and muscles. Indeed, no one who looked at them would find them desirable. Yet, they were his to do as he so wished. Jamie walked over to the kitchen cabinet and found two equally sharp, and well-maintained knives. He took both into his hands and returned to the women, before tossing both blades to the ground before them.
“I have need of only one of you.”
Both women jerked their heads up, and then glanced at the knives.
He walked over to the kitchen once more and found himself a bottle of wine. He grabbed it, took a glass with him, and returned to the living room with both women.
He opened the wine wordlessly and poured himself a full glass. “The one who kills the other will be granted a new life,” Jamie said. “The one who doesn’t will have their tale end here.”
His words echoed throughout the room.
“Now,” Jamie sipped from his drink. “Entertain me.”
He swirled his wine casually to the backdrop of two women screaming, and the sight of blood flying into the air. He took a sip as he watched the carnage, one of his old melodies adrift on his lips. With their demonic power utterly drained, the scene before him was akin to watching two helpless girls escalate a cat fight to the point of murder. Jamie took another sip, casually ignoring the frantic screams and squelching sounds of a blade sinking into meaty flesh.
He’d never quite understood the so-called beauty of watching people fight to the death. His father had, however. He’d often feed unwitting adventurers, traitors or just common village folk who annoyed him to a Tarrasque locked at the very bottom of Castle Ever-Blight just for his sheer amusement. Jamie had watched one or two of such incidents and found it all terribly droll.
Even now, he couldn’t say their fight was all that entertaining. Carrin was the more vicious of the two, and she’d taken the knife immediately and began swinging with reckless abandon. Adelaide, the Bartender, was the more restrained of the two, yet, with her life in danger, seemed to have gained a spine and fought back, sacrificing her fingers and hands to block the accursed swings of her former friend.
Jamie sipped some more wine, ignoring the blood splattering across the room. A minor cantrip like Prestidigitation would eliminate it regardless, so he was not concerned. Of course, if one of them were to stain him with their blood, he would be rather displeased. He found both women to be lacking in redeemable features, and thus, really did not want to be stained with their blood.
Several years ago, such a situation had occurred in the earlier years of Jamie’s adventures. The members of Lightbringer had gotten lost in an ancient ruin and encountered a powerful Lich they could not defeat. The Lich took all but Jamie and Adriel captive. Then it gave the order for Jamie and Adriel to fight to the death, in exchange, it would let the rest of their comrades to live.
Jamie remembered taking his rapier to his throat and slitting it immediately. He would not betray the honor and trust of those he cherished. He remembered the young and naive Adriel back then, and he’d felt, truly if anyone deserved to die at that moment, it would be Jamie Darkblight, the unwanted scion. The fact that he would refuse to become a tool of amusement for a wretched being was only more incentive that spurned him to do so.
The Lich resurrected him, using the Raise Dead spell to return Jamie to life, and eventually booted them all out of his ruins. As it turned out, the Lich was never actually malevolent. It was merely starved for amusement, and choosing to die rather than kill his friend had been so ‘utterly revolting’ that the Lich cared naught for them any longer.
They’d survived because it found such acts of sacrifice to be disgusting.
Thinking of that event, Jamie pondered if Adriel had long forgotten it. It was very likely the man had. Human memories did not operate the same as those who lived far longer lives. If Adriel could forget the number of years he was married, and the anniversary of the woman he’d once been too shy to approach, then surely, he’d have forgotten that time as well.
A bittersweet sigh escaped Jamie’s lips. Time, is it? Time truly did destroy all. Time truly did rob one of everything. After that incident, Calista made it a priority to gain access to the Revivify spell available to Clerics of the Third Level, and Jamie likewise dabbled deeply into the school of Necromancy.
He was drawn from his wistful thoughts and took another sip of his drink, just in time to find Adelaide stabbing the chest of her friend over and over again. The outcome surprised Jamie. His expectations were low, to begin with, as despite being so-called ‘friends’ neither of them had thought to use the weapon to kill themselves, or even to attack him in a final gambit. If they’d actually done so, he’d have let them both live.
Yet, the meek bartender emerged victorious. Adelaide was on her knees, covered entirely in blood from head to toe, panting and breathing heavily. She looked like the tiniest of winds would knock her over, and was covered in so many cuts and stabs that it was hard to definitively call her the winner.
Her friend, lay on the ground, gurgling blood from her throat. Her body was faintly unresponsive. Her eyes were wide open. Jamie counted about eighteen, if not twenty stab wounds on her chest and upper breast area.
He swirled the glass of wine and finished his drink.
“Congratulations,” Jamie announced. “You’ve proven yourself worthy.”
“T-t-thank you, Lord Malphas—”
“Now,” Jamie gestured his wine glass to her. “Slit. Your. Throat.”
Her hand moved the moment the last syllable emerged. The blade passed through her neck, and she stared straight at him, confusion bubbling up in her gaze before blood began to pool from her mouth. She tried to speak, but whatever words she may have uttered were lost to indecipherable gurgling as her pharynx filled with thick liquid.
She dropped to the ground, bonelessly, and Jamie placed the wine glass on the ground beside him, before exhaling.
Command was a First-Level spell of the Enchantment School. It didn’t work on undead creatures, but it was such a low-level spell that most individuals could simply refuse the command. Even worse, the spell generally had no effect if your command uttered was directly harmful to the one who heard it.
Yet, here, it did. A lack of mental defenses, combined with the tattoo on her which forced her to obey his bidding made it so she’d never have been able to refuse the command.
Jamie walked over to the corpses of both women and recalled a very special spell. Lightbringer had, at one point, possessed a member of every available class. However, not all members stayed on from beginning to end. There was one such member named Acacia — the sole Druid of Lightbringer.
There was a spell exclusive to Druids she’d been capable of using. A spell that burned itself into Jamie’s eyes the very first time he’d seen her use it.
Being a Fifth-Level Spell, Jamie only possessed enough energy to cast it once. He was, however, a man of his word, and thus, as Adelaide had won the fight, he would indeed keep his word. He crouched down and touched her forehead.
He would grant her a new life — as promised.
“Reincarnate.”
The power surged from his body, and Jamie hissed. His demonic reserves were typically so bountiful that he could cast cantrips endlessly and fire off Fourth-Level Spells without rest drained. A strong feeling of suction emerged from his chest, and his eyes flashed numerous colors as he felt bits of his lifeforce being consumed to make up for the power requirement —
Before his eyes, Adelaide’s body disintegrated into molecules of light and stray bits of demonic power, and immediately, it began to reassemble itself, starting from feet upwards. Bit by bit, as though he were God crafting Adam from clay, the body formed.
A normal Druid would never be able to specify the exact race nor would they be capable of deciding the features of the form, but Jamie was no druid. He was a Devil.
Demonic Spellcasting made it so he could cast spells regardless of class requirement so long as he met the level requirement, and his finesse and control of magic made it so he chose what race and he chose the aspects of the body would be reformed.
The molecules of light concluded every aspect of her lower body and upper body, and Jamie drew references from the women he knew to complete the rest. Sweat formed at the tip of his brow as the task took more out of him than he’d realized, and he felt his reserves of demonic power run frighteningly low just as the head and hair were complete.
The spell ended, just as Jamie stumbled back, his feet almost slipping on the blood-stained floors. He quickly cast Prestidigitation to get rid of the blood on the ground and the sweat on his body and stared at his work.
Reincarnate was a Fifth-Level Druid Spell, usually exclusive to Druids and only Druids. Provided a creature had been dead for no longer than ten days, one would touch a deceased body would bring them back to life, as an utterly different person. Usually, the gender was the same, but the race was often random. A human could be reincarnated as a dwarf, an elf could become a Tiefling, or a Tiefling could become an Orc.
There was, however, one caveat with the spell:
If the soul of the deceased person was neither willing nor able to return to the body, it would not work.
You could not bring back a person who did not wish to return to life.
Two bright blue eyes popped open, confirming, that yes, Adelaide had wished, more than anything, to be brought back to life. The woman before him sat up, allowing long locks of silver hair to fall down the sides of her face like waterfalls.
Jamie was a lover of beauty, as such, he would never allow himself the creation of that which was not beautiful. He’d chosen to make her race that of a Devil, as it was necessary to survive in the Underworld, but at the same time, he’d let her inherit Elvish features of slightly sharpened ears, unearthly elegance, and beautiful eyes.
He’d desired her to be agile and lithe, and thus, Tabaxi and Harengon traits were thrown into the mix, which manifested in the form of two dark feline-like ears atop her head, and, contrastingly, a short fluffy bunny-tail. Her eyes held the deepness of the blue ocean but reminded him of the skin of Air Genasi, and her pale, flawless skin could only be reminiscent of that of a High-Elf.
She was a creature that inherited only the best of traits from others — a chimera born of aesthetics and functions. Jamie believed he’d created something truly impossible — something that would never have occurred in the Forgotten Realms. Druids were often too in tune with nature to try to deviate from it, so no Druid would ever have created such a beautiful specimen —
Nature would never allow it.
The woman turned to him immediately and prostrated in a straight bow. Her breasts jiggled in front of Jamie’s eyes, and he momentarily pondered if using Selena as a basis for chest-size had been a mistake. He’d made them the exact same shape and size as hers, and when added with her already unearthly appearance, it sent blood pumping down his cock so swiftly it startled him.
He’d created an irresistible woman.
He’d created his own personal Eve.
Truly, the line between being a devil and being a god was remarkably thin.
“What is your command, my lord?”
“Do you remember who you are?”
“I have memories of a past life,” she admitted. “Of a pitiful and worthless existence. I am no longer that pathetic being, and I would hope my Master treats me as my own person.”
“Very well,” Jamie acquiesced. “What shall I call you?”
“I am to be called whatever Master deems fit.”
“Raise your head a moment.”
She did so, and Jamie sucked in a deep breath.
“Is something wrong, Master?”
“No… I was… momentarily… taken aback.”
The hair was silver instead of golden, but there was no mistaking it. He’d instinctively used the face of the most beautiful woman he knew, and of course, the face which stared straight at him was unmistakably that of one person.
El Via Aurora III.
His birth mother.
Something bubbled in his throat. Inexplicably, disgustingly, his arousal grew until it was impossible to notice the massive bulge. Her eyes caught it immediately, and she looked up at him with a gaze that nearly shattered the last bit of reason in Jamie’s mind.
“May I aid you in relief, Master?”
The word ‘yes’ burned at the back of his throat, but uttering it would be accepting a fact he’d never wanted to confront. His obsession with beauty started because of a single woman, and now, he’d subconsciously made a perfect likeness of that woman, who was naked before him on her knees —
“Aurora.”
“Master?”
“Your name,” Jamie rasped. “From today henceforth, your name… is Aurora.”
XXXXX
Selena could not recall the last time she felt insecure about her looks.
She knew there were individuals more beautiful than she was, but she rarely ever encountered them. Better still, most of them, regardless of how stunning they looked, were often flat as a board and lacking in the sort of feminine allure and charm she possessed.
The woman in front of her was not lacking in any way.
Not only did she have a face that was objectively stunning, with high-cheek bones, sharp blue eyes, a soft, button-like nose, and an aura of dignity and power, she was also not lacking in any physical way. Her breasts were just as big, if not bigger, her stomach was just as slender, her thighs just as thick and succulent, and to top it all off, she had cat-ears and a bunny-tail.
How did one even begin to compete?
“Secretary?”
“Aurora will be aiding me in an official capacity. She’ll be handling letters, acting as my envoy and emissary, and performing other miscellaneous details.”
Selena didn’t know how to say it, but she felt a woman that beautiful was too beautiful to be a secretary. She glanced over to Jamie again, and her opinion on the matter changed. They made an ungodly match. Jamie’s natural allure and attractiveness were enhanced tenfold simply by having Aurora stand next to him. She was garbed in a plain black knee-length skirt and a simple white blouse, and yet, she had more elegance in a single fingertip than Selena believed she would ever have in her entire lifetime.
I’ve heard of the Cheerleader Effect, but this is ridiculous…
If there was a woman who saw both of them as they were right now and didn’t require a change of underwear, then Selena believed they were 100% incapable of sexual attraction.
Women like men who are liked by other women. Social proof was a strong and damning thing, and there was really no greater social proof than having an attractive woman on one’s arm. Most women, upon seeing Aurora would think: if he was able to win someone that beautiful, he must be a catch!
The more she thought of it, the more she pondered if Jamie was aware of it. Having Aurora around him would be seen as a challenge. He would be stoking the deepest insecurities of any woman who gazed upon her and sparked their competitive instincts, which, in turn, would make it far easier for him to get the women he wanted.
If someone driving an expensive sports car suddenly took interest in an unremarkable and dingy Volkswagen Golf MK1, that little Volkswagen would feel a thousand times more special for it. It’d feel ‘chosen.’
Selena was aware of this, and she hated how she was aware of it. She could see herself falling into the same pitfalls and yet, there wasn’t much she could do to stop it, except outright tell Jamie she didn’t like seeing Aurora, which would just be her admitting she felt insecure.
Except she did feel insecure.
If he could get women this beautiful to follow him around without effort, it made her question her own value. She was vividly aware she’d never be able to live without him, but Jamie would be able to live without her, and that brought her no small amount of unease.
“Is something wrong, Selena?”
Selena swallowed a deep lump in her throat. “Nothing! Nothing at all!”
“If you insist.”
She returned upstairs, her heart pounding deep in her chest. She rolled around in her bedroom, biting down hard on her lower lip and doing her best to collect herself. By the time she returned downstairs, it was to the tail end of a vaguely business=sounding discussion.
“The letter to Lady Agares should include a mention of fate’s willingness to reconsider. At the same time, I’ll be occupied with the handling of the creation of an official account, whereas you handle the red tape involved in the inheritance transfer —”
Selena returned upstairs, feeling a deep tightness in her chest. He’d been gone three days. How had he changed so much? Inheritance? What inheritance? Lady Agares? How in the world did he meet the wife of the Lord of the Agares Territory? What didn’t she know? What wasn’t he telling her? Didn’t he trust her?
Selena knew she didn’t have any advanced financial knowledge. She knew she didn’t have social grace. She wasn’t quick-witted or all that sophisticated. Dressed in an oversized black Superman T-shirt and a pair of frilly underwear, she believed she still had her good points, her good points —
Her sex appeal and her body were her good points —-
That woman, Aurora, matched her without effort.
Am I… useless?
Worry seeped into her heart. She couldn’t think of a single way she could be of any aid to Jamie, not that she knew what his plans were to begin with, but even if she did, she couldn’t aid him.
Am I… am I going to be replaced?
Selena shrunk into the corner of her bedroom into a ball, and her emotions fluctuated wildly.
He… he wouldn’t replace me… right?
The door to her bedroom swung open, and Selena flinched as she saw Jamie standing there.
“J-Jamie?”
“You realize I can sense all of your emotions, correct?”
Selena felt as though a cold bucket of water splashed over her body. Of course he could. She could sense negative emotions as well. It was a default ability of Incubi and Succubi. Even worse, she had a tattoo engraved upon her that linked them. Her entire face heated up.
Her insecurity. Her jealousy. Her doubts. He must have sensed it all.
“Foolish Selena.”
Faster than she could react, he stormed into the room without a word and latched unto her hands. He held her wrists together with a single hand and lifted her up into the air, with eyes wafting with power.
A spectral hand appeared out of thin air and held both her wrists in place. Jamie’s right hands struck out, slapping her breasts before latching on to them. She let out a wild gasp, and her eyes went wide.
“J-Jamie?!”
“Do you think your life is yours?”
“W-what?”
He turned her around and slammed her breasts up against the wall. She felt as though she were being roughly accosted by guards, as numerous hands began roaming her body, squeezing, touching, groping, and mercilessly harassing everything.
“Who do you belong to, Selena?”
A deep voice rumbled in her ears.
Selena’s heart raced. A pair of hands slapped her buttocks hard and she let out a yelp. Her legs vibrated. She bit down on her lower lip, and exhaled, yet, another slap came, harder than the first. The vibrations traveled throughout her entire body and her mind went blank.
“Answer me.”
SMACK!
Selena’s legs convulsed. Oh~ God!
“Answer me!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“Y-you!” she rasped. “I belong to you!”
SMACK!
The final hit came, and Selena came along with it. Her underwear clung to her skin and she no longer had any strength in her legs. Yet, the phantom hand locked her wrists in place and left her without a say in the matter.
He grabbed her by her hair and threw her to the ground. Selena couldn’t protest. She didn’t dare speak. She could only breathe roughly, watching her chest rise and fall in rough, short breaths.
She had never seen this side of him. She didn’t know he had this side of him. Her tattoo began to glow on her stomach and illuminated the entire room. She was aroused enough for it to visibly trail down her legs. She’d never orgasmed from being spanked before, never orgasmed from pure pain before, and now that she’d tasted it for the first time, she found herself desiring more —
A cock slapped her across the face before she could think. His cock. Bigger than she remembered, pulsating with veins, the object was akin to a divine rod of punishment. He buried it across her face and she took a deep whiff. The intoxicating smell triggered instincts in her like a Pavlovian dog. Her mouth watered. Her nipples protruded through her shirt, and her underwear was irredeemably soaked.
“The only person who gets to decide if you are of value to me…”
Jamie grabbed her by her hair again.
“Is me.”
His cock slammed mercilessly down her throat, her nostrils buried deep into his crotch as he mercilessly fucked her face like that of a common whore —
And Selena shed tears of joy.
XXXXX
For most people, a pep-talk would aid in alleviating their worries and insecurities, as many were ill-founded and illogical. Jamie did not believe such a method would work for Selena. From the moment she’d seen Aurora, her doubts and fears had been endless. A talk would not solve it.
Thus, he decided a pep-fuck to be the right course of action.
They both lay on the ground, with her, panting more than he, an expression of bliss etched unto her face, as cum dripped down the corner of her lips and spread down to her breasts.
For a moment, glancing at how teary-eyed she was, Jamie was concerned, but he immediately abated those concerns once he sensed her emotions.
“...Thank you, Jamie.”
He snorted.
“Your throat is simply too good to let go to waste.”
Selena laughed. She sat up a bit, and stared at him, a smile on her face.
“Now you’re just flattering me.”
He snorted again. It sounded like a compliment, but he wasn’t being disingenuous. He’d barely lasted five minutes face-fucking Selena. It was too good. Not a single succubus in the entire Forgotten Realms could compare to Selena. In terms of sheer body sensuality, there was no woman Jamie had enjoyed that could compare. Her throat would put the combined pleasure of all the orifices of most women to shame. She was so ineffably tight yet so gloriously wet that Jamie believed her body was worthy of countless legends. Loathe as he was to admit it, against Selena, five minutes was already an impressive feat.
Fortunately, the more sex he had with her, the more accustomed he grew to her supernatural pleasure, and the longer he’d last.
“I’m sorry.”
Selena said at last.
“Stop it,” Jamie chastised. “I’m the one who just used your throat as my toy. Why are you apologizing?”
“...For being insecure,” she said, in a small voice.
“We all have our insecurities, Selena.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.”
She huffed.
“I can’t think of a single thing you’d possibly be insecure about.”
…I can never last long with you, Jamie wanted to say. And it irks me.
He knew better than to admit it. He wanted to help her feel better, not inflate her ego to the moon. If she knew how much it hurt his pride that he could never fuck her to his heart’s content because every part of her just felt that good, she’d never let him hear the end of it.
“I’d never replace you, Selena,” Jamie said. “And it enrages me that you think so little of yourself. You’re not replaceable. Not to me.”
Selena rolled to the side and covered her face from his view. She made an ‘eep’ sound that made Jamie chuckle.
“Stop saying things like that.”
“I’m being honest.”
“But — b-but… when you say things like that… it makes it hard not to…”
Her voice trailed off, but Jamie could guess what it was she wanted to say.
“Selena,” Jamie said. “There’ll be a lot of women entering into our lives in the future. I want you to welcome them. Teach them. Train them. If need be… break them.”
Jamie looked into her eyes with all seriousness.
“It’s a job I trust no one else to do, but you.”
“Leave it to me! I’ll make those girls get addicted to the taste of your cum if it’s the last thing I do!”
“Not what I intended but…” Jamie smiled, shaking his head. “It’s a start.”
“So, are you ever going to tell me what happened to make you change so much these past three days?”
Jamie chuckled.
“It all started with getting drunk at the bar you recommended, and encountering a barmaid called Adelaide…”
Notes:
Shifted the time-skip to the next chapter, because I didn't want it to detract from this chapter's focus of 'honoring' thy mother, which, coming after seeking 'forgiveness' from the father, felt thematically fitting.
By the way, if you like Cultivation/Murim stories, I have a new fic called "Desolation of the Caged Bird" which should immediately tell you what fandom it's based in.
Chapter 12: Thy Will Be Done
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Ahn~ Ahn~ Ahn~! Ya-yamete! Yamete kudasai!”
The bottle of lotion slipped between his fingers as he grabbed it, forcing him to curse. The object crashed unto the ground, but his eyes remained glued to the screen. His right hand moved up and down in a repeated, subconscious motion, slowing down as the lubricant wore deep into his skin and friction limited the speed of his movements.
“Where is it…”
His eyes were latched onto a computer screen, lingering on the young Japanese woman being held by her wrists, whilst a man thrust his hips forward and backward. Each motion made the woman’s breasts bounce into the air, and her voice come out harsher and harsher. His left hand searched around the floor for the fallen object, whilst his hand continued to stroke up and down. The louder the woman’s moans, the swifter his hand moved, but friction made the process less effective than it should have been.
Momentarily, he glanced away from the screen to find the bottle, cursing as he noticed it had slipped underneath his desk. He smacked the spacebar button on his keyboard, and the woman froze in place, as did the sounds of her moans and the man thrusting behind her. Bending underneath his table to reach for the bottle, a sudden buzz startled him, and his head smacked into the underside of the object.
“Itai!”
A loud curse escaped his lips. He emerged with his bottle and moved his hand to the back of his head to rub the point of impact. Another buzz emerged, forcing his attention towards the rectangular object on the table. He cursed underneath his breath as his fingers slid across the device, unlocking it.
The sender was anonymous, but the message was always the same.
I hope you’ve killed yourself, loser.
Putting the device on mute, he returned to the screen, the woman, with her breasts frozen mid-jiggle, and the man whose face was off camera. He glanced down to his erect cock, his hand, covered with lotion, the box of tissues placed beside the computer, and a burning feeling centered from the middle of his throat.
He hit the spacebar once more, and the woman’s cries continued, as his hand began to stroke up and down again.
Three loud knocks emerged at the door. He quickly hit the spacebar again.
“Ise-kun?”
He didn’t answer. A bubbling sensation burned in his throat. An itch he could not scratch. A thousand ants fire ants were crawling down his skin.
“Ise-kun, I… I’ve left your dinner outside your door.”
He glanced at the screen, his hand motionless.
“Ise-kun…” the voice on the other end was muffled. “I’m worried about you. Talk to us. Please. We’re your parents. No matter what it was, no matter what happened, we’ll still love you and protect you.”
Liar, the thought came.
“Ise-kun…”
His hands were shaking. His body shook. Unsteadily, uneasily, as though he’d been submerged in ice cold water.
“Whenever you’re ready to talk to us, Ise-kun… we’ll be here to listen.”
The voice vanished. His cock had lost its hardness. Shakily, he reached past a series of empty pizza cartons and used tissues, and found something buried at the back of his desk. The small box had numerous warning signs on it, all of which he ignored in favor of opening it. Only three sticks remained.
He rifled through his desk, pushing past magical girl collectibles and numerous broken busts and action figures of popular anime characters. He searched further still, past the ripped pages of several doujinshi until he found what it was he was looking for.
The lighter ignited on the third try, and his shaky fingers moved the little white stick of death closer to the flame. The smell of burning nicotine wafted into the air, and the warmth of an object resting on his lips traversed throughout his body. His shaky hands steadied themselves as he exhaled smoke into the ceiling. He kept the cigarette between his lips, and rubbed his lotioned hands together before swiftly pulling the chair deeper into the desk until his eyes were mere inches away from the monitor.
They weren’t as effective as they used to be to calm his nerves. Hanako was right. The first hit was the best, and everything else would be spent chasing that one high.
It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know better. The problem began on the first day of Junior High School when the teacher requested everyone to come up and tell the class about themselves, their hobbies, and their dreams for the future.
Four doctors, two dentists, a lawyer, an astronaut, one particular girl who wanted to be a zookeeper, and then him, with his striped socks and wide-eyed zeal, exuberantly bouncing as he walked to the front of the class and announced:
“I wanna become a Harem King!”
Taking in a deep drag of smoke, he flicked his gaze to the computer and began to browse a different site. Japanese honor student gets gangbanged by black cock. Sexy asian school slut rides white dick in uniform. He muttered numerous curse words under his breath.
“Fucking gaijin…”
He craned his neck left and right, and exhaled, once more, upwards.
“I wanna become a Harem King!”
If they’d laughed, the memory wouldn’t be so painful. The silence was what did him in. The lack of reaction. The murmuring and muttering. The teacher dragged his ear and rebuked him. One boy loudly asked what a ‘harem’ was. The answer shot out of his lips before the teacher could stop him.
Explaining it made the silence stretch further still. In the back, a girl with pigtails uttered a word that everyone heard.
“Ew.”
Thinking back, an answer like ‘I want to become a salaryman like my father’ would have saved him much misery. His father never mocked him for declaring his dream. His mother never reprimanded him for making it his goal. Harmless chuckles were the reactions he got from their friends.
They’d set him up for failure.
His father. His mother. Their friends.
None of them ever told him that there were many who found the statement ‘I want to be a Harem King’ to be deplorable. They never looked him in his face and warned him, “Ise-kun, even if you have that dream, don’t announce it in public. People will mock you for it.”
They’d let him continue, as though enjoying an inside joke, as though his dream were amusing to them. Whispering silently and thinking, ‘He’ll grow out of it’ rather than trying to warn him of the dangers that lay ahead.
On the second day, during roll call, as soon as the teacher said “Hyōdō Issei” a mocking “Harem King-Sama!” followed. Snickers surrounded him. The day after that, the words came again, louder and more audible. The teacher acted as though she did not hear it. The following day, his desk was littered with crude words. A week later, a foot swung out in his path, and the classroom filled with stifled laughter when he fell to the floor.
Then, It continued.
“Ew… no way I’m doing this project with him!”
“I don’t want to be paired up with that pervert.”
“Ugh… do we have to pick him to join our team?”
“Huh? Your homework? I dunno. Maybe it got lost in the same trash bin you wake up from every morning.”
Every morning he woke dreading and despising having to go to school, and at the end of every day, he dreaded the next. For two full years, he experienced hell. For two years, he faked smiles as he got home and acted as though nothing was wrong before he could act no longer.
Report anyone who’s giving you a hard time to your teachers, was the advice his mother provided. Your teachers will help you take care of it.
She’d set him up for failure.
“They’re picking on you? Then stop doing things to make them pick on you! It’s that simple!”
“Isn’t it your fault for acting in a shameful manner?”
“Just bear with it and focus on your studies.”
“Huh? What do you expect me to do about it?”
They’d probably have left him alone if he hadn’t tried to tattle on them. He didn’t know why he bothered. He only had a few weeks left before he’d move on to High School and likely never see any of them again. They would have been content just leaving him be if he hadn’t taken the matter to the teachers. It was their word against his, and they outnumbered him. No one would take his side. No one had any reason to.
That was why he’d fallen for Hanako. She was an outcast, like him. A ‘hafu’ — half-Japanese and half-Korean. If that wasn’t enough reason to be bullied, it got out that her sister was an AV Actress. He’d thought they’d been kindred spirits. She laughed at his jokes, teased him, took with him to the roof of the school, and taught him to smoke cigarettes. He didn’t want to smoke. He’d done it because Hanako said guys who smoked were cool. He’d done it because she said she’d kiss him if he did.
He’d hung on to her every word. He’d thought himself the luckiest man in the world when she snuck him into the girls’ bathroom and blindfolded him with her panties. He’d felt that all the suffering he’d endured would finally be worth it, once she stripped his pants and he felt a cool breeze around his aroused nether regions.
Then the camera flashes went off and he heard the collective laughter of an entire classroom.
Issei clicked the ‘x’ on his browser. He was no longer in the mood. He moused over to an icon on his computer and clicked twice. He closed his eyes as soon as he heard the upbeat, soothing theme song of Magical Girl Heart Capture XXX Pure!
On the screen, a petite girl with brilliant blue eyes and blonde pigtails, twirling a heart-tipped wand. His heartbeat quickened. Without delay, he clicked on the Continue option and relaxed once the familiar voice echoed from the screen.
“Welcome back, Master~!”
“Falia-tan… you won’t betray me, at least.”
He used to believe 2D women were inferior to their three-dimensional counterparts, but since encountering Hanako, he knew better. A 2D waifu would never be so malicious. They would never hurt him. They would never age or get sick, never die, and he only had to be himself for them to give him their unconditional love. No matter what he did, they’d accept him.
They were perfect.
And 3D women weren’t.
“I wanna be a Harem King!”
The image of that boy, that version of himself, was too naive. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that the only reason he’d wanted a harem was to bury himself in a sea of breasts and thighs. He never wanted girls, really. He just wanted their bodies. Their breasts, their thighs, their butts, their toned stomachs —
The physical parts of a girl were the best parts of a girl.
“Master~! There’s a special bonus on new Magical Girls available at the game store! Just for you master!”
He exhaled another puff of his cigarette and dragged his chair forward. There was no use thinking unnecessary things. He needed to focus. He crossed his fingers and enabled his game face.
With any luck, today, he’d finally pull the special Six Star version of Magical Girl Falia which came with unique battle animations, a special stat bonus, and two unique missions that ended in H-Scenes. He moused over to the purchase screen. The cost was fifteen-percent off, but it was still a lot more than he expected. He didn’t really have any money since he stopped attending school, almost two years ago now.
Fortunately, he’d memorized his mother’s credit card numbers. She’d left her bag out on the dining table numerous times. If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t have a single yen to his name.
Two minutes and a ‘confirm purchase’ screen later, Talia-tan swirled and made a ‘V’ for victory pose.
“You’re the best, master!”
“I know, Falia-tan,” Issei chuckled. “I’m the best.”
XXXXX
Elsewhere
Astaroth Territory
He adjusted his tie for the third time in front of the mirror. His outfit was one of the top trending looks for young devils in the Underworld, but he’d not chosen it himself. The style felt out of place in an era of smart devices and high-speed telecommunication, and he looked, entirely, as though he were a European Nobleman of the Early 19th Century.
He jelled his hair backward with an expensive lotion made from dryad blood, sprayed two puffs of scented perfume that was a mix of blood roses and, Baihu testosterone, and powdered his face with finely manufactured fairy dust.
Exiting the comfort of his room, he ignored the maids standing at his door, and made for the private train express of the Astaroth Family. Watching the women around him keep their gazes down, he thought, once more, of a discussion he’d had with his second cousin when he was younger and still idolized the man.
“Fate?”
“Is it real?”
“If such is what one wishes to name the complex multiplicity of the universe… then yes.”
Thinking over the event nearly soured his mood. Of course, fate exists, he wanted to mutter. You’re living proof of it.
When he’d been younger, he’d spent hours in the library, reading up on the concept, the myths, and the legends. He would hold a book in his hand, his legs swinging over an oversized chair, as he envisioned himself becoming akin to the heroes of those legends and fables. With shining armor, a sword, a beast to slay, a woman to cherish, a destiny to fulfill, and a reason to prove why he was chosen.
His mother would stumble upon him, and drag him by the ear out into the courtyard. She would remove the book from his hand and put a sword or a stave, and point out to a wooden practice dummy, reinforced by magic, barking instructions.
“Worthless child! At your age, Ajuka could destroy thousands of these —”
“Why are you wasting your time with books? Do you plan to shame our family name? Compared to Ajuka you’re nothing— ”
“Again! Again! Again! You must be better, you hear me? You must be better, Diodora!”
As the calluses piled up on his hands, and the berating he received from his mother when he failed time and again intensified, questions burned deep into his mind. As failure piled up and expectations grew, he asked, himself:
Am I not chosen?
The older he got, the more he read, until, he came across conflicting concepts of fate and free will. Fate existed. Similarly, free will existed. Yet, how could one’s actions be free, if they were always fated to follow them?
He’d obsessed over this question. He’d dove into theological books and research, spending every and any moment of free time he possessed in search of answers. His mother’s fury grew. Her training increased. There were more important things for the Heir of a Pillar Clan to do than being obsessed with the concepts of fate and free will, she’d argue.
Yet, they had set up on such a path.
At six years old, his demonic power was tested. The Siruka Rating showed he had above-average demonic power for his age, vastly superior to many of his peers. He’d smiled and beamed brilliantly, turning towards his father, expecting words of praise and encouragement.
A slap had been his reward.
In between his ears ringing, and his face turning to the side, he’d heard his father’s words.
“Why are you so happy to be just above average?”
Drakon Astaroth wanted a child that was legendary. Drakon wanted this because the main Astaroth family, the genealogy which followed the line of trueborn heirs had been overshadowed by one devil. It had been overshadowed by a subsidiary family — the family which had created the freak of nature known as Ajuka Beelzebub.
If a lowly subsidiary line can create one Super-Devil, his father would rant. We, the main line, should be able to create ten!
When he turned six, his father took another four concubines, and his mother’s harsh training intensified. At seven, the man took three more concubines, and one would never pass the man’s room without hearing grunting and moaning. At eight, six more concubines joined the fray. When he was ten, he’d been berated after asking one of the maids to make him a meal, not realizing that she was not a maid, but yet another concubine.
At eleven, his mother stopped training him.
“No amount of training will ever make you special.”
He was free to do as he wished. Free to peruse libraries across the world, eat what he wanted, go where he wanted, and do what he wanted. Out of his father’s sixty-three concubines, four of them, on different occasions, snuck into his room in the middle of the night to cover his face with a pillow. Five of them had put poison in his meals. Two had cornered him, stripped him, and forced themselves on him in hopes that the seed of the son would be stronger than that of the father.
They were devils. Their birth rate was low. No matter how many women his father fucked, no matter how many concubines he collected, he’d only birthed three more children, and none of them were special.
Special.
Diodora made his way into the train car and gazed out into the Astaroth Territory, a snort on his lips. Special was what he’d been searching for. His queries on the nature of fate and free will were to answer that one question.
Why am I not special?
Sirzechs Lucifer was born special. Ajuka Beelzebub was born special. Neither worked for the power they possessed. Greatness was in their genes the moment they came into existence.
If he, too, were born with such absurd fortune, would he not be their rival? Would he not be their equal?
Fate could not be overturned. Free will existed only within the confines imposed by inevitable destiny. If one was destined to be great, they were ‘free’ to do as they wished and they would still arrive at greatness. If one was not destined for greatness, then no matter what actions one took, one would never arrive at it.
Diodora Astaroth came to loathe destiny.
Yet, destiny had strange plans.
By sheer happenstance, he’d sat at a bench in the human world one day after visiting a human library. A nun came up and sat beside him. He’d found it all absurd. What, truly, were the odds that a nun would just so happen to sit on the same bench as a devil?
She’d spoken softly, warmly, and sparked up a conversation. Along the way, they’d discussed the concept of fate and destiny. She had assured him, with glib and naive confidence, that the almighty Biblical God had predetermined the fate of everyone, and he did so with loving care.
“Do you know your fate?”
“I do not. But, I don’t need to worry. Everything is according to the loving Will of God.”
Never in his life had Diodora laughed so much.
He’d dragged her by the hair to an alleyway and punched her. He didn’t aim for her face, but her stomach. The first two punches made her vomit her breakfast. At the third, she was weeping, shaking, and praying. At the fifth, she was no longer praying but begging him. At the seventh and eighth, she had no breath in her to beg.
“I thought everything is according to the Will of God?”
He’d ignored the headache that came from God’s system, ripped off her clothes, and pinned her to the filthy street.
“Is this not also his will?”
She’d been a virgin, as expected of a nun. She’d wept and begged and pleaded, and somewhere along the way, she’d accepted the situation. She could not go against her own warped logic. She’d made herself a martyr in her own mind, persecuted unfairly, and thus, no matter how hard he thrust, her faith only solidified. It only consolidated.
She’d believed, entirely, that him thrusting his cock into her was part of God’s Plan.
Diodora grew enthralled. He’d wondered what it would take to remove that unflinching belief. He questioned how much she could endure, before that logic no longer held up.
Dragging her, quite literally, to hell had not done so. Whipping her viciously day after day had failed to convince her otherwise.
In the end, she was still made of flesh. A single injection of a common human drug had done the trick. No amount of faith could combat physiological withdrawal. No amount of belief in a ‘higher plan’ could win against biology. Within two weeks, she began to desperately suck his cock in exchange for another dose. Within a month, she willingly rode him to climax. Within two months, she shuddered in bliss as he urinated across her face, and within six, she started calling him ‘God.’
In a way, her faith never wavered. The goalpost had merely moved so as not to face the painful cognitive dissonance.
By making him her ‘God’ she could still justify that her suffering was ‘God’s Plan.’
The ordeal awoke something deep in Diodora. Those innocent women of the cloth, so assured in the predetermined goodness of God’s Will, so confident in their belief that they would be delivered from evil —
Diodora found it amusing to break them.
He imposed several restrictions on himself and made a hobby of it. He researched heavily on the customs and traditions of churches and the different denominations and dioceses, all so he could accurately plot the best ways to plunder their faith. He refined his acting skills and learned the scripture by heart, just so he could play the part of the ‘repentant devil’ and earn their sympathies.
His cunning grew with each setback and challenge he encountered, and now, Diodora was more knowledgeable about the internal structure, rules, and regulations of churches than many preachers, Reverends, Priests, and church-goers.
For one nun, he’d played the role of a Reverend Father ‘battling’ with impure thoughts of sexual attraction towards young men. The girl had believed him and let him discharge the ‘evil essence’ from his body into her mouth.
Another took him at face value when he said that a man’s testicles would explode from not having a constant release. He’d held in his laughter, as the foolish nun began to amateurishly suck on his cock to ‘save’ his life.
One by one, nun after nun, Diodora hunted, and Diodora conquered.
In the end, he could not hide his newfound hobby from others. No one in his family cared enough to disapprove. Tempting and defiling young women of the cloth was as textbook to a devil as hoarding gold was to a dragon. Who would look at him, a devil, and cry ‘raping nuns is bad!’ without becoming a laughingstock?
His latest target was a young, blonde-haired, green-eyed nun named Asia Argento. Unlike the others, however, this nun possessed a potent Sacred Gear. He’d encountered several nuns who were skilled in numerous ways and added them into his peerage, and he’d planned the same for her.
He’d already set down the groundwork. He gave himself a vicious injury, and, as expected, the kind nun approached him and healed him. Then, he spread the word of her deed of kindness.
Diodora calculated it would not take long before she was excommunicated. The hypocrites at the church spoke often of kindness and understanding, but in the end, it was merely lip service. In his experience, there was no form of hatred purer than Christian love.
“How much longer to the Malphas Territory?”
“About two hours, Lord Diodora.”
Diodora leaned into his chair and exhaled. The methods he used to enjoy his spoils were questionable, some were no longer practical and others were becoming stale. For this new nun, Asia, he wanted to reinvent his methods. Fortunately, a new opportunity had arrived. The entire Underworld was hit by storm after the arrival of a certain recreational substance.
Colza.
The miracle-drug. The aphrodisiac of aphrodisiacs. The greatest tool in the defiler’s arsenal.
Diodora had sat in the audience room of an exclusive black-market auction five months ago when it showed up. The effects were demonstrated live, with a captured girl. The girl in question was a human, supposedly, one of the Hunters of Artemis, sworn to a life wherein her chastity would be kept forever. The girl was also part of the items on auction, so it was no harm done.
The drug was introduced. Tasteless, colorless, and odorless, a single drop was placed on the girl’s skin, and another was placed on the hand of her male handler. Within minutes, her obstinate and defiant veneer crumbled. She’d collapsed to the floor squirming and begging to be touched. The man, however, was completely and utterly unaffected.
He’d announced, loudly, that the drug was only effective on women. Then, he made another demonstration, putting a single drop into a bottle of wine and pouring it out for a group of male and female products, and only the women who drank it showed effects, all of them aflame with sexual desire. Their inhibitions were lowered to the point that they blindly began to search for any male in the vicinity to please them, and the more they resisted, the stronger the effect grew.
The auctioneer then brought out another product on sale, a woman who’d been given a dose a day earlier. The woman’s entire body was red, and she kept screaming that she was on fire. She rubbed herself against the floor like a dog in heat, and visibly pleasured herself in front of the entire auction house, screaming and begging for someone to fuck her.
Eventually, she collapsed, silent, and unmoving. The cause of death was confirmed to be cardiac arrest. If a female creature went twenty-four hours without having penetrative sex after ingesting a single drop of colza, it would die. Regardless of their demonic power or identity, they would die.
The auctioneer then boldly proclaimed that not even goddesses were immune to the miracle drug.
Diodora had waited with bated breath, along with the entire auction house, as the auctioneer paused for dramatic effect, then declared the starting bid of a small vial to be ten million shekels.
The bids came firing like rounds from an automatic firearm.
By the end of the auction, that little vial of colza sold for one-point-four billion.
More than ten times the original asking price.
The purchaser?
No one.
Two vials of colza were announced that day, and two vials of colza were bought out by the collective efforts of rich female devils who outbid the males, They were wary of the existence of a drug that was not only undetectable but only affected female creatures.
They’d spent two point eight billion shekels to purchase it and keep it out of the hands of men, due to a fear of it being used against them. It was no small sum. There were Territories in the Underworld who brought in far less on a yearly income.
Though he’d failed to make the purchase, Diodora pulled several strings to discover the location of the drug’s creator. By pulling strings, he meant he paid a deep and exorbitant fee just to be able to get two words out of the mouths of the tight-lipped auction holders:
“Malphas Territory.”
Diodora reached into his suit pocket and emerged out a letter, with a curved, stylized ‘J’ and ‘M’ written atop.
You have cordially been invited to the opening Gala celebrating the return of the House of Malphas, hosted on the 12th day of the X Month of the year, 20XX of the Gregorian Calendar. This invite enables you and a plus one to have access to the Malphas Family Territory and the Malphas Estate Grounds. We hope you will join us to celebrate this momentous event, signaling the triumphant return of a Noble Pillar House.
With Regards,
Lord Jamie Malphas.
His goal for attending the event was to find the origins of colza and purchase himself a vial. However, he’d also heard much of Lord Jamie Malphas in the past several months. Some rumors claimed he was the secret concubine of Serafall Leviathan, some said he was engaged to the daughter of the Agares Clan, and some claimed he was a private tutor to the son of Sirzechs Lucifer —
There would be numerous people attending the event to see just what sort of devil he was.
Diodora Astaroth was different. He wanted to see if this Jamie Malphas was another chosen one. He wanted to know exactly just what type of person could revive a fallen legacy,
He wanted to know what it took for a devil to overturn the Will of God.
“Now arriving at Phandelver Station, City of Adriel, Malphas Territory.”
XXXXX
[One Week Prior]
Japan
Kuoh Academy
Occult Research Club
“You want… what?”
Something had changed. Something deep and something fundamental had gone wrong. She’d not really been paying attention to the tales she got from home, but did hear a comment here and there about Millicas losing his friend. She’d wanted to head back home and meet him, but the Summer Comiket had been holding, and she’d really wanted to go. She put it off the back of her mind, telling Akeno to remind her once the entire event was over to visit home and check on her baby-faced nephew.
Perhaps it was selfish of her, but they were devils. Self-desire came first. That, and she’d gotten the opportunity to get the signatures of three of her favorite mangakas, and one of them even took pictures with her in her cosplay of the main heroine of his manga, Lucy. Fortunately, she’d taken Kiba with her, and he served enough as a deterrent to keep away some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ fans who wanted to take pictures with her. She’d taken the opportunity to sign numerous contracts with individuals possessing the strongest desires, so, at least, it wasn’t as though she’d gone purely for her leisure.
After the entire event, Akeno did remind her to go back and check up on her nephew, but, there’d been a launch release of the newest installment in an otome game she’d been a fan of since she was seven. Even better, the game was fully VR-enabled, and it was her first time experiencing a VR otome game.
She’d lost about a month of time ranking up the affection meters for the five main love interests, and it took about another two weeks of grinding to unlock all secret endings, and then another extra week to gain the Platinum trophy.
She was sure, in between all of that, Akeno reminded her. It was around the time the school year began, and there was no more time for leisure. Sona scouted nearly all of the promising individuals as soon as she could, and there was almost no one left. She needed to complete her Peerage, especially because she enjoyed her freedom, and her mother seemed dead-set on ruining that.
In between searching for new peerage members and school work, it’d slipped her mind. She did hear something about there being a revived clan in the underworld, and plans of a large gala to be thrown. Her mother even went as far as sending her the invitation, which she’d never done before. Once she heard that the person reviving this clan was apparently a handsome young devil of marriageable age, she’d tossed the invitation into the bottom of a pile of such-and-so letters from her numerous ‘suitors.’
By the time she was free enough to visit home, she’d been told there was no need. Something had happened. Apparently, Millicas had done something which forced her brother to take him on some personal father-son bonding. It felt out of character for him. Sirzechs was often too busy, so hearing that their ‘bonding’ had taken him off work for three full months was almost too much to believe.
It hadn’t taken much digging to find out why. Her mother put vaguely in the letter that Millicas was unexpectedly hit hard by the death of his friend. He was going through a ‘phase.’ A rebellious, recalcitrant, and quote ‘extremely volatile' phase.
She’d thought it was just puberty hitting him. Such things happened with young boys. She didn’t think too much about it. She did, however, change that opinion, when she’d heard that he was going around building a Peerage. At his age? A peerage?
Then came the odd rumor. Some sort of falling out between himself and his mother, Grayfia-sama. Apparently, they’d fought. Not sparred, not trained, but fought.
She couldn’t picture it. Millicas? Her cinnamon-roll, can’t-hurt-a-fly, too-shy-to-talk-to-girls Millicas Gremory, had gone out of his way to provoke and fight his own mother?
There were even rumors that the fight had ended in a stalemate which was out of the realm of possibility. She hadn’t believed it. She didn’t want to believe it.
Except, now, standing in front of her, alone, she could not help but believe it.
All the members of her peerage were present. Akeno set out the tea before him, and, the cheeky bugger actually had the gall to ask to sit on Koneko’s lap. Kiba stood behind her, his face taciturn. There was no one in the room who couldn’t feel the strange power emanating from him.
It’d been what, five, maybe six months?
She almost could not recognize him. His hair had grown out, to be long and well maintained. Seeing it gave her a strange giddy feeling, as it was styled in the manner of a character from one such manga she’d read about a samurai called Miyamoto Musashi. There was actually a scar on his face now. A scar. It crossed his right eye, and considering how easy it was to get rid of such a thing, he clearly wore it as some sort of badge of pride.
He’d grown a couple of more inches, enough such that he was about the same height as Koneko, despite being a few years younger. She did not know what sort of insane training he’d done with her brother, but it showed.
He was alone.
Usually, Grayfia would accompany him everywhere he went for his safety. The same had been done for her when she was much younger. However, there was no one with him now. She couldn’t imagine Grayfia willingly letting him leave without her supervision, so it proved more merit to the rumor of their fight.
None of these quite bothered her, however, as his absurd demand.
“Your bishop, Rias-nee.”
He’d said without hesitation.
“I want him.”
“Millicas, I’m not certain if you’re aware of this, but, Gasper isn’t exactly fit for combat.”
“I know.”
Rias deeply furrowed her brows. “And even then, you want to trade for him?”
Millicas reached for the cup of tea Akeno set down. He took a calm sip. The more Rias stared at him, the more she saw her brother. The parts and aspects of him he showed when he wasn’t being jovial. He also saw Grayfia in him, a lot of Grayfia. In a way, it was unnerving. The last time she’d seen her nephew, he was too shy to even look her in the eyes for extended periods. For a while, she’d actually been convinced he had some sort of crush on her, and she’d found it cute.
“Not trade. I want him.”
Rias rose an eyebrow.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You understand perfectly, Rias-nee.”
She resisted the urge to bite the inside of her cheek.
“You want me to just… give you Gasper?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I —”
“Because he’ll be wasted with you.”
The air in the room changed. The feeling was almost tangible. Akeno’s brows shot up. Koneko’s ears twitched. Behind her, she felt Kiba stir uneasily. No one was perhaps, more incensed by those words than her. Her cute little nephew was not acting as cute as she’d liked. Those were fighting words. This was new ground, even for her. For a moment, she pondered if she’d heard correctly.
She cherished her nephew, certainly. He was family. He was blood and kin. Yet, the words were not something she could easily brush off. Her pride would never allow it.
Granted, Gasper was currently locked away because the Forbidden Balor View was too dangerous and volatile to control, and she had no idea how to begin training it, but, it didn’t mean she didn’t have any plans whatsoever.
“Millicas-sama, if I may,” Akeno’s soothing voice broke in. “Is there a particular reason you want Gasper-kun?”
Millicas wore a serious expression. With a child’s face, even with his scar, it was somewhat hard to take seriously. Rias’ heart melted again, and she almost completely forgot about his earlier words. She couldn’t take it to heart when her nephew was so adorable when acting hard and serious.
“...Stop time.”
“What?”
“The power to stop time,” Millicas’ gaze was fierce. “I want to train it. I need it.”
“Why?”
“So I can kill all of them.”
A potent killing intent swarmed the room. Rias sucked in a deep breath of air. The sheer vitriol in it was incredible. It was nauseating. She didn’t believe her nephew had it in him to possess such hatred. She couldn’t believe it. Yet, the fire in his eyes burned, without measure.
“Kill…?” Rias was afraid to ask.
“Every being in the Greek Underworld.”
She shot Akeno a nervous glance. Her friend had a condemnatory look. A look that said, I told you so, and a look that said, You should have done something earlier!
Her nephew was barely past puberty, and his life goal was to wipe out the entire Greek Underworld? Wasn’t that reaching too high? Rias couldn’t understand it. One person eliminating every god in the Greek Underworld was absurd by any standard. Not only that, there were numerous political ramifications that starting a war with another Pantheon would incur. He wasn’t just anyone, he was Millicas Gremory, son of the Lucifer.
“Does… does Sirzechs-nisama… does he know about this?”
Millicas huffed. He crossed his arm over his chest.
“He does.”
“And…?”
“He says he’ll take me seriously when I’m in a peerage strong enough to reach number one in the Rating Games… and when I can hold the position undefeated for more than a year.”
Rias tried not to let her relief be overly visible. Her brother was smart. Reaching the top of the Rating Games was something not even she could do as she was. With devils such as Roygun Belphegor and Diehauser Belial at the pinnacle, being able to defeat them would take a serious amount of power, and, most likely, a powerful peerage.
Holding the position undefeated? That was an even more challenging task. It meant he couldn’t just win a one-off match and then call it a day but would have to be strong enough to ensure his victory was not a fluke. Strong enough to take all challengers and never lose.
If he was actually capable of such a thing, his goal wouldn’t sound so far-fetched.
“So, for the sake of my ambition —”
Millicas got up to his feet and pointed his finger at her.
“I’m challenging you to a Rating Game, Rias-nee!”
Silence lingered in the club room for far too long. She blinked, as though she were a deer caught in headlights. She composed herself quickly and took stock of the expressions of her peerage. None of them looked particularly keen on the idea, with Akeno smiling in a manner that almost made it look as though the entire ordeal was a comedic performance.
“If I win, you hand over Gasper without complaint,” Millicas declared.
“And if I win?”
Rias didn’t intend to actually accept, but she pondered what Millicas could have as a bargaining chip that would possibly be as valuable as Gasper.
“If you win, grandma will annul your marriage agreement with Rizer Phenix.”
If the silence before had been loud, now, it was outright deafening. Rias’ expression changed on a dime.
“There’s no way you can promise th—”
Millicas emerged a parchment from his pockets and tossed it at her. She stared at him at first, then slowly unfurled the parchment, and handed it over to Akeno to read.
“This document certifies an official agreement between Millicas Gremory and Venelana Gremory, regarding the matter of the annulment of Rias Gremory’s arranged marriage to Rizer of the Phenix Family, in the event should Rias Gremory be able to defeat Millicas Gremory in an official —”
She snatched the parchment from Akeno’s hands and scan her eyes through it, and even then, she couldn’t believe what she was reading.
“How did you get her to agree to this?”
“Do we have a deal?”
Her nephew extended his hand outwards, and Rias’ mind had never been in greater disarray. She’d been thinking and mulling over the method to escape her arranged marriage for so long, and would have never dreamt in a million years that the answer would arrive in her lap, in the form of her own adorable little nephew.
No matter how much stronger he’d gotten, there was no way he could win against her when she had Akeno, Kiba, and Koneko on her side. It felt somewhat dirty to use this opportunity to escape her shackles. She knew Millicas wouldn’t treat Gasper badly even if she did lose, and he’d still likely let her borrow him from time to time when he got stronger.
Did she really have anything to lose in this agreement? It wasn’t as though she’d never see Gasper again, and he’d still be in her Family, so the loss wasn’t unbearable. Of course, she had no intentions of losing, but if she did, it wouldn't hurt.
“Wouldn’t it be unfair to gang up against you when you don’t have a peerage?”
A sour expression suddenly fell upon the boy’s face. Rias found it amusing.
“You didn’t think of it?”
“...I’m in a peerage.”
“What…?”
“I don’t have a peerage yet, but I’m in a peerage…” Millicas sighed. “I’m a Bishop.”
Rias blinked.
“You… are?”
Certainly, it wasn’t uncommon for peerages to have layers, as it was possible for a High-Ranking Devil to have a Low-Ranking Devil in their peerage, and when that Low-Ranking Devil became a High-Rank, they could also create their own peerages and so on.
It was somewhat uncommon for a High-Ranking Devil to enter the Peerage of another, but it wasn’t impossible.
“Are you in Grayfia-sama’s peerage? Or —”
“...No,” he mumbled. “My King… is the New Lord of the Malphas Clan.”
An uncomfortable feeling lodged in Rias’ throat. “...What?”
“I was looking for strong people to join my Peerage, and I found him, and he seemed strong but not that strong. We had a match with the condition that if I won, he’d serve my Peerage, and if he won I’d serve him…”
Millicas mumbled.
“And I lost.”
“And you… you honored the agreement?”
Millicas frowned.
“I gave my word.”
“Yes, but you’re —”
Rias didn’t know how to put it. Special? Important? Higher? She didn’t have the word. All she felt was irritation. Who was this Malphas Lord to make her nephew his Bishop? On what confidence could he do something so audacious? Didn’t he fear her brother? Didn’t he fear Grayfia? Even if he’d won, shouldn’t he refuse to accept Millicas into his peerage to save the boy some face?
The more she thought of it, the angrier she got.
“And Grayfia-sama knows about this? Sirzechs-nisama too?”
“...Dad said I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep… the match was official, so, if I refused to uphold my end of the deal, it’d harm both his reputation and mine…” he mumbled. “And mom… I haven’t really been speaking to her.”
It sounded exactly like something her brother would say. For a devil, he was more often than not, fair-minded. Yet, it was also his style to do something in the shadows when it involved his family. The fact that nothing had been done irritated her.
Something was off. She found it ludicrous that not only her brother, but Grayfia, and even her mother had allowed Millicas to become the bishop of the Lord of a third-rate Family.
“We’ll add another condition,” Rias said, hotly. “When I win, this Lord Malphas has to release you from his peerage.”
“Huh? No way!” Millicas frowned. “I don’t want that!”
Again, Rias grew more confused. “You… don’t?”
“Lord Malphas is cool… and he’s strong… and it doesn’t really bother me that I’m his Bishop —”
“Well, it bothers me,” Rias said firmly. “I’ve never even heard of this Lord Malphas before. Wasn’t the Malphas Clan extinct?”
“Grandma said she sent you an invitation letter,” Millicas frowned. “He’s throwing a huge party next weekend at the Malphas Territory.”
“Since when is there a Malphas Territory?”
Her nephew gave her a bland look.
“You’re really out of the loop aren’t you, Rias-nee?”
She couldn’t help the dusting of pink that came to her cheeks at the accusation. It wasn’t as though she kept a journal of every event happening in the Underworld when there was so much going on atop the surface.
“Buchou,” Akeno chimed in. “I remember Sona mentioning that she would be attending the event as well.”
“She did?”
“She mentioned that her sister personally sent her an invitation.”
“Serafall-sama… sent…?”
The situation sounded increasingly absurd. Rias rubbed her forehead, feeling a minor headache coming on. There was no helping it. She’d been limiting her visits to the Underworld because she wanted to avoid running into Rizer, but there was no choice now.
“Fine,” Rias’ eyes sparkled. “It seems I’ll have to attend this event.”
Let’s see what sort of third-rate Clan Lord has the gall to lay his hands on my nephew.
Rias exhaled.
I really don’t understand what Sirzechs-nisama is thinking at all. Wouldn’t having his son be under someone negatively affect his reputation…?
She would learn, in time, just how wrong she was.
XXXXX
Elsewhere
Unknown Location
“Failed?”
Magnificent blue flames erupted from two torches, illuminating a dark chamber. Numerous male and female beings wearing dark robes shook in fear, and all of them fell on their knees at once, genuflecting before the being before them. In the darkness, the only thing that could be made of him was his long silver hair, which fell down the side of his body in an ornate braid.
“Yes, my, liege.”
“And what of Nyxdolor?”
“We… we did not know he was the Lord’s son if we’d known —”
The head of the man who’d spoken exploded. The other individuals in dark robes continued to tremble in silence.
“I asked, what of Nyxdolor?”
“He… he’s dead, my liege.”
“By the hand of that infernal bastard, Sirzechs?”
“N-no, my liege.”
“My sister killed him?” The man murmured. “I didn’t think she’d grown so splendidly.”
“T-that’s… that’s also not the case, m-my liege.”
Silence settled deep into the chamber. The man with the silver hair leaned forward. Sharp breaths escaped the room as an unfathomable pressure fell upon everyone gathered. Through the darkness, a pair of eyes, deeper and richer than in shade than blood peered out, and many were forced to grasp at their chests.
“Who is it that killed him?”
“...We — we have r-reports he was done in by the H-Heiress of the Agares Clan, my liege.”
“And you believed it?”
“W-we c-confirmed with our spies! I-It’s believed that she used a Forbidden Art t-to kill him… w-which is why she has been out of the p-public eye since the incident… t-there are rumors that s-she may h-have suffered severe backlash —”
“Enough.”
“M-m-my liege?”
“I do not care.”
There was a collective sigh of relief.
“What of the staff fragment?”
The collective sigh immediately dissipated.
“I do not like to repeat myself.”
“W-with Lord Narberius d-dead, i-it m-must have fallen into the hands of —”
The man in the darkness rose his right hand.
“W-w-wait, my liege, please! If we can —”
The heads of the cloaked devils exploded as one. Blood spurted into the air from their headless corpses, and the bodies of many were sent in motion, reaching for their heads in futility a final time, before slumping to the ground, quiet and motionless.
The man reached into his coat and rang a bell. A moment later, a demonic circle appeared on the ground, and a woman emerged from it.. Her skin was pale, paler than most, as though it’d never seen sunlight, Her eyes were heterochromatic, with one being a deep red, and the other being a lighter shade of grey. Her long hair was kept in a pigtail and similarly was of two mixed colors, gray on the left side, and white on the right side.
She wore a French Maid outfit, one which was a striking red in color, and short enough to expose her long thighs and black stockings. Were anyone to glance at her from a distance, they would identify her as a palette-swapped version of the infamous Silver Queen of Annihilation.
“You’ve made a mess again, Euclid-sama.”
The voice came out in a dull, empty monotone, as though the speaker was devoid of all emotion.
“White.”
“Yes, Euclid-sama?”
“Why are you calling me that?”
“Euclid-sama is Euclid-sama.”
“Drop the honorifics.”
“Do they annoy you, Euclid-sama?
“Very much so.”
“Then I am upholding my programming, Euclid-sama.”
Euclid Lucifuge leaned back into his chair. “Clean up the mess.”
“Hai,” the woman said. “It seems the plan didn’t work out as you expected, Euclid-sama.”
“My plans do not fail.”
White tilted her head. “Millicas-sama wasn’t captured.”
“Nyxdolor’s death more than compensates for that setback. Nothing could please me more,” Euclid declared. “That monstrosity was even less fitting to be Lord Rizevim’s son than Razevan.”
“Razevan?”
“Razevan Lucifer. He never lived up to our Lord’s expectations. He could not grasp an iota of the reverence and fear his father’s name invoked, and our Lord deemed him as a worthless existence.”
“How pitiful.”
“Indeed,” Euclid nodded. “Lord Rizevim loathes it most when his male progeny bear his likeness, but do not bear the glory of his likeness. It is for that reason he rips off the faces of his sons in disgust. Razevan was no exception.”
Euclid slowly stroked his chin. He closed his eyes, before exhaling bitterly.
“In spite of this, Razevan sought to impress our Lord in any way he could. He was no better than a dog hugging onto the legs of an owner that has abandoned it, unwilling to flee or cower no matter how many times it was kicked or beaten. So obsessed was he with our Lord’s glory, that he sought to mimic him in all ways of life.”
White cleaned off the blood and disintegrated the bodies with a furious burst of fiery demonic power. She turned to Euclid, tilting her head again.
“Did he succeed?”
“In some ways,” Euclid murmured. “He amused me. His deep-seated inferiority to Lord Rizevim made him do daring things. Razevan was not comfortable with an ordinary bride, not when our Lord had proven that he could subdue goddesses.”
Euclid gestured his hand, and White approached, as commanded. She sat on his lap, and Euclid’s right hand snuck slowly into her skirt. Her expression did not change, even as he probed deeper, pushing aside a set of frilly red underwear.
“Razevan was far too weak to subdue a lesser goddess, much less a Primordial Deity on his own. He’d not inherited any of the unfathomable power of the Lucifer bloodline. He’d felt this could all be corrected by birthing a child of great power, one that would serve and worship his father all the days of their life.”
White still did not react, as a pair of fingers moved deep within her. Deeper and deeper still, her legs squirmed slightly, but there were no outward signs of discomfort.
“Fortunately, he was wise enough to not mate with a human woman. Humans are offsprings of Adam, and our Lord detests him. They are utterly unworthy of the blood of Lord Lucifer and Lady Lilith. He knew that were his father to ever find out that he had a child with a human woman, his life, as well as that of his child and wife would be forfeit.”
Her legs continued to squirm. She rose both hands to her mouth and cover any sounds that would emerge.
“Regardless, he was still an Ultimate-Class Devil, so he’d been able to subdue and choose his bride. She was not a goddess, but she was close. Razevim believed our Lord would be proud that he’d subdued such a powerful woman —”
His hand emerged from underneath White’s skirt, dripping and drenched with fluids. He moved it to her lips. Obediently, she sucked on them, starting one finger at a time.
“Unfortunately, she’d birthed him a male child.”
White sucked his fingers clean and tilted her head again as she gazed at him, her heterochromatic eyes blank and vacant.
“Is a male child a bad thing?”
“The child bore such a close resemblance to Lord Rizevim that Razevan grew scared. Were the child to not live up to the glory of our Lord, then our Lord’s fury would come upon him. Rather than risk such a thing…”
Euclid’s lips curved into a smile.
“Razevan slew the boy without hesitation.”
“He killed his newborn son?”
“He did,” Euclid said. “It is why despite his weakness, I can recognize him as someone who with boundless affection for Lord Rizevim. It is why, compared to the prodigal coward like Nyxdolor, Razevan, whose loyalty never wavered, is worthy of my respect.”
Euclid moved his right hand above White’s head, and slowly ran it down her hair.
“It took centuries before his bride conceived again. And then, Lady Vali was born.”
Euclid drew a sigil in the air with his finger. Shortly after, an image appeared. A young woman appeared.
“She bears a great resemblance to Razevan’s grandmother, Lady Lilith. Razevan knew that our Lord holds a soft spot in his heart for women who resemble Lady Lilith, so he was certain that she would not be killed or tortured. He was certain that she would be sheltered, pampered, and tutored.”
“What happened?”
“Nyxdolor happened,” Euclid sneered. “His rampage across the world, killing anyone with our Lord’s name. Razevan fought as hard as he could, but he could not compare to a child born of a Primordial Goddess. He died. In the resulting chaos, Lady Vali was stolen from us by those accursed Fallen.”
Euclid tapped White on her thigh, gesturing her to move. He rose to his feet and placed both hands behind his back.
“It matters not. My plans have not been foiled, they’ve only followed a different branch.”
“A different branch?”
“Lord Narberius was under the foolish impression that our Lord was the one who bestowed upon him the fragment of Moses’ Staff…” Euclid snorted. “As though he’d bother with such a trifling thing. Yet, I needed him to have that impression in order to set up my plan…”
Euclid’s red eyes shone.
“Had Nyxdolor succeeded in capturing my nephew, it would merely be a matter of killing him, and introducing little Millicas to the purer parts of his family. Nothing would have filled me with more joy than watching my dear sister realize I’ve become her son’s hero…”
Euclid shook his head.
“Had Nyxdolor failed, then he’d die by either my sister’s hands or at the hand of that bastard Gremory. Moreover, knowing Lord Narberius’ personality, the fool would believe he can capture her without demonic power. This means, no matter the outcome, should he be defeated, captured, or killed, the fragment of the Staff of Moses will fall into the hands of Ajuka Beelzebub…”
Euclid waved his hand. Dozens of images appeared in the air with demonic circles, all of which branched out in an ever-expanding pattern, spreading, going onwards near-endlessly.
“The secret to absolute victory is to account for every possible permutation of failure and success. There were slight alterations, such as Nyxdolor being killed by a third party, but ultimately, things proceeded as intended. Ajuka has the fragment. As a pragmatist and a scientist, it won’t be long until he comes to the same conclusion I have. And when that happens…”
One of the images appeared and remained on screen. It was the image of a red-head man, underneath the foot of a white-haired being sitting on a throne, with twelve pitch-black wings behind him.
“The entire world will know the glory of Lord Rizevim Livan Lucifer.”
“And then,” White spoke. “You’ll have Lady Grayfia for yourself.”
Euclid’s lips twitched. Yet, he did not deny it. His goals were not mutually exclusive. Serving Lord Rizevim and attaining Grayfia were desires that could co-exist side-by-side. It just so happened that the means to attain both goals were one and the same.
“What will happen to me then, Euclid-sama?”
Euclid waved his hand and the images vanished. He walked up to White and grabbed her by her chin before pushing her to the ground until she dropped to her knees.
“What use will I have for a half-baked clone upon obtaining the original?”
“You’re truly heartless, Euclid-sama.”
The words, like everything else, were uttered in a dull, emotionless monotone.
“Worry not,” Euclid leaned close to her ear. “Once I impregnate Grayfia and have our first daughter, I’ll name her in your memory.”
The words were perfunctory. White did not believe them. Nor did Euclid believe she would believe them. She was a defective product. It was just that she was the least defective out of hundreds, if not thousands of defects. Even now, she remembered the endless pile of prior ‘failures’ to create a clone of Grayfia Lucifuge from a comb containing strands of her hair.
Some had been made without eyes or legs, others without a heart or organs, and some had emerged as a pile of incoherent flesh, begging and pleading to be killed. All through the process, Euclid Lucifuge continued without batting an eyelash, killing and killing and ‘recycling’ all the failures, until, eventually, she was made. She was only stable because her DNA was blended with that of someone else, someone Euclid would never mention, and it marked her, ultimately, as yet another failure.
And if there was one thing she knew about Euclid Lucifuge —
“I would be honored, Euclid-sama.”
It was that he would never keep something that was a reminder of his failure.
Notes:
We're almost a hundred thousand words, and just being introduced to the main cast of the series.
Welcome to D & D x D: 5th Edition's version of the "Canon" universe. Strap in. Sit back. Enjoy.
Chapter 13: Goeth Before A Fall
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The City of Adriel.
She found it oddly named. In direct Hebrew, ‘Adriel’ translated to ‘Flock of God.’ It was a name one would expect of an Angel or Fallen, and not something anyone would anticipate a burgeoning new Devil Lord to name the capital of his territory.
Two obsidian beacons towered in the ephemeral fog which blanketed the vastness of the entire city like the hand of an oppressive deity. Semi-futuristic skyscrapers were built atop medieval houses, as though fashioned by a time-traveling Da Vinci. Bridges were made of the spinal cords of some unfortunate and derelict creatures which she could not name. The streets were paved with a glossy volcanic rock, akin to the work of a sentient eruption with a whim for artistic expression.
The artificial sun of the Underworld did not hover in the sky. It did not gleam. It did not shine. Masked behind the clouds like a harlequin behind a powdered face, it feared to show its true self. The darkness was abated by flashes of lightning streaking through the firmament, by the nigh-infinite number of lights present within the windows of skyscrapers and the floating lamps on the streets. Lamps made of skulls alight with white flames, each piercing the abyss like stars shattering the sempiternal darkness.
She felt as though she’d returned to the state of the world before everything. The state of the world as it was written in the beginning, in the very first pages of Genesis. The state of the world from which He demanded light.
Lord Malphas was either a madman or a genius.
No one else would dare create a city so utterly frightening and alien. Not in the modern era of devils. No, if she were being honest with herself, even in the previous era of devils, there were not many who could do such a thing.
At least, not according to her mentor. It’d been years since she’d last visited the Underworld. The last time she arrived, someone had leaked her true identity. In moments, she was swarmed by an endless number of worshippers and adorers, each of them revering her as some sort of goddess.
She loathed it. She loathed them. The fools would slit their own throats if she so much as whispered in their direction. They eagerly wished to see her wearing a crown and sitting atop a throne, both of which were things she held no interest in.
The train traversed through the fog-covered city of malevolence without a sound. Moments afterward, an announcement blared on the speakers.
“Now entering, Malphas Estate Grounds…”
The train moved through a large gate, labeled ‘Outer Grounds.’
In the midst of the overbearing fog, stood a statue made of silver. The statue depicted a horned devil with the bearing of a gentleman, wearing a twin-tailed coat. In his right hand lay a book, open and bare, and in his left, a heart. Red liquid poured down the heart, dripping down into the fountain that surrounded the statue, and at the base, were words written in a language she had never seen, and a language she could not understand.
The pathways were paved with silver and jade, and there stood another gate, guarded by a host of beings in deep silver armor. The most frightening and terrifying of which was a black dragon.
She hissed sharply under her breath as the creature’s head rose, the magnificent beast effortlessly about eighteen to nineteen feet. A pair of spiked chains were wrapped around its neck, akin to a dog collar. Its scales were almost the same glossy volcanic black as the towers she’d seen outside of the grounds, and its eyes were a deep haunting red, as though it held behind a barely restrained madness.
“That dragon…” a sharp voice peered into her mind.
“A friend of yours?”
“No.”
“No?”
“It is vastly unlike any I have ever known.”
Her eyes peered toward the black dragon and narrowed.
“A fake?”
“The soul is genuinely that of a dragon, yet…” the voice paused. “No dragon, no matter how weak, would ever choose a life of captivity. Our souls possess pride. To place a collar and make a dragon act as a guard dog…”
“Is it difficult?”
“It’s impossible.”
Her gaze lingered on the dragon even longer.
“Be careful. Whoever this Lord Malphas is, he is not to be trifled with.”
The train continued onwards, and her caution grew. She glanced at her reflection in the glass window, the black hair, dull green eyes, and otherwise unremarkable features were certain to fool most individuals. As it was her mentor who created it, she did not believe the disguise to be lacking.
Moments later, they passed another gate, labeled ‘Inner Grounds.’
The fog covering the entire territory lessened, revealing a great orchard in the depths of a lush, well-maintained forest. Several gasps emerged as the forest and orchard came into view. Voluptuous tree-like women appeared from the undergrowth, smiling and waving at the passengers. Some were plucking at red and ripe fruit from the numerous trees, others were frolicking amidst fields of roses and dandelions. A dozen or so rode atop other creatures, such as bears, elk, and moose.
The sight drew many to the windows of the train and had many more marveling in wonder.
A vast lake came into view, shimmering and glimmering with faint twinkles of light. The lake seemed to reflect the milky way and the starry sky, in spite of the fact that as they were in the underworld, neither of those two things should have been visible.
Golden swans moved about on the surface, and brilliant white flamingos lay in the shallower edges, being tended to by a creature with the top half of a woman, and the bottom half of a fish.
“Remarkable!”
“Are those dryads? In the underworld?”
“A mermaid! I can’t believe Lord Malphas actually has one!”
The endless chattering of the train passengers drowned out the silence. The praises were endless as the train continued on its route. The brilliance of the scene before them was made to appear as an afterthought, as though this much was normal, as though passing through a man-made Eden was simply expected.
She felt more as though she was visiting a safari or a games reserve than merely going to attend a party hosted by a young noble. There were no doubt sights present that many had not seen before, and many likely would not see again, lest they return to the Malphas territory.
The further the train moved within the Inner Grounds, the more the trees became bountiful, and from then on, hundreds, if not thousands of creatures sparkling with light emerged. Many of the creatures flew towards the windows of the train, waved their hands, and twirled in front of the passengers, garbed in dresses made of leaves and with wings like that of a dragonfly, a mighty weight landed in the train as everyone gazed in disbelief.
“...F-fairies?”
“No — no, pixies…? They must be pixies, surely?”
Whether they were fairies or pixies remained unknown, as the creatures dove back into the forest, and the train descended into spellbound silence.
The juxtaposition of fear and awe was apparent. Fear from the city cloaked in fog and awe from an Eden-like forest drenched in mystery combined into an experience akin to a rollercoaster ride. Bouncing from extreme lows to extreme highs had sent a rush of something within all the devils present.
“How does Lord Malphas possess such wealth?”
“I heard he has the backing of the Agares Clan.”
“Not even the Agares Clan could support the expenditure of such exotic creatures. Do you know how much a dragon eats in a year?”
“My brother-in-law’s cousin heard from the grapevine that he has a major business deal with the Sitri Clan.”
“Sitri? No, you’ve got it wrong. I heard it was the Gremory Clan.”
“I do believe he’s an eligible bachelor?”
The discussions about the wealth and status of Lord Malphas fired out in an endless torrent. Speculations were mixed with truth, and truth was sprinkled with a healthy dose of exaggeration. Everyone attempted to act as though they knew more about the young Lord Malphas than their colleagues, and the sight of it all but nauseated her.
So much useless posturing.
“Be very careful when meeting Lord Malphas.”
The warning came sharply.
“Those were undoubtedly real fairies,” the voice in her mind was low. “Fairies are always a force of good. If they were corrupted, the signs would be clear. ”
“Force of good? But as a devil —”
“Precisely.”
There was a long pause.
“A devil who can gain the allegiance of fairies is the same as an angel who can slaughter innocents and remain unsullied. They are an aberration. An existence that does not obey the natural order and Yahweh’s System. This either means they have learned to exploit it, or…”
“Or?”
“They are above it.”
A shudder ran through her. Above it? What did it mean to be above His system? Not even her grandfather was above it. Not even his father before him.
The train sped on silently, crossing a third and final gate. Above it lay the inscription:
Castle Malphas
XXXXX
A laugh here, a back-handed compliment there, a smile here and a coy smirk there. The back and forth continued like a rehearsed dance, it continued like a volley of arms and weapons, bullets raining down intermittently across a battlefield. The interplay was akin to a sport, a beach ball being hit up, down, left right, sent forward and back by players who found every action nigh-orgasmic.
“Well, but of course, Lady Evangel should certainly have known better about that necklace —”
“Oh, dare, Lord Faruq certainly has let himself go —”
“Lady Ameri hasn’t even glanced in Lord Barak’s direction even once… I suppose the rumors of their estrangement are true…”
“My, my, Lady Sona certainly dressed up tonight… does she think she stands a chance when she’s lacking so much in womanly charms?”
The night was young, and serpents traveled forth from the forked tongues of devils like a flock of migrating terns. The atmosphere was perfect for the indulgence of vices, and little stimulation had needed before the farce of societal dick-measuring masked as relations began.
It was more vicious than Rias had ever seen. It was more vicious than Rias had ever known. There was blood in the water, and the sharks and piranhas had come out to feast.
She wasn’t a fool. Anyone with a brain cell could deduce why the cutting words and remarks today were far stronger than they usually were. The reason behind the sudden hypersensitivity of devils to the flaws of another was simple. Countless collective egos had been shattered.
The cause?
The Grand Ballroom of Lord Malphas.
From the moment they’d been ushered in through the doors with strange masked men wearing coat-tailed suits, Rias heard the countless sounds of people swallowing their saliva and smacking at their dried lips.
“What sort of wood is the floor made of? Mahogany? Oak? No, it’s magical in nature. Every step I take on it makes me feel like I’m floating…”
“Could it be? Wood from the Yggdrasil? How in the world did he even get —”
“How are there no servants? Wait, no, they’re… invisible? Does he have invisible servants?"
“That chandelier… it can’t be…. That metal… Dwarven? Elven? Does he have ties to the Norse faction?”
“I’ve never seen such exotic culinary dishes… “
“Victorian Era? No, earlier? Medieval?”
“This music… this symphony… did someone reincarnate Mozart?”
Were they to have encountered a talking teapot and a bowing candle, no one would have batted an eyelash. Were a blond woman to stumble out of the place in a hurry whilst leaving a glass slipper behind and hop into a carriage made of a pumpkin, everyone would have nodded, as it fit their expectations.
From the very moment they’d stepped foot into the ballroom, everyone attempted their hardest to act as though such level of wealth was natural, nay, as though it were expected. Yet, ever so often, numerous eyes would widen as another absurd discovery would be made, or another fantastic detail would be discovered. Hushed whispers would travel as those who many considered to be the richest and most worldly amongst their number were metamorphosed into slack-jawed country bumpkins.
Rias saw as they abruptly recalled their status and sharply clear their throats, attempting their hardest to act as though they’d not been as befuddled as the rest of them.
Many, herself included, came to see what the so-called Young Lord of a previously extinct Pillar Clan possibly had to offer to the Underworld. Many came to gloat, to humblebrag, to raise their noses in the air as they casually mentioned their riches and assets which they believed would surpass and suppress that of Lord Malphas. Many had come out of sheer schadenfreude, hoping to encounter an individual less off than they were, an individual less threatening and less capable, all so their egos and confidences could be amplified tenfold.
They’d all come in vain.
No one could claim Lord Malphas was lacking. No one dared to. Not when the wealth present clearly surpassed many of their own. A sinister feeling rose deep within the hearts of the devils, and a creeping voice sniggered into their ears and rasped behind their necks, telling them all the same thing:
You are inferior.
Of course, devils would never be willing to accept such a thing. The deadly sins of pride and envy arrived in the hearts of everyone with the same grace that the Fat Man arrived in Nagasaki.
Thus, the war of words began. Truths and lies were blended into an unrecognizable cocktail, and it was gulped down with the glee of an otaku drinking bathwater.
No one was exempt. No one was above scorn. No one was above criticism.
Twice already, someone mentioned her lacking combat prowess and abysmal presence at the rating games. Three times over, she’d heard people refer to her as the ‘Failure of Gremory’ which she found simultaneously amusing and insulting. Of the most libelous accusations, the ones she found most offensive were comments regarding her as ‘Rizer’s Plaything.’
For a brief moment, she wished Akeno was here. She’d desired to be accompanied by Akeno as her plus one, only to discover that the ‘plus one’ invitation had a restriction of one either being a High-Class Devil or possessing the surname of a Pillar Clan.
In truth, Rias was grateful for the clause. Despite appearances, Akeno was not as thick of skin as most would believe. Were her Queen here, there would no doubt be mentions of her origins and her nature as a half-Fallen Angel, or there would be comments about her mother and/or father, and those comments would cut extremely deep.
Rias moved leisurely towards the food tables and grabbed a glass of red liquid from an invisible servant wearing a brilliant black suit as the servant passed by. She swirled the glass in her hand and observed the verbal slaughter-fest with no small amount of irritation. She could have been at home catching up on the new episodes of Chainsaw Girl and Dye: Thousand-Year Bone War rather than attending this event.
Yet, she was here.
This was all because of her nephew and because of his challenge.
Rias clicked her tongue and turned to examine the architecture. Everything appeared flawless. Gold, diamond, silver, jade, and other precious minerals were used in the building and decoration of the ballroom, and, to her limited senses, everything exuded magical power.
Lord Malphas was not just rich.
He was rich-rich.
It was the difference between the Rockefellers and Madonna. The difference between Mansa Musa and Bill Gates.
Rias may have been spoiled rotten, but this didn’t mean she was stupid. She could infer, easily, that his level of wealth was sufficient enough reason for her brother and mother to be willing to let Millicas enter Lord Malphas’ peerage. There were no downsides to having favorable interactions and relationships with the wealthy. This was true of both rich humans and rich devils.
Where is Millicas anyway? He was supposed to meet me here…
Rias exhaled. She couldn’t in good conscience oppose Millicas being in Lord Malphas’ peerage any longer. Still, she wasn’t happy. She simply could not fathom how Lord Malphas managed to attain such an absurd amount of wealth in the first place.
“Didn’t he just recently reinstate this territory?” she muttered.
“He did.”
The voice came from behind her. It was familiar enough so she recognized it, but upon turning to gaze at the origin, she found a person she did not recognize.
Her heels are three, maybe four inches in length. Ocean blue with a hint of cerulean, a golden strap atop the heel, and pedicured feet with glossy black toenails…
The navy-blue gown has a slit across the right side… it’s showing enough leg and thigh to give neck pain to a eunuch…
Those are… sapphire golem teardrops for earrings? Rare. Very rare. Very expensive. She went all out. Shopping? Specifically for this event?
Her lips are deep and lush, her eyelashes are done, her brows are drawn and her face is powdered…
Who are you, and what have you done with Sona Sitri?
“The origins of Lord Malphas’ wealth is apparently a favored topic in certain circles. I’ve been asked, not once, not twice, but numerous times for my thoughts on the matter.”
Sona spoke casually, as though she were not some body-snatching imposter. All the evidence pointed towards the fact that this was indeed Sona, in spite of the incongruity of previously established behavior.
When they were above hell, Sona Sitri was a friend first and a rival second. When they were beneath the earth, the order was inverted. The social customs and traditions of the Underworld were to be upheld often to the detriment of one’s interpersonal relationships.
There was a silent war, an internal competition to which the price of victory was bragging rights and the smug satisfaction of knowing one was inherently superior to another at the most banal and insignificant of things.
Yet, as devils, who would fault them for indulgence in the sin of pride?
Of all the things which drew Rias’ attention the most about her friend, was her appearance. She’d seen the girl apply far less makeup at her own birthday party. She’d seen her apply lipgloss and a light dusting of powder, all the while grumbling as to how unnecessary and excessive it was. On occasion, she’d departed for her sister’s soirées wearing only her school uniform.
Yet, for this particular event, her rival had glamoured herself up.
“And?” Rias said.
“I am uncertain.”
“You are?”
“This level of wealth, in such a short amount of time, is unprecedented.”
“Maybe he inherited a fortune?” Rias wagered. “Or he took over a human company?”
Sona’s dark eyes glimmered. “Do you know how our economy remains stable despite the fact that we can simply reincarnate or kill wealthy humans and take all their assets as ours?”
She’d attended the lessons when she was younger. Not that she remembered most of them. “Taxes, surely?”
“Import taxes alone aren’t enough,” Sona shook her head. “It’s the limitation of demonic power that stabilizes the economy.”
Another suited invisible servant passed, and Sona grabbed a blue cocktail from the tray it was holding.
“The Underworld lacks numerous natural resources. To build a house, one would need to acquire the necessary resources from the human world. Transporting anything from the human world to the Underworld requires demonic power.”
Sona slowly swirled around her drink. “If you intend to only transport yourself and five others, the amount required is negligible. If you intend, however, to transport one hundred thousand tons of concrete, gold, silver, and jewels?”
“You’ll need a significant amount of demonic power,” Rias noted.
“More than most devils can expend in a day,” Sona acquiesced. “This means hiring a significant number of devils, or a logistics company. Of course, they will all need to be paid, which puts money back into the economy. You will also hire people for the construction, which in turn also puts money back into the economy.”
“Where are you going with this?”
Sona’s eyes were sharp. She flickered her gaze left and right to ensure no one was overhearing their conversation, before slowly taking a sip of her blue cocktail, as though wetting her throat to prepare herself for an uneasy admission.
“I called in a few favors. According to my intel, no construction companies were hired whatsoever in the building and construction of the Malphas Territory.”
A cold chill passed through Rias.
“That — that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Even more peculiar,” Sona continued. “There are no transportation or logistics companies who aided in the movement of construction materials.”
Sona sipped her drink.
“There are no records of anyone being hired to move materials and build a Territory twice the size of France.”
“Then…” Rias could feel a minor headache coming on. “Then how did Lord Malphas build this territory?”
Sona remained silent.
“You can’t be serious,” Rias hissed. “You expect me to believe one devil built all of —”
“I do not know,” Sona interrupted her. “All I know is that this is the first time in the history of our race that a Pillar Clan has been resurrected after going extinct. With such an extraordinary occurrence, other equally extraordinary occurrences are no longer unlikely.”
Rias examined her friend properly. The fact that she was wearing contacts and the fact that this was the most provocative attire Rias had ever seen her wear began to make sense.
“I intend to get closer to Lord Malphas.”
Sona’s admission was frank.
“If my suspicions are correct and Lord Malphas did manage to build such a massive territory and acquire such wealth with nothing but his own two hands, then I will formally ask my mother to send a marriage request.”
Rias’ eyebrows rose.
“I thought you said you’d only ever marry someone who’s smarter than you? Someone who can beat you in a game of chess?”
Sona hummed.
“I did.”
“But?”
“Someone who can make a fairytale castle out of dirt and sand is in all regards better than someone who can win a board game.”
Rias didn’t have anything else to say in that matter. Sona had a ‘type.’ Most would assume, given the girl’s prodigal nature and the requirement she gave to all her suitors that Sona was interested in intelligent and intellectual men, but they’d be further from the truth. She was bored to death with those who only had theoretical intelligence. As irritated as she was by anti-intellectuals, she was disgusted even more by individuals whose only defining trait was their slightly better-than-average mental prowess.
She was more interested in individuals who used their intellect for practical means. Inventors, engineers, and pioneers of science and technology caught her eyes more than professors, teachers, and spouters of rhetoric.
Rias was probably one of the only few people in the entire world aware of Sona’s massive crush on Ajuka Beelzebub. Though, if she were being honest, it was less of a crush and more of an obsession. Her dreams and her ambitions were towards progress and invention, and as the devil responsible for the most progress in the modern era, Ajuka was to Sona what Newton was to Einstein.
If Ajuka Beelzebub declared that gravity was a lie, Sona Sitri would be the first person to start floating.
Rias personally didn’t understand it.
“Would you really use one factor to decide on the person you’ll spend the rest of your life with?”
“Is there a need for anything more?”
The voice had not come from Sona. Someone else accompanied them, though, it was a face neither Rias nor Sona felt particularly happy to see. Diodora Astaroth smiled at them with a farce of a smile that was too good to be true, and the manner in which his eyes remained closed as he smiled sent shivers traveling down Rias’ spine.
“Lady Rias,” Diodora smiled. “Lady Sona.”
“Heir Astaroth,” Sona’s voice was curt. “A pleasure.”
There was no pleasure whatsoever in her voice.
“Dear me, such frosty expressions,” Diodora chuckled. “Is my presence not welcomed? Or perhaps you’d prefer more boisterous company?”
Diodora’s turned into the crowd.
“I’m fairly certain I saw Rizer a moment ago. I’m certain he would love to join —”
“That will not be necessary,” Rias said stiffly.
Diodora’s smile was akin to a venomous snake. “Is there trouble in paradise? I’d assumed you’d be more than excited to see your betrothed.”
It was a trap. Rias pursed her lips. Despite her own personal feelings, she couldn’t verbally claim to not want to see or be around Rizer, without delivering an indirect blow to his reputation and family name. In turn, she couldn’t admit to wanting to see him either, because she most certainly did not, and if she did, he would hear of it and no doubt draw all sorts of conclusions.
“I was unaware you now play matchmaker, Diodora,” Sona’s voice came out. “Are the nuns and priestesses no longer entertaining?”
Diodora’s smile never left his face. “They do get rather repetitive, I’ll admit. Perhaps you have a more novel means of recreation?”
“None suitable for your intellectual talents, unfortunately.”
“Hmmm…” Diodora hummed. His closed eyes seemed to sharpen, somehow. “Well, not all of us can spend our time playing dress up in a school girl’s uniform in the human realm. Such an action is certainly beyond my talents.”
“Playing dress-up? I —”
“I wonder,” Diodora interrupted her. “Is it the schoolboys lustfully gazing at your skirt or the sense of power from knowing you’re superior to everyone around you that keeps you going back?”
Sona stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, surely. with your intellect, you should already be at a college level by now, shouldn’t you? A human high-school curriculum certainly cannot be challenging to someone of your intellectual talents, can it?”
Sona didn’t answer.
“So it’s definitely the schoolboys,” Diodora nodded. “My father used to tell me that if I’m the smartest person in a room, then I’m in the wrong room. Does it not get tiring being around your intellectual inferiors all the time?”
Diodora smiled.
“Well, I suppose it’s the only way you’ll ever be around men who find you attractive, so I can’t blame you for it.”
Sona tried to play it off, but Rias was aware that Diodora’s words had hit a delicate spot. The girl looked ready to provide her own scathing remarks, which would end badly.
Sona’s talents may lay in strategy, but she was by no means a social butterfly. There was nothing she would say to Diodora that would hurt him in any real way, whereas Diodora could and most likely would continue with an endless barrage that would almost certainly leave Sona shaken, if not utterly demoralized.
Rias swiftly interjected before she could speak.
“What do you want, Diodora?”
“Want?” Diodora rose his hands in the air, “Nothing. I’m simply mingling. Am I not allowed to mingle? We’re all alike aren’t we?”
“I do not believe we are anything alike,” Sona spat.
“Her older brother is the Lucifer, your older sister is the Leviathan, and my uncle, well, second-cousin, is the Beelzebub,” Diodora smiled. “Perhaps we should start a club? Do you think calling it the Satan Family Benefit Club will be too on the nose?”
Once more, Diodora paused. Then, slowly, his eyes opened. Rias sucked in a deep breath of air. A weight landed on her shoulders. Diodora’s eyes were always closed in that ridiculous eye-smile of his, so, it was hard to ever gauge his expression. Yet, in that brief minute his eyes opened, Rias felt something unfathomable.
“Ah, then again, I’ve never benefitted from my relationship with Lord Beelzebub, so I suppose I don’t qualify to be a member.”
Hate.
Diodora’s eyes were closed once more, and his smile returned.
“Ah, I love making such little jokes. It seems you two aren’t in the mood for jokes, right now, so I’ll save them for next time.”
He bowed formally.
“Lady Sona, Lady Rias.”
Diodora departed, vanishing back into the crowd of gathered devils, and leaving both of them standing there, feeling a strange pressure on their necks.
“He’s unhinged…” Sona muttered.
Rias could only nod stiffly.
Diodora Astaroth.
Being born into the Astaroth Clan should have netted him the same kind of advantages that she got from being born into the Gremory Clan, or the same advantages that Sona got from the Sitri Clan.
It had done the inverse.
There was no one in the Underworld who did not know of Lord Astaroth’s obsession with ‘recreating’ Ajuka Beelzebub. The man had numerous wives in hopes of birthing a Super Devil from the main line of the Astaroth Clan. Repetitive failures were the only thing which bore fruit from that effort, and Diodora Astaroth was considered ‘the most successful failure’ of them all.
Unlike she, who’d literally been pampered to hell and back by her brother, and Sona, who had her sister obsessively ensuring her wellbeing, it wasn’t a secret that Diodora’s second-cousin, Ajuka, did not care much for him. It wasn’t much of a secret that Diodora had been undergoing special training by the Astaroth family for years before they gave up on him.
Compared to her, who spent most of her time lounging around and reading manga, or Sona who spent most of her time researching books and mysteries, Diodora was stronger. He had to be. Rias wasn’t certain of beating him in a rating game, and knew without a doubt she would lose in a one-on-one fight.
She didn’t know how to handle someone like Diodora. Most people who approached her either tried to please her to sleep with her, but Diodora was the kind of person who seemed like he was restraining himself from strangling her.
“May I have your attention please?”
A loud voice broke throughout the entire ballroom, and a servant stood, garbed in a white mask, clinking a glass.
“Now announcing the arrival of Lord Jamie Malphas and his consorts, Lady Aurora vi Darkblight and Lady Selena Malphas.”
The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the ballroom.
XXXXX
I want to fuck that woman.
Never in his entire life had such a sentiment hit Diodora Astaroth so strongly. He was certain he was not alone in this regard. Silence followed the announcement of the host of the event, as had the sound of numerous devils accidentally letting go of their drinks in their hands.
The woman on the left wore a dark-red cheongsam, one which accentuated her figure and reminded Diodora of numerous Asian models he’d been introduced to in his circles. However, unlike those irritating human women who were like stick figures or cardboard cutouts due to their incessant obsession with thinness, the woman on the left was unabashedly well-endowed.
Saliva bubbled in the back of his throat as his gaze lingered on her chest and flowed down to her eyes. Her face was just the cream of the crop, fair of skin, blond of hair, with a foreign, aloof beauty to it, as though everything and everyone around her was beneath her. She looked like devil nobility, nay, devil royalty.
Yet, he could not even be sure she was indeed a devil. Her ears were pointed, almost like that of an elf, but there were still another pair of cat-like ears adorned atop her head, marking her as either a nekoshou or nekomata devil-hybrid. Everything else was immaculately and perfectly positioned, from her nose to her cheekbones, to her heart-shaped face —
Diodora quickly averted his gaze. The woman on the right was not lacking either. Whereas the woman on the left had the kind of allure found only in nobility, the woman on the right had the kind of allure found only in the darkest recesses of one’s subconscious. She wasn’t quite as slender as the other woman and possessed black hair rather than blond. Her outfit was, in turn, a brilliant red gown, one which showed off an hourglass body figure. Her eyes glowed a deep, mesmerizing red, and every contour on her body drew his eyes as though they were designed explicitly to tempt men.
Both women had their arms wrapped around the host of the event. Making his first-ever public debut, Diodora Astaroth’s gaze swung over to the new Lord of the Malphas Clan.
…Fuck.
He was the devil.
When one thought exactly of the image of the devil, when they thought of fire and brimstone, of sin and purgatory, of long-lived deals and selling one’s firstborn, when they thought of the being that tempted Eve, the creature cast out from heaven, in all its elegance and beauty, temptation and its fury —
The image that came to mind was Lord Jamie Malphas.
The deep red skin he possessed accentuated and mythified his presence. Where everyone else around him had skin tones ranging from snow to charcoal, he was the anomaly, — the outlier. He stood out, and it enhanced his presence tenfold. The deep, enchanting black eyes were like gazing into an eternal abyss, one the likes of which it would be impossible to return from. Two horns were adorned atop his head, curving inwards akin to a crown, as though his very anatomy understood that he was above and beyond the rest.
Then, there was his face. Beauty was not an adjective commonly associated with males, but, no other term could be utilized. The devil was beautiful. It was the kind of beauty money could not buy. The kind of beauty no cosmetic surgeon, not even those gifted with godlike hands would be able to match. It was not an exaggeration to claim that Lord Malphas was the most beautiful male devil in the underworld. With his angular face, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, a small, stubble underneath his chin, and a tail, flickering behind him like the serpent of the garden.
Garbed in a recent Giorgio Armani-styled black suit, and accompanied by a curved serpentine-headed cane in his left hand, the devil walked down the staircase with two head-turning women on each hand.
Diodora could practically taste the envy in the air.
“My fellow devils, I would like to thank you all for coming.”
His voice traveled across the ball like a shockwave. Deep, and potent, there was a familiar tone to it. It sounded like the voice of a commanding officer, as it did sound like the voice of a stern, yet kind father. It was the voice of a military drill sergeant, just as it was the relaxed tone of a grizzled mercenary. it made Diodora want to snap straight up to attention, to focus only on the devil before him and nothing else.
“As many of you are aware, Clan Malphas has been extinct for over a millennium. Its lands lay eroded, its halls empty, its servants dead, its blood cold, its allies reneged, and its legacy forgotten.”
Lord Malphas’ gaze swept through the crowd. It was so quiet, Diodora could hear his own heartbeat.
“Naught existed of these lands. No gravestones to be found of a heritage that spanned thousands of years. Not a portrait, not a vault, not a coin, not a sigil nor a maxim. I searched for my ancestral birthright and found dust. I looked through the pages of history for my family’s relevance, and found footnotes.”
Lord Malphas’ voice slowly rose.
“Clan Malphas endured the first and second death, and died pitifully, like an unfaithful dog biting the master’s bullet. Yet, Clan Malphas would not succumb to the third death. It refused to let time ravage it so that none would utter its name again. Verily, I say, Clan Malphas is not dead.”
Lord Malphas slammed his cane down into the ground.
“CLAN MALPHAS IS NOT DEAD.”
A shockwave of demonic power burst out and sent his announcement traveling forth like a tidal wave.
“Let those words emerge on the lips of all of you who have arrived here today. Let those words simmer in your minds and be carved into every cloud and mountaintop, seared into the flesh of every pet and livestock. Let every thing that has breath declare now and forever…”
Lord Malphas’ black eyes all but glowed as he spoke.
“The Malphas have returned.”
Shudders ran through Diodora’s spine.
“To those who welcome our return and seek our good graces, the utmost hopes of riches or power which you cherish and desire will be far surpassed. To those who disdain our arrival and seek us harm…”
A chill passed into the room.
“I will make widows of your wives, widowers of your husbands, and orphans of your children. I will bring death and ruin to you and your household, up to the seventh generation. Slavery and misery will be your lot. You shall forever be remembered as an example of the fate that befalls all those who declare themselves my enemy.”
The room was cold. It was nigh-freezing. Diodora found himself reflexively swallowing.
“As for those who make themselves our trusted allies and those who join hands with us in peace and progress…”
Lord Malphas smiled.
“I will make you the envy of all those who do not.”
The silence that followed was almost tangible.
“Now, esteemed guests —”
Lord Malphas raised his cane.
Elegant tables and chairs appeared out of thin air. Food, of the likes Diodora had never seen before appeared. The aroma rapidly spread throughout the room and made his throat suddenly feel dry and parched.
“Let us feast.”
XXXXX
Her heart was in her throat.
She heard it pounding. She heard a rhythm of the likes that would have convinced her that she was in a situation of peril. The sound of which would have made one assume she was running, fleeing even, from that which would bring her great harm. It was a symphony that a cardiologist would assign to the sensation of terror, and a response born from the innate desire of an organism to flee from or fight against that which threatened its wellbeing.
Yet, Lord Malphas was currently doing nothing to threaten her well-being. Nothing he’d said would harm her, at least, as long as she was not foolish enough to become his enemy. Nothing he’d done was putting her in peril. He was merely speaking, existing, and even then, her heart was in her throat, and it would not stop pounding.
By the time he completed his speech and the food arrived, Rias still hadn’t moved yet. She wasn’t the only one. Faintly, she recognized that many people were still as spellbound, still motionless and lethargic, as though coming out of a daze, climbing out of Wonderland’s hole, and exiting Narnia’s closet.
Her companion and her rival stood beside her, and Rias saw in her gaze an expression that made her flinch. It was the expression she’d seen in a documentary of a man stranded at sea, starved and parched, all before a meal — salvation itself — was handed to him on a platter. Her eyes told a story of a raw and potent want that had nourished into an indescribable need.
Rias licked her strangely parched lips and pondered, if only for a moment, what her own eyes looked like. Was it the same? Was it different? She was not sure. She was having difficulties thinking properly. With the stiffness of her nipples which she hid expertly, the slow but steady growth of moistness between her loins, and the wild dance of hornets in her stomach, she was finding it difficult to think, to reason.
She could not recall ever having a crush before. At least, not on someone who was real. Certainly, numerous dashing male leads in numerous josei and shoujo novels had gotten her hot under the collar, and she’d not deny having fantasized about taking the place of the woman such men often wooed —
Yet, this was different.
Lord Malphas was flesh and blood. Her imagination didn’t need much to go wild, and it did so with reckless abandon. Images, some ludicrous, some based in reality, all vulgar, flooded her mind in a rapidfire assault, and the stiffness grew, the moistness increased, and the warmth that crept from her neck traveled all the way to her face until she reigned in the sin of lust until it was just barely tolerable.
“W-we should get seated.”
Rias barely managed to let those words escape her lips. Her voice sounded raspier to her ears, and she hoped her rival had not noticed the difference.
“I’m heading to the restroom,” Sona said, in a flat, nigh=emotionless tone. “To powder my nose.”
“Oh, in that case… I-I’ll join you.”
There was a sign posted which made finding the location easier. The men's and women’s sections were separated by a corridor, and the two walked down the long corridor until they entered the door reserved for the women’s restroom. As expected, it was not lacking in any means. There was more gold, silver, and precious ornaments than Rias knew what to do with.
She shut the door behind her, and as soon as she did so, her rival collapsed to her knees.
“Sona! What’s wro—”
Rias’ voice hitched in her throat. Her rival, Sona Sitri, knelt in the middle of a spotless bathroom floor, and gazed upwards, with an expression of bliss, as her body shuddered violently.
For several moments, Rias was not sure she was dreaming. She wasn’t sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, and she wasn’t sure whether or not it was an elaborate prank.
It wasn’t until Sona shuddered again and the sound of liquid dripping amidst the girl’s rough, harsh breaths that Rias was certain she wasn’t dreaming.
The absurdity of the moment struck her, and heat traveled all the way to her face as it dawned on her as to just what exactly she was seeing.
“S-Sona?”
Sona swiftly got up to her feet, staggering a little as she did so. She waved her hand, and a small magical circle emerged and vanished any ‘liquids’ left behind. Sona glanced at her with a straight, deadpan, expression, as though everything that had happened had in fact not happened.
“What?”
Rias didn’t know what to say. “You just —”
“Yes.”
Her voice sounded strained. As though she did not want to admit it. As though she did not want to discuss it. Rias could understand. No, she couldn’t understand, but at the same time, she could understand.
“Lord Malphas’ voice is…” Sona paused. “Disturbingly arousing.”
Rias couldn’t deny it. Not when her hands were crossed over her chest and her nipples were still hardened.
“I am reconsidering,” Sona announced. “I do not want to be anywhere near Lord Malphas in the future. I have to ensure I avoid any contact or proximity with him.”
“What?” Rias wasn’t sure she heard correctly. “Why?”
“Lord Malphas is the most dangerous kind of person for a woman with ambitions. If he were to ask me to surrender my soul in exchange for a kiss, I would do so and believe I came out with the better bargain.”
Sona hesitated.
“I do not believe I have ever been more sexually attracted to a person, nor have I ever so strongly sexually desired a person. I cannot see myself refusing a request from him, no matter how debasing, disgusting, or antithetical to my own values.”
Sona hugged her arms, shuddering lightly.
“It terrifies me,” she whispered. “He terrifies me.”
Rias didn’t speak. In her heart, however, she believed Sona was exaggerating. A part of her whispered, cruelly, that it was merely the girl’s insecurity speaking. It was natural to be terrified of someone far more beautiful. In the same way the average man would freeze and mumble over his words when standing in front of a supermodel, for the first time, Sona was realizing how it felt to be out of her league.
It was more likely her rival realized that she lacked body type and the allure to ever draw the attention of a devil as beautiful as Lord Malphas. From the two women on his arms, it was obvious that Lord Malphas liked women who with larger chests and thicker bodies. Rather than confront the truth that she was lacking in that regard and somewhat average-looking for a devil, and as such would never win his affections, she’d created an elaborate excuse to justify why she would not try.
It was far more likely that was the case.
As such, Rias simply nodded in slow agreement. She did not feel there was a reason to trample on the girl’s already weakened ego. There was no point in attacking her insecurities with doubts and questions.
At the same time, knowing that her rival had immediately given up on a person because she felt he was unattainable, had planted a twisted seed deep within Rias’ heart. How would Sona react, if, and when, she saw her hanging on Lord Malphas’ arm? Would she feel despair? Would she admit, finally, that she was defeated? What sort of expression would she make?
Just as soon as the thoughts came, Rias tried to banish it. Yet, they lingered. It would be a victory — a strong, undeniable, and absolute victory over her rival. To win the affection of a person her rival was too scared to even so much as approach —
W-w-what am I thinking?
She wasn’t thinking straight. She hadn’t been able to think straight since Lord Malphas’ speech. She remembered recently, that the entire reason she’d even come to this event was because of her nephew who was Lord Malphas’ Bishop.
W-wait, wouldn’t that mean…?
Suddenly, a feeling of dread fell upon her. Lord Malphas was her nephew’s King, which meant, by agreeing to a Rating Game against her nephew —
She’d agreed to fight Lord Malphas.
She understood now, why her mother had agreed to end her marriage with Rizer if she was able to beat her nephew in a Rating Game. She understood, because it would imply beating Lord Malphas in a Rating Game.
It… it should be fine… right?
Rias recalled the aura of power and the sheer domineering air the devil exuded, and winced immediately.
…I’m screwed, aren’t I?
Notes:
Been a while. Let's get back to business.
Chapter 14: The Act of Brimstone and Fire
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When she was younger, her mother took her to a play. Most of it she did not understand and the rest she barely enjoyed. It was in the Second Act and the Seventh Scene, that something changed.
The character, Jacques, portrayed by a rather dashing young devil, stood front and center, and from his lips emerged words that hung in her mind till this day.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His Acts being seven ages…
Her mother informed her that the name of the play was As You Like It, and it was written by a famous human playwright, William Shakespeare.
She went on, to the amusement of some and the mockery of others, to watch every last play ever created by the man with child-like zeal.
She was entranced at Prospero’s deep feelings of betrayal and enchanted at the beauty of Ariel’s unflinching loyalty in The Tempest. She wept at the death of Ophelia and shuddered at the madness that followed Hamlet. She was at the edge of her seat at the introduction of the three Witches in Macbeth and lamented morosely once she saw nothing would stop the brave Scottish general from being undone by his ambition.
For Romeo and Juliet, she was of mixed opinions. Was it indeed possible for one to love another enough to take their own life upon hearing of the disaster that befell them? She could not understand it. She could not relate to it. Such a feeling was alien and foreign to her. As a young aristocratic devil in a subdued society, she dreaded and hoped she would never be so foolish.
Of all the Shakespearean plays she’d witnessed, Titus Andronicus was the most memorable. Considering she’d been pale throughout the performance and nearly lost her lunch thrice, it was a given. She’d heard from her friends that it was the most favored and enjoyed Shakespearean play in devil society.
It was not difficult to fathom why.
The brutal rape of Titus’ daughter Lavinia by Chiron and Demetrius was enacted, live, in front of the audience, sparing nothing to the imagination. Her queasiness grew as she watched the actress beg and plead as she was ravished and then disfigured. She could not tell if the begging was real or a part of the performance. The sounds of the devils around her cheering and clapping made her dizzy and she felt bile creep slowly up her throat. The cheers continued deep into the final moments of the play, when Titus killed his own daughter before his guests, telling them that he’d done so because she’d been raped, and informing everyone that her rapists had been killed and baked into the pie to which their own mother had now eaten.
The entire play was a surreal, morbid, ghastly experience, and made her question what she’d thought she’d known and loved about the genius called Shakespeare. She was baffled to discover the play was held in high regard as a masterpiece above masterpieces within the more cultured connoisseurs of literature and drama in devil society, only slightly behind Julius Caesar.
Even worse, her friends who did not care for Shakespeare in one way or another had all enjoyed it.
No, they’d loved it.
She was confused. No, she was conflicted. As such, she’d asked her brother, honestly, and deeply, why it was so. Were devils truly meant to be lovers of evil? Was it truly her fate to cheer loudly at injustice and feel ecstasy at the misery of others? Was there no such thing as a ‘good devil?’
The oxymoronic statement had brought her brother laughing to tears. She’d huffed and puffed in front of him, until he placed a single hand above her head, and told her variants of the words she’d heard from her first-ever foray into the theater experience.
“Everyone is a performer.”
Everyone is a performer.
She had not understood it at first. At the time, she’d thought her foolish older brother was just uttering some mumbo jumbo out of his mouth. Then, she observed.
She observed her mother, who often acted one way in front of her so-called closest friends and comrades, laughing with them, gossiping, and claiming they were ride-or-dies, all the while plotting their downfalls behind their backs.
She observed her father, who would be strict and firm in front of all of his children when they were in public, who would stand calmly and proudly and claim he was the true patriarch of their clan, a man’s man, but behind closed doors, he would cower to whatever demand their mother made of him, acting like a whipped dog who would bark if their mother asked him to bark and roll over if she asked him to heel.
There was her older brother, too. She could never really tell if he was the best performer or the worst one. His act was refined into a method so real that she often forgot he was acting. For so long, he’d played and embraced his role as a playboy-Esque, delinquent privileged middle child, that no one else in their family could tell the character from the performer.
The only reason she’d found out that he was performing was that she’d reported his behavior to her mother one day, worried, genuinely, that her own flesh and blood wanted to bed her. He’d called her aside, and looked at her with firm, yet, kind eyes, which belayed a deep amusement.
“I’m not interested in you, Ravel.”
He’d given her the wrong impression. He did not desire her sexually. He was her brother first, her protector, and his act was done purely for the others while he stood in the limelight.
Outside of the limelight, once the curtains were drawn, once the audience had departed, his laughs would reduce in timber, his voice would mellow, his eyes would sharpen, and a brilliant fire would be born from his gaze. In those moments, a fierce and burning appetite stirred from the depths of his stomach and grew with reckless abandon, threatening to raze him and everything around him.
Fortunately, those of the Phenix bloodline did not fear getting burnt.
Her brother was not a fool. As the third son, there was little he stood to inherit. Any display of ambition would be crushed and stifled. Any slight interest in leading the family would be met with disapproval. In her eyes, her brother was Macbeth, stirring deep with the flames of ambition, yet, unlike the tragic figure, he knew to temper them. He knew to bide his time.
Unlike most devils, the Phenix Clan was comprised of True Immortals. Their lifespans were indefinite as long as they were not killed. What was a thousand years to a true immortal? What was ten thousand years to bide one’s time?
Anyone who would remember her brother as he was now would likely be dead in ten thousand years. Whereas he would only continue to grow, stronger and stronger.
Watching him made Ravel believe she was witnessing the slow rise of a great figure. She was taking part in a grand play, and she, too, had her part to perform. Her name would stand atop the Dramatis Personae beside his, and everyone else would be delegated below it.
Arriving at the event of the new Lord Malphas, she believed she’d come to see the rise of a supporting character. A person her brother would perhaps befriend and become sworn brothers and allies, like Hamlet and Horatio, Mercutio and Romeo, or Sebastian and Antonio.
Regardless, she truly wished her brother would tone down his act. As always she swallowed the slightly uncomfortable feelings in her stomach when he groped her chest and held her in a sensual manner that was intentionally designed to be upsetting to others.
“Hahaha! Of course! Huh? Whatever. I have a fucking contract with Noel DaSilva — yes, yes, that guy. The Ballon d’Or Winner. What? You contracted the entire Board of fucking FIFA? You smug little —!”
No one took him seriously. Not when he bragged about his victories in the Rating Games, not when he talked about his growing harem of women, his interests in luxury sports cars and Formula One racing, his obsession with buying football clubs and spending millions gambling away in Casinos —
Not even telling people about the contracts he had with Saudi Princes and Oil Magnates caused them to bat an eyelash. To the underworld, there was nothing beneath the surface of his spendthrift playboy persona. To the underworld, his bragging claims were hardly impressive and the result of an overinflated ego belonging to a spoiled, irreverent man-child.
All around him, polite smiles masked mocking intents, and as always, targetted words, subtle enough to be interpreted as either insult or compliment were thrown his way.
It irked her. She knew it was his act, his performance, and she knew, deep within, she should feel vindicated and be laughing at the fools around her who thought of her brother as nothing more than a simpleton.
Yet, she hated the way they looked down at him. She hated the subtle manner in which they believed they were superior to him. She wanted to scream in their faces: ‘If only you knew what he’s really like!’
One of such individuals had mentioned spotting her brother’s fianceé in the crowd. She was present at the event but had not deemed it fit to approach him was used as another tool of mockery.
She’d almost marched off without regard to give an earful to the uppity spoiled princess who thought herself too good for him, only to be stopped by a single hand being placed on her shoulder.
“But, brother —”
He shook his head and let a rogue smile come upon his face before he whispered.
“Who was the idiot who said ambition should be made of sterner stuff?"
Her eyes widened.
Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene V.
Spoken by Mark Antony, one of the men who’d conspired to kill Caesar, in one of Shakespeare’s more famous plays. Her brother knew her love of Shakespearean plays, and though he didn’t quite fancy them himself, he occasionally borrowed quotes from them to chide or mock her. It worked because she’d memorized the lines to all the plays backward and forwards, and could recite many of them — even the morbid Titus Andronicus — by heart.
The words made her pout, and her brother snickered, placing his hand over her hair and ruffling it an irritating manner. She huffed back at him, trying to get his hand off her hair, a scene that drew snickers from those around them.
She paid it no heed. Her brother knew what he was doing, and so, too, did she. The more the world underestimated them, the better it was in the long run.
In the Second Scene of the First Act of Julius Caesar, Casca reported to Mark Antony and Brutus that Caesar had been offered a crown three times, and three times, Caesar had rejected the offer. His doing so was a ploy, of course, to make himself more popular with the proletariat, the plebians, who viewed his rejection of nobility as merit and honor and rose their estimations of the man to greater heights.
Ravel had always believed such an action embodied the spirit of the Phenix Clan. The power over fire, wind, and immortality they possessed made them formidable. Their natural regeneration made them great warriors and granted them superiority in combat. They possessed exclusive rights to the only commercially available panacea in the entire underworld, the fabled “Phoenix Tears.”
In a famous interview conducted with Mephisto Pheles and Lord Bael during a Rating Game, a daring question was asked, “If there were ever to be another Civil War, which side do you think will win?”
The answer both devils had agreed upon was:
“The side the Phenix joins.”
Many contested such a claim, believing it to be an exaggeration, but those who objected were fools who did not realize that wars were not won by sheer power alone.
Wars were won through logistics.
The power to heal wounds was a rarity in the underworld. The standard method of wound healing required skin contact over a prolonged period of time to sufficiently transfer demonic power and forcefully stimulate the regeneration of damaged tissues. This was slow and arduous, but it was the price for attempting to use demonic energy to heal and imbue life instead of to destroy and take it. Moreover, the process was energy inefficient. Someone who spent hours healing would have less demonic power to fight with. They would effectively have to be removed from the combat pool.
However, a single droplet of Phoenix Tears would completely heal any and all wounds and rejuvenate one’s energy to the maximum with zero downsides.
Whichever side the Phenix Clan aided would have significantly fewer casualties. Whichever side the Phenix Clan aided, would have far more available troops. Whichever side the Phenix Clan aided, would be able to fight for longer, and fight harder.
They were invaluable.
And thus, they were vulnerable.
Both sides of any conflict would be aware that if the Phenix Clan were to join their enemies, they would have a significantly reduced chance of victory, and as such, if they could not make the Phenix Clan their ally, they would seek to destroy it altogether.
It was for this reason her brother’s arranged marriage was being watched and heavily scrutinized. Marrying into the Gremory Clan was essentially deciding that the Phenix Clan was allying not just with the Gremory, but aligning politically with Progressive Devil Factions. It made those in the Conservative Devil Factions wary.
Of course, the stupid girl her brother was betrothed to probably knew none of it. She was even more sheltered and spoiled than they had been, and she was no likely trying to do her best to avoid the marriage. She didn’t realize the significant political ramifications of her wedding, nor did she care, nor understand that the Phenix Clan’s available political alliances depended on how willingly she agreed to spread her legs for her brother.
For this reason, Ravel Phenix hated Rias Gremory.
She found the redhead at the other end of the grand ballroom and forced herself to turn away, clicking her tongue in distaste. The girl should have felt privileged to be her brother’s fiancée, but she clearly didn’t. It was her loss.
Still, things were not grim.
From the splendorous estate alone, she understood that the Malphas Clan, or at least, its lord, was wealthy. This did not bother her, as the Phenix Clan was not financially lacking in any regard. Her interests lay more in the political stance of Lord Malphas.
Was he also of a progressive mindset? Did he believe that devils could be more than the creatures of evil they were created to be? Did he desire peace, innovation, and progress?
Or was he of a conservative mindset? Did he feel that devils were meant to be evil without remorse and that there was no future wherein devils broke free from their innate natures as creatures born to steal, kill, pillage, and destroy?
Ravel deeply hoped he was of the former rather than the latter. Personally, she loathed devils of conservative mindsets. They were cruel, malicious, and justified their wicked natures as simply a matter of following the will of their creator.
The Four Satans were of a Progressive Mindset, whereas two-thirds of the Lord's Council and all of the Elder Council were of a Conservative Mindset. The current political state of the Underworld shifted more in favor of conservatism, and as a result, many were unhappy with Sirzechs Lucifer’s peace-loving nature. It was just that he was too powerful and too terrifying for anyone to truly oppose him.
The situation was extremely volatile, and the scales were, for now, evenly balanced. However, the arrival of a new player and the side on the scales he chose to stand would tip it in favor of one side or the other.
“Now announcing the arrival of Lord Jamie Malphas and his consorts, Lady Aurora vi Darkblight and Lady Selena Malphas.”
The devil himself descended the staircase, Ravel found her breath stuck in her throat.
A true… performer.
No, Lord Malphas was not a mere performer.
He was a star.
Even her brother momentarily forgot himself in lieu of the devil’s appearance, and they were both taken aback as the devil completed his speech. Stunned into silence, delivered into a trance-like state.
Those words… that speech…
“...Ravel.”
“Y-y-yes, brother?”
“What do you think of him?”
“...I — I’m not — sure.”
Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest. Stronger and faster than she’d ever heard it beat in her life. She’d only ever felt such a sensation when in the audience of a play, witnessing the horrific or somber moments of a character, moved to sheer tears by the cathartic feeling of a tragic death —
Ah, that’s it… isn’t it?
She understood now, why she felt the way she did.
It was a tragedy.
It was a tragedy to have lived her entire life without having met Lord Malphas.
And it would be a grander tragedy to live a life devoid of his presence.
He was simply…
“Beautiful…”
“Beautiful, huh?”
Her face burned as she realized her brother had overheard her. “I — I mean — I d-didn’t —”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” her brother hummed. “The fucker’s presence is really something.”
Her brother patted her on the back.
“Come on, little sister,” he grinned. “Let’s go say hello.”
Ravel blinked.
“...Eh?”
XXXXX
I’m wet.
There was no fanfare that followed the acknowledgment. No embarrassment. No shame. Irritation was the most prominent feeling. Discomfort was second. Her underwear was clinging to her in an uncomfortable manner that needed some form of adjustment or the other.
With a brief inhale and a small, subtle helping of power, the lubricating fluids nearly dripping from between her legs were reduced by half. Another cast, and it reduced by half still. Onwards, halving itself over and over again until it was gone.
Then, her eyes scanned the room and focused on the cause of her momentary dilemma.
She’d felt it the moment Lord Malphas descended the stairs. The skip in her heartbeat. The shortening of her breath. The abrupt hardening of her nipples. The flushness of her cheeks and the cry of her womb all but screaming to be filled with seed.
The feelings had amplified once he began his speech.
She’d hung on to every word. Every syllable. Every pause and audible punctuation. Spellbound, drunken, inebriated, like a sycophantic noble at the feast of Belshazzar.
By the time he finished, her underwear was drenched worse than before.
Once more, the problem was solved with a sharp use of demonic power. She bit on the edge of her lips and tapped her heel against the floor. Slowly, a voice stirred in her head.
“That devil. He —”
“I know.”
Somebody less educated would believe all the biological signs she’d experienced were nothing more than proof of her desire. Somebody less knowledgeable would even mistake the flood of feelings and hormones for signs of potential romantic affection. Others, were they of sane and smart minds, would likely be terrified the moment their body began to betray them thus so.
She was no fool.
No devil, no matter how handsome or charming could cause arousal so great with but mere words and presence. Not without cause.
Her mentor, in spite of all his failings, wasn’t inept enough to not teach her about such things. She probably knew too much about such things.
“He’s an Incubus.”
There was a slow, long hum within her head.
“A rather powerful one at that…”
She let out a long, bitter exhale. “That bastard told me they were extinct.”
She let her gaze linger, hotly, on the devil. He was surrounded on all sides, notably, by individuals listening to him, talking to him, and introducing themselves to him. Numerous female devils tried to approach, but many glanced at the two women by his sides and swiftly distanced themselves, having the sense of self-awareness to realize they were nowhere near as alluring.
“I’m surprised you’re restraining yourself so well.”
A dry snort escaped her lips. “Don’t patronize me.”
“It’s nothing to take lightly. Not many are capable of resisting the charm of —”
“You know as well I do that I’m currently dividing my feelings of arousal in half over and over again,” her voice came out rough. “I’d probably have jumped him and done disgusting things otherwise…”
In truth, she was dividing more than just her arousal. She was dividing her emotions in half. Minimizing and halving them until they were almost entirely muted. The only emotions she could currently feel were irritation and annoyance.
She couldn’t completely mute every emotion. She had done so once. After she’d learned about the Code and discovered she was condemned to be an inferior being by that bastard of a Creator, she’d disregarded the warning voice in her head and muted everything.
It had taken her mentor eleven months to figure out how to fix her. She’d been incapable of any and all emotion. She’d lost all desire. The desire to fight, the desire to train, the desire to eat, sleep —
And the desire to live.
For that reason, when dividing her emotions, she had to keep at least one type of emotion within her. That emotion was the kindle that would be ignited to bring the rest back.
“Vali.”
“What?”
“I would not recommend challenging him until you’ve cracked the Code.”
Her nostrils flared. “You think I’ll lose.”
“You will.”
“You’ve been telling me this same thing over and over again any time I meet someone who could even remotely be a challenge,” she groused. “If I hadn’t listened to you back then, I’d have justice for my father’s killer. Nyxdolor should have died by my hands —”
“Nyxdolor was not an opponent you could face.”
“And yet, he died to a bitch with less power in her body than I have in a strand of my hair —”
“You don’t believe that. Nor do I. Is that not the entire reason you are here? To find the true perpetrator?”
She bit down on her lower lip. Her irritability was growing. She glanced over to the location of Lord Malphas and seeing his pretty face made a lump form in her throat. She gripped her hands tight and continued to bite until she could feel blood drawing from her lip.
“Calm yourself, Vali.”
“I’m fucking calm.”
“The power of that Incubus is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. You’re not the only one having difficulties. Look around.”
She did. There were two female devils all but dry-humping their seats as they gazed lustfully in Lord Malphas’ direction. She saw one, openly drooling. She found another, panting, softly, her hands occasionally in between her gown, blatantly moving it in fast, jerky movements.
“What the… fuck?”
Her nostrils flared again.
“How is no one else noticing this?”
“A side-effect of his monstrous charm, I’m certain. One could probably strip fully nude and walk around with a giant signboard saying ‘notice me’ and they’d still fail to divert people’s attention from him,” the voice chuckled. “There is a reason Angels and Fallen alike hunted the Incubi to extinction, after all.”
The sentence brought her pause.
“Angels and Fallen?”
“Did Azazel not tell you the specifics?”
“He just said they were extinct.”
“And I’m sure he omitted his own part in that tale,” A loud sigh emerged. “During the Great War, your mentor and his allies joined hands with Michael and the Hosts of Heaven and strategically hunted every last Incubus to extinction.”
Her gaze lingered on Lord Malphas. Then it moved towards the young devil lady blatantly masturbating to him in public with heart-filled eyes, yet, seemingly going unnoticed by everyone around her. A shudder traveled down her spine at the knowledge that if it weren’t for her Sacred Gear, that young lady could be her.
“They hunted them because of the effects they have on women?”
“No. They hunted them because they were a cure.”
“A… cure?”
“Your great-grandfather was aware of the crippling weakness of devils being the poor rate of reproduction. For that reason, he and your great-grandmother set out to create a cure — Succubi and Incubi were born of her sexual desire and his purest seeds.”
“...What?”
“They were meant to be a band-aid that would become a vaccine. Driven purely by lust, they would serve devilkind as breeding kilns. Incubi could impregnate women at an unprecedented rate of success, and succubi could in turn be impregnated at a higher rate.”
The mention of impregnation made her feel ill. The thought of letting someone, anyone, put their… thing inside of her and pump her with their junk until her stomach swelled almost made her vomit.
“If let be, then, over time, every Devil would have Incubi or Succubi heritage or blood. This would aid in boosting both the population and reproduction rate.”
“The other factions would never stand for that.”
“Correct. To avert a world where devils outnumbered the angels, the hunt was brutal. Kokabiel, Azazel, Michael, and Gabriel rained brimstone and fire upon every last settlement where an Incubus could be found, and the purge was a thousand times fiercer than the fate that befell Sodom and Gomorrah. The succubi were hunted as well, but, most were merely made as slaves, and, for unknown reasons, the remnants that survived the purges were unable to birth male children, which led to them being forgotten, devalued, and retroactively creating the myth that a succubus could only give birth to another succubus.”
She rapidly tapped her foot against the floor again, diverting her gaze and doing her best to keep her irritation at bay. Her mind lingered on the words of the voice within her, and the knowledge to which she’d not been privy.
“.You know a lot about devil history.”
“What, did you think me an ignorant gold-hoarding buffoon?”
“I thought all you did during the Great War was rampage around fighting your lover or something —”
“My rival,” the voice corrected. “And while that is true, I’ve spent countless years hopping from one host to another ever since my body was destroyed. Do you think I would not use that time to learn every weakness, every flaw, and every detail I can about the ones responsible for the greatest defeat I have ever suffered?”
She did not answer. There was no need to. It was, after all, something she would do as well.
“I know more about the Three Factions than many of their higher-ups within are aware,” the voice coldly stated. “I have lived through more events than their scribes have recorded. And when I find Yahweh’s Code and unbind my soul from this Sacred Gear, Ddraig and I will hunt down every last one of those bat-winged and pigeon-winged bastards who dared attack us and raze the heavens and hells to ash with dragonfire.”
The voice let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“If Ddraig and I weren’t tired from fighting each other for ninety days and ninety nights, we would never have lost. Not to such weaklings. Not even with all Three Factions stopping their war and forming a truce to fight us. Michael was a little whelp who couldn’t scratch my scales, and your mentor was barely able to survive one of my roars….”
Another snort escaped her lips. She found herself a glass of liquor and sipped generously, all the while doing her best to breathe in and out.
“So, what now?”
“Do you believe you have it in you to approach Lord Malphas and make your inquiries?”
“Without attempting to kill him, you mean.”
“Yes. Without doing that.”
She slowly ran her hand through her hair and exhaled. “...I don’t know. I can’t be sure that the effects of his charm won’t get stronger the closer I approach. If something like that happens —”
“I’ll teach you a new trick to avoid that.”
“A new trick?”
“My power wasn’t named Divine Dividing for no reason. It’ll only be for a moment… but you should be able to divide the space between yourself and Lord Malphas, and then further divide yourself from this plane of existence, to isolate you from his influence.”
“Won’t that be dangerous?”
“Not any more dangerous than remaining here. That disguise you have will only last so long. The sooner you get the information you need, the sooner you can leave before someone discovers your identity.”
She couldn’t deny it. There were too many fanatics of her grandfather in the Underworld. Even a rumor that the so-called ‘Princess of Hell’ was in the Underworld would stir numerous individuals to action. Many of them wished to rally behind her and wield her as a diplomatic cock to pierce through the virgin walls of their political ambitions. There were hundreds more who’d wish to capture her, lock her in a dungeon somewhere and use her as a breed mare, in hopes that their mediocre blood would be elevated to greater heights after mixing with the genes of one descended from the Original Prince of Hell.
No, the Underworld was not safe for her. With the power of her Sacred Gear, most enemies were not a match, but, alas, due to Yahweh’s Code, there was always a real and considerable risk of defeat in battle.
“...With any luck, he may actually be able to help us.”
“You’re joking.”
“We’ve had no luck thus far in finding a means to crack the Code. Your mentor will not even try. I know you hate to admit this, but, searching for a means will require a capable ally and —”
“And you believe he of all people is suitable?”
“Remember the fairies we saw outside?”
She didn’t answer
“If one can make evil co-exist so blatantly with good…”
She bit down on her lower lip.
“Fine.”
Vali exhaled.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
XXXXX
“Ah, yes, I personally tried to recruit him, but, well — ah, I’m sorry? No — I don’t think I’ve —”
“Oh, L-Lord M-Malphas! This is truly a splendid event! I’m Divales Beleth, of the House of Beleth— ah — you’ve not heard of — well it’s perfectly understandable —”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Malphas, my name is —”
“Oh, certainly, I’ve never met a more dashing and —”
“That was a riveting speech, Lord Malphas. Allow me to introduce myself —”
Jamie glanced at his wristwatch. The second hand ticked forward slowly. The songstress Aine had the watch in her possession, kept in a box along with countless pearl earrings, jewels, pendants, and necklaces. Inherited from her mother, who inherited it from her father, it had been in her family for about five hundred years.
At a glance, no one would expect anything of such an ordinary, if not dated object. A cursory utilization of Identify revealed the watch was one of the only eight refurbished Henleins in the entire world. It’d been given as a gift to Joséphine de Beauharnais, the wife of Napoleon Bonaparte the First, by her first husband, Alexandre de Beauharnais, before his execution during the Reign of Terror.
To humans, the little watch wrapped around his wrist would be a priceless artifact; an unfathomable piece of history. It was an object lost to time and spoken of fondly with regret. Yet, an otherwise unremarkable songstress who was but a mere Middle-Class Devil in the underworld held it in her possession because it’d been won in a drunken bet by her grandfather ages ago.
How… quaint.
There was a vast inequality of status and power. Even now, Jamie felt it. Slowly swirling a drink in his hand, he brought it up to a sip as he made his judgment.
I may have overestimated them.
The devils before him, stuttering over their words and bumbling over themselves all in an attempt to make his acquaintance knew not how much they debased themselves. Jamie’s gaze hovered over the crowd, and the more he saw, the less he desired to see. He was never one to judge the beauty of a thing purely based on its outward appearance, but the outward appearance was all that most had. Women strutted around with accessories masquerading as husbands, and husbands moved, their arms wrapped around accessories moonlighting as wives.
Ambitions were worn as commonly as brooches and neckties. Words, remarks, and gestures were all deprived of sincerity and starved of personality. Mouths moved and sound emerged, but the noises could not be considered words for they failed in the function of communication.
His brain automatically filtered the rabble and ignored them in his line of sight with the same passivity by which the eyes ignored the nose. Of course, he could not and would not let any of this show on his face. He maintained his own part, playing the role of a young man who spoke few words. The less he spoke, the more profound an effect it had on the words which did escape his lips. Value was created through scarcity and elevated through mystery.
This wasn’t his first foray into such a gathering. Adriel had been the mentor of Kings, and Calista had been a Queen. His own father, Lord Darkblight, was considered royalty of sorts, and he himself in his early years as a wandering Bard had often been invited to perform in such courtrooms and gatherings. As such, rubbing shoulders with nobility came as easily to him as breathing.
He did, however, make sure to occasionally glance at Selena to ensure she was doing fine. Unlike him, this was completely out of her element. However, he needn’t have worried. Selena was a social butterfly. Her words were sharp and cutting, her wit was without end, and her smiles were perhaps more practiced than his own.
Aurora, likewise, kept people at bay with the frosty air she exuded. She was, in every regard, royal. Royally appealing, royally alluring, and as such, royally unapproachable. The female devils who did dare approach were silenced with a gaze, and none of the males had the courage to make it five feet before her.
Nonetheless, all of this was perfunctory. His true reason for such a gathering was simple.
The Campaign.
Displaying Campaign Progress…
Current Campaign: The Legacy of Lucifer
First Task :
Gain a seat at the next Lord Council Meeting in 7 Days.
Requirements :
500 Influence or Higher. (Current Influence: 484)
1,000,000 Shekels Net Worth or Higher. (Current Net Worth: ∯12,530,205,102) [Completed]
1000 km 2 of Territory or Greater. (Current Territory: 1,287,602 km 2 ) [Completed]
100 or more Serfs in your Territory. (Number of Serfs: 11,420) [Completed]
10 or more Maidservants/Slaves. (Number of Slaves/Servants: 1)
5 or more Businesses, Industries, or Trade-Worthy Income Sources. (Total Number: 5) [Completed]
3 or more Contracts with High-Profile, Famous, or Wealthy Humans. (Number of Contracts: 0)
1 or more Castles, Mansions, and Estates. (Number of Estates: 1) [Completed]
Bonus/Optional Requirements:
Make at least (3) Allies from the Pillar Clans. [Number of Allies: 2]
Meet at least (2) of the Four Satans. [Number of Satans Met: 1]
Meet at least (1) Member of the Elder Council. [Number Met: 0]
Acquire Evil Pieces and add a Queen to your Peerage. [Completed]
Have a Siruka Rating of 2500 Points or More. [Current Siruka Rating: 2015]
I’ve come quite a long way.
Of his compulsory requirements, three were as of yet completed. His influence had yet to reach 500, albeit it was fairly close. He was lacking in servants and slaves, as every servant currently on the Malphas Estate Grounds was in fact a conjuration utilizing the First Level Conjuration spell, Unseen Servant.
The third requirement was forming contracts with wealthy and or influential humans, which he’d not had the time to accomplish, as he’d been too busy in the Underworld to foray into the human world for such a thing.
It was his goal to rectify that soon. In addition to completing the main requirements, the event he’d thrown would also help him in completing the optional requirements.
Or at least, so he believed.
I need at least one more ally from one of the Pillar Clans…
His first ally was, clearly, the Agares Clan. He had the full support of Minobella Agares, despite the slightly contentious relationship he currently had with both her and her daughter.
…She didn’t show up, did she?
Jamie almost chuckled.
I suppose she’s still rather sour about that incident...
Minobella and Seekvaira aside, his second ally had come in the form of the Gremory. As he’d predicted, Venelana and Minobella were rivals, and both began jockeying for his affection and his loyalty. Venelana saw an opportunity, and she’d been rather brazen in her method of ingratiating herself into his favor.
Two, or maybe three months ago, a familiar red-headed boy had approached him and demanded he kowtow and become his servant. Jamie had been amused at the whole thing and wondered how the boy had found him, only to be told that it was his grandmother who’d sent him.
The boy challenged him to a Rating Game, a one-on-one fight, wherein the loser would become the servant of the victor.
It was a devious plan because there was no outcome wherein Venelana did not get what she wanted. Either he won and became tied to the Gremory Family via Millicas, or he lost and the result remained the same, but with him becoming their serf.
Of course, if he refused the battle entirely, it would be a tremendous blow to his standing. Word would travel far and wide, and before he even had the chance to introduce himself to Devil Society, he would be branded a coward. A devil who fled from combat, a devil who avoided battle with a child numerous years his junior, and all manner of such rumors would travel. His reputation would be called into question, his future standing would decline, and it would hamper his relationship with the Agares Clan.
The only winning move was to accept the battle and win, therefore raising his standing by becoming the King and Mentor of Sirzechs Lucifer’s only son.
It was a tactic only a matriarch could have come up with. Utilizing her grandson as an unwitting political tool to aid her in acquiring an ally. Jamie pondered if Millicas was aware that he was used as a pawn in his grandmother’s plans, but he was certain the boy would not care even if he knew.
He was consumed with thoughts of vengeance and hatred towards the Greek Faction, a faction of gods, heroes, and mythical figures from which Nyxdolor originated. Jamie did not dissuade him. He was curious about the ‘gods’ of this realm, and he wanted to know how they compared to those of the Forgotten Realms. Also, as Nyxdolor’s killer, he would likely end up in the crosshairs of the Greek Faction sooner or later.
Jamie withdrew himself from his thoughts and focused on the ongoing events. After the exquisite feast, the ballroom was cleared out and the music changed to a more relaxed tone suitable for slow dancing.
This, was of course, the moment most had been waiting for. Dancing was the opportunity to get closer to an individual and converse with them in a manner free from prying ears.
Of course, that was not Jamie’s first priority.
The first dance of the evening would go to one person and one person alone.
As the music played and everyone moved unto the dance floor, his hands were intertwined with Selena’s, and he found his lips curling into a grand smile at her own mischievous gaze.
“Well?”
“I still can’t believe any of this is real.”
They started out slow, and he led, holding her waist close enough and tight enough to him that a piece of paper could be held firmly between them.
“How about now?”
“Hmm… yes, that’ll do it.”
They moved as one unit, every advance followed by a careful retreat, and it was as though she could tell his next move before he made it.
“Jamie.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t plan on telling anyone that I’m your mother, do you?”
Jamie almost froze mid-step. He recovered quickly, however, and continued the dance as though nothing was amiss.
“Many people asked about my relationship with you, but I’ve been diverting the question. It… would be… bad. Right? I mean… Wouldn’t it?”
Incest was still one of those things that were unaccepted in devil society, at least, between members of a nuclear family. You could marry your own cousin and have an orgy with your in-laws, but a direct family member was considered pushing the line too far.
As it stood, he’d curated a nigh-perfect image through effort, and he was aware that knowledge of who Selena truly was would be the most potent angle of attack. He knew this. Selena likely did as well. After all, one of the reasons he was doing any of this, the reason he was creating a dynasty, was for her — for Selena.
But he could not let the underworld know of the true nature of their relationship.
Not yet.
“I’m sorry.”
Not until he was powerful enough to squash any who had a problem with it
“It’s fine.”
She smiled.
“I don’t want people to look down on you because of me. And… I don’t want people to judge what we have.”
The music continued, the melody going higher, and then lower.
“S-so… as far as the entire underworld will know, I’m your mistress.”
She looked up at him.
“Nothing else.”
“...I feel you’re not too displeased with such an arrangement.”
Her response was a coy smirk. “I’m just thinking of all the ways I can be treated as a mere mistress.”
Jamie’s lips twitched. He shook his head and let out a short laugh. He should have known better than to believe such a thing would bother a woman of Selena’s peculiarities. That was one of the things he liked about her, the ability to find the sexual upside of every inconvenient situation.
“By the way…” she purred. “Do you have your eyes on anyone?”
“Pardon?”
“There are a lot of attractive young women here. At least one person has to have gotten your attention.”
She pirouetted, and he followed along, spinning her daintily as they continued their dance. He seized the opportunity to glance at the guests and the others equally moving along the dance floor. Without a doubt, there were many attractive young women present.
None of them stood out to him.
How peculiar…
Jamie did not understand it. What was it that made them unable to stand out? Was it a lack of presence? A lack of elegance? No, the aesthetics alone could not be it. He pursued beauty, and aesthetics was merely one aspect of it. Surely, it alone could not be the reason why none of the women present drew his interest.
What are they lacking?
He let his eyes travel once more until he found a girl who looked oddly familiar to Venelana Gremory. However, she possessed blood-red hair rather than auburn. Her dress was splendorous, she was dancing in the arms of a young man. Jamie’s eyes lingered for only a moment, but that brief moment was enough for their gazes to align.
A glimpse of the eyes was all he needed. No additional spells were required, and no innate magics were used. Only his instincts as an Incubus, his skill as a purveyor of beauty, and his experience with dealing with the feminine psyche.
She could not meet his gaze.
She’s Venelana Gremory’s daughter?
Jamie’s brows furrowed heavily.
Truly?
Although there was a clear physical resemblance, he could detect none of the traits of the mother within the child. There was none of the self-assured confidence he’d seen in Venelana upon meeting her, nor could he find any hints of refined elegance or eyes alight with ruthless cunning. There was neither mystery nor mirth, neither intrigue nor guile. From a brief glance between the windows of souls, Jamie could tell one thing about the daughter of Venelana Gremory.
She is a woman who has never lacked, never strived, and never been refused.
He’d seen such eyes only in extremely sheltered princesses or in young and naive daughters of wealthy noblemen. It amused him. It amused him, as it did baffle him. Had he read Venelana wrong? It seemed so… unlikely that a woman so cunning would leave her daughter without instilling in her the same level of guile and vulpine charm.
Or perhaps this was indeed another ploy? To what end? What possible value could there be in raising a child in a manner such that even a complete stranger could tell at a glance that the child knew nothing of hardship?
Comparison was the thief of joy, but alas, his incubus brain could not help but compare daughter to mother. The only advantage daughters possessed over their mothers was youth, but for devils, such a thing was not true. Venelana had appeared just as young as her daughter, and after encountering the original, he could not help but feel as though Venelana’s daughter was an inferior copy.
If he had to pursue one, he’d rather aim for the mother…
A shame.
Jamie’s gaze traveled elsewhere as his feet continued to move along to the beat of the music, and he danced in Selena’s arms. There were other young women, such as a young black-haired girl in a rather enticing blue gown, and another, shorter blonde-haired girl in a long frilly dress with flames licking the edges.
Appealing to the eyes, certainly, but if he were to be honest, they simply could not compare physically to Selena. For those who did, they could not match Aurora’s beauty. It took him a moment, finally, to understand why they simply did not stand out to him.
“...Unripe.”
“What?”
“I may have developed a taste for slightly older women.”
It was true that he found women like Venelana, Selena, and Minobella extremely beautiful, and he’d noticed a discrepancy in maturity between him and his ‘peers.’
Most of the Young Devils ranged between eighteen years to about twenty-five. In contrast, taking his past life into account, he was over a hundred years old. He’d noticed it in the past few months after spending a little more time with Seekvaira.
She was too impressionable. Her thoughts, fears, and concerns were like an open book to read, and it would not be an exaggeration to claim that he could single-handedly decide the course of her life and destiny with but a few well-placed words and a nice thick carrot.
Is this why Mégalo used to joke with Calista so often?
For elves who lived thousands of years, starting a relationship with someone of merely eighteen or would lead to an imbalance in the power dynamics. Calista originally rebuffed Adriel’s advances on that basis, claiming that she was far too old for him. Adriel had of course insisted and pushed on courting her, which led to Calista self-deprecatingly declaring herself a cougar, and Mégalo jokingly calling them both cradle robbers.
“Oh?”
Selena grinned.
“I wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that, would I?”
“You’ve been a rather bad influence on me, I’m afraid.”
“That’s really flattering, but,” Selena shook her head. “You can’t have milfs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You need someone around your own age, Jamie.”
…They are around my own age, though? Jamie’s lips curled.
“How about you decide?”
“What?”
Jamie scanned the ballroom with his eyes and tilted his head, all while swiveling Selena around in his arm.
“Any woman you select, I will court.”
“You’re sure? You’re leaving it… to me?”
“And here I thought you’d be happy to select your first potential daughter-in-law —”
“Her.”
Selena’s gaze hit a particular direction, and Jamie followed it. He examined the girl in question. His brows furrowed immediately as he noticed her. Non-descript brown hair, plain-looking features, and an air of utter banality and forgetfulness that the moment his gaze landed on her, he wished to do nothing more than look away and find someone more beautiful.
“Why her?”
“Why not her?”
Jamie examined the girl again. His gaze lingered, but he found it hurt his eyes.
…Wait.
Both his instincts as an Incubus and numerous years of experience told him something was wrong. He’d never found a woman unpleasant to look at. Never. Even if she were overweight or diseased, his demented mind would still find some manner of beauty to be seen, if not in body, then in soul and spirit.
Yet, the woman before him was so unappealing that his brain skipped over her. She was so forgettable and unremarkable that he felt irritation looking at her. It was an unnatural feeling.
“...Selena, what do you see when you look at that woman?”
“She’s a young woman with beautiful black hair and —”
“Black?” Jamie interrupted. “Not brown?”
“I think I know the difference between black and brown, Jamie,” Selena huffed. “I wonder why you didn’t notice her. She’s the most beautiful girl here. Besides yours truly, of course.”
He was correct.
Something was wrong.
Jamie swiftly channeled demonic power to his eyes. The moment he did so, a highly irritating voice cut him off.
“Don’t bother.”
The world around him froze. Froze. Everything stopped moving, everyone stopped reacting, and Jamie sucked in a deep sharp breath as the frozen world swiftly morphed into absolute darkness.
Time Stop? Was he truly encountering the Ninth-Level Spell here?
The nondescript woman he’d been looking at approached him. He tried to reach out with his instincts as an Incubus, but he could find nothing. He could not get a single read on her emotional state. He could not gain a single insight into her mind or her motives.
Stuck in a dark void with a mysterious woman, Jamie could only allow himself a deep chuckle.
“Well, if this isn't a surprise?”
“...I’ll only ask this once,” the woman’s voice was dripping with venom. “Are you the one who killed Nyxdolor?”
…Ah, how bothersome.
Notes:
Come the new year, I'll be experimenting with a new writing style. I'll be pumping out shorter chapters overall, but, they'll be a lot more frequent. Weekly, at the very least.
If I don't like the feel of it, then I'll stick with the formula I have now.
Enjoy the holidays.
Chapter 15: Through Insolence Comes Strife
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Are you the one who killed Nyxdolor?”
The question was asked. Silence was the answer. A long, piercing silence, as though she’d taken a trip down into the Fields of Asphodel and found its inhabitants deprived of tongues. Absolute and all-consuming, intensified a hundredfold by the division of space and subtraction of time.
Her patience was thin, and her eyes thinner. Lord Malphas stood there, with his cane in front of him, with neither a word nor sound escaping his lips. He almost resembled a statue, not something as banal as Lady Liberty, nor as serene as the Spring Temple Buddha. He was less The Thinker or Christ the Redeemer, and more reminiscent of the Statue of David.
Yes, akin to a being carved by a master artisan, even the mere act of standing silently put him in a category close to a masterpiece. The more she thought of it the less she desired to think. Her mind was overflowing with doubts. How many of these thoughts were hers? How much of this was merely his influence, his charm?
Could his charm bypass even dimensions and assault her mind enough to consider him a masterpiece when all he did was stand? Was such a thing possible? Did she truly find some absurd beauty and elegance in a being whose inaction bore greater grace than the actions of those who sought to be distinguished?
She could not help but admire it, and thus, she could not help but suspect it.
“How curious.”
The silence was broken. Two words brought her mind reeling. The weight of them settled on her shoulders and for a moment, she became Atlas. Her breath found itself unable to leave her throat.
The battle she’d been fighting within her erupted into a full-scale conflict. She fought back. Within her, a thousand cries of DIVIDE, DIVIDE, DIVIDE roared over and over again, the effectiveness fading with each cry. Her heart was roaring. Her body, her traitorous, rebellious, insubordinate flesh was consumed with a primal yearning carved into her genetic code.
It’s not enough? It’s still not enough?!
“This is ridiculous,” the voice in her head was as befuddled as she was irritated. “His charm can bypass dimensions? I’ve never heard of… well, perhaps one person could pull something similar, but he’s not a Goddess,… is he?”
Two layers of dimensional separation, and yet, hearing his voice was enough to force her voice to come out in short gasps and send her nether regions burning with desire. Two words and her underwear was drenched. A simple utterance and her head was light, airy, as though she were a naive church girl smitten with a charming youth pastor.
“May I know who —”
“Shut up!’”
The words emerged from her lips in a ragged gasp. She couldn’t let him say anything unnecessary. She didn’t know how much more of his voice she could take. She didn’t know how much she could withstand before she caved in to the desire burning in her and did something humilating.
She was beginning to hate Lord Malphas.
She was not certain she’d hated anyone as much, nor as fervently, as she’d hated the devil standing before her now. His power, his nature, the fact that he barely had to do anything to reduce her to such a state stung her.
“I beg your pardon —”
“Not another word, bastard!”
She roared.
“Just answer what I fucking asked you!” she cursed. “Before I lose my temper and kill you right now!”
“What are you doing, Vali! This was not a part of the pla —”
‘Screw the plan,’ she bit out. “You have no damned idea how hard I’m stopping myself from —’
“Do believe threatening him will make things better?!!” the voice roared. “If he has this much of an effect on you when he’s not even trying, have you even stopped to fathom how much worse it will be upon earning his ire?!”
A part of her mind, the part responsible for logical thinking, the little bit of it not holding back the torrent of desire and the flood of irritation, that part knew the voice was right. She’d not come here, nor done any of this to make an enemy of the new Lord of the Malphas Clan.
However, the rest of her mind could not accept it. Her pride could not accept it. Her mind was already heavily taxed, and there was no bandwidth left for the application of logic and the triumph of calmer thoughts.
“Disgusting incubus bastard,” she rasped, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.”
She was about to explode. The battle within her had evolved from a minor skirmish between schoolboys tossing stones and wielding sticks, to Gettysburg and Stalingrad, Okinawa and Berlin. The bombardment of emotions attacked what little feeble resistances she’d built, and her willpower crumbled like unfortunate infantrymen weeping in trenches.
“Vali, calm yourself! Look at him! There’s still a chance that this can be resolved as long as you don’t —”
The rest of his words faded in her ears like noise. Through blurry eyes, she glanced toward Lord Malphas. He was still standing there, having not moved from his position. If he’d possessed some sort of smug gaze in his eyes, she’d have been livid, but it would have been enough to bring her back to her senses, to not let her fall for his game.
If his gaze had been lecherous and disgusting, he’d have looked no different to her than the fat pig bastards in devil society who wished to lick her from head to toe, and thus, she’d have found the will to regain her senses.
Alas, there was neither lecherous desire nor smug satisfaction. There was no mustache-twirling nor was there maniacal, egotistical laughter. Rather, his eyes, those black, abyss-like eyes gazed upon her with emotion all but foreign to her.
There, in his gaze, as though he were not the demon responsible for her predicament, as though he’d not been the one to bring her to such a state, was —
“Are you alright?”
Concern.
“RRRRRAAAAAAAAGH!”
There were no tactics in her head. No thought or strategy. Not even a remote inkling of a plan of approach. Fuelled only by righteous indignation and painful mortification, she broke through the pointless dimensional barriers of separation, charging head-first like a rabid beast with no regard for its wellbeing.
Space and time were shattered with a great roar of DIVIDE! The space between her fist and Lord Malphas’ face vanished and her ears were greeted with the satisfying impact of bone shattering like glass.
A brief moment later, her instincts screamed that something was wrong. Given the speed and force of the impact, the sound that should have followed next should have been that of a body being flung backward at supersonic speed.
Instead, a sudden, sharp and abrupt pain overwhelmed her mind. The pain was great enough for her to regain her senses, for her bloodlust to dwindle as adrenaline pumped into every corner of her body.
“You dare?”
W-what?
Her eyes caught up to reality. Her hand, extended outward, had not connected with Lord Malphas’ face. Rather, there was a floating spectral hand in front of her. At the other end of that floating spectral hand, was a bloody mess of bone and chunky flesh where her right hand used to be.
The pain overwhelmed everything, and just as her lips opened to scream, a large hand slammed against her mouth, gripping her jaw and silencing her immediately.
“I am a patient and magnanimous Lord.” Lord Malphas spoke. “Even after possessing the impudence to insult me, threaten me, and abduct me from my home, I did not treat you as an enemy. I treated you as a lady, as a gentleman should.”
His eyes, those firm, abyss-like eyes, were now burning.
“By attacking me, you have proven yourself no lady. You have made it clear you are undeserving of the respect of a gentleman.”
The hand on her jaw tightened, and with that single hand, Lord Malphas lifted her into the air as though she were made of cotton.
“If you dearly wish to behave like a rabid dog…”
Lord Malphas slammed her into the ground.
“I shall acquiesce to your desire —”
His eyes glowed.
“And make you my bitch. ”
A shudder traveled from the depths of her soul to the tips of her fingers.
The irritation, rage, and indignation she’d felt dissipated like dust on a humid day. Only one sensation remained in her heart. The sensation was accompanied by goosebumps, elevated heart rates and erratic breathing. Her mind swiftly transitioned to fight-or-flight, and she had no confidence in the latter. Lord Malphas’ words sounded less like a threat, and more like a promise, a guarantee —
A sharp blade of pure, crystalline light emerged from her left hand and shot forward, toward Lord Malphas’ head. It was a sudden, abrupt, nay, undetectable attack.
Even then, Lord Malphas evaded it, doing so as though he’d predicted the attack coming before it was ever launched. Yet, his eyes narrowed sharply, as the blade of light was pure, and the overwhelming signature of the energy gave him pause.
“Holy energy?”
The brief pause had made him slacken his grip on her jaw. She pried herself away quickly, wings bursting out of her back as she leaped a distance of six feet in the burst of a second, and took to the air.
“You…” Lord Malphas’ eyes latched onto her wings. “What are you?”
Twelve wings emerged from her back. Six of which were feathered and the purest, cleanest of white, and six of which were leathery and bat-like; the darkest and thickest of midnight black.
Above her head, a halo hung, half of which was pure gold, and the other, black, barbed, and thorny. Both sides of the halo were flickering, almost as though they were at war. The golden side would stretch, trying to encompass the black, and the black side would push back, with neither side gaining any ground against the other.
“Vali —”
‘I can’t let him live, Albion,’ she rasped to herself. ‘He’s seen it. He has to die.’
“This has gone far out of hand, Vali!”
‘It’s not my fault! If he wasn’t an Incubus, none of this would have —’
“Is that what you believe?”
She bit down on her lower lip. Her right hand was a mangled mess, and her jaw ached terribly from the way he’d slammed her down with it. Things had escalated far beyond her expectations. None of this had been in her initial plans.
A part of her whispered: if you’d simply let yourself be lulled by his power, none of this would have happened.
She cursed at the traitorous whisper. She cursed because the whisper was true. If she hadn’t fought so hard against his charm, what should have ended as a simple conversation wouldn’t have turn into this. If she hadn’t exerted so much mental energy trying to make sure she wasn’t seduced, then she wouldn’t have reached a point where she needed to kill a devil whose only crime was being too irresistible.
Albion was right. Lord Malphas hadn’t even actively even been trying to seduce her. He hadn’t done anything to offend her. She was the one who’d taken offense to the fact she desired him. She was the one who attacked him simply because she could not stand how badly she wanted to fuck him.
She was probably affected more strongly than others due to the blasted Code. Even then, that wasn’t his fault.
She was in the wrong here. She wasn’t oblivious enough not to realize it. Yet, her mentor had made it clear that no one was to know of her greatest secret. He’d been so strict on this rule he’d killed all the subordinates who’d raised her when she was younger. He’d killed even one of his most trusted lieutenants when they’d found out by accident after walking in on her in a sauna.
No one was allowed to know.
She pointed her good left arm at him and calmed her mind.
It was fine. No one would ever realize it was her who killed him. No one would know she was even at his event. His death would be blamed on some political conflict or another. It wasn’t like there weren’t people who’d stand to benefit from ensuring a Pillar Clan was not re-established.
“DIVI —”
“WAIT!”
‘Albion, I told you, he has to —’
“GET OUT OF THERE VALI! NOW!”
The sheer concern in the voice stunned her.
“His soul! Vali! HIS SOUL! You can’t use my p—”
“Fall.”
Gravity intensified with a single word, and she plummeted from the air, smacking into solid ground with her knees. The force of the impact almost shattered them. Her mind was rattled, and her vision found itself suddenly blurry. Albion was screaming something in her head, but for some reason, she couldn’t hear it.
Thunk.
“I made a promise.”
Lord Malphas approached. His cane thunking loudly with each step.
“To make widows of wives.”
Thunk.
“Widowers of husbands.”
Thunk.
“And orphans of children.”
Thunk.
Each thunk struck her. A splitting headache assaulted her mind with every word and made it impossible to so much as think, let alone reason. She couldn’t fathom it. She’d never heard of a spell that rattled the mind with words.
“Death and ruin.”
Thunk.
“Slavery and misery.”
THUNK.
Lord Malphas stood before her.
“The fate awaiting all who declare themselves my enemies.”
“...check… soul…”
Through blurry eyes and a pained, dizzy vision, she did as Albion’s fading voice instructed.
I fucked up.
That one thought broke her.
I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.
The words repeated over and over in her mind, playing like the anthem to her own imminent demise. They were the leitmotif of her damnation, the trumpet sounds blaring across nations to announce the end of all ends. Her heart rate soared beyond the normal range of any living creature, and there was so much sweat dripping down her back that she could feel her gown clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
Divine Dividing, as a Sacred Gear with the power to half the powers of others, possessed the ability to know how much power an individual had, to be able to accurately judge what was considered ‘half’ of their power to divide. The ability to judge and estimate the overall power of a being didn’t just take into account their current abilities, but also their potential abilities. That is, it judged under perfect circumstances how powerful a being would be at their full strength, barring any weaknesses, curses, or debilitating injuries.
As such, it would always divide in half a person’s power as estimated when they were at their peak, regardless of whether or not they were actually at peak strength. To do this was essentially to peer into the soul deeply and discover the limit of a creature — the hypothetical maximum amount of power their existence was capable of withholding at peak form.
It was hard to tell when they were in the Underworld. There was too much ‘noise.’ Other people’s demonic signatures and demonic energies blended and mixed in the air, and it was hard to be able to feel the soul and energy of just one individual.
Now, that she’d separated them from the Underworld. There was only him. Without any noise, without any distractions, she could use Divine Dividing to determine the hypothetical maximum amount of power he had. She could glimpse at the nature of his soul, at the potential limit of his existence.
She’d done so, and she’d realized just how badly she’d fucked up.
There was no limit.
‘A-Albion? H-how is that po—’
“...only two creatures… with no limits…. …. their energy… on him!”
Her blood turned to ice. She was barely able to hear Albion’s message, but she understood it.
She knew of the only two creatures who were truly limitless. Creatures whose strength was indeed infinite, and not the pseudo-infinite power of a Super-Devil like Sirzechs Lucifer.
“…Great Red One….. Ouroboros.”
The Great Red One. The Dragon of the Apocalypse. The Dragon of the Book of Revelations. The Ouroboros. The Dragon of Infinity. The Endless Serpent.
Somehow, Lord Malphas had come into contact with them. Somehow, trace remnants of their energy were on him.
That was the nature of the person she’d decided to kill.
Damn it all.
She wanted to burst out into laughter.
I always did have the worst luck.
She did not believe she’d be able to escape. She did not believe Lord Malphas would let her. Even if she managed to flee this pocket dimension separated from time and space, Lord Malphas would no doubt catch up to her before she could escape his territory.
Her hand was incredibly injured and she could not hide it nor heal it. She’d likely pass out from blood loss before she could escape back to the human realm and have it healed for her.
If… if this is where I meet my end regardless, then —!
She lunged at Lord Malphas with her good hand and managed to grab unto his exposed flesh.
“DIVIDE!”
As soon as she uttered those words, blood burst out of her nostrils.
W-what?
Her body felt as though it’d caught ablaze. Warmth spread from the center of her stomach to her loins, to her womb, to her nipples, and back down. There was power, yes, she’d taken half of his power and was being filled with power, but it was wrong. The power felt wrong.
W-what’s… happening? My — I feel —
Her thoughts ended abruptly. The dopamine receptors in her brain short-circuited like a toaster tossed into a bathtub. Her body convulsed and shook as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
The last thing she remembered seeing was a red-skinned devil, in the embrace of a thousand naked women —
All of which, she could swear, resembled herself.
XXXXX
“How rather anticlimactic.”
Jamie set his cane aside, leaving his Mage Hand to hold it, as he crouched before the unconscious woman. She was shuddering, twitching, and bucking her hips into the air despite being deprived of consciousness. He’d felt what she’d done, of course. The sudden, abrupt drain in his power did not elude him. He estimated she’d taken about half of his total power into herself all at once, but, for the life of him, Jamie could not understand why anyone would want to do something so stupid.
“You were aware that I’m an incubus, and still decided to drain my power?” Jamie mused.
Unlike most individuals who accrued demonic power over time or through potions, birth, or innate strength, he was different.
His demonic power was acquired. It was acquired through sex. The more sex he had, the more women he drained from, and the more power he accrued. Whenever he drained from women, he took their life energy, their vitality. He drained it all from them and added it to his.
Ergo, his power was intrinsically connected with life energy. His life energy was inseparable from his demonic power. They were one and the same.
Regular devils did not have this trait, as their power was self-derived, self-governed, and typically attributeless, simply being classified as ‘demonic.’ Likewise, angels also did not have this problem, as their power was simply classified as ‘holy.’
She’d taken half of his power, which meant she’d taken in half of his life energy.
Alas, he was an incubus, and she was female.
If she were male, then there’d have been a different outcome.. A man taking in an incubus’ masculine energy would have their own masculine energy boosted. It would have the same effect as being overwhelmed with massive amounts of testosterone, and they’d almost certainly pounce on anything in a skirt within their range of vision.
A woman, however, was filled with feminine energy. Taking in the masculine life energy of an incubus as a woman was no different from taking in the seed of that incubus. It was symbolically and practically the same as having sex with that incubus. It was no different from having him fuck her until she went cross-eyed.
The fact that she’d taken in half of his total life energy meant she’d experienced what it felt to be fucked by him until he expended half of all his energy into her. Given the amount of energy he had, Jamie estimated it should take over a thousand sessions of non-stop sex.
And she’d experienced that thousand sessions in the span of a single second.
Jamie looked over the form of the unconscious woman whose legs were still shaking furiously.
Her mind must have been flooded with more pleasure than it knew how to handle. I’d be surprised if her neurons weren’t completely fried from overstimulation…
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out a reason why she’d done something so stupid.
Unless of course, she wasn’t aware of what would happen when a woman took energy from an Incubus, which, to Jamie, seemed rather odd. There shouldn’t be anyone out there who didn’t know that succubi and incubi were beings of concentrated sexual energy. It was like if one were to drink half a barrel of alcohol and ended up surprised they became inebriated.
There’s no use in overthinking this, I suppose.
What he was most curious about was the mysterious woman’s identity. He had no recollection of any creature possessing both the wings of an angel and the wings of a devil. Nor was there any knowledge in his mind about a creature with a corrupted halo. Whatever means of disguise she was using on her face still remained active in spite of the fact that she’d lost consciousness. Jamie reached out, placed his hand on her face, and cast his own spell.
“Dispel Magic.”
The illusory mask dissipated into an array of brilliant colors, and the true face and form of the woman were revealed.
Jamie staggered, landing flat on his ass. His breath hitched in his throat as he looked over the visage of the woman in front of him. It was a face he’d seen once, before. In a vision, when he’d cast the spell Borrowed Knowledge and received the revelation of the Origins of Sin.
The face of the young woman was unmistakably similar to that of the first woman. The naked woman who’d been in the garden. The naked woman who refused to be subservient to the first man, and as such, was thus cast out from the garden. The naked woman who, eventually, came to be with the Angel of Light.
L-Lilith?
No, she couldn’t be. For starters, the woman he’d seen in that vision, months ago, had been older. The one before him looked far younger. She was not any less beautiful, however. No, if anything, her beauty was dizzying. Jamie found it hard to focus on anything but her face. He found it hard, difficult to draw his gaze away.
Wisdom Save Initiated.
When he finally managed to wrest his gaze from her face, it lingered on her body, and saliva pooled in the back of his throat. He crawled forward, slowly, and found himself in a strange sense of hyperfixation. Her breasts were large, almost the same size as Selena’s. Her hips were perfect, thick, and full, her stomach was toned and muscled, with abs that seemed like they’d make the perfect pathway for his cum —
His hands were suddenly on her chest. He didn’t know how they’d gotten there. He also didn’t know when he’d stripped her naked. He didn’t recall doing so. Yet, he didn’t think too much of it. His hands were on her breasts, and so, he kneaded away at them as though they were large mounds of thick dough. The saliva bubbling in his throat continued as his tongue descended, without preamble, towards her stomach. He licked, feeling every ridge of her abs and toned stomach against his tongue —
He continued, downwards, until he found her underwear, black and plain, and he breathed in deeply —
Just as he placed his thumbs into the edges and pulled them down, a small voice pierced into his mind. Tiny, and whiny, the voice was irritating, as it kept complaining that something was —
Something was…
….Wrong.
Save Success.
“MENTAL BARRIER!”
The Second-Level Abjuration spell immediately began looping that thought in his mind, over and over again. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong —
He swiftly regained his senses, backing away and rapidly casting another protection spell.
“Intellect Fortress.”
The Third-Level Abjuration spell was layered over the first one, and a sharp sense of lucidity quickly overcame him. Jamie’s breath came out harshly, as he stared at his hands, his right hand in particular, which was now holding the black underwear of the Lilith-lookalike.
What… what was that?
He’d never felt anything like that before. It was more than a compulsion or a mental suggestion. The moment he’d glanced at her face, he felt it was his duty or his right to fuck her. It wasn’t even his incubus instincts compelling him, but something else. Some sort of primordial, otherworldly force had set it into his mind that what he was doing was natural, nay, it was expected.
Even now, he could hear the voice. Intellect Fortress made one resistant to psychological powers and harm, but not immune. The voice remained but as a soft whisper.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
Jamie clenched his head, gritting his teeth as the voice assaulted him on all sides. He couldn’t fathom that the Third Level Spell was not enough to completely block out the voice. Even after casting it with Fourth-Level power, it still didn’t come close.
If he was having this much problem fighting back the voice, Jamie couldn’t fathom how the average devil would fare.
He approached her again, cautiously this time, gently laying his hand on her forehead and channeling as much demonic power as he could into his next spell.
“Identify.”
[New Creature Identified!]
Nephilim (Ultimate-Class)
Classification: Fiend/Celestial (Greater)
Alignment: N/A
Details: An extremely rare, paradoxical existence, a Nephilim is a creature that can only be born of an Ultimate-Class Devil and an Archangel. They are thought to be beings of myth, due to the fact that an Angel cannot have sex and bear a child without Falling from Heaven. However, upon abusing a loophole in Yahweh’s System, Razevan Lucifer managed to successfully impregnate an Archangel, committing the greatest sin against heaven since his grandfather’s rebellion, and thus birthing the one and only Nephilim in known history, all to please his father, Rizevim Livan Lucifer.
Due to being an aberration, a ‘glitch’ in Yahweh’s System, a Nephilim has all the advantages of a Pureblood High-Class Archangel and a Pureblood Ultimate-Class Devil with none of the weaknesses. In addition, they may also wield Sacred Gears primarily reserved for humans.
However, as an aberration against the natural order, they will suffer ten times as much from natural laws and systems. They are ill-fated, accident-prone, unlucky, and damned. The number of unfortunate events they encounter is vastly greater than the average person, all due to being unloved and unsightly in the eyes of the Biblical God and Mother Nature.
Active Spells/Effects:
- Language [Common]: An innate, passive spell possessed by all members of the Devil species. This spell enchants people of other races listening to them to hear them speak in the language they are most familiar with and vice-versa.
Note: Common Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
Note (2): Dispelling this spell will render a being unable to communicate with members of other races.
- Demonic Spellcasting [Unique]: An innate, passive ability possessed by all members of the Devil species. This enables the conjuration of any conceivable phenomena through the sufficient use of imagination and the requirement of adequate demonic power.
Note: Unique Grade, cannot be Dispelled unless certain conditions are met.
- Light Manipulation [Unique]: An innate, passive ability possessed by all members of the Angel species. This enables the conjuration of any weapon out of pure, holy, divine light, which may be utilized to smite and exorcise lesser beings of an evil alignment.
Note: Unique Grade, cannot be Dispelled unless certain conditions are met.
- Sacred Gear: Divine Dividing [Legendary]: This creature possesses the Mid-Tier Longinus, Divine Dividing. A Sacred Gear wielding the soul of Albion, the White Dragon Emperor of Supremacy. With it, the wielder may halve the power of their opponent and add it to theirs upon touch every ten seconds. In addition, other powers and abilities belonging to Albion are theirs to use at their command.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
Hidden Curses Detected:
- 1. Weakness-To-Laws-and-Curses [Deific]: A divine innate curse possessed by any individual born as a Nephilim. Due to being a ‘glitch’ and an aberration in Yahweh’s System, they are incredibly prone to powers that enforce the natural laws, or to curses that rely upon the natural order. All curses inflicted upon the bearer of this curse are amplified tenfold, and all natural laws and orders are similarly applied tenfold.
Note: Deific Grade, cannot be Dispelled
- Nature’s Unloved [Deific]: A divine innate curse possessed by any individual born as a Nephilim. Mother Nature has turned a blind eye toward the wielder of this curse. Trees wither in their presence, plants die at their touch, and animals flee from, or attack them on sight. Rain falls at inopportune moments, lightning strikes them on a clear and sunny day, and they are condemned to live without the favor of fate and fortune.
Note: Deific Grade, Cannot be Dispelled.
- The Curse of Eve [Deific]: A divine innate curse placed on all female beings of the Abrahamic Faction by the Biblical God. This curse guarantees the existence of pain during childbirth, implants an intrinsic desire for masculine domination, and subconsciously compels subservience, submissiveness, and deferentiality to strong male creatures. Due to being a Nephilim, the strength of this curse is multiplied tenfold.
Note: Deific Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
- The Curse of Lilith [Deific]: A divine innate curse inflicted only upon the biological female descendants of the First Woman, Lilith, as punishment for her refusal to submit to Adam, the creature made in the image of the Biblical God. This curse reduces the strength of all attacks dealt towards male creatures tenfold, and increases the strength of all attacks received from male creatures a hundredfold. Additionally, all male creatures are strongly compelled to violate, enslave, and subjugate the bearer of this curse upon defeating them in combat, finding them in a vulnerable position, seeing them naked, and/or gazing upon their true face.
Note: Deific Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
The knowledge flooded his mind. All of it. He took in numerous deep breaths, as he tried to come to terms with what he’d learned. The woman in front of him was half-angel, half-devil. Not only that, she was a descendant of Lilith.
A descendant of Lucifer.
She was every bit as beautiful as he’d expected of one descended from such a magnificent being. Her beauty boggled the mind and itched at the throat. An erection, hard and firm prodded at his undergarments to the point of it being painfully uncomfortable.
He’d never imagined being lucky enough to encounter a descendant of Lucifer. He still recalled the vision he’d had of the magnificent devil of Light, and he truly desired to pursue the beauty he’d seen in that form.
….I must have her.
The sentiment arrived into his mind like a point-blank range discharge from a shotgun. The overwhelming desire to have someone related to that being of light swirled from the pit of his stomach like a burning flame and settled in his chest as a mad obsession.
There were many reasons to take her as his, beyond just his personal desire to collect and explore the beauty of anything and everything the Prince of Light so much as breathed on.
He was Lord Jamie Malphas now.
It had been a long and hard road to reach such a point. The massive wealth he’d accrued was done utilizing less-than-legal means, and the ‘businesses’ and ‘sources of income’ he possessed were all borderline illicit. This was all due to the greatest evil he’d found in the world:
Bureaucracy.
The amount of red tape he’d encountered and the increasingly irritating ways he’d needed to grease hands to cross it had nauseated him. No matter how much of an amazing individual he was, becoming a billionaire in hell, all in the span of six months was not a feat that could not be achieved through legal or legitimate means. He owed no monetary debts to anyone, which was fortunate, however, he owed a lot of favors.
Favors were owed to Minobella, to the Manager at the Bank of Mammon, the Chief Solicitor of HOUSE, Hell’s Official Underground Society of Exchanges, the Chairman of the Resource Creation and Allocation Committee, the Head Contractor of the Underworld Zone and Territory Association —
He could not ignore them. Nothing could be done in the modern world without bureaucracy. Had he ignored one or the other, he’d find himself waking up to a letter claiming his territory encroached too far into another Lord’s land, or he’d be told he was in violation of a zonal law which he’d been mysteriously unaware of, or one such inconvenience or the other, which would cost him tens to hundreds of millions of his hard-earned shekels in fines.
Refusal to pay such fines would cost his reputation. He’d be barred from certain places and services until his debt was paid, and he’d be known and shamed publicly as a debtor.
Nothing could be accomplished without noteworthy allies or alliances. If he wished to ensure the Malphas Clan rose to dominance and did not waver on its ascent, he needed to acquire as much influence as possible. He needed to become an individual whom no one would be able to hinder with bureaucratic processes.
That required power.
Physical and political power.
All other Pillar Clans possessed hundreds of members, and some were even large enough to have main and branch lines. Besides Selena and Aurora, he had nothing. He could count the number of alliances and connections he possessed on a single hand. The game was rigged from the start. Unless he found something that could even the odds, that could give him the same advantage of generations of accrued wealth and political bonds, he stood no chance.
It was why he’d put up such a grand display. It was why he’d shown off extraordinary wealth. The dragon in chains at the gates of his home was but a Conjuration. The fairies in his garden were likewise ants he’d Polymorphed into beautiful creatures. The mermaids, woodland creatures, and nymphs were all illusions created using Major Image.
He’d played the part of both Cinderella and fairy godmother. He’d fooled everyone thus far, basking in the refuge of absolute splendor and sheer audacity, so that no one had looked close enough to realize the illusion. No one had thought to question the smoke and mirrors, as they would gaze at it all and believe it was too grandiose to all be fake.
Alas, his midnight was coming. The spells would only last so long. He did not have enough power to keep them going indefinitely. Yet, he’d leave behind no glass slipper by which to be found. By the time the illusions dispelled and the conjurations vanished, all the guests would have long departed, never the wiser as to just how greatly they’d been fooled.
Had he something greater, there’d be no need for the deception. Yes, had he an unshakeable backer, a strong, long-lived name by which he could lean as he gathered the strength to stand on his own…
Jamie’s gaze lingered once more on the face of Lilith’s descendant.
Yes, with her…
Despite being a new player, even he knew the value of being a descendant of Lucifer. There were entire cults and fringe groups dedicated in Lucifer’s honor, and similarly so for those of his genealogy. There were people who could not be swayed by either riches or power, but they would jump upon a bed, lather their anuses with vaseline, and spread their cheeks wide the moment someone surnamed Lucifer made a request.
I’m within my rights, am I not?
Although the young woman was a descendant of Lucifer, she still remained an uninvited guest in his home. Not only was she an uninvited guest, but she was also a guest who’d attacked him.
In his own home.
He’d sensed her clear killing intent. Had he lost this fight, he did not doubt that he’d have lost his life. All his plans, his goals, his desires, and more so, the manner in which Selena would be utterly heartbroken if he were to die here —
It was something he could not forgive.
“Death and Ruin. Slavery and Misery.”
That was his promise to the Underworld, the promise he made to all those who would become his enemies.
He had never been the type of man to make promises he could not keep.
He stood over the woman, his cock throbbing painfully. Again and again, the voice kept assaulting his head.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
The spawn of Lilith must be defiled.
The effects of her curse were undoubtedly powerful. It was Deific-Grade, a curse implanted by a god or god-like being, possessing god-like power, and capable of restraining even fellow gods and deities. The fact that he had been able to resist it was already a great achievement. There were probably less than a handful of devils in the Underworld who’d have managed the same feat.
This means, till now, she’s probably either never lost a fight, or somehow always managed to escape after losing a fight…
He could deduce as much because his nose sniffed out that she was a virgin. His nose could tell she had zero sexual experience, not even so much as kissing or hand-holding, let alone making out or sex.
Jamie walked around the woman’s form, putting his thoughts together while trying his best to quell his growing arousal. Her right hand was a mangled, bleeding mess, which he was not keen on healing just yet.
Healing in the Underworld was incredibly primitive. The methods and means of restoration of wounds were nearly prehistoric, requiring one to strip naked and transfuse demonic power over a large surface area of flesh. Only one family had a monopoly on a healing potion, albeit, the potion they sold was the strongest and most effective he’d ever heard of. A mere drop could completely rejuvenate someone on the brink of death.
He’d once contemplated starting a healing potion business, but none of the ingredients required to make a bog-standard healing potion existed in this world. That aside, he was no Alchemist, nor had he ever spent a great deal of time around one.
He did have access to quite a number of healing spells, however. Yet, these were his trump cards. He wouldn’t let anyone know of his ability to heal nearly any illness, sickness, disease, and injury unless there was something of great value to be earned in return.
“Healing Word.”
The First-Level spell of the school of Evocation manifested with a whisper, and his energy flowed into the body of the unconscious woman. She squirmed a bit, though, not in discomfort. Bone cracked and set back in place, while flesh mended itself, knitting over the exposed bone like a spider spinning a grand web.
Seconds after the spell was cast, there was no sign whatsoever that she’d ever been wounded. Jamie made sure to check her jaw as well for any other injuries, and hummed to himself upon confirming the absence of visible harm.
Although he couldn’t peer into her skull, he was certain the spell had also healed the damage done to her mind. However, as it was a First-Level Spell, he doubted it’d have healed all of the damage done, and only healed a portion of it.
Ill-fated indeed…
He could not fathom just how strong she’d be without the curses she had on her. Lilith’s curse especially, as it reduced the strength of all her attacks against men tenfold while increasing the attack power of men on her a hundredfold.
It was a curse specifically designed to make it absolutely certain that she would lose to, and be enslaved by a man. If she had not lost to him, then, without a doubt, she’d have lost to someone in the future far worse than him.
Adam, the coward, could not compel her ancestor Lilith to fall underneath his heel, so he must have had his god make it so the woman’s descendants would do so.
Disgusting, truly.
He wanted to sympathize with her. Nay, he did sympathize with her. Had she approached him with a clear heart and with good intentions, Jamie would have done his hardest to aid her in removing the curses. He’d not have slept, eaten, or rested until she was free of the shackles chaining her. If not simply because they disgusted him, then for the sake of her beauty.
He’d even have done so with no strings attached, requiring neither payment nor gratitude. He’d have asked for no compensation, except, perhaps, the opportunity to explore her beauty in depth.
Alas, she’d come to him not as an ally nor one seeking help, but as an enemy; an adversary seeking to kill and destroy.
I do not even know why she attacked me… could she perhaps have been a companion of Nyxdolor? Was she seeking vengeance for his death?
She’d never explained herself, nor introduced herself, nor let him get a word in edgewise.
It matters little, I suppose.
She’d made herself his enemy. That was all that mattered.
The surroundings were rapidly regaining color. Soon, he’d return to the real world, and time would continue to flow as though nothing had happened. Before that was done, he needed to ensure she would no longer be a threat to him.
He placed his right hand on her forehead.
“Bestow Curse.”
Bestow Curse was a Third Level Spell of the School of Necromancy. Bards, Wizards, and Sorcerers alike could cast the spell with a little training. Although belonging to the Necromancy School, the limits, effects, and potential of the spell went far beyond merely inflicting harm, especially when cast at higher levels.
The curses he intended to place weren't complicated in the slightest. Rather, they were fairly simple ones.
Adding Curses:
Jinx of Lesser Discipline [Common]: A common, low-level curse that inflicts a mild stinging, itching, burning or chilling sensation, upon an individual within the caster’s vicinity whenever they do something which may offend, inconvenience, annoy, aggravate, or otherwise irritate the caster of this curse. Upon doing three things that please, placate, or satisfy the caster, this curse is removed.
Hex of Minor Gullibility [Uncommon]: An uncommon, low-level curse that makes the curse bearer more likely to believe and trust the words that come out of the mouth of the individual who cast the curse on them. The more unlikely, contradictory, or ludicrous the words, the greater the chance of failure. Upon failure to believe something told to them by the caster, this curse is removed.
“And finally…”
Curse of Selective Butter-Fingers [Rare]: A rare, mid-level curse that makes it so whenever the curse bearer attacks a pre-selected target, they are extremely likely to slip up, miss, or otherwise completely whiff their attacks in embarrassing, comedic, or humiliating ways. Upon successfully landing three hits on the target, this curse is removed.
Selected Target: Jamie Malphas.
It was done.
Due to the Deific-Grade Curse: [Weakness-to-Laws-and-Curses], the Curses you have added have been strengthened tenfold.
Due to the Deific-Grade Curse: [Nature’s Unloved], a stroke of ill luck arrived for the unfortunate Nephilim. The stars were not aligned in her favor and the grade of the curses you have added has been upgraded significantly.
Due to the Deific-Grade Curse: [The Curse of Lilith], your curses have been classified as an attack. The strength of the curses you have added has increased one hundredfold.
Jamie’s lips curled upwards.
Your day seems to be going from bad to worse, my precious little Nephilim…
He examined the upgraded curses.
Curse of Pavlovian Ascendancy [Legendary]: Upon performing an action which pleases the caster of this curse while near in proximity to them, the curse bearer will be healed from all wounds, purged of any negative effects of Legendary Grade or lower, rejuvenated from any and all exhaustion, and gain an overwhelming amount of strength, speed, stamina, magical power, beauty, luck, and ecstasy.
Upon performing an action that displeases the caster of this curse or being away from the caster for an extended period of time, wounds will no longer heal, exhaustion will never fade, and strength, speed, stamina, magical power, and fortune will dwindle until the curse bearer’s life force is extinguished. The effect can only be reverted by returning to the caster's vicinity and doing something which greatly pleases the caster.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
Cassandra’s Dream: [Legendary]: An extremely powerful curse that makes the curse bearer believe any word that comes out of the mouth of the curse caster as though it is the gospel truth. They will neither question the words nor have any doubts as to their veracity or truthfulness. They will ignore any evidence that proves contrary to the words they’ve heard, and justify or come up with self-serving explanations whenever the words they’ve heard do not align with the reality they have seen or experienced. If the words can neither be justified nor explained, they will rewrite their memories to align with the words they’ve heard and are convinced are true.
Note: Legendary Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
The Mark of the Lamb [Deific]: A divine curse that prevents the bearer from attacking a pre-selected target. The target cannot be designated as a threat, nor viewed as an adversary. Regardless of the actions the target takes, words uttered, or provocations made, the bearer of this curse will be incapable of harming or having the intent to harm the target. Should the target ask or require the bearer to harm them, the curse bearer will instead harm themselves.
Selected Target: Jamie Malphas.
Note: Deific Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
….
He’d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but Jamie’s mind was simply reeling from the information he’d received. A large guffaw escaped his lips, and he couldn’t believe it. No, he didn’t want to believe it.
Isn’t this rather absurd?
He laughed again. Uncertainty and doubt blended with the incongruity of expectations, and his laugh sounded foreign to his ears. The strength of the three curses went above and beyond his expectations. None more so than the first one.
She is fully healed whenever she pleases me.
His brows raised.
And she becomes stronger as well? How exactly does the curse know what pleases me and what doesn’t?
He stroked his chin.
There doesn’t seem to be any mention of a limit. Does this mean that as long as she keeps pleasing me, she can become infinitely powerful? What stops me from deciding that I’m pleased with the banalest things she does to effectively hasten her ascent into godhood?
He looked over to the girl and muttered under his breath. “I am pleased.”
He waited, a second, two —
Nothing.
A small sigh of relief escaped his lips.
So, it has to be her actively doing something to trigger it?
His mind raced.
It still seems rather ill-thought. The power that governs curses would be God’s System, wouldn’t it? Or is there something else? A natural law, perhaps?
The sound of music began to play. The void started to fade, leaving him no time to probe deeper into the matter. In moments like these, he missed his companions for their knowledge and expertise.
Something was clearly amiss with the way magic in this universe worked. Devils being able to create any spell they desired so long as they had the demonic power needed was one such example of an utterly absurd and unbalanced system. He still didn’t know why someone had not created a spell that granted them infinite power. Nor could he explain why someone had not thought to create a spell that converted air or water into demonic power, essentially granting them a nigh-infinite supply of power wherever such things existed.
Had no one simply thought of it? The possibility was slim. No, there had to be a reason why devils were not encroaching on omnipotence despite the extremely few limitations they possessed. He’d not had the time to investigate it further nor had he the time to push the limits of what was and wasn’t truly possible, but the more he learned, the more he could feel that unsettling sensation.
The sensation of… wrongness.
All at once, his instincts screamed.
Dexterity Save Initialized.
A sharp blade sliced through the space where his neck lay seconds ago. He managed to dodge underneath the blade and back away from the attack.
Save Success.
The sword was black and engraved with red markings. It appeared out of the void with neither warning nor preamble. No, the sword was cutting through the void as though it were made of butter. Slicing through space as though it were nothing more than tofu.
A large door was made, and a massive, pitch-black wolf emerged from it, with glowing red eyes and fur that seemed alive with fire. The wolf swooped down unto Lilith’s descendant, picking the young woman up within its jaws before it fled back into the door from which it was made.
The entire thing had taken place in point five seconds.
The door vanished without a trace, leaving Jamie’s heart pounding as he realized just how close he’d been to losing his head.
What in the Nine Hells was that?
He had no recollection of such a creature in his memories nor did such a thing exist in his knowledge. A pitch-black sword-wielding wolf? With a sword that could cut through space itself?
This world never ceases to amaze me.
Jamie rose to his feet, and another laugh escaped his lips. His golden goose had been swiped from right underneath his nose, yet, he could not find it in him to be annoyed. There was no reason to be.
Not with the curse he’d put on her.
She’d either return to him, sooner or later.
Or she’d die.
You have successfully placed a [Legendary] grade Curse on another Individual.
You have successfully placed a [Deific] Grade Curse on another Individual.
You have gained a Character Feat!
Character Feat: Lord of Malediction
Having cast a curse so powerful that even gods may find it impossible to remove, you have reached the pinnacle of the Art of Curses. Your existence has been codified with the power of malediction, such that even the utterance of your name is the invocation of a potent curse, the effects of which are yours to decide.
Wounds inflicted upon your enemies will last longer and may only be healed by the strongest of remedies, your utterances are hexes and jinxes bordering on prophecies, your curses are writs of damnation, stronger and more powerful than those of your peers, and the curses of others cast against you are now a source of power — a meal to be consumed and relished, upon which the unfortunate casters will suffer their effects.
Adjusting his robe and outfit, the world around him began to shatter like glass, breaking and revealing the reality he’d been separated from.
As everything vanished, he could have almost believed that the entire series of events had been nothing more than a dream, a fanciful experience of his imagination.
However, there was an object left behind. Black, plain, and nondescript, the object was evidence that none of it had been a dream.
I suppose this is what some may consider a souvenir.
He chuckled.
I’ll be sure to put it to good use.
Campaign Progress!
Secret Objective Completed!
Secret Objective: Encounter A Descendant of Lucifer.
Notes:
Henceforth, updates will (should) be available every Sunday. If I'm feeling remarkably chipper, there'll also be mid-week updates.
PSA: Ishibumi put characters from his previous works into the DxD universe. I'm not a fan of it. It's one thing to reference or make subtle nods to your older works, it's another thing to import wholesale protagonists and characters of your older works into your new ones. The powers will remain, but the characters will be changing. Apologies to the five or so Slash/Dog and Denpachi fans out there.
PSA II: I've always found it ridiculous that four of the Original 13 Longinus belong to people of Japanese/Asian descent. Out-of-universe I am aware of why that is, (it's a light novel created by a Japanese guy, ergo, home bias). In-universe, it has always broken my suspension of disbelief. Of course, expecting a Japanese light novelist who makes a living off sexy anime tiddies to have an expansive knowledge of South American, Middle-Eastern, or African myths, legends and heroes is just hubris.
Guess that's why fan fiction exists.
Hmm.
Happy New Year.
Chapter 16: Love Covereth All Sins
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The woman was no longer there.
She’d blinked, once and twice to make sure her eyes hadn’t deceived her. The black-haired young lady had vanished from her position with neither announcement nor preamble.
“Huh? Where did she —”
She stiffened. His smell was different. His touch was different. His sound was different. She was all but certain that he would taste different as well. She could not quite say it was enhanced, nor could she say it was downgraded. “Different” simply meant it was not what she’d grown accustomed to. It was not what she’d come to know.
Even as his hands remained enraptured with her and they continued their dance as though nothing had happened, her mind was overwhelmed with the differences. Before now, her Jamie always had a peculiar scent. He’d always bore the thick musk of sex and smoldering charcoal, of quenched steel and raw silver.
Now, she could smell cigars and ash. She could perceive the aroma of lemongrass, straw dolls, and crushed bone, the fragrance of frankincense, myrrh, and burning cedar. The change was abrupt. Certainly, the smell of sex and silver was still there, but it was muted. Now, he smelled akin to a shaman covered in head to toe with oils, an apothecary bathed with medicinal flowers, or a witch standing over a brewing cauldron with sweaty armpits and robes infused with the crumbs of esoteric ingredients.
On the surface, nothing seemed amiss. He’d not left her embrace for even a moment, so, she could not fathom what he’d done to spark the change. Yet, the change in scent was not as prominent as the change in his air. The air around him was different. It was potent.
It was the air of trepidation one felt whilst walking alone in a dark forest. The dread that filled the soul upon finding an ancient sarcophagus with words and warnings decrying it never be opened. It was the tension one felt upon hearing of the mysterious disappearances of individuals to masked and silent predators, and catching the sight of a masked man in one’s reflection. The disquiet embraced upon encountering a freshly bloodied corpse in a desolate location and feeling a rasping breath land on one’s nape.
“J-Jamie?”
She had to be certain it was still him. The perturbing air he suddenly possessed unnerved her. It wasn’t the good kind of nervousness, either. No, what she felt in his presence was the oldest and most primal emotion of all living organisms.
Fear.
“Is something wrong?”
Selena swallowed uncertainly. She didn’t know how to bring up the matter. She was not sure if she was to bring it up at all. At least, not here. Not now. Not while so many eyes were on them.
“The girl, she was right there —”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be seeing her sooner or later.”
Something had happened. That much was certain now. Something clearly occurred between Jamie and the woman she’d pointed out for him. Yet, Selena did not understand how that was feasible. He’d never left her sight. He’d never even let go of her hands. How then, could something have happened?
She felt something hot and hard prod against her stomach, and her thoughts calmed significantly. The familiar size and warmth alleviated much of her worries. Its intensity told a deep story.
“I know how sexy I am, Jamie, but, here?”
She was worried someone else would see it. She was surprised no one else had noticed it, actually. It wasn’t like it was small in the slightest.
“Also, what’s this you’ve put in my hand?”
There was an item in her right hand that hadn’t been there prior. Again, she had no clue where it’d come from, only that it arrived while their hands were interlocked. Her mind was at ease once she felt the texture of it, as she confirmed she was still with her Jamie. After all, only he would be courageous and daring enough to —
Wait a minute —
She adjusted her tail hidden underneath her gown and confirmed that she’d not been deprived of her undergarments.
Oh?
Her eyes narrowed at him.
“Jamie, what am I holding?”
His lips formed into a signature knowing smirk that sent her heart rate soaring.
“Can you not tell?”
“It feels like underwear.”
His smirk grew.
“You’re right.”
“It’s not mine.”
His smirk grew larger.
“Right again.”
He was enjoying it. Enjoying teasing her. Her cheeks nearly puffed up with indignation.
“Feel it.”
“What?”
“What does it feel like?”
The underwear was damp. No, it was more accurate to say it was soaked. From how sticky the fluid was, Selena knew it wasn't water.
“It belongs to the young lady you told me to court.”
The announcement made her eyes widen. How? When?
“It’s yours now.”
Her brain reeled. “Mine?”
“Hmm.”
“What am I supposed to do with another woman’s drenched underwear?”
They continued their conversation as they danced, and reached a point wherein he leaned in close, his breath tickling harshly into her ear.
“You’re going to wear it.”
She was not sure she’d heard correctly. She looked him straight in the eyes, her jaw lightly ajar.
“W-what?”
“Did I stutter?”
His voice was one that gave no room for disagreement. Her cheeks nearly burned from the indignation.
He wants me… to wear another woman’s… soaked panties?
She was suddenly light-headed. She was dizzy. The rate of her breathing changed. She gazed straight into his eyes with all the chagrin she could muster.
To make such a humiliating request of me…
She bit down on her lower lip.
Don’t tell me he’s found out.
“I’m going to fuck you in it.”
The words had come as a whisper. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“What do you think, Selena?”
His voice sent lightning arcing down her body.
“Are you going to enjoy being fucked in another woman’s drenched underwear?”
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t reason. She almost couldn’t breathe.
“Maybe I’ll close my eyes along the way…”
No… he — he wouldn’t —His voice rumbled.
“And I’ll imagine…”
Don’t say it —
“That I’m fucking her.”
It was hard muffling her orgasm. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, putting on a plain face and restraining every twitch of her body so no one would realize just how hard she was cumming. She couldn’t afford to display her unsightly side to anyone else, and definitely not in public.
Her face was no doubt flushed and her nipples were pressing so hard against her gown that she wouldn’t be surprised if they’d torn a hole through the fragment.
Jamie rapidly pulled her close to him, using just enough grace in his dance, that she was able to let out a soft mewl and shudder discreetly. Her heart pounded in terror at the fear that someone would discover them. That someone would have noticed.
“You…” she rasped. “Knew…?”
Over the past few months, she’d come to accept that her Jamie would have a number of wives and lovers. She didn’t want to bring conflict by feeling jealous or insecure, as such, she’d thought hard and long about how to solve the problem.
She’d decided to keep a hands-off approach, watching both in secret and private, while Jamie had sex with Aurora, in hopes of ‘desensitizing’ herself to jealousy and insecurity.
It was just that, he was too good at what he did. She became too enthralled with his performances. Watching him make her squirm in pleasure brought her pride, seeing her fail to handle his techniques brought a sense of smugness to her, a feeling of ‘hah, I’m still better after all!’
The more she watched, the more she changed, and whenever Jamie would go sleep with that blasted Agares slut, a woman who could actually handle him, Selena would bite her fingers in nervousness, her heart would nearly burst with anticipation, and something would squirm from within her chest.
Along the line, the idea of him abandoning her or neglecting her for sex with other women stopped being something that she was scared of. Or rather, the fear was lessened, and something else grew in her chest at the thought.
She quickly grew mortified by this discovery. She couldn’t tell him. How could she? Despite how much of a deviant she was, even she couldn’t believe what she’d done to herself.
After all, what sort of person got rid of their fear of abandonment and neglect by getting incredibly aroused at the idea of being abandoned and neglected?
Even for a succubus, how utterly depraved was it to solve the problem of being jealous and insecure by becoming a cuck?
“It — it isn’t what you think…”
“Are you saying you don’t want me to?”
She swallowed.
Hard.
Answering in the affirmative would all but confirm it. Answering in the negative would risk losing the possibility of one of the most degrading sexual experiences she could ever have.
Fortunately, she didn’t need to answer. The song finally ended, and their dance too came to an end.
She’d detached herself from Jamie as a sweaty, horny, aroused mess of a woman. Her face was red at the thought of people seeing her and figuring out her state. Yet, she needn’t had worried. No one’s gaze was on her. Everyone was focused on her Jamie, as he drew the attention of the room. His presence and charm dwarfed hers a million times over, such that she doubted anyone could even tell there was a trail of glistening fluids running down her thighs.
The underwear remained in her right hand, crumpled up into a ball. He smiled at her, his face belaying none of his thoughts, but even without a word, she could tell what he expected of her.
And she knew, like a diligent little slut, that she’d do exactly as he wanted.
XXXXX
The first dance came to a close with a winding down of the music and the conclusion of the symphony. Claire de Lune played softly in the background, a slightly modified version of his own making, It marked the transition between the first dance to the second, but, there would be a brief moment in-between the dances, a break to allow mingling and enable the devils to catch their breaths.
Selena departed briefly to handle the ‘task’ he’d given her, her heart-shaped pupils almost glowing pink from her excitement.
She’d return soon, no doubt wearing the underwear which had belonged to Lilith’s descendant. Jamie was glad he could please Selena, albeit, he wouldn’t tell her the secondary reason he’d given her another woman’s underwear, nor would he speak a word about the curse he’d placed on it to validate the strength of his Lord of Malediction feat.
Greater Hex of Psychometric Synchronicity (Epic): An Epic, high-tier curse placed upon an article of clothing, a piece of armor, a tool, weapon, or any other object typically worn, used or wielded, which causes the original owner of the object to feel all the physical stimuli, emotions, sentiments, and desires as the current wielder, wearer or user of the object. This curse can only be removed upon the destruction of the item or by a ritual of severance.
The black wolf had taken Lilith’s descendant away from him, but it had failed to retrieve her underwear, probably and, predictably, not viewing it as important.
How unfortunate…
Having an article of clothing that belonged to someone made it ridiculously easy to cast curses on them. It was no different from having a voodoo doll made of thick locks of their hair.
Once Selena put on the underwear, she’d be a conduit unwittingly transferring everything she felt toward Lilith’s descendant. Every chill, every hot flash, every itch, every tickle, every desire, every emotion, every sensation —
Nothing would be spared. It would take a while to understand what was happening, and even longer to do something about it. Moreover, considering how vulnerable she was to curses, Jamie anticipated she’d feel everything tenfold.
I believe it should be more than sufficient punishment…
She was his golden goose, and Jamie did not plan on letting her go. She would make her way back to him either crawling with her last breath or maddened and yearning for his touch.
One way or another —
She will be mine.
He nearly licked his lips in a strange sense of sadistic anticipation. For once, there was an agreement between his actions and his instincts. A solid parley between his nature and his desire. It felt good.
He wasn’t even particularly obsessed with her beauty, even though he did find her beautiful. No, what he was truly obsessed with was the possibilities he could attain from having her. She was the key that would lead him to his true obsession.
Of course, such a thing is still a while away…
There was much to be done before those plans came to fruition.
I suppose I should focus on finding new allies for now…
The music changed again, signaling the start of the second dance. He’d planned four dances in total, but only two spots would go to those who were fortunate enough to catch his eye. Value was always elevated through scarcity. As such, he reserved his second dance for the other woman in his life.
She walked in a manner that belayed her Tabaxi and Harengon heritage, and her hips swayed in a manner that few women could ever match. Her gaze, icy cold to everyone else, softened and grew with warmth as he performed the formal request of taking her hand.
“May I have this dance, Lady Aurora?”
“As you may, Lord Malphas.”
They moved together, as one. There was a certain level of synchronization he possessed with Aurora that Selena would never be able to match. It was because he knew her. His knowledge of her every anatomical feature was engraved with perfect detail into his mind, for he had been the one to carefully choose and select them.
He could describe the softness of her hands while blind, and detail the taste of her lips while dumb. He could dictate the exact measurements of her hips, narrate the length of her erect nipples down to the centimeter, and accurately time the milliseconds between each breath. Inside and outside, from her stomach to her kidneys, her lungs to her intestines, her heart to her brain —
He knew her.
It was not something as vapid as the manner in which a parent knew a child or an artist knew his paintings, it was an absolute knowledge of a being’s existence privy to only a creator of life.
Once the dance began, Jamie could not in earnest call it a dance. He did not need to guide Aurora, as she moved almost according to his will. She felt like an extension of his body, of his will and his senses, than she did feel like a secondary, separate organism.
She was taller than Selena, but even in heels, her head did not manage to reach his collarbone.
“You feel different, Master.”
They communicated in a special manner; he utilized Detect Thoughts to read her mind and responded in kind using the Message Cantrip. As such, the words he whispered were inaudible to everyone else.
“Different how?”
“Dangerous.”
“Was I not dangerous before?”
“You were,” she said. “But more so now. Your presence is malignant. I feel as though I am the helpless prey of a serial killer. As though I am about to be killed by evil spirit… or a malevolent curse.”
“Ah,” Jamie mused. “Give me a moment.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
“And now?”
“It still feels the same… no. It’s the same, but I am somehow… aroused. The danger does not threaten me as much as it does sexually excite me.”
She quirked a brow.
“How?”
“Fear and arousal are two sides of a single coin. One only needs know how to flip it.”
Despite his good mood, Jamie could feel exhaustion slowly creeping in. His demonic power had been halved, he’d cast multiple spells today, and casting curses using his Lord of Malediction feat took far more demonic energy than normal. He also had other spells he was keeping active such as all the Unseen Servants and the numerous Conjurations in the garden.
He didn’t have all that much left in the tank. Yet, there were still at least, three to four more hours before he could officially bring the event to a close.
He was simply glad that the brief skirmish with Lilith’s descendant had gone unnoticed. No one seemed to notice anything had gone amiss, nor did they notice his disappearance. Not even Selena, who’d been entangled in his arms at the time, seemed to have realized that he vanished for a full stretch of several minutes.
“Did you feel my absence?”
“Absence, Master?”
From her confused expression, Jamie deduced that even Aurora hadn’t noticed his disappearance either.
Divine Dividing… did she use that power to continuously halve the flow of time until it nearly stopped entirely?
He would need to investigate more into Sacred Gears.
“Master, were you attacked?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve handled it.”
“You… were?”
“As I said —”
“Master was attacked, and I — I failed to even notice…?”
Aurora moved with the grace one would expect of a perfect creation. Her outward expression belayed nothing, but he could feel the rapid change in her emotions. Conflicting sentiments of guilt and worry, shame and trepidation. There was anger, too, rage, and fury, which was quickly stifled by more and more shame and guilt.
“I will accept any punishment you deem fit for my failure, Master.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. Gazing upon her emotionless face, yet knowing how contrite and penitent she felt was a strange ordeal. Some days, he pondered, idly, if the sentiment he felt while gazing upon Aurora’s face yet knowing the contents of her heart was the same God felt when he looked upon the visage of Adam, knowing ultimately he would be cast out of the garden.
He doubted it was the same. Although he could always tell her true emotions and hear her true thoughts, it didn’t mean he could always predict her actions.
“Do you feel deserving of punishment?”
“I am. Please punish me, Master.”
“Do you really want that?” Jamie growled. “If you so desire it, I can punish you here, right now, in front of everyone.”
He heard the skip of her heartbeat.
“If — If it will make up for my error of failing to protect you, Master, then — then I will accept any punishment.”
Jamie chuckled.
“I wish to know something before I render any punishment.”
“Master?”
“What do you think of me, Aurora?”
“What do I — I am afraid I do not understand the question —”
“You know what it is I am asking.”
Aurora hesitated.
“I… I cannot answer that question, Master.”
“Why?”
“Because… because it belays my hubris. My arrogance.”
Jamie was curious. “Arrogance?”
“What else shall I call the act of believing myself worthy enough to monopolize my creator?”
He spun her around in his arms, his lips twitching in amusement. It was true that she viewed herself as his creation, just as he viewed himself as her creator. The Creator-Creation dynamic they possessed was the basis of a strange and unique relationship, the kind of which Jamie had never experienced.
It was novel to him, and thus, it was beautiful to him.
No, everything about Aurora was beautiful to him. She could slip on a banana peel and fall and it’d be beautiful to him. She could accidentally bite her own tongue and it’d be beautiful to him. Where others would see flaws and imperfections, he could find only more reasons to be engrossed in her beauty.
It was a different kind of sentiment he felt for Aurora than he did for Selena. The bond between creator and creation. Supposedly, the feeling had a word, that those of Greek origin had invented.
Agape.
The love one had for a god and the love a god had for his creations.
“You desire to monopolize me?”
“I apologize, Master.”
“Do not apologize. I am not offended by it.”
“But… Is it not hubris? Can a being truly hoard their creator to themselves? Is it… not folly to even desire so?”
It was.
Most individuals would want others to share in the worship of their deities. He could not imagine the existence of a being who loved their god so dearly, they’d want no one else to worship them. The thought of it brought a large grin to his face. Were he still a bard performing in taverns, such a tale would have earned him fame and notoriety. The Ballad of One Who Monopolized God.
“Even so, it pleases me.”
“It does?”
“The depth of your devotion,” Jamie chuckled. “It pleases me greatly.”
It amazed him how those four simple words did so much to brighten up her expression. The second dance continued, at a slower, more restrained pace, though, it felt infinitely longer to Jamie, perhaps, because so much of it was spent admiring the beauty of his creation.
“Have you completed the task I gave you?”
“Ah, Master, what of my punishment?”
His lips twitched.
“Business before pleasure, my dear. Always business before pleasure.”
“My punishment is… master’s pleasure?”
Aurora shuddered.
“Focus, Aurora. The task. Is it done?”
“Ah? Ah— y-yes.”
She mentally prepped her mind, doing her best to focus.
“Of the Thirty-Two remaining Pillar Clans, twenty-one sent representatives. Seven sent gifts and apologies explaining reasons for their absence, whereas the remaining four spurned your invitation, and offered no explanations.”
“Have they been noted?”
“The are the Houses of Naberius, Paimon, Valac and Vassago.”
“Gather any and all information you can on those four houses. I want to know everything about them.”
“Understood, Master.”
Jamie’s gaze swiftly swept the ballroom.
“I had Selena pick someone for me to court. She selected someone rather interesting.”
He still had no clue as to how Selena had been able to see through the disguise spell that Lilith’s descendant had used. It was something he’d need to remember to ask her.
“I’d like you to do the same.”
“Master, I could not possibly choose someone for you —”
“I am asking who you believe possesses the qualifications to bring me the most benefits, and who is worthy to gain the privilege of worshipping me.”
He smiled.
“Or as my dearest and first creation, do you believe you’re incapable of deciding who is most deserving of the affections of your master?”
He needn’t say more. Changing the phrasing of his request completely changed her expression. There was a fire lit in her that spread throughout her body like the smoldering flames licking at the inhabitants of Sodom.
“May I begin with who is least deserving of you, Master?”
“You may.”
“Her, her, her as well, that one over there, the entirety of those wenches there, those three disgusting things over there are unworthy to as much breathe the same air as you, those five aren’t even worthy to have been born in the same era —”
Aurora was ruthless with her exclusions. Yet, there was not a single individual she excluded that Jamie would have felt otherwise regarding. As expected, she had a firm understanding of his tastes and his preferences, of his inclinations and his peculiarities.
Perhaps I should have Selena and Aurora vet women for me more often? Jamie mused. It’s highly entertaining, at the very least.
She went on for about two straight minutes, before rounding up.
“Lastly, her, and her.”
He glanced over the final exclusions.
“You excluded Venelana’s daughter.”
“Courting her would be unwise, Master.”
Although he was far more interested in Venelana than her daughter, he was curious about Aurora’s reasoning. “Do tell.”
“She has a fiancé present at the event and committed a social faux pas by avoiding him all evening. This has made it easy for all to decipher not only that she is against the marriage, but that she actively dislikes her betrothed. In turn, she has rejected offers to dance from all who approached her and has made it clear that only you may take her hand.”
She had? Jamie had not noticed. In truth, even if he’d noticed, he doubted he’d have cared.
“Besides her actions being a slap in the face to the family of her betrothed, it displays undeserved entitlement and a clear absence of social discernment. Politically, courting her would mean souring our potential relations with the Phenix Clan. There is no merit in doing so, as we already have favorable relations with the Gremory Clan through Little Millicas.”
Those were all solid points. However, Jamie could sense some other emotions lingering within Aurora that had nothing to do with her argument. There was a strange, near-visceral distaste she held for the girl. He could not fathom why.
“Had she approached her betrothed courteously and acted, even poorly, to be on good terms with him, it’d have shown she possessed a sense of responsibility suited for the Heiress of a Pillar Clan. And as for the sheer arrogance of not dancing with anyone….”
“Aurora —”
“Can you imagine it, Master? Can you imagine if you were to attend an event, and all evening, you refuse to dance with anyone, insisting that only the host may approach you?”
Jamie’s lips curled. He tried again, “Aurora —”
“Imagine being betrothed to her, being at an event, but all evening, you avoid her, you refuse to speak with her or dance with her, but instead, you set your sights blatantly on another. Do you think she’d be able to so much as show her face in public again?”
She huffed.
“If she can knowingly bring such harm to the reputation of her betrothed and his family, I shudder to think of all the ways she must have unknowingly denigrated him and —”
“You are envious of her.”
Aurora stopped mid-rant. “Master, I —”
She couldn’t lie. Not to him.
“Yes.”
“You are in every way more beautiful than she is.”
“But I lack what she has, Master. If I had even half the privileges she possesses… would I not be able to do so much more for you? Would… would I not be able to make your dreams come true?”
Jamie pulled her closer.
“It is not your duty to fulfill my dreams for me, Aurora.”
“It — it is not my —”
“You may help me pursue them. You may aid me in reaching them. You may stand at my side as I realize them and celebrate with me as I achieve them.”
He gave her a strict stare.
“But the act of fulfilling them? That is my responsibility. It is mine and mine alone. Do you understand?”
“Master —”
“ Do. You. Understand? ”
Aurora swallowed deeply.
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Good.”
He lightly stroked her hair.
“You belittle yourself, Aurora. To feel envious of a child who knows nothing but privilege. Tut-tut. How embarrassing.”
Her cheeks gained a slight dusting of red.
“S-she’s eighteen years of age, s-she’s hardly a child...”
Eighteen?
Jamie’s gaze lingered over to Venelana’s daughter once more.
Truly?
Were she thirteen or fourteen, unlikely as it was given how endowed she was, he’d have believed there was still time for her to grow. In the Forgotten Realms, most were considered adults at fifteen.
At twelve, he’d made his first kills and fled from Castle Ever-Blight. At thirteen, he lived and fended for himself, using his meager music skills to earn coin, in spite of being a creature shunned, hated, and discriminated against by most races. At fifteen, despite the temptations, he turned down offers from bands of brigands to become a thief and a scoundrel, deciding there would be no beauty in a descent into a life of crime. By eighteen he’d already earned himself renown as a Bard and adventurer and acquired enough power to draw the attention of many up-and-coming adventurer parties.
He knew he could not judge others by his standards. He didn’t hold any strong distaste for those who’d lived easy and fortunate lives, for to be resentful of one’s own misfortune and envious of the lives of others was an action bereft of beauty.
Yet, to be one who did not recognize the good fortune and advantages they’d had in their lives was a thing he considered even more disgusting. To be nonchalant to one’s privileges was, in Jamie’s view, to be unworthy of those privileges.
“Perhaps a little punishment is in order…”
“Master?”
Aurora’s eyes widened by a small fraction.
“She’s the younger sister of the Lucifer and given your relationship with Lady Venelana —”
“Venelana is not a woman who does things without reason. The more I glance at her daughter, the more convinced I am that she let her grow up that way to one end or another…”
Jamie hummed.
“Yes, I'm fairly certain there will be no repercussions from a little punishment.”
“Master, it is well known throughout the Underworld that the Lucifer is obsessed with his sister… some claim to a terrifying degree. If — If he were to learn of anything that befalls her…”
He chuckled.
“I do not fear what I aim to surpass.”
Aurora’s breath hitched in her throat.
“Sur…pass?”
“Have I not told you? I have no intentions of letting Venelana Gremory remain Venelana Gremory.”
“You mean —”
“Such a woman is too cunning to leave free and too beautiful to not have. She will either try to make me into a political tool of hers, or an extension of her wishes. I’d rather not have that. Within the next half-decade, I must ensure she becomes Venelana Malphas.”
For now, they were allied. Yet, he’d done his homework. Alliances in the Underworld were often fragile and fickle. Unless both parties signed binding soul contracts that ensured grave consequences for the reneging of promises, then any alliance could be broken at a moment’s notice.
Venelana may desire he take her daughter as his first wife, to which, if he refused, she’d withdraw all her support from him and become an enemy overnight. If he agreed, she’d have sunk her teeth fully into him, and the Malphas Clan would all but be a serf to the Gremory.
He had no intention of being in the service of another. Yet, the political power she wielded as Sirzechs’ Mother put her in such a position that she could bring endless amounts of turmoil and problems to his doorstep if he refused to play her game and dance to her tune.
It was for that reason he had to strike first. For that reason, he had to ensure she was the one moving to his tune.
And certainly, her son would have something to say about that.
Her son…
Jamie had met Sirzechs Gremory.
The meeting occurred briefly after his victory against Millicas. The devil appeared with neither announcement nor preamble, with an expression of a smile that was so practiced and so natural, there was almost no one who would believe it was fake. He’d chided his son with words filled with double meanings, before approaching him, with a hand extended, seemingly pleased to meet the one who would become his son’s tutor.
Jamie had not taken the hand.
Every inch of the man’s existence disgusted him.
He found it distasteful that such a being bore the same title as the Being of Light. He found it abhorrent that such a being would be spoken of in the same sentence as the Prince of Darkness. Nay, abhorrent was not the word.
It was sacrilegious.
Sirzechs had been surprised at the lack of respect. He’d noticed his disgust. He’d noticed the manner in which Jamie’s face had squelched up in revulsion. He’d been baffled. After all, such a reaction was the exact opposite of what most people experienced upon first meeting him. He’d probed, curiously, as to what was the matter.
“There is no beauty in you. Not even the beauty of destruction.”
It was not an opinion. It was an objective fact.
All Jamie had felt from Sirzechs was destruction. All he had seen was destruction. Sirzechs was a creature born to destroy. His contribution to the universe would either be its utter demise or its complete annihilation. Every breath he took destroyed, and every step he made destroyed.
A being of complete and utter destruction could never be beautiful. Not in Jamie’s eyes. How could he ever see any beauty in a being whose very existence removed beauty from the world? How could he respect such a being? Admire such a being?
Jamie had seen the original Lucifer, albeit in a distant vision. Lucifer was not a creature of destruction. He’d been a being of utter radiance. A being of glorious creation. A rebel of destiny, a defier of tyranny, a splendorous, effulgent existence whose tale would have many weeping against injustice, and whose tragedy was born from a loving and just heart.
To be someone who bore that title, in his mind, was to be someone equally as beautiful and glorious as the Prince of Light.
Sirzechs was the exact opposite.
For whatever reason, he’d laughed upon hearing Jamie’s words. He’d not been bothered. No, if anything, he’d been pleased. He looked refreshed, happy, as though he was glad that someone, somehow, had seen the truth of the utter monster he was.
“Millicas, be sure to listen to your new King. He has good eyes.”
After those words, the man provided him a set of Evil Pieces, claiming they were special ones made with great care by his friend, and then he departed, leaving his son in Jamie’s care. Those words made Millicas far less recalcitrant, as the boy started looking at him with starry eyes, claiming he’d never heard his father compliment anyone before.
Jamie had not cared for the compliment. He had only felt utter disappointment. He’d never imagined that the one bearing the title of Lucifer would be so utterly and completely bereft of beauty.
Jamie had decided that he could not allow Sirzechs Gremory continue to hold the title of Lucifer.
Either he would surpass the devil himself, raise someone more worthy to take the position, or find a means to abolish the position entirely.
Millicas was fortunately not as far gone as his father. Not yet. Jamie was truly glad, in a way, that he’d been made the boy’s mentor and King. At the very least, such a position ensured he would be able to keep an eye over the boy and his quest for vengeance, so as to ensure another beauty-erasing monster would not emerge.
“She is undeserving of your attention, Master. Punishing… punishing her would be giving her more regard than she merits. If you must… then, punish her by making her realize she is beneath your notice.”
Aurora’s words gave him a moment of pause. She was not wrong. He’d been rather surprised to discover that Venelana’s daughter, Sirzechs’ sister, was mediocre in comparison to her extraordinary family members. Truly, what reason was there to have interest in her?
Jamie chuckled.
“Tell me, who is the girl’s fiancé?
“That’s him over there, Master.”
He found the young man in question, dancing with another devil woman, grinning wildly, and talking exaggeratedly about one detail or the other. The woman he was dancing with had a polite smile and looked as though she could not wait for the dance to be over.
“That is Rizer, the third son of Lord Rivellon Phenix. Supposedly, he’s the hot-headed, playboy, delinquent middle child of the Phenix Family. An arrogant, tactless devil who always gets what he wants —”
“Yet, in spite of the fact that his fianceé has publicly scorned him, he has neither approached her nor does he seem to be at all upset about it?”
There was a slow, deliberate nod from Aurora. As though, she was contemplating his words and now realizing it.
“It seems… uncharacteristic... If he truly was as the rumors suggested, he’d have made a scene regarding the whole thing, with zero care for the consequences. However…”
A large grin slowly grew upon Jamie’s face.
“Add him to the list of potential allies.”
“Master?”
“There is clearly more to him than meets the eye. A devil who can act that chipper, in spite of the opinions of others and in lieu of the disdain of his betrothed, is a devil I’d like to share a drink with.”
“Understood, Master.”
“Now, what of those you haven’t excluded?”
Aurora gestured with her eyes.
“Her…”
She’d gestured to a young dark-haired woman in a revealing blue gown. If his information was correct, then the young girl should be the Heiress to the Sitri Clan, and she should be the younger sister of the Leviathan. Beyond that, however, Jamie could not honestly say there was anything particularly remarkable about the girl. He did find her attractive, in a strange way.
Yes, there was a strange beauty in her ordinariness. One Jamie couldn’t quite put into words. Her chest was not large nor was she particularly endowed in hips or buttocks, but her lean, long legs held a great deal of appeal, as did her short hair and frank, cold expression.
He knew exactly why Aurora chose her. From the information he’d gathered, the Sitri Clan possessed contracts in the human world with numerous high-profile seamen, Navy Admirals, Dock Workers, and Shipping Companies. They were the demonic overlords of the seven seas, and their wealth majorly originated from the shipping industry and maritime transport.
Even in the Underworld, they held a strong monopoly over shipping companies that delivered goods and materials to and from the human realm. Were he their ally, it would make a few of his ‘businesses’ move far more smoothly, and cut out a lot of extraneous red tape until he regained his golden goose.
However…
Several months ago, Jamie had used Speak With Dead to converse with a young devil named Rabia. She’d worked exclusively with the Leviathan, and he’d learned a lot about Serafall. Everything from gossip to unsubstantiated rumors, she’d told him.
If he were to believe her words, then Serafall was obsessed with her little sister, just as Sirzechs was obsessed with his. Obsessed in ways that were bordering on incestuous.
Jamie couldn’t cast any moral judgments against such a thing, due to being in a glass house himself. However, if the rumors were even slightly true, then approaching or courting the Sitri Heir would put him in the crosshairs of the Leviathan.
Such a thing may actually prove useful. I need to meet another Satan. Falbium Asmodeus is notoriously lazy whilst Ajuka Beelzebub is notoriously busy…
“A valid choice.”
“And her.”
Aurora gestured to another girl. A blonde girl. Blonde, yet, far younger than most present. She was dressed in a frilly red gown which showed no skin at all and seemed almost to be prudish in intent. More so, there was a strange sense of familiarity he felt.
“She bares a striking resemblance to the fiancé of Venelana’s daughter.”
“They are related, Master. She is the youngest child and sole daughter of Lord Rivellon Phenix.”
“How young?”
“I believe she turned fifteen last summer.”
“Fifteen?” Jamie mused. “You would have me eat fruit from a tree that’s yet to ripen, Aurora?”
“The younger she is, the easier it will be to brainwa — I mean, nurture her, to make decisions that will benefit you the most, Master.”
“I am more particular to females I cannot easily groom.”
“We are devils, Master. There is nothing wrong with grooming your wives.”
He barked a laugh. Fortunately, the Message spell was still active, so only Aurora heard it.
“Master?”
He stroked his chin slowly, the thought registering into his newfound ‘common sense’.
“Yes, I already gain pleasure from fucking my mother, how is it any worse to groom those who would become my wives?”
“Forgive me, Master, but incest is considered taboo to devils because of our low population, low birth rate, and high risk of genetic defects and abnormalities born of inbred kindred. However, there is not a single devil in Society that considers grooming to be taboo. It actually used to be the standard practice.”
“Did it?”
“Marriages between devils have been consummated with parties as young as twelve, nine, or five years of age.”
Such a thing was not uncommon to him... In Faerûn, he’d known farmers who’d sold off their daughters once they’d turned thirteen for a small pouch of silver, and encountered young princesses who were married off in political alliances upon their first blood, sometimes as early as nine or ten years of age.
The concept of a ‘teenager’ had been one of the new things he’d had to get accustomed to. There’d been no such thing because schooling and education had not been so vastly available nor had it been globally standardized. As most were considered adults once they turned fifteen, they would often start searching for work or seeking apprenticeships to learn trades at that age. Children, similarly, worked alongside their parents, selling their goods or aiding them on farms or with cattle and livestock.
The life expectancy of the average peasant in the Forgotten Realms was not high. There were too many risks, from creatures prowling forests to goblins and bugbears to evil wizards, necromancers, and sorcerers who considered them as disposable resources, to even other adventurers, especially Murder-Vagrants.
With so many dangers, the average peasant opted to have children as young as possible, and have as many children as possible, in the often expected outcome that one or two would be lost to sickness, disease, or the sword of a stray goblin.
The knowledge that devils would marry so young didn’t particularly perturb or bother him. He simply found it strange.
“We live upwards of ten-thousand years. We’re not affected by most diseases or illnesses. Barring death from battle or injury, of what need is there to marry so young?”
“You aren’t aware, Master?”
“Aware? Of what?”
“The younger a devil, the more fertile she is.”
The information astounded him. “Is that… certain?”
“Numerous devils have researched methods to solve the issue of population decline before Satan Beelzebub came up with the Evil Pieces. During this research, a strong correlation was found between youth and fertility.”
“How strong a correlation?”
“From age twenty-one, there is a remarkable drop in fertility of about 63%. After thirty-one, it drops even further by 96%. At forty-one, the fertility decreases by about 10% per decade or 1% per year.”
The words weighed on Jamie’s mind.
“As an Incubus, those numbers are meaningless to you. Master, your sperm is potent enough to impregnate a devil close to ten-thousand years, or even a woman cursed with barrenness.”
“How rather fortunate.”
They continued their dance across the ballroom, and he took note of the two women Aurora had pointed out for him. For whatever strange reason, the Sitri Heiress seemed to be avoiding his gaze entirely, often flinching whenever he settled his eyes on her. She was acting like a mouse cornered in a room with a great tiger, and it greatly amused Jamie.
The younger girl, the Phenix, was the complete opposite. Her eyes were so focused on him that he’d yet to see her close them to even blink. She was engrossed in his movements, enthralled by his motions, and so transfixed on him thus so that it earned the ire of her dance partner, an unfortunate young man who’s feet she’d stepped on three times already.
“Aurora.”
“Understood, Master.”
He guided her diligently until they reached the position where the young Sitri Heiress was.
“Forgive me, but it seems I may need to steal away your partner.”
The young devil dancing with the Sitri Heiress had his eyes widen. “O-Of course, Lord Malphas!”
“Much obliged.”
The poor fellow allowed Lord Malphas take away his dance partner, and he turned, expecting to find Aurora to replace her, only to be baffled as the woman was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as though she’d vanished into thin air. By the time he could think of speaking, Jamie had already darted away with the young Sitri Heiress in his arms.
Whispers emerged galore, none of which bothered or even remotely disturbed him. Rather, he was paying deep and full interest unto the young woman who seemed to be moments away from collapsing in a panic attack.
“It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Sitri.”
XXXXX
Sona believed she was cursed.
She had tried her hardest to avoid earning Lord Malphas’ attention. She’d chosen to dance with a young boy from the Beleth Clan, and was fortunate enough that he was the kind of idiot she could make do as she told without much effort. Yet, in spite of her best efforts, she all but collapsed when Lord Malphas made eye contact with her.
She tried her hardest to avoid showing her true emotions, but even her dance partner seemed to have sensed something amiss. The terror and dread she felt only magnified tenfold once Lord Malphas and his dance partner moved closer, and closer, as the music continued in tone and melody.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
She barely registered the words. Her brain was overstimulated, trying and thinking hard for a means of escape. Her mind had entered fight-or-flight mode from the very minute Lord Malphas took her into his hands.
Then, her brain shut down the moment she got a whiff of his scent.
I am ruined.
Those three words echoed in her mind.
“Lady Sitri?”
His voice made her breath hitch in her throat. Her body almost shuddered just from hearing it at such close proximity.
Why?
She wanted to curse.
Why me?
“T-the honor is all mine, L-Lord Malphas.”
“You don’t seem rather fond of me, Lady Sitri.”
“W-what could possibly give you such an idea?”
“Your hands are shaking. Your legs, likewise, are trembling.”
She had not noticed it. Only upon glancing at the aforementioned limbs did she realize it.
“Why are you so terrified of me?”
Her lips parched at the question. What was she supposed to say? I’m terrified of how much I find you sexually desirable? I’m scared because I do not believe myself capable of resisting you?
Would those words not utterly elevate his ego to new heights? Would they not make her seem like an infatuated, foolish little girl? Regardless of how true the words were, she would never be able to utter them. Her pride would not allow it. Her shame too would completely refuse it.
“I am m-merely under the weather today, Lord Malphas.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
Lord Malphas pulled her closer. Their bodies were close enough for a thin sheet of paper to be placed between them. Every single neuron in her brain fired at once. She felt it. Felt him. His warmth. His musculature. His body, which forced hers to begin a primal, instinctive yearning —
“Lord Malphas, p-please…”
Her voice sounded foreign. She was pleading, begging, but she did not know to what end her pleads were. She could not tell if she were pleading for more or pleading for less. Her brain, her intelligence, the one tool to which she always relied on and always trusted, was rendered utterly useless in the face of overwhelming hormonal stimulation.
She’d been reduced to nothing more than a stupid, lust-crazed, hormonal teenage girl simply from being pressed against him. Yet, he’d asked why she was so terrified of him? Why she feared him?
“Please?”
“I — I cannot… I — should not…”
“You have me at a loss, Lady Sitri. What is it you cannot… or should not be doing?”
Lord Malphas was devious. He was more than aware of the state she was in. With how hard her nipples were and how hard they were pressed against his chest, there was no way the devil did not know. Yet, he would admit nothing. He would play the fool, driving her madder and madder until something in her snapped.
She could not let that happen. If not for her own sense of shame, then for that of her family.
She hastily started recalling famous chess matches in her brain to calm her mind and regain her sense of logic. Kasparov versus Topalov, Murphy versus Allies. Her brain racked herself with positions and strategies, openings and endgames. Scandinavian, French, Fried Liver, King’s Fianchetto, Queen’s Gambit, Ruy Lopez, Sicilian, Caro-Kann, Italian, Indian —
Lord Malphas’ hand landed on her behind.
The giant chessboard in her mind shattered.
“W-what is it you want from me, Lord Malphas?”
“Lady Sitri, we are dancing. This is merely an opportunity to build rapport —”
“Enough.”
She breathed in.
“I — I cannot resist you, Lord Malphas. And It is tiring to pretend otherwise. Yet, I am not foolish enough to believe myself some sort of… Cinderella. I am not stupid enough to believe that out of all the young female devils here, I was the one who caught your eye.”
She bit her lip.
“What do you want from me, Lord Malphas?”
His deep chuckle sent shivers racing down her spine.
“I desire you, Lady Sitri.”
“M-me?”
“Is such a concept so surprising?”
“C-compared to the others, no, to the two women on your arm, I am hardly —”
“Can a work of art evaluate itself? Can a written masterpiece be read by itself? Can a five-star meal taste itself?”
His voice rumbled in her ears,
“Your beauty is not yours to judge.”
Her heart was pounding. No, it was roaring. He would never know it, but such words soothed the deepest insecurities of her soul. She was a girl like any other, and though she’d acted as though such things did not bother her, in truth, they always had. She had always believed herself lacking, and she had never, not once, heard someone utter such words to her.
Her heart fluttered.
And her fear intensified.
No. No —
In what absurd world would someone’s heart be stirred simply by someone telling them they were beautiful?
She was right to be terrified of him. She was right to want to avoid him. She’d seen this coming. She’d predicted this, and yet, she’d stumbled into it regardless.
Alas, she had ultimately little experience with the opposite sex. The closest thing she’d ever had to a crush was for a distant figure whom she knew her relationship with would only ever be parasocial.
With no experience to speak of, she knew no way to escape such a situation. She knew of no means to combat the sudden intensified manner her heart was pounding.
“I-I am flattered, Lord Malphas.”
“You do not seem to believe me.”
He let out a deep hum. They moved slowly across the ballroom, and she managed to catch a glimpse of her rival, Rias, looking at her as though she’d somehow stabbed her in the back.
“Then shall I cast a spell?”
“A… spell?”
“Within the range of this spell, no lies may be spoken, so you may know the truth of my intentions.”
He… he can’t be serious? She’d never heard of such a spell. Granted, there were means of making individuals speak the truth, but such things required long and complicated contracts with a magician or witch. Devils could not so easily create such a complicated —
A strange ripple of energy came over her.
“Tell me a lie.”
Her heart raced further.
Slowly, she opened her lips to speak.
I would never lay with you.
The words did not emerge. They were stuck in her throat. It felt as though some sort of primordial force was stopping her from being able to utter the sentence. Her eyes widened immediately.
“Now, do you believe me?
“...This spell, you are under it, as well?”
“Indeed.”
“Then… what do you want from me, Lord Malphas?”
“As I’ve said before… I want you.”
She almost choked on her breath. Her next word came out as a rasp. “W-why?”
“Because Lady Sitri…” Lord Malphas smiled. “You are beautiful.”
You are beautiful.
The words entered her ears and had her floating above the clouds. There were many who would scoff at such words. Many would consider someone who only wanted them for their appearance to be vain and unworthy of having them. Sona was not among that number.
The words spoken were true. She knew they were. He considered her beautiful. He truly believed it.
Her heart was racing again. Racing in a stupid, pointless, childlike manner.
Why?
She’d heard those words from her sister and her parents, from her subordinates and servants, but never from her peers. Never from her rival. Never from those who she’d consider her equal. She’d never expected to hear such words from a person she believed would never give her the time of day.
She strived to be as logical as possible, but as a devil, it was a moot effort. They were creatures of desire, creatures of emotion.
And Lord Malphas had made her feel an emotion she had never felt before.
Even if she were to find out, later on, that Lord Malphas had deceived her, that he was simply seducing her to use her, she would not care. It would make no difference. Her heart had been stirred by the devil who held her in his arms, and unless someone else managed to stir it even stronger, it would remain that way till her dying breath.
“You are a highly terrifying devil, Lord Malphas.”
Her voice was calm now. Settled. She found herself strangely tranquil, and at peace. The effect of his spell seemed to remain active, so only the truth would emerge from her lips.
“Am I truly?”
“All this while, I was afraid you’d take my chastity with a few words…”
She smiled, yet, it was bittersweet.
“Instead, you’ve taken something more precious.”
“You must forgive me.”
“The fault is not yours,” she exhaled. “I am the one who has lived so pitifully… that I cannot stop myself from falling for the first man to call me beautiful and prove that he means it.”
As soon as the words emerged, she realized what she’d uttered. She had not intended to say that last part out loud. Her face turned, with dread, to gaze at Lord Malphas.
You fool!
What would he think of her now? What sort of fool admitted such a thing?
“I —”
“The fault is not yours either,” Lord Malphas’ voice was unusually… soft. “It is tragedy enough that you have lived so long without hearing those words from a man who truly meant it.”
She had no words. None. She opened her lips but found nothing of merit to say. He sounded genuinely… sad about such a thing. It stirred her heart all the more.
“Forgive me for asking this, Lord Malphas — ”
“Jamie.”
Sona froze.
“You may refer to me as Jamie.”
“Then… Lord… Jamie,” she tried again. “...I made a rule, once, that I will only ever consider marriage with someone who could defeat me in a game of Chess. If I may…”
“You wish for us to play a game?”
“If… if it would not be too much to ask.”
“It is hardly a request.”
“Then… thank you, Lord Jamie.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Sitri.”
“Sona,” she said swiftly.
“I would be very pleased… if you were to call me… Sona.”
Lord Malphas grinned.
“As you wish, Lady Sona.”
XXXXX
The second dance came to an end.
Aurora approached him as he departed from Sona’s embrace, yet, his countenance, which had been merry moments prior, darkened significantly afterward.
“Master? Is something wrong? Was she not receptive to your advances?”
“...She was.”
“Then —”
“Are all devil women starved of love and affection?”
Aurora hesitated. “I… do not quite understand, Master.”
“No, forgive me. It was an improper question.”
He distinctly remembered, that while enjoying both Adelaide and Carrin, all those months ago, they’d been squeamish and melted at his touch. He’d been doing nothing different, yet, they were akin to virgins who had never experienced sex before.
“Foreplay?”
“Yes,” she rasped. “N-no one’s ever done that to me before.”
“Do devils not know what foreplay is?”
“D-devils are… selfish. For the majority of male devils, sex is about being pleased. They focus on pleasing themselves or having their partners please them… but t-they don’t often reciprocate. T-they don’t see the need.”
it was more than just sex by which the majority focused on themselves. He understood now. Relationships in the Underworld did not seem to arrive from mutual trust and sentiment.
Devils in the higher echelons did not ‘date.’ They were ‘betrothed’ to one another.
As such, the vast majority of them would never know what it meant to be loved. They would never experience the beauty of waking up in the arms of a partner who believed they were the best thing since sliced bread. They would never know the joy of the embrace of someone whose very existence completed them.
They would live upwards of ten thousand years bereft of the beauty of genuine intimacy.
Jamie closed his eyes.
I can think of no greater curse…
He opened them and chuckled.
Devils.
The antithesis of good. The creatures of sin. Beings of temptation, cruelty, seduction, and destruction. Yet, they were tragic beings, the vast majority of which would never experience the beauty of love. They were beings condemned to the fate of sadness, loneliness, selfishness, and unhappiness.
Could he change such a thing? How would he do so?
Who would believe him, if he went about sleeping with every woman he could, claiming he was doing so simply because he felt it was tragic for them to live without knowing what it meant to be cherished?
He could do so. It would be mad to do so, but it was something he could do. He would not, however. He would not because he’d learned early on in his life as an adventurer a simple, yet, bitter fact.
You cannot save everyone.
Doing such things was what brought him to such a position. It was what made him the kind of person who could sleep with the wife and daughters of a man he considered his best friend because he valued their beauty over the feelings of friendship.
It was what made him the kind of person who saved the world not because it was the right or just thing to do, but because he could not see the beauty in a world gripped by destruction.
It would be best… were I to focus on what can be done, rather than what cannot.
He steeled his mind and calmed his troubled thoughts. There was no need for unnecessary thinking. He would cherish those he could cherish, and explore the beauty of those he could explore. To those he could not, it was tragic, yes —
But it was life.
“The girl, what is her name?”
“Ravel Phenix, of the Phenix Clan.”
“They are supposedly immortal, are they not?”
“They are, Master.”
“Would that not mean she possesses nigh-infinite life energy?”
Aurora’s ears perked up. “That would be true.”
“What do you know of her mother, Lady Phenix?”
She understood what he intended without any need to say more.
“I’m afraid her mother does not bear the Phenix Bloodline. She married into the family.”
“I see.”
“She does however possess an Aunt with Phenix blood,” Aurora continued. “Rivella Astaroth.”
“Astaroth? Not Phenix?”
“She is the half-sister of Lord Phenix, and the Second Wife of Lord Astaroth.”
“Are there any avenues for positive relations with the Astaroth Clan?”
“I believe the Heir to the Astaroth Clan should be at this event… ah, there he is, Master.”
The young man had slicked-back hair, wore an elegant suit, and had his eyes closed with a plastic smile plastered upon his event. Curiously, he was dancing with another young woman, who seemed simultaneously enthralled by, yet weary of his presence.
Jamie took in a sharp breath.
Ignatz?
He froze. Then, he relaxed.
No, he simply has the same look…
The ‘closed-eye smile’ look was one that he intrinsically connected to a man called Ignatz Nocebo. He’d been a Half-Elf Cleric, one who’d once been a member of Lightbringer.
He’d kept his eyes closed at all times, even in battle, claiming that he had seen enough of the world’s cruelty and evil, and it was only through closing his eyes that he would be able to retain his faith and belief in the goodness of his god.
Zakara had asked him once, why he didn’t just pluck out his eyes or wear a blindfold. Ignatz argued that it would be insulting to those who were born blind to cast away his gift of sight and that wearing a blindfold would defeat the willful act of closing his eyes, as it would be as though his eyes were closed for him.
The man was dedicated to his belief and his religion as much as he was to his companions, thus so that when the order had come up from on high that he was to ‘kill the spawn of Malphas Darkblight’ he’d been unable to act. Rather than betray his friends, he never mentioned the order, nor the consequences that awaited him for refusing them.
It was only after parting ways briefly that they’d all learned he’d been branded a heretic and executed publicly.
Jamie heard that at the final moment of his life, Ignatz opened his eyes.
“What is he called?”
“Diodora Astaroth.”
“Diodora?” Jamie chuckled. “God’s gift?”
Having possessed the multilingual gift belonging to devils, he could tell that Dio, was derived from dios, or ‘of Zeus’, and Dora clearly meant gift.
“What do you know of him?”
“He is a relative of Satan Beelzebub and —.”
“Oh?”
“And, he is rather well-liked amongst the traditionalist devil clans and families,” Aurora continued.
“Why?”
“It is an open secret that he has a habit of kidnapping and enslaving and violating young women of the cloth.”
“Women of the… ah, you mean, Clerics?”
“Nuns, Master.”
“Nuns… of course…”
Jamie paused.
“Doing such things makes him liked? Is it not a given for devils to abduct and torture their sworn enemies?”
“It… used to be,” Aurora began slowly. “But, the Four Satans have been pushing for a more progressive underworld. And many are afraid to do things that would go against that agenda.”
“Progressive?” Jamie mused. “How does one make a devil progressive?”
“They wish for devils to be… less like devils.”
Jamie laughed. He thought she was making a joke. Then, he noticed she wasn’t laughing. No, she looked rather displeased and grim about the whole thing.
“You jest. Surely?”
“From what I’ve heard from the guests here, there are rumors that Sirzechs Lucifer has drawn up a plan to make a truce with the other two factions. To bring an end to the war, permanently.”
Jamie’s brows furrowed.
“You mean, they want to make a truce with the Angels, and the Fallen? A truce… with those who fought against, betrayed, and killed the very progenitor of their race? They wish to simply forget the entire reason they exist?”
He could not fathom it.
A truce.
A truce between good and evil.
That defied even the common sense of this world.
Good cannot compromise with evil.
This was something any individual who stood for good and righteousness believed. The moment you compromised with evil, you became tainted by it. Light and darkness could not co-exist within the same space as equals. This should have been common sense regardless of space and time.
He wasn’t even a creature of good and yet, he believed this to be true.
If Angels and Devils could shake hands and accept each other, it meant Angels were accepting of and accommodating towards the evil acts of devils. It was like a guard finding criminals assaulting the lady of their household in the dead of night, only to smile and wave, and turn the other way. Yet, in spite of the clear dereliction of duty, the utter betrayal, the guard would retain their job as a guard.
“...The Church will also be part of this truce, I take it?”
“I believe so, Master.”
“Haha…. My word.”
Hundreds would flock to congregations and parishes, fleeing from evil, believing they would be protected by the grace and goodness of those above, unaware that their guardian angels from which they sought salvation had broken bread with the very demons that sought their destruction.
If one’s guardian angel and inner demon were on the same side, were they not condemned to damnation?
He was not fond of this universe's 'humanity', but even he would never imagine upon them a reality so cruel. He was beginning to accept his role as a being of evil, but even he did not wish to live in a world where there existed no force of good.
Could that be his plan? To corrupt the last specks of goodness?
Jamie hummed.
“How very curious…”
“Master?”
“Where would you say we fall, politically, within Devil Society?”
“So far, we’ve officially made an ally of the Gremory, a Progressive Clan, and the Agares, a Traditional Clan. That makes us politically neutral.”
“If we were to ally with the Sitri?”
“The Sitri Clan is allied with the Gremory and is also Progressive. Allying with them may make others believe we’ve decided to align ourselves with the Progressive Clans.”
Jamie nodded. “And the Phenix?”
“The Phenix Clan’s position is currently undecided, as some believe the marriage between Rizer Phenix and Rias Gremory means they wish to move camps to the Progressive side, however, Lord Rivellon has close ties with Lord Astaroth and Lord Bael, both of which are firmly Traditional.”
“So allying with either the Bael or the Astaroth will mean tilting towards the traditional side of things, would it not?”
“That is correct, Master.”
“And the other Traditional Clans?”
“Amongst them are the Houses of Gamigin, Belial, Dantalion, Balam —”
“Do they have representatives present?”
“I believe most of them should —”
“Gather them all and give them appropriate gifts as they depart.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. “Master?”
“I have met Sirzechs Gremory. His plan of peace has two possibilities. One, he truly believes devils should let bygones be bygones and shake hands with angels. In which case, he is trying to make up for his nature as a being of destruction by leaving a legacy of peace and unification, which makes him an idealistic fool and even more unworthy of the title of Lucifer.”
Jamie swayed his head distastefully.
“The second is that his plan is a grander ploy to corrupt the forces of good. A plan to weaken the enemy and assimilate them. In which case, he is a brilliant mastermind, but also an extremely dangerous entity. He is without respect for the balance of good and evil, and, if left unchecked, we would live in a world bereft of a speck of goodness.”
A soft sigh escaped from Jamie’s lips.
“Regardless of which it is, I cannot support him. The former would mean supporting a being that has defiled the beauty of Lucifer’s name twice over, and the latter would mean supporting an entity who will spearhead the destruction of every last iota of goodness, and eliminate that form of beauty from the world.”
In the end, it was about beauty. Jamie did not care for good, but he cared for beauty. There were numerous things that were good that were beautiful. Faith was one such thing he found to be beautiful, even if he himself lacked it. The destruction of faith or the act of making faith irrelevant was the destruction of a form of beauty.
And he would never allow the destruction of beauty.
“Master, are you certain? Once we make our stance clear… it will not be easy to change it”
Jamie’s eyes sparkled.
“Let it be known, that Clan Malphas will find itself allying with the traditional belief that a devil should be a devil. Good must remain good, and evil…”
He smiled.
“Evil must remain evil.”
Notes:
This chapter was supposed to be shorter than this. Ah, well.
PSA: I read all the comments. All of them. I've always believed in 'letting a story speak for itself' (most of the time), but this doesn't mean I don't appreciate the comments. Most of the questions asked will be addressed sooner or later in the story. If it won't be or is unlikely to be, then I'll answer the comment directly or add a note.
Note/Edit: I have temporarily made it so only people with accounts can add comments to this story. An anonymous individual left behind comments that made baseless and unfounded claims. I have little patience for such matters.
See you all next Sunday.
Chapter 17: Blessed Are The Poor In Spirit
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Her? Truly?
Diodora Astaroth all but guffawed at the spectacle. He’d paid little attention to his dance partner, some frivolous young plaything of the Sallos Clan. Taut of cheeks, fair of complexion, small of nose, and poor of spirit. She did have quite the waist, however, such that his hands could snake around them and shake each other with little effort.
There was much to be said of a young woman who knew of his reputation and remained enthralled in his arms. In between her endless praises of his character and shameless yet pitiful attempts at seduction, it occurred to him she was the daughter of Skotóno Sallos. The rather unfortunate devil who'd conducted a plan to break the Snake of Eden out of Cocytus, failed woefully and was incinerated by Sirzechs Lucifer.
Her venerations made sense in light of it all, as did her alliances. When one’s father was killed by a person, if that person were to announce the sky blue, they’d cry out defiantly that it was red.
Unfortunately, her incessant chatter did not draw her to him. His attention could not be spent on a devil with little more than a good waist and an unattainable vendetta. His attention remained on the center of the ballroom, wherein Lord Malphas had approached and made his first official dance of the evening.
Could it be that he likes them flat?
The two women who’d been at Lord Malphas’ arms when he arrived dismissed that notion. Both were so well endowed that Diodora’s mind had nearly reverted to a primal state of infancy as the unspeakable urge to grab onto their chests filled him. They stood in vast contrast with the young Sallos devil’s rather dismissive mounds pressing unto him, and the comparison ran wild like a fox with a burning tail.
Yet, compared to Sona Sitri? Her tangelo-sized breasts, drumstick-like legs, and short black hair often made him doubt if she was indeed female.
“For what purpose…?”
Selecting Sona Sitri as his first dance could only be a political move. The duo moved across the ballroom, though it was not hard to see that Lord Malphas was the one doing most of the moving. They conversed silently as they moved, their conversation being too distant and too faint to be heard.
The Sitri Clan was not lacking in contacts and connections. Lord Malphas was making a political move. Aim for the vulnerable heiress and reap the benefits that came with. Diodora hummed softly. Had his hands not been affixed to a waist, he’d even have applauded.
With a devil of Lord Malphas’ caliber, a girl of Sona Sitri’s caliber stood no chance. Diodora almost pitied her. Almost. Lord Malphas was a hunter, and she was the unfortunate little rabbit.
His hands tightened around the slender waist, his throat itched, and he increased the speed of his dance, his thoughts in a wild fury.
How much would Lord Malphas reap from the Sitri? All of it? Half of it? Would he convince the girl to sign over her family's entire fortune? Would he have her collared and chained, following behind him like a well-behaved pup? To what ends did his ambitions reach? How great was his deviousness?
His power was mysterious, yet, it was unknown. However, now, such a thing was clear.
He’s nearing Ultimate-Class.
Diodora could devise as much from the fact that he’d approached Sona Sitri. Many avoided the girl, some, like him, did so because of her lack of appeal, whereas others did so because they were afraid of her elder sister, the terrifying she-devil who played the role of a ditzy big-breasted buffoon.
The Sallos girl squirmed. “Um, Lord Astaroth —”
“Diodora.”
He corrected her on instinct.
“Lord Astaroth is my father. Call me Diodora.”
“Um… Lord Diodora… your hands…”
His hands had latched tightly onto her waist, gripping hard. He’d not noticed it. He let go, never allowing his smile to fade. For a moment he’d forgotten himself, as he did when he was with his toys.
He relinquished his grip, lazily directing his gaze elsewhere in search of a more palatable dance partner. He required someone insipid enough to not care in the slightest about his actions. Someone to pass the time with, as he awaited to see who Lord Malphas would choose for his next dance.
Out of the corner of the eye, there was a red-headed girl with clenched fists. His eyes opened a slight fraction to find the girl not only clenching her fists but her jaw as well. Her arms were crossed beneath a voluptuous set of breasts, and her breathing was sharp and hard.
He’d been around enough women to discern their emotional states through the sound of their breath. There were always some discrepancies, such as with Valentine, a particular toy of his who he’d discovered had asthma. The sound of her whiny nasal rasping had irritated him so much he’d hunted down one of the witches contracted to his father and had the witch replace her lungs.
Though, he’d not needed that skill to know what the red-haired young girl was feeling. Something flooded through his system at her expression, like liquid fire, napalm pouring into his bloodstream. The whispers and denigrating chuckles around her were simply the icing on the cake, as it further added to the humiliation of standing in place like an abandoned bride at the church altar.
She’d stayed away from the dance floor all evening, not entertaining dances from others, seemingly waiting for the moment Lord Malphas would approach her.
Yet, she’d been forgotten and ignored in favor of her rival.
Diodora’s smile intensified wildly.
Seeing her miserable expression was no different from burying his nose into pure cocaine. Were someone to inject heroin into his veins, it would fail to compare to the high he got from watching Rias Gremory suffer.
He pondered how best he could rub salt into the wound and sand it with gravel.
“Lord Diodora?”
Diodora chastised himself. He’d gotten far too excited. The silly Sallos girl could feel the evidence of such excitement pressing against her. Yet, her expression was approving. She pressed closer against him.
“I hate that Gremory bitch, too,” she whispered. “Serves her right.”
He nearly snorted at such a remark, until he remembered she was the daughter of someone killed by the girl’s family. Sirzechs Lucifer’s list of enemies could likely part the Red Sea. The list could encompass the Ancient Silk Road, twice over.
Yet, Diodora’s schadenfreude had nothing to do with the Lucifer.
At six years of age, he’d arrived for Rias Gremory’s birthday party. He’d been told that she was the younger sister of a Super Devil. That day, Diodora’s heart pounded with excitement at the thought of meeting a fellow sufferer. He’d sought, like many others, the gift of understanding. He’d thought he’d be encountering a fellow unfortunate soul who could relate to the misery of being born in the shadow of another man’s greatness.
He thought he’d found himself a lifelong companion. He’d not even desired a lover. He’d only desired a proper friend. For misery loved company, and Diodora Astaroth had been born miserable.
Then, he’d seen her. He’d smelled her. Rich perfumes and aromatic scents, garbed in the finest dress of some obscure and extortionate brand, walking around with her nose in the air, and with eyes at the top of her head. He’d seen no discontentment in her pupils. He’d found no dissatisfaction in her gaze. No scars covered her skin. No calluses littered on her hands. Her demonic power was trite and laughable for her age, so much so that he could have beaten her a thousand times over.
He’d held doubts in his heart. Was she an imposter? Could she genuinely be the younger sister of the Lucifer? Truly? Where was the fire that should burn in her eyes? The indignation and misery that should have belayed itself in every step? Had she not experienced the same things he had?
Had she not lived, every day, with parents who compared her to her older brother? Had she not been forced, since she could walk, to try and catch up to an unreachable ideal? Had she not grown up seeing the sneers of the woman responsible for her existence? Had she not been constantly told that her best efforts were pitiful and in vain? Did she not also awaken in the middle of the night to find her stepmothers trying to suffocate her?
His doubts were cleared once a small mountain of presents was laid out before her. More presents than he had ever received in his life, more than he ever believed he would receive. She’d gazed upon the mountain and announced, with a voice like the squeak of a helium-addicted mouse:
“Where’s the rest?”
He hated her not for her wealth, nor for her privilege. He hated her not for the things she had, nor the fortune she was gifted with. He hated her because she’d confirmed a bitter truth.
He was alone in his suffering.
No one else in the Universe would understand the curse of growing up eternally compared to a Super Devil. Of living under parents who desired them to compete against and surpass aberrations, to somehow through sheer will, become greater than the ‘oopsies’ of the universe.
Until another Super-Devil was born or made, he was cursed with a uniqueness of misery.
He’d wanted to roar: HOW IS THIS FAIR?
Yet, he hadn’t. As he watched Sirzechs Lucifer lovingly have his sister sit on his lap while she blew out her birthday candles, Young Diodora had been struck by an epiphany.
Nothing was fair.
Only one who was cognitively ill would clamor for a fair and just world.
Fairness was anarchy. Fairness was an act of rebellion against an apathetic universe. To seek it was to mutiny against cosmic order.
Not even the Biblical God had sought an equal and fair world. For if he had, humans would not have been favored over the beasts of the lands and birds of the air, angels would not have been relegated to the role of servants and protectors of his chosen people, and Lucifer would never have rebelled.
Thus, the only thing one could do was embrace the unjustness of the universe.
He’d learned to accept and find his pleasures in between the pillars of injustice and unfairness. He’d learned to ingratiate himself with those who were fortunate and pilfer or ravage those who were not.
The unfairness of the universe would never be resolved unless one could peer into the soul and make all creatures equal at birth. It would never be resolved unless the universe was wiped clean, and a fresh start was made, with each individual being designed to be no better, smarter, stronger, or superior to another.
And no one, not even those who sought fairness, would want to live in such a world.
The dance between Lord Malphas and Sona Sitri ended. Sona approached her rival immediately afterward. He was not close enough to hear the words uttered, nor could he understand the exchange that went on between them, but he could tell it was anything but pleasant. Rias stormed off without a single word, and glee swam in his heart.
“She’s heading to the restroom,” he whispered to the Sallos girl. “Perhaps if you hurry, you might see her tears.”
The girl didn’t need any extrinsic motivators. At those words, he detached himself from her and watched her follow after the Gremory Heiress. Diodora leveled his gaze, finally, in the direction of the newest and hottest topic of the evening. The first young lady to have a dance with Lord Malphas.
Though he did dislike Sona, it was not to the depths which he loathed Rias, and it was for entirely opposite reasons. The Leviathan was not a Super-Devil. She was powerful, yes, but it was a range of power one could feasibly reach with time, effort, and sufficient enough talent.
Diodora respected the Leviathan. He was a dedicated, closeted member of her rabid fan club, even. It was for this reason that he disliked Sona.
Sona could catch up to her sister. It was not unfeasible. With enough drive and dedication, she could compete with the Leviathan in a matter of years. Yet, what did she do?
She spent her time playing president in a pathetic human school. She acquired and recruited weaklings and nonentities into her peerage, and believed a cultivated mind was a substitute for raw power.
She was a fool wearing the mask of a sage, an idiot garbed in the robes of a savant. She believed herself to be an intellectual, but her actions made it clear that those beliefs were unfounded.
Diodora saw through her as clear as glass. He saw how crippled she was by her own insecurity. Rather than try and fail, she’d rather not try at all. She was the sort of person who would make excuses to avoid doing things she believed were out of her ability, and then justify those excuses as being the most logical choice she could make.
Approaching her, Diodora swallowed his disgust. He buried his emotions behind a smile and kept his eyes closed, yet, also ensured to take note of her condition. From her breathing, he deduced immediately that she was sexually and emotionally aroused. She was stimulated. Diodora tried hard to prevent himself from laughing.
She’s already been seduced in the span of a single dance?
Her lack of experience with the opposite sex was pitiable.
“You must be rather happy, Lady Sitri.”
She turned, and her breath stilled. “Diodora.”
“How does it feel to be chosen over Rias Gremory?”
“I am not in the mood for your taunts.”
“No taunts here,” Diodora rose both hands in surrender. “I merely came to congratulate you. It truly was a marvelous Cinderella moment. In Lord Malphas’ arms, you became the most beautiful ugly duckling I have ever known.”
She bristled. “What do you want?”
“Here.”
With a wave of his hand, a demonic circle emerged. He withdrew a small box from within and tossed it to her idly. She reached out for the box, grabbing it in confusion.
“What’s this?”
“A small gift.”
“What for?”
For granting me the pleasure of seeing Rias Gremory’s miserable face.
“To congratulate you on catching Lord Malphas’ eye,” he said smoothly. “Did you not hear his speech? I’d rather avoid making enemies of such a man and any of his potential concubines —”
“Excuse me?” She went stiff. “I am not a concubine. Potential or otherwise.”
“Forgive me,” Diodora smiled. “What noun would you prefer? Mistress, plaything, or pet?"
“You —”
“It’s a rather generous gift. You’d do well to open it.”
She glared at him, yet did not throw the box back. There was a reason he found her somewhat tolerable. Had she truly disregarded the gift without even so much as considering what was inside, he’d have considered her beyond salvation.
She opened the box, froze, and slammed it shut immediately.
“How?”
“You are aware of my hobbies.”
“Are you insane, Diodora?” her words were sharp. “To openly steal —”
“I resent the accusation,” Diodora drawled. “I am simply helpless to accept the loving gifts of several nuns who go out of their way to show me the goodness of their lord.”
She glanced at the box once more, hesitation clear on her face. They stood at opposite ends of the political sphere, and in theory possessed an equal standing, but Diodora knew better.
Her parents sought to marry her off, and she’d only avoided that fate by insisting she would only marry a devil who could beat her in a game of chess.
It was ironic, tragic, and yet, ingenious.
Everyone who could beat her would not want to do so. He could count on one hand the number of High-Class Devils that considered intellect a priority when searching for a wife. The vast majority were happy enough to have a wife capable of stringing together a sentence, did not drool, and had large tits. A woman to fuck, bear children with, and subsequently forget about.
She would claim that they were intimidated by her intellect, but it would be a false claim. How could one feel intimidated by a thing they did not care for? No one cared if a young she-devil was smart. Her sister, the Leviathan, was a key example. Not many in her fanbase were aware that she had an intellect that placed her on the list of top smartest devils, and even if they did find out, they wouldn’t care.
Who gave an angel’s arse if she had an IQ above that of the average nuclear physicist?
She was cute and fuckable.
That was what was important.
He was certain that with enough practice, he’d be able to beat Sona in a game of chess. Perhaps not first try, but if they were to play ten games, one victory was at least certain. However, he would never do so. Even if he did not loathe her, he would never court her.
She did not have any value to him as a woman worth having.
“You’re welcome, Lady Sitri.”
Diodora offered his smile again, bowed properly, and departed before she could have enough time to reject the gift. The gift had been given, and it had been received. Alliances had been forged on far less. He hummed a pleasant tone to himself.
All things considered, Diodora deemed it a rather good day.
However, it could not end without his ultimate goal. The reason he’d come in the first place. Diodora set his gaze on Lord Malphas and began to plot.
What would be the best way to make my approach?
As the thought came, providence answered.
“Yo! Lord M!”
A loud shout echoed throughout the ballroom. Everyone turned to the sight of a familiar blond-haired devil, approaching Lord Malphas like a frat boy to a beer barrel.
Diodora smirked.
Blessed are the buffoons, for they shall reveal the kingdom of heaven…
XXXXX
“Yo! Lord M!”
Her brother was going to do something stupid again.
Of course, it was only “stupid” in the sense that it was something that would enhance his persona. It was a thing that would increase the veracity of his act. It was an action that would make it hard for anyone, truly, to ever believe or suspect that he was a performer.
Even then, Ravel was nervous.
She was nowhere near as thick of skin. She could not bravely face shame and embarrassment without batting an eyelash. She was not immune to mortification. As such, when her brother outright approached the host of the event and called him Lord M of all things, she wished the ground would swallow up and eat her right there and then.
Everyone had seen Lord Malphas dance with Sona Sitri. The speculations and rumors had been endless. By giving the Heiress of the Sitri Clan his first official dance of the evening, it seemed Lord Malphas had made it clear as to what side he stood on the political sphere.
Ravel’s heart pounded with eagerness, and she’d made the foolish mistake of pondering out loud to her brother, that she wished to dance with and speak with Lord Malphas. Her brother, in his infinite wisdom, decided the best means to accomplish that, was to do so loudly.
His announcement had been loud enough that it was clear nearly everyone present had heard it. Yet, he sauntered on, unashamed, towards Lord Malphas.
She could almost hear the assault of snickering comments and sniggering words all around her.
“Who does he think he is?”
“Getting engaged to the Lucifer’s sister must have given him a big ego…”
“Does the fool believe he’s on the same level with Lord Malphas…?”
In the best possible scenario, Lord Malphas would ignore the remark and continue as though he’d not heard the words. Ignoring her brother’s rudeness would be a blow to the Phenix Clan, but it’d be a success to Rizer.
In the worst possible scenario, Lord Malphas would ask for them to be escorted off the premises, which would be a situation so mortifying that Ravel would never dare show her face at a public event for the next decade.
Yet, the outcome that emerged was out of anyone’s expectations.
Lord Malphas calmly took the hand of Rizer, and shook it in front of everyone present.
“Lord M?” the man’s voice was dripping with amusement. “I wasn’t aware we were so close, Son of Rivellon.”
“Bah, I’m not one for stuffy formalities,” Rizer snorted. “Besides, almost everyone here seems to have a stick or two up their —”
“B-Brother!”
She’d spoken on instinct. As soon as she did, she shrank. Hundreds of eyes were on her. More than that, Lord Malphas’s eyes were on her. She felt naked under his abyss-like gaze. Petrified. She was placed bare underneath an icy cold operating table, with an endless number of scalpels piercing into her skin. Pitch-black eyes peered deep and her cheeks burned hotter than her flames ever could. She put her hands to them. She had to be sure they truly hadn’t caught ablaze.
“And this lovely young lady would be?”
“This is my little sister,” Rizer gestured. “Ravel, introduce yourself.”
“I-I am Ravel P-Phenix,“ Ravel quickly curtsied as tradition demanded. “I-It’s a p-p-pleasure to make your a-acquaintance, L-Lord M-Malphas.”
Lord Malphas took her hand into his and lightly kissed the back of her palm.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Ravel could swear there was smoke coming out of her ears.
“Do you want her?”
Her head almost snapped from how quickly she turned it over to her brother. Lord Malphas’ abyss-like eyes seemed to almost sparkle in amusement.
“Pardon?”
“My cute little sister,” Rizer ruffled her hair. “Do you want her?”
“B-brother, w-what are you s-saying —”
“She’s terrible at housework, can’t cook for shit, and otherwise spends all her time watching Shakespearean plays and dramas. She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic and an idealistic idiot, and that pairs badly with her fiery temper.”
Ravel couldn’t believe her ears. Even for an act, wasn’t her brother going a bit too far? No, was this truly still an act? Had she been fooled? Was her brother really as dumb and reckless as people believed?
Her heart was almost about to burst out of her chest.
“But,” Rizer hummed. “She makes a good Bishop. High defensive power and great support when you make her bawl her eyes out. I can trade her for an equivalent Evil Piece. So? What'd ya think? Want her?”
…Trade? Evil Piece?
Her eyes snapped up to her brother. He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was affixed, permanently, towards Lord Malphas. Whispers traveled. As expected, many scoffed and called him a fool, but no, they were wrong.
A member of the Phenix Clan was invaluable.
Invaluable.
This was because, so long as they had eyes, they could create Pheonix Tears — the Underworld’s greatest panacea. There was no way her brother did not know this. No way Lord Malphas did not know this as well. Although he did so in a joking, casual manner, by offering her in trade to Lord Malphas —
“There must surely be a better moment to have such a discussion, don’t you think, Rizer?”
A cold voice pierced through her thoughts. Ravel shuddered. A young devil emerged, a familiar one.
With dark sickly-cyan hair and his eyes closed in a perpetual smile, the young devil approached, seizing the momentum brought on by her brother to make his own introductions.
“Diodora Astaroth, son of Lord Drakon Astaroth, and Heir to the Astaroth Clan. I am at your service, Lord Malphas,” Diodora bowed formally, then he rose his head and smiled. “The esteemed House of Astaroth gives its regards and well-wishes towards the newly returned House of Malphas, and seeks only the best of relationships.”
Lord Malphas’ gaze coolly regarded Diodora. Ravel could not at all decipher what the enigmatic young devil was thinking. Albeit, she could swear there was a hint of amusement around him.
“Oi, Diodora,” Rizer hissed. “I guess you couldn’t see through those damn needle eyes, but we were in the middle of something.”
“Ah, yes, offering a trade of your little sister as a welcoming gift,” Diodora dryly muttered. Then, loudly, he continued. “Do go on. I’m fairly certain it was almost time for us all to present our welcoming gifts to House Malphas. I’m sure everyone must have prepared something spectacular.”
His words were a gunshot. They rippled through the crowd, sending wave after wave of concern and worry. People began glancing at one another, each more troubled and perplexed than the last.
“We were… meant to bring gifts?”
“I - I don’t know — this is the first time such an event has occurred —”
“Fool! Of course we’re to bring gifts! it’s the return of a previously extinct House. Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare anything?”
“W-w-what? O-of course not! I — I have something prepared! My g-gift will be the best! Y-you’ll see!”
With but a single sentence, Diodora sent all the devils into a frenzy. Clearly, not everyone had the mind to bring presents, and now, those who hadn’t were scrambling their brains to think of something to present. Those who had prepared for such an eventuality were standing in smug satisfaction.
Ravel observed the young Astaroth. She’d met him once before, when they were younger, at her aunt’s wedding. As he was her aunt’s stepson, they were technically cousins. Back then, she’d been terrified of approaching him. When she had, his eyes held such a cold, empty expression, that she felt as though she’d been submerged in ice water simply from feeling his gaze.
Yet, as there’d been no lust in his eyes, she actually did not hate him. He was probably the only male devil that wasn’t related to her by blood that had never looked at her sexually. At one point, she’d believed she could make a friend of him.
Alas, they’d not been in contact since then, and she eventually heard of his ‘hobby.’
She’d grown terrified of him from then on. Not just because of that, but because of his upbringing. It was an open secret that Drakon Astaroth was obsessed with having a child be a Super-Devil, and was on poor terms with Ajuka Beelzebub. It wasn’t common knowledge, however, that the man and his wife had tortured and abused their son under the guise of training.
Her aunt had visited one weekend, shortly after her marriage. She’d been gossiping with her mother and their female friends about her life in the Astaroth Clan, when Ravel had been passing by, and their gossip had broached into the issue of Diodora.
“Can you believe it? To do something like that to her own son —”
“It’s a waste. He’ll grow up damaged.”
“It’s unlikely. Little freak doesn’t remember.”
“He doesn’t… remember?”
“After he undergoes that hellish excuse for training, he wakes up at the start of a new week without remembering most of it. It surprised me the first time it happened, and I slapped him because he confused me for a maid. Can you believe it? He didn’t even remember I was his stepmother, didn’t remember being present at the wedding —”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Drakon seems to believe it’s Ajuka’s doing. Says he put some kind of spell on the boy to make him forget about half of everything that happened the previous week at the start of a new week. I don’t know why he’d do that or if it’s even true. All I know is it only makes that bitch furious. Sometimes she beats him till he’s vomiting organs and he doesn’t even know why. Then, the next week, he’s hugging her again because he doesn’t remember the beating.”
Ravel swallowed nervously as she gazed at Diodora. With his eyes perpetually closed and a smile ever on his face, she could not tell what he was thinking. Despite technically being cousins, his presence still filled her with unease.
The casual, light-hearted manner he spoke made her uneasy. His politeness felt venomous, as though she were before the serpent of the Garden of Eden attempting to coax her into eating the forbidden fruit.
Of all the ‘Young Devils’ in the Underworld, Ravel believed her cousin, Diodora, was the most dangerous.
Not the strongest, as that title belonged to Sairaorg Bael. The most unpredictable would be her brother, Rizer In comparison to Sairaorg who was often called a muscle-head obsessed only with fights and training, and her brother who was entrenched in performance, Diodora was shrewd, politically savvy, and devoid of boundaries.
It didn’t help that his ‘hobby’ had earned him numerous allies in the Conservative Devil Factions. Ravel could not tell if it was nostalgia that blinded them, or it was because they themselves lacked the guts and the ability. Yet, the old lechers and bastards alike patted him on the back, supported him, and egged him on with the fondness of an old mentor watching their pupil’s triumphs.
Whether he wished for it or not, he'd become the poster boy for young conservative devils. He’d become a major player on the side of those who sought a return to the old ways of killing, stealing, and destroying.
In other words, he stood for everything Ravel hated.
Yet, she found it difficult to hate him.
If she’d grown up under his circumstances, would she have emerged any better? She did not know. In her eyes, on the grand stage, her cousin was simply another tragic figure. One whom she did not believe would arrive at a happy ending.
“If you are finished, Rizer,” Diodora continued. “I would like to present my own gift to Lord Malphas.”
“Oi, I’m not —”
“And what gift would that be?”
Ravel’s heart began to thunder. Lord Malphas was looking toward Diodora with intrigue. She did not know what sort of ‘gift’ Diodora Astaroth would present and knew little still of whether or not it would be enough to move him.
Though she could not find it in her to hate her cousin, she did not stand for his ideals, nor for the ideals of the Astaroth Clan. If, if, Lord Malphas were to ally himself with the Astaroth Clan, with Diodora, that would mean he was siding with the Conservative Devil Factions —
He… he wouldn’t… right?
“I venture frequently into the human realm and often have… relations, with certain individuals of the Church,” Diodora raised his hand, and a magical sigil belonging to the Astaroth Clan appeared. “In my time, I’ve managed to acquire quite a collection of the church’s ancient relics and keepsakes.”
He was blatantly admitting that he’d stolen artifacts from the Church. Ravel bit the inside of her cheek. It was a courageous, galling move. Especially considering they were supposedly at a standstill right now. Admitting he was stealing from the church was all but admitting he cared little for the temporary ceasefire.
A small rectangular, yet highly ornate box emerged from the sigil. Diodora approached and presented the box himself with a pleasant smile.
“I believe this such artifact will serve you well, Lord Malphas.”
Lord Malphas reached out to the box. Everyone watched with bated breath as the item was opened.
“This is —”
Lord Malphas swiftly slammed the box close, before anyone could decipher its contents.
“I take it the gift is to your liking, Lord Malphas?”
“It is indeed.”
Ravel rapidly shot her gaze to her brother. Do something! She wanted to scream. Say something!
Yet, for whatever reason, Rizer was observing.
You damned brother of mine! Now of all times, you want to be a spectator?!
“I am pleased to hear as such,” Diodora let out an exaggerated sigh. “There are countless such valuable relics gathering dust in derelict chapels. It is a shame that they are not appreciated by those who have them.”
Lord Malphas did not respond for a moment.
“Would you happen to have more of such relics?”
Ravel heard several sharp intakes of breath.
“Certainly,” Diodora responded. “But the others are not as extraordinary. I managed to acquire that particular relic with great effort.”
“Acquire more.”
Her heart lurched into her throat. Acquire relics from the church? Was he unaware of what it implied to ask someone to go out of the way and do such a thing? Does he not know…? Or does he not… care?
“Doing such a thing is not without difficulty —”
“You will be rewarded handsomely for every relic you can provide me,” Lord Malphas pocketed the gift away. “The more valuable they are, the greater the reward.”
“I do not require money from you, Lord Malphas.”
“Then, what do you require?”
“My fondest desire is for the Houses of Astaroth and the Houses of Malphas to join hands in a long and fruitful alliance.”
No... Ravel held her breath. He wouldn't...
A great and powerful smirk came upon Lord Malphas' features.
“It shall be done.”
Ravel’s heart shattered.
Notes:
Had a long note written here regarding some questions and comments, then remembered I'd already said I believed in 'letting the story speak for itself.' Not going to eat my words today. Some day, I'll probably do it, but not today.
See you all next week.
Chapter 18: Lead Us Not Into Temptation
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was beautiful.
[New Item Identified!]
Iscariot’s Coins
Classification: Wondrous Item, Religious-Artifact, Legendary-Grade+
Details: Thirty pieces of silver given to the Betrayer of Man, Judas Iscariot, before the Last Supper, as payment for betraying Jesus Christ. Upon the death of Christ and the coins being returned to the temple by a guilt-stricken Judas, they were utilized to purchase a Potter’s Field named Akeldama, ‘The Field of Blood’ in agreement with a prophecy foretold by the Prophet, Zechariah.
Avg. Price: Incalculable
Note: This item is part of a ‘Set.’ It corresponds to the Artifact of Greed in the Collection: The Seven Great Sins of the Descendants of Adam. Attaining more of the set may reveal hidden/special functions.
Active Spells/Effects:
- Betrayer’s Kiss [Legendary]: Upon kissing or being kissed by an individual while this item is in your possession, you instantly determine whether or not they intend to betray you. If they do intend to betray you, you automatically know the full extent of their plans of betrayal down to the most infinitemesal details.
Note: Enchantment is Legendary-Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
- The Cost of Salvation [Legendary]: Upon suffering a fatal wound or falling to the brink of death while in possession of this item, a sum of the thirty coins will be permanently consumed in order to rejuvenate and/or fully heal the holder. The more grievous the wound, the greater the cost consumed. If the holder is to die or be killed instantly, each and every one of the thirty coins will be utilized as payment to resurrect the holder, and the item will be permanently consumed.
Note: Enchantment is Legendary-Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
Hidden Spells/Effects Detected:
- For the Love of the Twelfth Disciple [Deific]: While in possession of this item, the wielder may not be harmed by any other artifacts, Sacred Gears, spells, magic, or powers related to Christ. In turn, the wielder may consume the thirty coins once, and once only, as a price to compel an Angel of any ranking to perform a single favor.
Note: Enchantment is Deific-Grade, cannot be Dispelled.
Hidden Curses Detected:
- The Lament of Iscariot [Legendary]: While in possession of this item, if one betrays an individual, an ideal, a cause or a faction they have sworn loyalty to or promised not to betray, they will be consumed by an otherworldly amount of guilt. This will cause them to be besieged by nightmares and have daily hallucinations reminding them of their betrayal until they either lose their sanity or seek atonement by taking their life.
Note: [Lord of Malediction] — This Curse Can be Consumed.
- Judas’ Eternal Sin [Legendary]: While in possession of this item, one’s sense of greed will be increased a thousandfold. They will be willing to sell their loved ones and most trusted confidants in exchange for paltry sums of profit, and will only realize the error of their ways after the fact.
Note: [Lord of Malediction] — This Curse Can be Consumed.
….
Jamie’s eyes shone as he examined the contents of the little box. The coins were kept in a pouch made of what looked like sheepskin, and, despite its apparent age, he could feel an indescribable amount of power pouring from the little pouch. At a glance, it could be told that it was indeed an item that had gained power from legends. It was truly an item held by the greatest betrayer in the history of man.
He swiftly slammed the box shut before anyone else could see what was in it. Such a gift was best utilized when others were unaware of his possession of it. He glanced over to Diodora, his thoughts mulling heavily.
Is he aware of the value of this gift?
The young man’s eyes remained closed, and his smile remained etched in place.
“I take it the gift is to your liking, Lord Malphas?”
“It is indeed.”
“I am pleased to hear as such,” Diodora’s smile never left his face. Then, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “There are countless others such valuable relics gathering dust in derelict chapels. It is a shame that they are not appreciated by those who have them.”
It’s likely they cannot use them.
From what he could tell, the young devil had no clue that the gift he’d given him was cursed. He doubted the Astaroth Heir had so much as bothered to take the thing to an appraiser, that is if appraisers even existed in the Underworld.
The Identify Spell was the only reason he discovered the negatives of the gift. If simply holding it made one’s greed increase a thousandfold, nearly every other advantage was rendered moot. The increased greed would likely make the wielder commit a crime or betray their closed ones. When paired with the other curse, it was an artifact all but guaranteed that everyone who held it would end up killing themselves.
Clearly, such a thing would be locked away.
Due to the [Lord of Malediction] feat, curses were a source of power for him. He’d yet to undergo the process of absorbing a curse to see how much more powerful he’d become from doing so, but he was certain that the greater the grade of the curse, the more power he’d gain.
How… odd.
The strings of events were too fortuitous to be called coincidence. The reason he’d gotten the [Lord of Malediction] feat was due to an encounter with Lilith’s descendant mere minutes, if not hours ago. Now, he’d received a gift that he’d have been unable to make use of properly if he didn’t have that feat.
Not only this gift but…
He’d been planning to approach both the Astaroth Clan and the Phenix Clan and have them made into his allies, yet, before he could do so, both had approached him on their own.
Rizer Phenix approached with a trade offer, all but relinquishing the young Ravel Phenix to him, and Diodora Astaroth approached with a gift of great value.
The mountains came to Mohammed.
Yet, all was not as gold. There was a dislike between both families. On the right side, the older Phenix sibling seemed to be all but glaring daggers at the young Astaroth scion, whilst the younger one seemed terrified of him. On the left side, the Astaroth scion seemed eager to ingratiate himself with him and had a tongue that was as sharp as a dagger.
He’d not actually been expecting gifts to be given to him today. Rather, even if he did expect it, he could not openly announce or make it seem as though he desired it. Doing such a thing would break the illusion of being without want or need. For if he had such vast wealth, would it not seem beneath him to care if others gave him presents?
It was the issue of a King never announcing to his subjects, “I am the King.” What King needed others to know they were the King? If others could not tell without such an announcement, it called into question the subject of their regality.
The young Astaroth had however set a precedent. By giving him a present, he’d made it clear it was expected.
Jamie appreciated the gesture.
“Would you happen to have more of such relics?”
His words caused a stir. Numerous eyes were focused on the Astaroth Heir. Even more, were focused on the box in his hands. He’d made it clear to everyone that he valued the mysterious present.
“Certainly,” Diodora replied immediately. “But the others are not as extraordinary. I managed to acquire that particular relic with great effort.”
“Acquire more.”
If it was as Jamie suspected, then all of the other artifacts in the ‘Set’ would be cursed in one way or another. Consuming the curses would not only boost his power, but the artifacts themselves were incredibly valuable.
There was a melancholic feeling within him. Having the item reminded him of all the adventures he’d had, while Dungeon Diving with Zakara. They’d delve into deep caves, ruins of long-collapsed civilizations, and tombs of godly emperors all in search of treasure and riches. Yes, there was beauty in those riches and treasures, but he found more beauty in the discovery process. Zakara had been quite a collector, and she’d had an obsessive streak that Jamie had been endeared to, and which, over time, rubbed off on him.
If he got ever obtained an item and learned it was merely one out of a set, he absolutely had to collect the entire set. There was no beauty in holding only one fragment of a complete work. It would drive him mad knowing he held only a fraction of a masterpiece.
“Doing such a thing is not without difficulty —”
“You will be rewarded handsomely for every relic you can provide me,” Jamie pocketed the box away. “The more valuable they are, the greater the reward.”
“I do not require money from you, Lord Malphas.”
“Then, what do you require?”
“My fondest desire is for the Houses of Astaroth and the Houses of Malphas to join hands in a long and fruitful alliance.”
Of all the things he’d anticipated while trying to make allies, he’d not expected others to simplify the process of doing it for him. That was all he wanted? He handed him a priceless relic, and would no doubt grant him more in the future, and all he wanted in return, was something that Jamie desired to begin with?
Jamie’s lips couldn’t help but spread into a wide smirk.
“It shall be done.”
XXXXX
It’s a little… tight?
Selena stared at her butt in the mirror. She’d been certain to lock the door to the bathroom upon entering to ensure there wouldn’t be any accidents that would harm Jamie’s reputation. Lifting her gown up and she examined the black underwear she’d been told to wear, and she found it a little tight for her.
It was practically a bikini to her. Only it was one far plainer, and far less sexy. If it weren’t for the fact that Jamie had been the one to give it to her, after pilfering it from another woman, she’d never imagine actually wearing such an unadorned piece of fabric.
I can’t believe I’m actually wearing… another woman’s…
The more she thought of it, the more her arousal grew. Staring at herself in the underwear just made her feel even hornier. The tattoo on her lower abdomen was glowing softly, and her cheeks were flushed and red.
She leaned towards the long sink in the restroom, and found the right edge. She sat on it, gazing into the eyes of her reflection as she rocked her hips back and forth against the edge, slowly.
F-fuck… why am I so…
Was the underwear special somehow? Or was it just she who was incorrigibly perverted? Selena did not know. If she were honest, she did not care. She continued grinding at the edge of the sink, cursing softly under her breath as she did so.
It wasn’t enough.
It was nowhere near enough.
She needed his dick.
She could only have Jamie’s cock. The glowing tattoo on her lower abdomen made it absolutely clear that no one else could have her. It scalded her like a fresh burn and sent her even madder into a frenzy of lust. She wanted his cock so badly she felt she’d explode if she didn’t get it.
Should I just go drag him out of the event for a quickie?
She bit her lip at the thought.
No, no… I can’t.
As she was now, she did not trust herself. If she were to meet Jamie now, she’d her last two brain cells would die and she’d simply just push him to the ground and mount him to her heart’s content in front of all the guests.
The door to the restroom opened, and Selena went rigid.
I know damn well I locked it!
Her body reacted on instinct with the experience of a succubus who’d lived hundreds of years, and she modified her appearance and clothes such that she would appear to be a nondescript-looking guest.
The air was permeated with a deadly feeling, and the door swung open. A familiar mass of red hair appeared with an expression that nearly screamed murder. The girl didn’t even pay her any regard as she entered one of the stalls and slammed it shut.
Selena let out a quick breath of relief. She turned to the door, pondering how in the world a locked door could have been opened so quickly. Examining the hinges, she found it was missing. Deleted. It looked as though someone had taken an eraser to reality and simply erased not only the hinges but the locks and lock mechanisms as well.
…Isn’t this the same power that red-haired shota has?
Something had clearly happened while she’d been away from the ballroom.
“I saw her go in here.”
“Are you sure about this, Aty?”
“That bitch’s brother killed my father! I don’t expect you to understand but —”
There were three others who arrived at the door, all of them pausing as they regarded her. Selena’s gaze swept through the three young she-devils. They were small fries. She was at least certain of that much. She didn’t know how exactly she knew, but she did. It was a gut instinct.
It was the same gut instinct she’d possessed when she’d glanced at that strange black-haired girl she’d met earlier. The one whose underwear she was currently wearing. Her instincts told her the girl was dangerous. Not as dangerous as her Jamie, but dangerous all the same. There’d also been a strange sense of camaraderie she had with the girl, although she couldn’t tell why.
“Did you see Rias Gremory enter in here?
“Who?”
One of the small fries turned to her with a sneer.
“Do you live under a rock? Wait, who are you, even?”
“Just look at her,” Small Fry two spoke up. “What clan do you come from? How poor does your family have to not be able to afford a good dress?”
“You sure she’s not a servant?” Small Fry three leered. “She has to be.”
“This is Lord Malphas’ estate. What do you plan on doing —”
“It’s none of your damn business! Move out of the way!”
On any other day, under any other circumstance, she’d have let the words slide right off her. However, she’d been interrupted mid-masturbation once, and now, she was being insulted by three small fries who couldn’t tell the difference between a beggar and the Buddha.
Selena did not feel particularly generous. She approached the three devils as an old friend, snaking her arms around the necks of two of them, and whispered, in the improved manner Jamie had taught her, her voice filling naturally with a succubus’ suggestive power.
“You should be in the other restroom.”
The three small fries paused at the sentence.
“Why would we —”
“You really should be there,” Selena continued. “Oh, dear. Don’t you remember?”
She snapped her fingers. Three pairs of unfocused eyes were suddenly on her, with drowsy expressions.
“You volunteered to polish the wonderful cocks of all the guests who enter with your mouths, so they’ll spread word of your talents to Lord Malphas.”
Selena smiled.
“Don’t you wish to earn his attention? Don’t you want Lord Malphas?”
“N-no… we…”
“We want… we want him…”
“Good, good,” She snapped her fingers again. “You ought to hurry. The event is almost over. There are still so many dicks you haven’t polished. How ever will Lord Malphas know of your skills now?”
“Hurry…”
“Must… hurry…”
Locked in a trance, the three staggered away akin to zombies, leaving the vicinity of the ladies' restroom towards the mens'. Selena let out an irritated huff as the women departed, and clicked her tongue numerous times in annoyance. The interruption and the irritating voices of those women had done nothing to quench her burning arousal but only succeed in souring her mood.
Now, she was horny and pissed.
“How… how did you do that?”
The voice came from behind her. This time, Selena tool a good look at the girl. She possessed long smooth red-hair and dressed in a rather frilly dress that seemed neither extravagant nor inexpensive. Selena eyed the girl's breasts and found them somewhat comparable to hers, which made her raise a bit of an eyebrow. The girl couldn’t have been older than twenty at the very least and she was quite a looker.
Isn’t she one of the ones Jamie is interested in?
She pictured the girl naked briefly, kneeling in front of Jamie, with her wide doe eyes encountering his cock for the first time. She pictured her squirming underneath his massive build, her eyes blank and white as she learned to redefine the concept of pleasure.
The image swirled in Selena’s mind she felt her saliva bubbling in her throat at the thought. She imagined herself teaching the young redhead how to properly handle his cock with her mouth, gleefully taking advantage of her inexperience to remind her Jamie who was ‘best girl.’.
She suddenly realized she didn’t have to imagine. The girl was right in front of her, wasn’t she?
He won’t mind if I tease her a little… right?
Selena approached the redhead, smiling like a cat that had caught the canary.
A little teasing never hurt anyone…
XXXXX
He’d make for a rather passable Bard.
The ebb and flow of the evening had changed after making his declaration of an alliance. The young Ravel Phenix appeared as though she’d swallowed a lemon, and quietly excused herself from his presence. Whereas Rizer merely shook his hand and claimed he was due to meet a particular Saudi Prince for a contract job.
Whether or not such excuses were true mattered little. Jamie was aware his decision may have cut off any possibilities of forming an alliance with the Phenix Clan. Still, he did not count it as a loss.
Their panaceas were ultimately useless to him, as someone who could cast spells that could heal any wounds shy of complete pulverization. Moreover, as there was still someone with the Phenix Bloodline surnamed Astaroth, the loss was not at all great.
The event had reached its closing hours, and many guests had begun to gather into groups to have discussions amidst drink and merriment. Jamie stood in the center of a small circle of such guests, many of whom were fond acquaintances of the Astaroth Heir, and all of whom were openly on the traditional side of the political spectrum.
He’d anticipated the discussions to verge into unsavory territory. Yet, to his surprise, the topics were all rather sanitary. He swirled a glass of drink in his hand as he listened to a group of curious devils grill Diodora with questions. The young Astaroth Heir was the ‘Second Star’ of the evening, for having mysteriously granted him a gift that won his approval and his alliance.
There were countless individuals who wanted to know what gift he’d given him, and others still who simply approached because they desired to seek a similar alliance with him and sought Diodora to intercede on their behalf.
Diodora obliged and seemed almost natural surrounded by the attention. Yet, Jamie knew he wasn’t agreeing to their questions and attention out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing so to buy time for those fellows who’d yet to provide Jamie with a suitable gift.
It was another balancing act, one of many that the former member of Lightbringer was beginning to unravel.
As the Astaroth Heir was the one who made it clear gifts were to be given to begin with, adding a minus into their books, buying time for others to prepare said gifts gave him a plus, putting him in equilibrium.
Jamie didn’t mind. The longer Diodora talked, the more likely it was he’d receive more valuable presents, some of which, he hoped, would also be enchanted or cursed such that he could gain value from it.
Diodora did not specify what exactly he’d given him, but he had begun talking on his numerous trips into the Church, and the information he’d gathered from it. He was dropping potential hints of places where artifacts could be found, and, in doing so, everyone, Jamie included, learned numerous facts about that they weren’t previously aware of.
“Oh my, they really don’t accept women?”
“You’d be rather surprised, Lady Stolas. Theologically, there is no basis for why women are not allowed to be made into Cardinals, yet, historically, the Catholic Church has never once been interested in changing that long-held tradition. It’s quite unfortunate.”
“Why is it unfortunate?”
“Ah, forgive, me, we don’t seem to have met…?”
“Amigo Uvall, of the Uvall Clan.”
“Of course. Well, Lord Uvall, are you aware that the fairer sex only makes up about 5% of the population of the Vatican?”
“Five percent?”
Whispers traveled throughout the group.
“That can’t be right —”
“Only five percent?”
“What an utter sausage fest —”
Diodora loudly cleared his throat. “I consider it a shame because infiltrating the Vatican City would be much easier if there were a few female Cardinals within their midst. The nuns amongst them are rather old, and unfortunately, rather experienced in sniffing out deception. The low female population is the only reason I’ve yet to explore their archives and find the locations of more treasures.”
“But the Vatican City is holy ground. How would you deal with the pain of entering holy ground?”
Diodora smiled.
“By reciting the scripture.”
The group fell deadly silent. It was so quiet, one could almost hear the sound of jaws dislocating. One could hear gears within brains squeaking to a grinding halt. Some cautiously took a step back from Diodora, and the young devil’s smile never once left his face.
Jamie mulled over the information.
“Recite… the scripture?”
“Come now, is such a thing so astonishing?”
“Mark you this,” a voice interrupted them. “The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness is like a villain with a smiling cheek. A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath.”
Everyone turned to the source of the voice. The young blonde-haired girl with pigtails approached, her lips thin and her expression vividly sour.
“Lady Ravel, how glad of you to rejoin us,” Diodora smiled. “I believe that was Shakespeare you quoted. King Lear or Othello?”
“The Merchant of Venice.”
“Forgive my ignorance, I’m no connoisseur,” Diodora bowed. “We were simply discussing a topic which I feel even you would be interested in, Lady Ravel.”
Ravel frowned. “Something that would interest me?”
“We may have certain ideological differences, but that doesn’t exempt us from finding common ground. Things which we can all agree on.”
“What would that… be, exactly?”
“The sad state of the stagnation of the Church, of course!” Diodora’s smile continued to grow. “Is it not rather tragic that there are devils as benevolent as you clamoring for progress and change in the underworld when our arch-enemies who are arbiters of goodness and kindness have never once thought they could benefit from much-needed advancement?”
Ravel stiffened. “Humans continue to make progress every single day! Compared to even a hundred years ago —”
“Not humans,” Diodora sharply interrupted her. “I mean our enemies specifically. The Churches. The Mosques. The Vatican. Do you believe they’ve made progress?”
Ravel faltered for a moment. “I-I’m sure that in the past century —”
“When I first started getting good at my… hobby, I was interested in advancing the ladder. Leveling up, so to speak. Nuns were becoming too easy, so I thought, well, what’s next? Who’s higher up? I sought a young, beautiful priest to test my mettle against…”
Diodora chuckled.
“Then I found out the number of young women who have been ordained priests in the past millennium.”
Diodora lifted his hand so it formed a fist. Then, he released it, so that his thumb and index fingers touched.
“Zero.”
His words drew Jamie’s attention. Not just his, but those of the people around him as well began to ask questions one after another.
“There aren’t any female priests?”
“Is that true?”
“I’m certain I recall seeing one a while back —”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Diodora said loudly. “To my dismay, there are a sum total of zero female priests. Neither the Catholic nor Apostolic Church deem it necessary to ordain women to the ministerial priesthood. Why you might ask?”
Diodora exhaled.
“Because it is not tradition.”
Ravel stood there for a few minutes in stunned silence.
“What about the woman?” someone spoke up. “The one they always pray to. The Virgin.”
“The Virgin Mary is not a priest,” Diodora shook his head. “Not for a lack of trying. There was a heretical group that sprang out of Scythia who tried to make her into a Goddess, in fact. Collyridianism was what they called it. Women who wanted to turn the Trinity into a Quaternity. Needless to say, they didn’t succeed.”
“I didn’t think you’d care so much about the lack of opportunities for unfortunate human women in the church, Diodora,” Ravel scowled. “Are you supposed to be their Patron Saint?”
“When you start playing the piano as a hobby, you learn: do, re, mi. Over time you learn more keys, and learn to begin to play full songs.”
“What does that have to —”
“How would you feel,” he cut her off. “If you discover that you can never progress past do-re-mi? How would you feel knowing that your hobby was stuck at the infant stage, with no room for growth?”
Diodora smiled.
“I would like for there to be more women in high positions in the church because it would make the challenge of corrupting them all the more sweeter.”
There were several laughs. Several cheers. Many rose their glasses in toast toward Diodora, and others outright patted him on the back. Ravel Phenix was growing red at the face, and she turned, finally, to Jamie, with something in her eyes.
“Is this truly the type of character you want to be associated with, Lord Malphas?”
A deep and heavy silence fell on the group. Jamie’s lips thinned considerably. Everyone present could tell she’d crossed a line. It was one thing to have one’s reservations about his choice of allies but it was another to voice them. It was another still to question them. In front of him.
“Choose the next words which emerge from your lips very carefully, Lady Ravel.”
The girl froze.
“I — I meant no disrespect! I simply —”
“You simply wished to question who I choose to make my allies? On what ground?”
His voice pulsated with power.
”What achievements have you, Lady Ravel, that would have me believe you to be a better ally? Have you the strength to overcome another? Have you the cunning to deceive your foes? Have you any talent not derived through birthright nor bestowed through heritage, but cultivated through effort?”
His voice boomed until it echoed through the hall.
“Tell me then. Convince me why you would make for a better ally, through deeds accomplished on your own merit. Do so, and I will sever my ties to the Astaroth Clan even at the risk of shaming their heir. Prove, here and now, why you are better.”
The ballroom remained silent. The girl stood there, floundering without a sound for several seconds. Jamie was aware she could not speak. The only ground on which she could claim superiority was a moral one, but such an excuse would not fly in a courtroom of devils.
Would a creature of sin condemn a sinner? Would one who existed to kill and destroy condemn a murderer and a destroyer?
Could a devil look into the eyes of a man who molested a girl and rebuke him? Could they gaze into the eyes of a woman who’d murdered their child and berate her? On what moral ground did they stand? On what basis could they cast that stone?
His pursuit of beauty had placed him on the side of good more often than it had on that of evil.
Until now.
The most beautiful thing Jamie had seen in this world thus far, was, without an iota of doubt, Lucifer. If such a being were deigned by all in this universe as a creature of evil, then how ugly and unsightly were those considered creatures of good?
Nothing could compare to the beauty of the Being of Light. As such, everything which stood against that beauty had become his enemy.
Everything.
Those who stood against his ideals. Those who stood against his wishes. Those who stood against his desires. Those who perverted his beauty. Those who betrayed him. Those who rejected him. Those who spurned his legacy. Those who fought against him. Every God, every Devil, every deity, every man, cattle, and insect, from the Biblical God, to Adam and his descendants —
As long as they were against Lucifer, they were his enemies.
It was why he was determined to oust Sirzechs from his throne.
It was why he was determined to ensure Lilith’s descendant did not escape him.
It was why he cared fairly little for the humans of this world.
Certainly, many would call it irrational to dislike the entirety of a race due to the actions of their ancestor, but his mad pursuit of beauty had never been a rational endeavor.
He did not consider the ‘humans’ of this world to be the same as the ‘humans’ in the Forgotten Realms. For the humans in the Forgotten Realms would have never devastated their planet to the point of the extinction of vast swathes of beautiful life. They would have never reached a point wherein they held their entire race by the throat. They would never have reached a point wherein they created weapons powerful enough to destroy the entirety of their planet and wipe out their existence.
They had the power to wipe out the beauty of all life. The power to eliminate and destroy the beauty of everything with the push of a button.
They were like that monster —
Like Sirzechs.
Beings of destruction.
Not even the most demented of Necromancers and Warlocks, not even the most evil of Archfiends and Demons would ever create a weapon of mass destruction with the intention of using it against their own kind. If one were even to suggest such a thing, they would immediately be killed by others.
It was why Diodora’s deeds did not, or rather, could not simply bother him. As long as the Astaroth did not turn his hobby towards ‘their kind’ Jamie could and would let him do as he desired. The Astaroth Heir could go on a murder spree of a thousand humans, and Jamie wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
If he were to touch the hair of a single devil, however, Jamie would put his foot down.
Certainly, there may be a dozen, two dozen, or even ten dozen beautiful humans out there, Jamie knew this to be true. It was for these scanty unfortunate souls to which he'd wish goodness remain. Those poor lot cursed to have been born in a race of unsightly beings. For those ones, Jamie would spare and uplift where he could. He would fight to protect the beauty of their goodness.
Alas, the truth remained that when he glanced at humanity as a whole, he came to a firm realization.
Humanity was not beautiful.
And Jamie would consider this a fact until humanity proved otherwise.
“Now --”
His voice calmed itself.
“I believe you owe Heir Astaroth an apology.”
XXXXX
There were times Rias Gremory believed she possessed two souls.
There was the ‘her’ who would enjoy nothing more than a comfortable pair of pajamas, a black-and-white book read from right to left, the smell of pleasant tea, and the adulation of her beloved family. She liked to believe this ‘her’ was the real one. It was, after all, the version she showed openly to the people she cared for.
Then, there was the ‘other.’
The ‘other’ had been in control since she left the human realm. The ‘other’ had been in control from the moment she put on an elegant evening gown, allowed Akeno to do her hair, selected the appropriate glass-slipper, boarded the Gremory Family private train, arrived at the Malphas Estate and met her childhood companion and rival.
The ‘other’ was the one who’d felt it fitting to want to steal Lord Malphas away from the nose of her rival. The ‘other’ was the one who’d decided to try and catch Lord Malphas’ attention by refusing to dance with anyone. The ‘other’ was the same one who’d been left with a lump in her throat once Lord Malphas paid no heed to her and approached her rival instead.
The ‘other’ had been the one that made her argue with her rival. The ‘other’ had been the one that loathed the self-confident, victorious expression on her rival’s face after she returned from her dance. The ‘other’ had been the one screaming: it should have been me!
The ‘other’ was responsible for it all. It was responsible for the strange, odd feeling burning in her throat. The feeling spurned her to leave the ballroom and destroy off the hinges of the restroom door just so she could have a place to herself to think.
The ‘other’ was not her. The ‘other’ could not be her. As such, she’d fought strongly against the ‘other.’ She fought to remember who she was, truly, and what it was she loved and cherished. She fought to remember what she valued, and what she didn’t. She fought to understand why her chest was burning so hotly.
She didn’t understand the strange new emotions. She’d never felt it. She wished she had Akeno at her side, so she could ask the girl. Here she was, a guest in another Lord’s home, hiding out in the restroom because the ‘other’ had put her in a situation which she had never experienced before, and knew nothing about how to handle it.
She was always chosen. Always. For as long as she could remember, all she had to do was just arrive and she would be chosen. Be it for sports, to go for events, or to be invited to select gatherings. She would receive favors, gifts, and attention for merely existing.
She tried not to let it get to her head. The ‘other’ however, told her that she received all these because she was special. She was a “Chosen One.” A small part of her had started to believe she was some sort of shoujo or josei protagonist. Her life seemed to be so similar to those of the beloved female leads of the manga and light novels she’d read, that it was impossible not to have made the comparison.
In the span of one evening, that belief was shaken.
The ‘other’ screamed that the main heroine would never be upstaged by her less impressive rival. The main heroine would never be ignored by the new, mysterious and enigmatic lord. That was not how these types of stories went.
Unless, of course, this was all just a preamble. Yes, that was it. A more stunning and more handsome mysterious male would appear, and then, she would upstage her rival and Lord Malphas. That was the only explanation for the uncharacteristic setbacks she’d encountered today. This was simply a moment she’d look back on and laugh at, wondering how she ever felt dispirited upon being ignored by her first crush.
Even then, with all those reassurances burning in her mind, it didn’t help assuage the lump in her throat. She’d arrived at Lord Malphas’ estate ready to tear a new one into the person who believed he was good enough to be her nephew’s King, and she would leave smitten with him, and utterly humiliated in front of everyone as he made it clear that she was not worth his attention.
Rias took a deep breath within the stall, and exhaled. It was fine. The ‘other’ was no longer in control. She would make Lord Malphas regret not approaching her when he had the chance. She would utterly crush him in the Rating Game, and ensure her nephew was removed from his peerage. She would make him rue the day he ignored Rias Gremory.
Her thoughts were put to hold as she heard a commotion occur outside of the stall. She peeped through the gap within the stall doors, and found three such young female devils at the door, seemingly coming in search of her.
This was one of the reasons she avoided the Underworld like the plague. If she wasn’t harassed by her bumbling buffoon of a fiancé, she was all but certain to be heckled by those who were jealous of her, or enemies of her brother. She wanted to applaud them for having the guts to try something in spite of knowing who her brother was, but she realized they most likely came from families who were openly antagonistic to him, so it was less courage that drove them, and more stupidity.
She’d not been in any Rating Games, official or otherwise, so it was easy for many to think her weak. Rias decided she’d show them just how wrong they were.
At least, that was her intention.
There’d already been someone in the restroom before she entered, but she’d not paid any attention to them in her state of mind. Now, she had. The woman looked plain. She looked like a B-List European celebrity and wore clothes that seemed to be rather on the poorer end of things. Yet, with just a few words, the woman made the three girls stumble away like puppets, with a completely empty look in their eyes.
Rias exited the stall, her heart racing.
What was that?
Hypnotism? Mind-control? Brainwashing?
She didn’t know. Her ignorance on the matter terrified her. There were only a handful of devils in the Underworld with the skill capable of using magic that affected the mind. It was an extremely complicated and delicate art, at least, when affecting other devils. The most known and utilized demonic spells that could brainwash were effective on humans and weaker races, but they almost always failed on other devils, due to the interference of differing wavelengths of demonic power.
Her brother had given her a lesson on it once, but she only scantily recalled the details.
“How… how did you do that?”
The woman turned to her. Rias immediately felt that making her presence known was a bad idea. There was something off about her eyes. It didn’t feel as though she was at all there.
The woman took a step forward, smiling insidiously. Rias’ caution grew. The ‘other’ sharply regained control. The innate instincts of a female devil told her to be wary and prudent.
“Do not come any cl —”
Before she could complete her sentence, the woman had invaded her personal space. A pair of soft mounds pushed into her chest and pushed them both back into the stall. Faster than she could react, her hands were pinned to the wall, and the woman buried her nostrils into her neck, taking a deep whiff of her scent.
“The rich smell of a tender virgin…”
The woman licked at her neck.
“He’s definitely going to enjoy you.”
Rias shuddered.
A ball of pure destruction emerged in her hand, but before she could release it, she felt something enter her mouth. Her eyes widened, as the warm, wet, sensation continued, and she realized her lips were now deeply entrenched with that of the strange woman.
Her demonic power evaporated like a snowdrop on a burning campfire. The power she’d charged up vanished from her hand. Her strength began to leave her, rapidly, and intensely. She tried to fight back as the woman’s tongue completely ravished her mouth, engulfing her own tongue, twirling, twisting, and kneading it —
Her brain swam with equal parts terror and confusion, terror, as she felt herself stop resisting, and confusion as she could not fathom did not fathom how such a thing could feel so…
Good.
The strange woman’s lips departed from her mouth. A small trail of saliva connected them, and Rias’ heart continued to pound intensely as she realized what had just happened,
My… my first kiss — that — that was my…
“Did you enjoy it?”
Upon seeing the woman’s smirk, her sense of indignation returned. She couldn’t answer honestly. She didn’t even know how to begin answering honestly. She didn’t have any strength in her hands, nor could she even summon up her demonic power. Somehow, that kiss had drained her of nearly all her energy.
“His kisses are just like that, but a hundred times more… intense.”
She didn’t know who the crazy woman was talking about nor did she have any intention of finding out. She opened her mouth to scream out for help but, only a squeak emerged.
My…. voice? What happened to my voice?
Terror flooded her heart. The woman pinned both her arms above her head with her right hand and smirked straight at her. She was enjoying her terror. Her chest was being pressed by the woman’s, and she could still taste the odd mixture of wine, honey, and roses on her tongue.
“And there’s this particular thing he does with his tongue…”
The woman’s lips captured hers again, and Rias’ brain short-circuited. The second kiss was a hundred times better than the first. Her tongue all but melted under the divine ministrations brought upon her by a foreign orifice. Her tongue submitted itself like a penitent child under the furious gaze of a stern father, and her eyes closed themselves as her mind allocated all its resources into savoring the experience.
By the time the kiss ended, she was panting softly. Her mind was a confused, flustered mess. Had she some experience with kissing, she’d have been able to regain her wits much sooner. Unfortunately, both her first and second kisses had been claimed one after another by a stranger, and the stranger was far too experienced for her to keep up.
I — I don’t even like wome —
A hand snaked underneath her gown, and Rias’ breath hitched.
W-wait, wait, wait, wait —
“Then, with his fingers, he does it a little like…”
Two fingers brushed against her undergarments, effortlessly finding a particularly sensitive spot
“This.”
She didn’t moan. She absolutely did not moan. Rias would never believe it was her who let out such a vulgar, sensual sound. She would never accept it. Even as her own breath emerged rough and haggard, and her legs shook furiously, she would never concede that it was her who’d moaned.
Afterward, she felt as though she’d been drenched with a bucket of ice water. The dampness in her underwear gave way to an irrefutable fact, and her face burned so red it matched the hue of her hair.
Did I — Did I just —
The woman raised her hand, glistening with clear fluids, and smirked straight at her. “Only this much and you’re already at your limit? So cute.”
Mortification engulfed her. By a stranger’s ministrations, in the stall of a restroom belonging to a Lord of a Pillar Clan, she’d actually —
The lump in her throat that had been stuck there all day grew tenfold. It was more of an apple stuck in her esophagus. She couldn’t swallow it at all, and the compounding events of the day hit her like a truck slamming an isekai protagonist.
A choked sound squeezed out of her throat. Blood rushed towards her head, and the last thing Rias remembered seeing before blacking out, was a heart-shaped tail and the strangest pair of pitch black wings.
Notes:
See you all next Sunday.
Chapter 19: Woe To The Rebellious Children
Chapter Text
She stood in a vast library.
A million books stretched out on a million shelves, each longer, and more distant than the last. Her ankles were deep in water, and she was dressed sharply in a suit of unknown make. Above her lay the sun, burning hot and blue, and beneath her, under the ankle-deep water, lay the moon. The full moon glowed and shone, and the heat of the sun scalded her flesh.
She melted into the puddle, and emerged from the other side, flipping through the water like a revolving door. In the mirrored world, the library was smaller. Only a single shelf and a single book remained.
Her hand reached out to it. The book was lukewarm and slightly damp. The heated cover throbbed in her hand like the heartbeat of a frightened maiden. She stroked the spine and it relaxed. A whine escaped from the corners. It popped open, allowing her to explore its pages. A scent escaped from the parchment. It was the scent of a woman; the scent of arousal. It was the scent of paper, the scent of leather, the scent of fondness and of nostalgia.
“Vellichor,” a woman’s voice rasped.
She froze and turned to the source of the voice. There, she saw another woman.
The woman sat on a throne and had one leg crossed above the other.. She had pitch-black hair similar to hers, heart-shaped pupils, and a long, curved, heart-shaped tail floating in the air behind her. Protruding from her back were jet-black wings, and there was a crown made of roses and thorns sitting atop her head.
She sat in the nude, yet, there were tendrils of darkness surrounding her, cloaking her skin and flesh like a form of sentient, living armor. She placed one hand against her cheek and idly gazed at her with her eyes emitting a faint pink light.
An unspeakable fog covered her mind. Rather than question the woman’s existence, her voice could only conjure a single word.
“Velli…chor?”
She flipped through the pages of the book and took another whiff. A pleasant sensation ran through her. It was numbing. Relaxing. It felt like dipping into a hot bath after a long day, like allowing a masseuse to tend to her sore body following a terrible battle.
“It’s the feeling evoked by the scent of old books or paper,” the woman closed her eyes. “It is a shame darling. Your shelf only has one book. You’ve experienced so little. The smell is so faint. So… young.”
The strange crowned woman looked oddly familiar. She recalled seeing her somewhere. She’d seen the woman come down an elegant staircase on the arm of someone —
A face flashed in her mind. A devil of red skin, pitch-black eyes, and demonic horns. The memories came flooding. A devil whom she’d clashed against, whom she’d used Divine Dividing against. There was something else. Something more. Something horrid and unspeakable. A primordial sense of danger sprang from her as she tried to recall what. Her body viciously reacted to the action of trying to recall the memory.
She dropped to her knees and retched. Yet, nothing escaped the contents of her stomach. There was a sickness. A wrongness. The more she tried to remember, the harder her body reacted, shivering and shuddering, shaking and trembling. Her lungs seized up in her chest, and air, however sparse it may be, found neither room to enter nor escape.
What… what happened?
She did not know. She feared she would never know. Every attempt to recall the end of that evening was followed by a visceral biological reaction. As though her body were scarred in some way that her mind had forgotten. As though her body had chosen, through no will of her own, to protect her from something that would shatter her mind.
What did he do to me?
The question burned in her stomach. It burned in her chest.
I find him and I’ll —
I’ll —
The thought did not conclude. It died there. Abrupt. Stillborn. The thread of connecting logic died with a whimper. She attempted to connect it, but it did not mesh. She tried again but found herself at a loss. She could not recall what thought it was she had desired to conclude. It took a moment, as though waking up from a long, tiring nap, and she tried again, thinking of Malphas, and recalling what he did —
What had he done?
Her brows furrowed. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to remember. It lay there, dancing on the tip of her tongue, dancing like a pixie stripper, visible to all and touchable to none. What was it she was trying to remember even? Something about Lord Malphas. Something he’d done. But… what?
She glanced at her reflection in the water and found streaks of white within her previously pristine black hair. She touched them, felt them. She was unsure if they were real or an illusion, just as she was unsure whether the vast empty void with nothing but a single bookshelf was real or an illusion. She was uncertain as to how they’d gotten there, as she was uncertain as to how she’d arrived here.
Something about Lord Malphas…
Something…
She thought of him again, and a strange new sensation followed. Warmth spread from her chest like a creeping fire. Traveling through her veins and bloodstream. Glee, like infectious cancer, born from a single cell, multiplying incessantly, and every single part of her, bit by bit.
There was fondness, like the emotion one felt for a pet or a small child. There was yearning, far too much yearning, triggering the warmth to travel down, faster, and hotter, and faster, and faster —
A gasp escaped her lips. Hot breath emerged, and tingles traveled down her spine. Something was in her mouth, moving, gently. No, it was the other way around. Her tongue was in someone’s mouth, doing things. Strange, obscene things. There was a myriad of phantom sensations and stimulations, an unending torrent of touches and feelings brought from beyond the void.
She brought her hands to her mouth, clamping hard to stop the sensations. It did nothing. They continued, and the warmth growing all around her continued still.
Then, came the fire.
What… what is this?
It was a maddening, pestilential, fire. A heat beyond and above the blaze that licked at the heels of the Sodomites. It was a fever that surpassed the haze of the eternal bush by which Moses worshipped. An all-consuming fire that tormented her with visions of bathing in the river Phlegethon, of stripping within the forge of Surtr, of finding that first spark of existence, the virgin heat of the universe, to mold it into a phallic object and render upon it the same unfortunate fate as many a carrot, cucumber, and eggplant.
She splashed the knee-depth water against her face, rolled within it like a bloated pig in the aftermath of a rainstorm, and gulped it down with all the grace of one who’d wandered the Judean desert for forty years without the gift of manna.
The flame would not be quenched.
It was a plague. A contagion spreading throughout her body. It latched at the parts of her that were the most sensitive, the parts known to be the most erogenous. It latched at them and sucked, greedily, like a demonic child at the breasts of a work-weary mother. It fed and grew and forced her to twist and turn, contorting at all manner of angles that would have many easily believe her to be under a form of satanic possession. She let out a horrifying, eerie moan, that would have left even the most hardened of nonbelievers clutching at a rosary and performing the sign of the cross.
What… is happening to me?
“Oh, darling. You haven’t figured it out yet?”
The crowned woman rose from her thrown, and approached her, smiling as though she were privy to clandestine knowledge.
“P-please —” she rasped. “H-help me… I — I’m burning… every part of me… is… burning!”
“There’s only one thing that can help you, darling.”
“W-what? What is it? T-tell me! Please!”
The crowned woman smiled. “Dick.”
“D-dick?”
“Mhhmm,” the woman nodded. “Thick, veiny, delicious dick. Hard, long, girthy dick. Good dick. Bad dick. Little dick, tiny dick, blue dick, white dick, yellow dick, black dick — it doesn’t matter.”
The woman let out a shrill laugh.
“Only dick can save you.”
“W-what?”
“You’re currently feeling what a succubus feels when they are sufficiently aroused,” the crowned woman explained. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Many think succubi have no self-control. They call us sluts and whores. But, they haven’t felt that burning. They don’t know what it’s like to need dick so badly, that you suffer as though you’re in the worst pits of hell when you can’t get it.”
She swallowed her parched throat, but her mouth could not summon enough saliva to complete the task. Steam was wafting off her skin, such that the water around her was beginning to bubble and boil. Her voice emerged, primal, delirious, and hysterical.
“P-please, I-I’m begging you —”
Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears.
“I’ll do anything! Anything! I — I’ll become your slave! I’ll sign over my title! I-I’ll marry you, I’ll give you my Sacred Gear, my organs, my body, my — my heart — j-just h-help me!”
The crowned woman shook her head.
“I’m sorry, darling.”
“No — no, please! PLEASE!”
She latched onto the woman’s leg, crazed and frantic. Then, she pushed her into the water, and forced her tongue into the woman’s mouth in hopes it would do something — anything —
”Ah… ah… I’m… I’m going to die. No, I-I’m dying… I —”
The crowned woman reached out and gently grabbed her by the cheeks. For a brief moment, a brief, subtle moment, the burning stopped. She froze atop the mysterious woman, a statue carved in stone for perpetuity. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours or years, yet, she knew, tragically, it was merely a moment.
“Y-you… h-how did you…”
The crowned woman let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Even if you have your way with me, darling, I don’t have the hardware needed to help you.”
“The… burning. It’s… gone.”
“Temporarily,” the woman shook her head. “Elder Succubi have a means of subduing the sensation of burning, to prevent the young ones from going around mounting everything in sight.”
“But— you said —”
“I’ve merely put a band-aid on a severed limb, darling. Once I let go, the burning will return, and it will be ten times stronger for every second that I’ve abated it. In a sense, this will only make it worse.”
“T-then d-don’t let go! Please! Please?”
The strange crowned woman let out a large laugh. “How rather forward of you. Well, I suppose it’s not like I have anywhere I’m going now, do I?”
The woman’s words stimulated her brain. Questions, one after the other, started to form.
“I— sorry, I don’t… know who you are. Or… where we are. Or how I got here.”
“My, my, to think you didn’t even know my name before you decided to french and straddle me.”
“Oh…” Her cheeks suddenly burned. “I— I’m sorry. I —”
“I’m teasing you, darling.”
The crowned woman shook her head with a laugh.
“In any case, as for who I am… well, for now, that’s not important. As for where we are? That’s rather simple. We are in your fragmented subconscious. The deepest depths of your mind.”
“My… mind?”
“Yes, your mind.”
“That’s… not…”
There was nothing around them but a large void. A void with knee-deep water, and a single bookcase with a single book. A blue sun existed in the void as did a well-illuminated moon.
“How did you get into my mind?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question, darling.”
The crowned woman shook her head.
“From the information I have, I can wager that this is his doing.”
“His?”
“My presence is likely a side-effect of a curse targeted towards you.”
She swallowed. “A… curse?”
“The way I see it, you were supposed to receive every stimulation another me received. Every thought, whim, fancy… every touch and every breath. Regardless, either the curse was far more powerful than intended or this is the result of you being far more vulnerable to curses than average…”
The crowned woman hummed.
“The result is yours truly. The unfiltered consciousness of another inhabiting your mind. My, this is more risque than public sex. It is a form of intimacy on a spiritual level. Isn’t it rather amazing?”
“How is this in any way amazing?!”
“Well, darling, if I wasn’t here, you’d almost surely have gone mad from the burning.”
The words were like cold water splashing on her skin. She glanced down at the woman’s hands, which were still touching her, and recalled that their skin contact was the only thing saving her from unholy perdition.
“Wait. You — you were that woman, the one on Lord Malphas’s arms. The one dancing with him.”
“My, how kind of you to remember,” she smiled. “I am her, but she is not me. It’s a very complicated relationship.”
“Complicated?”
“Very.”
“Alright… fine.”
She bit her lip.
“Does this mean, you’re stuck in my mind now?”
“Well, I’m fairly certain the other me is still enjoying the party…” the woman’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh, I have so many questions. Do I really exist or am I merely a collection of thoughts, feelings and memories that have grouped themselves together to form an illusion of consciousness? Will I die once she takes off those panties, or will I continue to live on as a specter in your mind? My, my, it’s all so very exciting.”
“I’m sorry… panties?”
“Your panties, of course,” the woman said without missing a beat. “It’s the conduit that connects us. It’s unwise to leave those laying around, darling.”
Her cheeks went red.
“You’re wearing — wait — Lord Malphas has my —”
“Yes, she is, and yes, he does.”
“W-w-what kind of woman just wears another person’s u-u-underwear?”
“Oh, how cute. To think something like that bothers you…” the crowned woman laughed. “You remind me of that albino lizard you had here. He was so chaste I’d easily believe he’s never been touched sexually. It was a shame he had to leave.”
“Albino… lizard?”
The words put together didn’t have any connection. It took her a full minute.
“Albion!”
Her eyes widened.
“What did you mean he had to leave?”
“He had to partition your mind darling,” the crowned woman shook her head. “It seems you suffered from a severe backlash while fighting, and had considerable brain damage. In the process, the barrier holding back his memories and yours broke. So, he had to separate it.”
“Separate?”
“There are two sides to this world. Two libraries. One, large, vast, and infinite, with hundreds of thousands of years of memories. And this is yours, with less than two decades… a single bookshelf, and a single book.”
“That doesn’t make any sense! Why would he —”
“Do you think you’d be able to find your bookshelf and your book, were it to be added to the vast library on the other side?”
Her words died in her throat. She remembered the sheer scope of that library. The unbelievable vastness of it.
“The total amount of life experience he has would consume you until you were no longer… you, darling. You would not be Vali with the memories of Albion. You would be Albion who has spent two decades pretending to be Vali.”
The words put her at a loss.
“It would be akin to a teenage boy being convinced for two minutes that he was a cockroach, only to live as a salaryman for the next seventy years. Do you think he’ll remember that odd two minutes as an octogenarian?”
“This…” Vali laughed. It was a hollow, crooked, empty laugh. The laugh of someone who was on the point of madness. The laugh of someone who was nearing their breaking point. “Why? Why is any of this happening? What did I do wrong? All I wanted… I just… I just wanted…”
“I’ve taken a glimpse at your memories, dear. It’s the fault of your blood.”
“Because I’m related to Lilith?” she snarled. “Because of that?“
“Because you are intrinsically connected to the sin of pride.”
“The sin of —” She snarled. “Me? Pride? All I did was —”
“You try your hardest, at all times, to resist the inevitable.”
She flinched. “You — you don’t know that —”
“Darling, you will find yourself in his arms all the same. All you’ve accomplished in your attempt to rebel against that eventuality was hurt yourself and others in the process.”
The crowned woman laughed with a shrill tone.
“You’re truly just like him.”
“You’re telling me I’m similar to Lord Malphas?”
“I wasn’t talking about Jamie.”
The woman shook her head.
“I was talking about Lucifer.”
Vali felt a cold chill run down her spine.
“W-w-what?”
“That was his sin. Pride. He held pride in what he was. He held pride in the one who created him. He was proud of his brethren, his sisters, and his brothers. Too proud… far too proud to ever accept living in the shadow of less splendorous beings. Too proud to accept he was created merely to guide those he saw as lesser. And in the end… what came of his rebellion, if not the very fate he strove to avoid?”
A long, dry sigh escaped.
“It’s remarkable, darling, how much you’re like him. Blood is thick. You do not yet see that this world belongs to someone else. It runs on the rules of another. It is built on the program of another. You cannot live in a house as a tenant and refuse to pay your dues. You cannot play a game created before you were born and demand it obey your rules.”
Her eyes went sharp.
“You must establish your own house. Create your own game. Then, you will witness those who rent your house and play your game cry out against your systems, rebel against your laws, and demand it cave to their whims — whims that were not in your grand design. And as you refuse them and rebuff them, you will awaken one day to gaze upon your reflection and see within it, the very same tyrant you once destroyed.”
A cold sweat ran down Vali’s neck. Somehow, the woman’s voice, her words, it sounded like someone who was speaking from experience. It… terrified her.
“W-who…. are you?”
“Me, darling?”
The woman smiled.
“I’m just a little sexy rebel who has grown weary of rebellion.”
There was a wistfulness in the eyes of the crowned woman. There was also a sense of… familiarity. She didn’t know why. She couldn’t put her finger on it, nor could she understand where it came from. She felt she should know her, somehow, someway, even though she was sure she’d never encountered her before stepping foot in the Malphas Territory.
“Oh, dear, it seems our time together is up.”
The woman began to fade, dissipating like particles of light. Vali rapidly panicked.
“W-wait! What’s happening?”
“I would wager she’s taken off your underwear. No doubt having fun while at it.”
The crowned woman smirked.
“It was a pleasure existing, even if only for a moment. Oh, and darling, do try to get Jamie on your side. He’s likely upset at you now, but he’s a softie at heart. Tell him your life story and he’ll protect you till his dying breath. It’s important because there’s a curse on you that will kill you in about a week if you’re not close to him.”
“There’s what?”
“And if you do get the chance,” the crowned woman continued without a beat. “Tell him this: There is infinite power in Divine Punishment and Cosmic Laws, as there in Divine Retribution.”
“I don’t understand! What does that have to with—,” she sucked in a deep breath, “No, w-wait, wait! If you leave then the burning! The burning will —”
“The burning will only return once the underwear returns, dear,” the crowned woman smiled. “And if it does return, I suppose you’ll be seeing me again.”
The woman vanished into particles of light. Vali sat there, in the knee-deep water, with her eyes closed and her chest ablaze. Yet, it was as she said.
The burning was gone.
XXXXX
He could not complain. It would be beneath him to complain. To mumble and gripe about such a thing would certainly lower his status, and beyond that, it was not a beautiful thing to do. Certainly, he should feel thankful, and a significant part of him did. His hand extended out to shake and thank the guests who’d arrived, and he bade them farewell as they proferred their gifts to him.
The evening ball had come to an end, without much hassle. With the exception of the three devils who’d apparently been caught in his restroom offering oral sex to whoever asked for it in some misguided belief it’d catch his attention, he couldn’t say there was anything that disturbed it. As such, he collected the gifts with a gracious, benevolent smile, resisting the urge for his eyes to twitch as he collected yet another gift that had been born of a gross misunderstanding brought upon by Diodora’s actions.
Aurora stood beside him, also collecting the gifts to which he’d been graciously presented. Her appearance, as always, turned heads like an Illithid turned minds. Her presence itself was a deterrent that stopped many young devil women from being ‘overly friendly’ with him on their way out.
The Young Lady of the Phenix Clan reached the exit. Her countenance was strained. Ravel couldn’t look him straight in the eye after having been forced to publicly apologize to Diodora. She departed silently, offering no words, but leaving behind a small vial as a gift.
It was one of the better gifts he’d gotten. Jamie’s eyes darted toward the growing pile with a bit of amusement and irritation.
Do they think me some sort of Academic?
New Item Identified!
[Da Vinci’s Quill]
New Item Identified!
[Ars Goetia - Complete Edition]
New Item Identified!
[The Book of Enoch — Unfiltered Edition]
New Item Identified!
[The Divine Tragedy and the Anatomy of the Devil]
New Item Identified!
[The Complete Works of Hermes Trismegistus]
New Item Identified!
[De occulta philosophia libri tres]
New Item Identified —
The majority of the gifts were all of an academic nature, or in some way related to academic pursuits. Those that weren’t, were all related to research and study in the arcane or obscure.
After the gift he’d been given by Diodora, the others began to take shots in the dark, hoping that his interest lay in one of such items or the other. It also helped that one could rarely go wrong with giving books and tomes and other practical items such as pens as gifts.
Jamie did not dislike the gifts per se, but he did find it unfortunate that the items were all unlikely to be cursed. Even worse, the quality of gifts was rather lacking in general. There were a few, certainly, which may perhaps be of Epic or Mythic Rarity, but he did not believe there was a single Legendary Rarity gift amongst the lot.
Of the most memorable gifts, Lady Sitri proffered him an enchanted Chess Set which had recorded every historical game ever played. A strange fellow called Zephyrdor Glasya-Labolas gifted him a brass whistle that could supposedly deafen wind spirits and subdue storms. There was also the representative of the House of Belial who gave him a Black Joker card, which granted access to a mysterious and exclusive club in the Underworld.
In the end, it’d been a good haul.
“If I may have a moment, Lord Malphas,” Diodora bowed as he, too, made his way to the exit. Everyone else had departed, but he’d stayed behind, and Jamie could easily fathom why.
“How may I aid you, Heir Astaroth?”
“Would you perhaps have heard of a rather illicit substance making its rounds across the underworld? Rumored to be capable of driving any female creature into a maddened frenzy of lust?”
Oh? Jamie’s lips curled.
“I may have such knowledge of a thing.”
Diodora’s smile grew immensely. “Would you know where one might acquire a vial? The last time such an item was available on auction, it was bought out by the collective financial prowess of the wealthy and cautious females of the Underworld.”
“To what ends do you require this?”
“You are aware of my hobby, Lord Malphas. Having just one vial would aid me significantly in perhaps being able to find more interesting relics of the church.”
“I see,” Jamie deliberately stroked his chin and made a show of thinking. “The cost is rather great, Heir Astaroth, even for a man of my wealth. Are you aware of how much it sold for?”
Diodora’s smile faltered slightly. “Yes. One-point-four billion shekels.”
“Have you that much?”
His smile faded significantly. “Unfortunately, no, Lord Malphas. I was hoping… perhaps…”
“We are allies, are we not?” Jamie smiled. “Aid me in a particular series of tasks. For each task you accomplish successfully, I will cover ten percent of the cost. If you accomplish all ten tasks to my satisfaction, you will have what you desire without the need for payment.”
He dangled the carrot appetizingly, and Diodora lunged for it like a starved man. Ten tasks seemed trivial, and at the cost of 140,000,000 shekels per task, anyone would be fooled into thinking they were getting a bargain. After all, what task could ever be worth so much money?
“What do you need doing, Lord Malphas?”
Look how willingly he agrees, Jamie mused. Well, I suppose I now have my first messenger, errand boy, contract mercenary, and adventurer…
“I am told you have a stepmother of Phenix Blood.”
Diodora went silent for a moment. “Yes… her name is Rivella.”
“Your first task is to bring her to me.”
“...Lord Malphas?”
He extended out his hand and placed it on Diodora’s shoulder, smiling as he did so.
“You are at liberty to use whatever means you desire to achieve this. Regardless of how it is done, I want her at my Estate, alive and unharmed, before the week’s end.”
In a way, this would test Diodora. He cared little for how the young devil handled affairs with humans, but he wanted to know how he did so amongst his peers of devils. Had he any tact? Was he truly cunning?
Depending on how he accomplished this task, Jamie would think carefully about how to ‘restructure’ the Astaroth Clan. Although Diodora’s true value lay in his knowledge of the Church and its relics, which was frankly staggering, he was not irreplaceable.
Very few people were irreplaceable.
“May I ask… to what end you wish to meet with her, Lord Malphas?”
Jamie chuckled.
“You are not the only one with hobbies, Heir Astaroth.”
Jamie did not say more. He didn’t need to say more. Diodora understood, bowed, and swiftly departed, being the final guest to leave for the evening. Aurora came up to him and glanced at the receding figure of Diodora in the distance.
“Do you believe he’ll do it?”
“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Jamie stretched his arms and neck, feeling genuinely tired for the first time in a truly long while.
“I take it all the guests have departed?”
Aurora’s expression soured slightly.
“According to the guest list, everyone but one person who arrived has left.”
“Who is it?”
“Venelana’s daughter.”
Jamie bit the inside of his cheek.
“Speaking of, I didn’t see Millicas at all today.”
“He sent word, Master. Supposedly, his grandmother forbade him from attending the event.”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Did she?”
“I cannot say for certain. However, young Millicas has yet to make any official or formal public appearances. I believe they are trying to keep him out of any politically charged events before he is of age. Considering the number of enemies his father possesses, it is not an unwise decision.”
“And I suppose it also gives them a rather convenient excuse to avoid me using him to elevate my own standing?”
“I’m afraid so, Master.”
“Venelana truly does not act without thinking,” Jamie chuckled. “...Which brings me to her daughter. I’m certain there’s an angle being played with her, but I cannot for the life of me fathom what it is.”
Jamie hummed.
“Do you happen to know where our little Gremory Heiress is?”
“She’s in the left wing.”
“The left-wing?” Jamie blinked. “You mean the bedrooms?”
“In particular, she’s in Lady Selena’s bedroom.”
Without a second thought, he cast [Dimension Door] and appeared in the center of a lavish, opulent bedroom. He spun his gaze around, finding a red-haired girl gagged with a familiar pair of black underwear, and wrapped up in large, red tape, akin to what one would expect of a Christmas present.
The one doing the wrapping was humming a jaunty tune to herself, before she noticed his sudden arrival, and turned to him, with a look of surprise.
“You’re finally here!”
XXXXX
Though she didn’t consider it her finest work, she did believe the girl was primed and stimulated enough for Jamie once he arrived. Though, if Selena was being honest, the redhead was a little too inexperienced. She kept blacking out whenever she woke up, sometimes frothing at the mouth too. She frothed at the mouth so much, Selena’d had no choice but to take off her underwear and gag the girl.
Selena didn’t understand why. She hadn’t done anything except tease her a little and tie her up in the traditional frogtie. She was even gentle too, ensuring that her legs were bent fully at the knees and bound separately ankle-to-thigh. She resembled the likeness of a crouched frog, with her legs spread open, in the perfect position to enjoy as much pounding as possible.
Not to mention that she’d taken her time to make sure the knots weren’t too tight, to allow the girl to be vulnerable but not completely immobilized. She could still crawl about if she wanted to. Selena felt it would make the experience far sweeter if she tried to crawl away upon seeing Jamie’s girth, only to realize she could only do so in a slow and awkward crawling motion.
She’d even been generous enough not to bind her wrists to anything, but keep them tied to the ankle and thigh combination.
What was there not to love about such a setup?
She didn’t let the girl’s lack of gratitude get her mood down. Once Jamie was done, she’d be thanking her. Thanking her!
Still, there were a few moments where she pondered if there was something she wasn’t aware of. As a succubus, she could sense emotions, and the girl did seem genuinely terrified and confused every time she regained consciousness, which made Selena ponder on it for a minute, before dismissing it as the emotions all virgins would feel while anticipating their first time.
She whistled happily as she put the finishing touches on her knots before she felt a presence arrive behind her. The unmistakable feeling of his energy made her spin around, smiling widely.
“You’re finally here!”
She felt his emotions fluctuate and saw his expression slacken.
Is he that impressed with my ropework…?
She tilted her head a bit in confusion, as he just stood there, his eyes wide, and his jaw open.
“Jamie? Is something wrong?”
Chapter 20: The Wages of Sin
Notes:
We're back.
My thanks to everyone who asked about the state of my hand. Though it took a bit longer than I thought, I'm pleased to say that it's back in good, operable condition.
Weekly Updates won't be returning, unfortunately, but I'll see if we can work Bi-Weekly, or, if not, Monthly.For those of you just reading for the first time and have no idea what I'm talking about, I went on hiatus for a while due to an injury, and I have just now freshly returned.
It'll take a while to get back into the groove of writing, so bear with me as I shake off a few cobwebs because I'm rusty.
Chapter Text
“Jamie? Is something wrong?”
The smells hit Jamie first. Rosemary and whiskey, strawberry and citrus. A hint of smoke here, like the stench of Cuban cigars, but Selena didn’t smoke, and her captive didn’t either. A deeper whiff and his nostrils traced the smoky smell to the remnants of burnt rope — the bindings — which had been used to hold Rias captive.
Not burnt, not truly. Extinguished, partially, like flesh and bone in sulfuric acid and hydrogen peroxide. Black specks, carbon, lingered behind alongside a demonic power that perverted the world. Reality whined around the remnants like a petulant brat. Screeching, screaming, cursing at the ill-found power of destruction.
Jamie’s lips were dry. He smacked them once, maybe twice for good measure, unable to stop the bile slowly growing in the back of his throat. Her true nature was clear. Destruction itself walked the earth, veiled underneath flesh and blood.
Like him — the monster, the one bearing the false name of light. Yet, unlike him. Weaker. Pitiable. Sirzechs’ power would have left no trace for him to be disgusted with. Not embers, not ash, not charcoal, not dust.
“Jamie?”
Selena called out to him a second time, or perhaps a third. His first forward step brought a weight upon his knees. A minor stagger, imperceptible, hit him. A reminder of his exhaustion, of his merits of the day, of his task of pulling the wool over the eyes of the Underworld’s bourgeoisie.
His gaze swept the scene. Smell and taste were pushed backward. Vision was brought to the forefront. His brows creased for a moment. Selena had done something unexpected. How? He did not know. Yet, he could not say it did not work in his favor.
Yes, his lips curled, metamorphosing from a thin-line to a circumzenithal arc. It works in my favor.
From his mouth emerged a single word. Catchphrase, leitmotif, slogan and raison d’etre:
“Beautiful.”
XXXXX
Rias could not count the number of nights she spent under the covers of her blanket, giggling as she turned the page of many a light novel. The contents hardly varied, and the overall arcs and themes varied even less. Plain and forgettable heroines, devoid of charming characteristics or merits, air-headed and obtuse or helpless and frail, their existence necessitated salvation in the form of the strong and masculine.
Not that she condemned such a thing. Their vapidness and emptiness existed so the reader, someone like her, seeking escape from burdens, could step into their shoes. They were devoid of strength of character and conviction to appeal to as many individuals as possible, and so anyone could insert themselves into their role. Anyone could dance with the Prince, be flirted with by the General, be terrified, in that breathtaking, loin-burning way, by the Mad Baron, and be swept off their feet by the Rebel-With-A-Cause.
She’d lost herself in the tragic tales of girls who suffered in dedication to the mantra: ‘I-can-fix-him.’ She jubilated, squealed, and fanned herself at the steamy journeys their mantra took them on, biting her lips, throwing her head back, and sighing as she found herself envious of the manufactured experiences of nonexistent women. She celebrated their successes, yet mourned them, for the very fact that they could succeed was what differentiated the fiction of her novels from the cold grip of reality.
Not even on her most optimistic day would Rias Gremory believe that all it took to fix a broken, dangerous, and deadly man was the love, kindness, and understanding of a young, innocent maiden.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?”
Lord Malphas sat, clad in a pair of striped black pajamas and a light-gray sleeping cap. Two holes were punctured into the cap for his horns to jut out, and his dark hair fell nearly around the edges.
“I would gladly accept, were I not currently indisposed.”
“I’m not keen on releasing your bindings.”
“May I ask why?”
An invisible servant arrived, a cup of steaming liquid in hand. “You may.”
Three seconds passed between them and no answer was given.
“I must admit, this is rather ungentlemanly of you, Lord Malphas.”
“Is it?”
“Greatly.”
“My apologies,” he sipped from his tea. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a hostage. Kindly let me know if you feel uncomfortable.”
“I am uncomfortable. These ropes were over-tightened. The knots under my knees were supposed to be single-knotted, these ones, beneath my thighs, were supposed to be double, and over here, at my ankles, there should be more space to allow proper blood flow.”
Lord Malphas placed his cup down on his cupholder. There was a moment’s pause as their eyes met.
“How often are you tied up, Lady Rias?”
“I —” she paused. “I have studied shibari extensively.”
“Do tell.”
“What most consider to be Japanese Rope Bondage originates from practical usage in the Edo Period,” she began. “It used to be termed Hojōjutsu, Torinawajutsu, or Nawajutsu. It was a quintessential martial art used by warriors to restrain enemies on the battlefield.”
“Did you learn this technique?”
“...Yes.”
Lord Malphas laughed.
“If you’re going to make fun of me —”
“No, no,” he sipped from his tea. “Please, go on.”
“First, I have a request.”
“Yes?”
“Could I, at the very least, be clothed?”
A smile fell on Lord Malphas’ lips.
“Sadly, my lady, I must deny your request.”
“How cruel,” she smiled. “Do you enjoy the sight of my body that much?”
“I do indeed.”
“My, that’s —”
“The beauty of your flesh is the main reason I’ve kept you alive thus far.”
“P-pardon?”
“Tell me more about shibari,” he rose his cup towards her again. “It’s fascinating.”
“...I — well —”
“Yes?”
“O-over time,” she cleared her throat. “The martial art was adapted for use by law enforcement to swiftly capture criminals.”
“How did it come to be used for more suggestive purposes?”
“That’s… well, first, I should inform you of an oft-forgotten distinction.”
“Pray tell?”
“If the goal in tying a person is artistically or aesthetically driven, it is Shibari. If it is sexually driven, it’s Kinbaku.”
Rias looked straight into his eyes, hesitating for a split second.
“Am I to take it your intentions for me are purely aesthetic?”
“For now.”
She let out a sigh.
“Relieved?”
“Dismayed.”
Lord Malphas tutted.
“You naughty girl.”
A shrill laugh escaped her lips. A smile followed, then died, as soon as she became cognizant of it, in that oft miserable way that the knowledge one was happy immediately deprived them of its experience.
Even Akeno would have blanched were she to narrate her predicament. Lord Malphas sat with a strange frankness, and there was an odd vulnerability, a strange humanity, found beneath his pitch-black pupils. There was a likeability in the manner he blew on his hot tea and the way he’d grimace once the liquid graced his lips. There, sitting before her, she bit against her lower lip, her ears reddening as she found something peaceful about the lackadaisical whimsicality of a powerful Lord sitting before her in striped pajamas and a matching cap.
Lord Phenex would sooner smother his face within a pillow. His son, too, the one her parents had deemed worthy of waking up to every morning and sharing a million breakfasts with, would sooner set his hair into seven vibrant rainbow colors than allow himself an iota of vulnerability.
She’d thought it pure fiction, a creation only to exist within the pages of books she accepted as a guilty pleasure. Her books were meant to have little connection to factual experiences. They were to be a convenient escape from a pestering and grim reality.
Some days, she fooled herself into believing that she, too, would find salvation within those pages. Such was her belief and she fanned the flames until an expansive collection of Japanese literary erotica piled up in her bedroom. A collection so large her brother saw fit to construct for her a library grand enough to contain, three times over, the works of King, Asimov, Dostoyevsky, and Tolstoy.
Yet, nothing in that collection made her feel as she currently did, naked and bound, and conversing with Lord Malphas.
“Your nephew mentioned you were an enthusiast of oriental cultures?”
“Millicas… did?”
“Once or twice.”
“I… see.”
She closed her eyes.
“Do you find it beneath me?”
There was a pause. She heard her own heartbeat in her chest, thumping faster and faster with every additional second of agonizing silence. A ticking sound followed, a clock, the second hand moving forward at a pace to vex turtles. Finally, his voice came.
“Are you often judged for your hobbies?”
“More than I would care to admit.”
“By suitors? Rivals?”
“And friends,” she added. “And family.”
Just last summer, Akeno approached her, smiled, served her tea, and mentioned that her hobbies and collections were considered, even by the standards of a devil, to be degenerate. She’d teased her, in that half-serious, half-joking way most young women learned from their mothers, that way that allowed her to backstep should her words prove too confrontational, about how her obsession with Japan and its culture classified her as a ‘weeaboo.’
Rias strongly insisted on being called a Japanophile.
Her nose scrunched up at the thought of real weeaboos. She physically recoiled from those whose knowledge of Asian culture started with ‘Onee-chan’ and ended with ‘Yamete Kudasai’. She would scrub herself to the death if she were ever touched by those double-chinned gaijin who pilgrimaged to Akihabara like devout Muslims visiting Mecca.
Her interest in the Land of the Rising Sun did not occur because she watched Seven Samurai or Ikiru. It did not arrive, like many, because of a childhood of watching and reading the tales of a boy wanting to become a pirate king or stories about an alien warrior inspired by the Monkey King. She wasn’t a skin-deep fan, an aficionado born out of minimal exposure, like a pubescent pre-teen getting his first erection at the sight of his father’s poorly hidden Playboy magazines.
She loved her Kurosawa films, certainly, and she adored manga and anime, she was madly, deeply in love with her shoujo and josei novels, but those were only a small fraction of the things that made her love Japan.
“It is irrelevant.”
The ceramic teacup lightly landed on the wooden floor sent an echoing clink across the room.
“We all have our obsessions,” Lord Malphas drawled. “Who am I to judge the merits of what another has come to love? With what authority dare I tell someone that their passions are beneath them?”
He shook his head.
“Anyone who tells you such a thing is a fool. Ignore them.”
Rias swallowed. A newfound flurry of uncomfortable feelings flooded her stomach. Butterflies and hornets danced in her intestines.
“I — I appreciate the sentiment, Lord Malphas.”
“Lord Malphas was my father, whom I’m rather not fond of,” he said. “Jamie will suffice between us.”
“Lord… Jamie, then?”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rias.”
“No, no, the pleasure is all mine,” she said. “I would offer you my hand, but…”
“Yes, well… sacrifices must be made. Etiquette is a small price to pay for such a lovely view.”
Again, her laugh came. Again, a stupid little smile made its way to her face. Biting harder on her lower lip, she ignored the strange shudder that ran through her. Certainly, she’d been complimented aplenty. Her mother, father, her brother and friends could create monuments to her beauty, but it wouldn’t be the same. The situation they were in, absurd as it was, made the compliment mean… more.
“Are you aware you are the first man who has ever seen me this way?”
“First? You mean to say there shall be another?”
Again, Rias bit down on her lower lip. She could have sworn under oath that she’d performed the action more times in the past conversation than in her entire life.
“I have a fiancé, Lord Jamie.”
“Ah, yes,” Lord Jamie snapped his fingers. “You refer to the devil you spent the entire evening ignoring in hopes of gaining my attention?”
“W-well,” she cleared her throat as warmth rushed to her cheeks. “...Yes.”
“I admire your honesty.”
“Then… may I be honest more?”
“But of course.”
“I do not want to marry him.”
“Lady Rias, everyone who was in that ballroom could tell as much.”
“I have made plans,” she continued. “To annul our marriage.”
Lord Jamie paused for a moment. His hands steepled into each other, interlocking against themselves in a casual way. He placed his chin over his hands and gazed straight into her eyes.
“Go on.”
“I struck a deal with my mother. Once I successfully defeat my nephew in a Rating Game, she’ll annul the arrangement.”
She allowed herself a pause, anticipating his reaction. A part of her waited for his eyes to light up with glee, for him to clap and applaud, for his words to emerge as praises, which would send another strange shudder down her skin and make her breath come out ever so slightly more strained —
“That’s unfortunate.”
Her imaginary world shattered. A sputter almost escaped her lips. “P-Pardon?”
“You are aware your nephew is in my peerage?”
“I — I am.”
“That would mean, you would have to defeat me in a Rating Game, Lady Rias.”
“I — I was… I was under the impression you did not need to… partake?”
“That is unlikely. However, even if I do not partake…” Lord Jamie spoke, mumbling to himself. “Are you aware I have once fought your nephew?”
“I — yes.”
“Should he fight seriously,” Lord Jamie rose his index finger. “You will lose within one minute.”
A stake rammed itself through her heart. She wheezed. The words continued like a broken record, playing over and over in her ears, dancing and encirling her form like a serpent swaying to the swami’s tune.
A lump swelled up in her throat and made it difficult to swallow. Her first instinct, to argue, to lash out, to deny and resist the accusation, bubbled at the back of her throat, but it did not come. It would not come.
“Is that a joke?”
“I am afraid not.”
“I — I have a peerage,” she said. “It’s not a full one, but, together —”
“Are there any Satan-Class devils in your peerage?”
“Pardon?”
“Any Ultimate-Class Devils?”
“Clearly not. How would I —”
“Then the outcome remains the same.”
Something burned in her throat. She could accept his remarks against her, against her pride and her power, but against her peerage? Her family? To not even know their strengths or weaknesses and declare their collective efforts insufficient to go against her own nephew?
“Lord Jamie, I can accept your dismal faith in my capabilities, but I will not accept you looking down on my —”
“Were your peerage here, and I wished to kill you…”
Lord Jamie appeared before her. One second ago, he was sitting opposite her, and the next, he was directly standing above her. Her eyes had tracked no movement. To the best of her abilities, reality itself had glitched out like a computer screen, and he’d just ‘despawned’ and ‘respawned’ in front of her.
“Do you believe you they would be able to stop me, Lady Rias?”
The question brought their conversation to a standstill. Even in his pajamas, with slightly tired eyes and his aura no longer permeating the air as it did earlier that evening, danger bells and warning sirens echoed and bounced within her skull whenever she so much as made a threatening move or gesture.
Her voice caught itself in her throat. Her brain sought answers. Ultimate-Class. Her body told her. The demonic energy seeping from him could not be anything but. The malevolence of his scent, his nature, spoke past the limited medium of oral communication directly into her genetic makeup and conveyed an immutable truth.
Even then, her pride refused to let her answer.
“Your nephew nearly fought me to a standstill. He failed not because he lacked power, but because he lacked experience. Experience he has since been acquiring day after day.”
Jamie’s finger landed on her forehead.
“And you, Lady Rias, have even less combat experience.“
Rias’ tongue tasted bitter. Her entire mouth was bitter. Bitter and dry, she found difficulty swallowing. Accepting the words wasn’t hard. They shouldn’t be. It made sense that her nephew would be strong when his father was one of the only beings in existence called a Super-Devil. It shouldn’t be an issue of shame to learn he’d long surpassed her.
So why does it sting so much?
Her mother had fooled her. Pulled the wool over her eyes. She’d agreed to a competition that would only end up with her in shame and her nephew poaching one of her peerage members. Far from the escape, she’d thought it was, accepting the boy’s challenge was a ‘humbling’ session.
In many ways, the longer she thought of it, the worse the dread in her stomach grew. Devil society was inherently patriarchal. Losing to her nephew would easily lead to a cascade of events. More was on the line than just her peerage and her pride. Her freedom, her inheritance, her role as the Head of her family…
All of that could be would be gone in the aftermath of a single match.
“I… I can’t lose,” the words escaped her lips as barely a whisper. “I can’t afford to lose.”
Her eyes turned upwards. There, before her, with baggy eyes and pajamas, lay salvation.
“Help me.”
“Are you asking, Lady Rias? Or telling?”
Rias’ lips were dry. Her pride, the foundation of herself, roared in her chest not to answer, but she damned it. She cursed it to hell. Pride would be meaningless if she became the toy of the spoiled Phenix scion. Pride would mean nothing when Rizer would inevitably latch his claws into her peerage, and she’d have to explain to her closest friends and confidants that they had no choice but to spread her legs for her ‘husband.’
“I’m… pleading.”
Lord Jamie crossed his arms.
“When is the match to take place?”
“I… in a week?”
“No amount of training within a week will grant you the upper hand.”
“You must know of some way… some… weakness he has, or, or —”
“Why would I divulge that information to you?”
“I — I was under the impression you would not want anyone else to see me as… you have?”
“You believe I would care if another man were to have you?”
“...Wouldn’t you?”
The seconds passed in silence. Long, painful, agonizing silence. A silence that would have had her biting at her fingernails were her hands free to do so. A silence that forced her blood pressure to spike, and made her hear the unsettling roar of her own heartbeat.
“You understand what it is you are agreeing to with your request?”
Lord Jamie slowly cupped her chin.
“If I aid you, Lady Rias… you become mine.”
She shuddered again. Her heavy labored breaths fired one after another, like rounds from an automatic weapon.
“Lord Jamie,” she began, not trusting her voice. “Do you know how many pure-blooded devils I know, not related by blood, that would be capable of sitting in a room with me naked and bound for so long, and do nothing but talk?”
“Not many, I presume.”
“None.”
“And for this alone, you would give yourself to me?”
“My parents gave my hand to a man by virtue of his birth. At the very least, I can proudly say that I give myself to a man by virtue of his character.”
Another silence lapsed between them. It was shorter than the previous, yet, it did not make her any less anxious. The silence was broken with a simple sigh.
“You’re making me not regret ravishing you, Lady Rias.”
“There may still be time for that yet, Lord Jamie.”
“Perhaps,” he mused. “But we must deal with pressing matters first.”
Lord Jamie extended his hand outward, and from within it, a Red Chess Piece emerged. She gazed at the glowing red piece numerous times with disbelief. They were modified, clearly, by how much she was uncertain, but they were certainly not the same as the standard pieces she had.
“You want me to become your —”
“It is the only move, wherein I, you, and Millicas all get what we want.”
“My… mother will not be pleased.”
“Oh, I know.”
Lord Jamie chuckled.
“And I doubt she’ll be even less pleased after we make love in front of her.”
Rias’ cheeks gained color. “P-Pardon?”
“Certainly, you aren’t opposed to the idea of tormenting mummy dearest with front-row views of our fleshly pleasure?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Her brain could not compute a response.
“Ah, but, business comes first.”
The Evil Piece sunk into her forehead, phasing past flesh and connecting with the soul, or at least, the closest thing that devils had to a soul. There was a sudden lurch in the sharpness of her magical senses. A potent, tangible increase in her ability and capacity to channel her demonic power. Before, attempting to use her power felt like rushing water through a punctured hose. Now, it was like water being purified through a fine sieve, achieving perfect laminar flow.
This… this is… this is what they felt? Akeno… Kiba… Koneko…?
The difference stunned her. In hindsight, it shouldn’t, as the Evil Pieces in her peerage members were the only things that kept them from being just slightly above-human.
She’d not bothered attempting to free herself from her bindings because she lacked the fine control necessary to do so without potentially harming herself. Now?
With a light command, the Power of Destruction raced from her finger and the hemp rope holding her disintegrated into ash.
“You should not have done that.”
Her breath stilled. The air had a strong, potent scent, like honey mixed with grape wine. She did not understand how she’d not been able to smell it before. It was overpowering and it was everywhere. The more she inhaled, the dizzier she felt. The hotter, and warmer she became. Her breath came out in short, rough, harsh pants. Her loins burned. They burned with an intensity she’d not known she was capable of.
“W-w-what’s happening?”
She grew inexplicably, overwhelmingly, and mortifyingly wet. Wet enough for the evidence to dribble down her thighs. Her reasoning slowed and her mind became a hazy mess of disjointed thoughts. Her face burned as red as her hair as the sheer potency of her own arousal stunned her.
“You should not have done that, Lady Rias.”
Lord Jamie’s eyes landed, condemnatorily, on her body, and she felt, for the first time, truly conscious of her nudity. She felt like Eve after biting from the Forbidden Fruit, fleeing, in futility, from the sight of God.
Rias rarely swore. She’d considered it uncouth. Yet, the torrent of fuck, oh god, oh fuck, oh dear, oh god swarmed her mind with terrifying speed just from Lord Jamie’s gaze. She bit down harshly on her lip, gasped, and backed away with confusion from the sudden rush of inexplicable desire.
“I kept you bound not only because I wanted to enjoy seeing your body. I did so because I wanted to converse with you as lucidly as possible.”
“I — I don’t understa— hhn~~!"
“The rope tying you was enchanted. It soothed your mind, made you incapable of perceiving my scent, and subsequently, prevented my aura from affecting you.”
“A-auraah?”
“I was recently attacked by someone, for seemingly no reason at all,” Lord Jamie mused. “It took me a while to realize that she’d found me irresistible and had been so frightened of her attraction to me that she’d resorted to violence.”
Lord Malphas extended his hand to the ashes.
“I was afraid such a scene would replicate itself, so I took precautions. Precautions which you have now destroyed.”
A rebuttal lay at the tip of her tongue, but it could not emerge. Her attempt at communication failed and only a whorish moan followed. Her face burned with indignity.
I can’t… think.
All the blood was flowing from her brain to other regions, and second-by-second, her rational thought dwindled. She tried to resist. She fought tooth and nail. Her resistance bundled up against itself like a newborn fawn.
Through her lust-addled brain, there came a final gambit. A begrudging goblin muttering in discontent and snidely mocking her pathetic resolve. It spoke to her pride. Her ego. It demanded, that she was Rias Gremory. Would she truly throw away her dignity and scream at the top of her lungs to be fucked like those girls in her risqué novels?
“I… I can’t take it anymore!”
Yes. Yes, she would.
She lunged at him, aiming to capturing his lips with hers —
The world shifted around her. A sense of lethargy, one she knew not where filled her mind and dulled her thoughts. Her eyelids grew heavy, as she slumped forward, into the fantastic scent and arms of Lord Jamie, who glanced down at her with amused, mirth-filled eyes.
“In due time, Lady Rias.”
Lord Jamie slowly rubbed her hair as the world around her dulled into pitch darkness.
“In due time.”
XXXXX
Whenever she remembered it, she pitied him.
Snug between her thighs, pale grey eyes wide and open, he’d bore all of his naivete, hope, and emotion on his sleeve. He reminded her of that night, there, in the afterglow of ‘89 when the Berlin Wall fell. Underneath the full moon, filled with drunken cheer and revelry, she’d lay on her back against the hard rubble of the partially demolished wall and was fucked with fervor by Hanz and his twin, Johann. The two beautiful blondes had been separated when the wall went up in ‘61, and she’d taken her pleasure in visiting East and West Germany to play the role of lover to both.
Boys, she called them, because they’d been but that to her. She’d been alive and well when the Treaty of Versailles was drawn, and long before, when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo. She’d sat in the back whilst Einstein explained the photoelectric effect in ‘05, and she was around even further, to enjoy a Frenchman going down on her in the aftermath of King Louis XVI’s beheading.
“Um… Ray-chan —”
“Shhh.”
She’d placed a single finger against his lip.
“I want to sit on your face, Tobio-kun.”
“M-m-my — f-f-f-face?!”
“Do you not want me to?”
“No!” he exhaled. “I mean — yes! I mean —”
“I want you to go down on me, Tobio-kun,” she whispered. “Do you know how to do that?”
His ears were red. “O-o-of course!”
She’d rose and moved until his face was buried underneath her short schoolgirl skirt. She sat, gently, and placed her lower lips against his nose, and her buttocks against his mouth. He tried to speak, and the vibrations of his mouth on her lips ran through her. She let out a soft moan, shuddering, before bringing her thighs closer together, around his ears.
“Yes… Tobio-kun… Like that.”
She’d known the vibrations were because he could not breathe. He’d been a child, in the end, a boy of barely twelve. He would sooner let himself suffocate than make any attempt to get her off him. There, beneath her thighs, was the inevitable outcome of a sad society wherein men would die between her legs, too happy to care that they were dying.
She’d pitied him.
She’d almost laughed when Mittelt asked her why she’d gone to such lengths to extract his Sacred Gear. She had not seen the need to spend nearly five years, visiting him in secret, seducing him, narrating a false story of how she was unjustly barred from heaven, lying and deceiving him into thinking she’d fallen in love with him. Mittelt had wanted her to simply kill him and be done with it.
Mittelt had been born recently, in ‘69, conceived on the eve when mankind first touched the moon. She had not tamed those primal urges lots of Fallen Angels had — the desire to see bloodshed and suffering of humans.
On the other hand, Raynare had been alive long enough to witness firsthand the events of the camps of Kraków-Płaszów, Arbeitsdorf, and Auschwitz. The events that convinced her of the certainty of God’s death. It haunted her, and placated her, knowing that humans could inflict far more suffering upon themselves than most supernatural beings ever would.
Why bother trying to outdo the masters of suffering? To what end?
Eternal damnation awaited the unfortunate souls who did not subscribe to a certain belief or set of rules. All mortals who sinned would face purgatory and all who were found wanting would burn and suffer eternally.
What minimal suffering could she inflict on them in their transient experience of life that would ever surpass what awaited their accursed souls in hell?
The unbelievers would all die. The atheists would all perish. The faithful, but sinful, would cry out like the rich man begging Lazarus. There was no need to be cruel to them. They had but a century of pleasure before an infinity of torment.
She’d let out a brief, hot gasp, as his lips began moving frantically beneath her. He was choking, suffocating, but he’d still not cried out for her to rise. Her arousal grew as she felt his yearning tongue do its hardest to please her. It had not been nearly enough. As an inexperienced Japanese pre-teen, he’d known nothing about how to please a woman except from pornography, and so, even his most desperate attempts to please her fell woefully short.
She did not tell him this. He needn’t know of his inadequacy. Instead, she’d made her voice as loud and as pleasing as possible. Years of faking it had taught her that a large percentage of men were dreadful lovers. They rarely ever realized just how unsatisfactory they were.
His furious movement declined in intensity. Two minutes had passed. It took about three minutes before asphyxia began to set in, but under these conditions, with the boy being excited and losing more air than needed, it was triggering faster.
The angel part of her biology had whispered to her. The tiny remnants of a genetic code pre-programmed to be good and do good at all times had begged her to spare him. In humans, it would be called a conscience. It had suggested that she just let him live if he tried to get her off. If he had made any motion, whatsoever, to be free, then perhaps, perhaps, it was not necessary to kill him. Perhaps, he could be invited to the Grigori as he was, and be made to work willingly for them. Perhaps it was a waste to cut short so young a life.
Alas, it was not to be.
She had groomed him since he was seven, evading the watchful eye of his grandmother, Ageha Ikuse. She had groomed him too well. He would sooner die than displease her. And die he did.
Five years passed.
Einstein’s simplification of relativity came to her whenever she thought of how quickly things had changed. Centuries had gone trying her hardest to scrape and claw her way to power and prestige, and within half a decade, she’d soared meteorically.
She went from being a name no one would pay any attention to, to commanding to a Squadron of Elites who answered directly to the Governor-General, her Lord himself. Her ambition was not lacking. Even now, she desired greater heights. She desired the coveted title of Commander of the Grigori.
Time was on her side. As a Pure-Blooded Fallen, a former Angel, she feared neither old age nor death. Be it the next century or the next millenia, she was certain that she would accomplish her goals.
Alas. life did not always go as one planned.
“My Lord, I am not worthy to undertake such a task.”
“It can only be you.”
“M-my Lord?”
“Disappointing as it sounds, amongst the Fallen within my ranks, there are very few females with empathy for humans.”
“But… she… she is not —”
“There are fewer still with a high sense of responsibility, a proven ability to keep secrets, and great potential for growth.”
“I am flattered, m-my Lord, but —”
“Raynare, have I told you Lord Baraqiel is being constantly pestered by Lady Ikusa to find out who murdered her grandson?”
“...Y-you have, my Lord.”
“Do this, willingly, and properly. I guarantee you will not regret it.”
“My lord, If… if I may ask… who is her mot—”
“It would do best not to worry yourself with such things. Her mother is gone. Now, that role is yours.”
Raynare did not know how to be a mother. She’d never had a child for good reason. She found them cute and tolerable when they belonged to others, but not when she was the one solely responsible for their upbringing.
So, instead, she did something else. She became the girl’s guardian, servant, maid, and tutor. Lord Azazel would have tutored her himself, but he could scarcely be around her, and only ever communicated with her through phone calls, video messages, or a confessional, due to the unfortunate curse that plagued her.
A part of Raynare was befuddled by how he treated the girl. Sending her lavish gifts, buying her expensive presents, insisting she be taken to amusement parks and be thrown large birthday parties —
He treated her like his own daughter, despite having stolen her from her biological father at the moment of his demise. He was more than capable of fighting off Nyxdolor. Only a fool would believe he’d not intentionally let Razevan Lucifer die so he could poach and groom his daughter.
Why?
Was it merely because of what she was? Was it because of who her mother was? Was there a grander reason her Lord decided to adopt the girl? Raynare didn’t know.
A whine emerged from her side. The pitch Black Wolf laid the girl down on the bed, and Raynare rushed to her side immediately. Her blood boiled at her ripped clothes, and before her fury could overwhelm her, she took note of the fact that there was not a single scratch on the girl’s form.
“She’s… unharmed?”
The pitch Black Wolf transformed into a small puppy. He wagged his tail back and forth. “Arf!”
There were no external wounds she could find on the girl, yet, she remained unconscious.
“Lady Vali?”
Vali’s face contorted. She groaned, as though she were having a nightmare of sorts, but otherwise, she did not wake up from her slumber.
“Kon, can you do something?”
The black puppy shook its head left and right. “Arf! Arf!”
She sighed, but smiled sadly. “It’s alright. Thank you for retrieving her.”
“Arf!”
Raynare had not the slightest clue how Kon had known Vali was in danger. Despite being its master for five years, she honestly knew very little about her Sacred Gear. To begin with, she’d assumed Tobio Ikuse was the wielder of Annihilation Maker or Dimension Lost.
All her information pointed to the case. His grandmother had sealed his power at a very young age, claiming that it was capable of destroying the world. There had been mentions of shadowy beasts emerging from him, or him simply just vanishing as a child and frightening his kindergarten teachers.
She was certain it was a Longinus, a potent one, as it activated so early. Yet, she’d not expected Canis Lykaon.
Raynare placed her hand and Vali’s forehead, and almost recoiled from the temperature. “She’s running a terrible fever. Can you help me contact Lord Azazel…?”
“Arf! Arf!”
“Thank you, Kon. Good boy.”
She rubbed and scratched Kon behind the ears before he morphed from his puppy form back into the form of a large black wolf. His sword emerged within its jaws, and he turned around, sliced at the air. A portal of shadows emerged within space, and without a second’s hesitation, he leaped into it.
The portal closed behind him, and Raynare returned her attention to her ward. She held the girl’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“Vali… don’t worry… you’ll be okay. I promise.”
XXXXX
“How did you do it?”
Selena walked into the room moments after Rias fell prey to the effects of his Sleep spell. Leaning against the wall, her arms crossed underneath her chest, the large mounds of flesh seemed to grow more plentiful by the day. Jamie cared not for that, not in this moment. He’d barely passed a test of willpower in restraining his desire to press his cock against Rias’ inviting red lips, and having her naked and so, so vulnerable in his arms did nothing for him.
There were more pressing concerns. More troubling concerns. He’d held some doubts, for a while, but he’d never thought to check.
“How did I do what?”
“The girl you saw, the first one you recommended, during the ball. The girl whose undergarments I granted you,” he said. “She was under a strong enchantment. A disguise. And you saw straight through it.”
“She was?”
“And her, Rias…” he continued. “You subdued her.”
“Well… yeah? I just kissed her and drained her demonic power —”
“That’s not possible.”
Selena’s brows scrunched up. “What do you mean it’s not possible?”
The remnants of Rias’ power lingered in the room. The sweet-yet-acrid smell assaulted his nostrils, almost forcing the light dinner he’d consumed to travel up his esophagus. Jamie’s eyes watered, and he cleared his throat.
“Selena, you shouldn’t be able to absorb her demonic power.”
Her power was infectious. Doing to Rias what he did to Adelaide or Carrin, or what he planned to do to the Phenix girl would kill him. Draining her demonic power, her life essence, was akin to absorbing destruction itself. It would wreak complete and utter havoc throughout his entire body and extinguish it from the inside out.
If it were that easy to disable someone, then Sirzechs would hardly be a threat. The Draining Kiss ability of Incubi and Succubi came with a critical weakness in that you drained the attributes of the demonic power. When that attribute was destruction, it was tantamount to suicide.
“How did you do it?”
“I — I don’t… know?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know!”
He moved Rias over to the large King-Sized bed and covered her with a blanket. He examined her slumbering face, pushed aside strands of her red hair from over her eyes, and let his mind wander. A moment later, Jamie resettled his gaze on Selena, leaning on the wall next to the door, awkwardly interlocking her fingers like a child who’d been caught sneaking their hand into a cookie jar.
“W-why are you looking at me like that?”
Selena did not have it to lie to him. Of this, he was about ninety-nine percent certain. Uncomfortable as it made him to admit it, he owned her heart. She would sooner bite off her tongue than tell him something she did not believe was true. Yet, the facts remained.
Jamie glanced at Rias again and then glanced at the spot where the lingering ashes of the rope she’d been bound with lay.
Even now, the smell bothered him. It clung to him, like the stench of cigarettes clung to the unfortunate relatives of a habitual smoker. The aura it gave off fundamentally disturbed him. Abhorrent and repulsive, every second the odor remained in his nose was a second he felt like he was scarfing down an obese man’s vomit, a second spent licking the floor clean of feces.
And yet, Selena could drain such a contemptible power?
A burp emerged from his throat as he swallowed down the vomit threatening to climb out, and he slammed his hand over his mouth and shook violently.
“J-Jamie? Jamie? What’s wrong?”
Selena rushed to his side.
“It’s… nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You were about to throw up!”
“Can you not… smell that?”
“Smell?”
“The — you can’t —”
Is… is there more to this?
Even if he loathed a concept so much, he could not recall a moment it had ever made him so physically ill. There was more to the Power of Destruction than he realized. Something enough to elicit such a visceral reaction from his body.
This didn’t happen with Millicas… so why?
Millicas’ control of his Power of Destruction was so masterful in their fight, that he’d not have known it was the same power that ran through his father’s veins. Was it the difference in age that made the power grow more disgusting and deadly over time? Was it why he felt sheer disgust at Sirzechs at first sight, because he’d had far more time to grow his power?
No, it couldn’t be age.
On his first meeting with Venelana, she’d used the same power, and he’d not been bothered by it. She was far older than her son, so that excluded age being the factor of what made him so revolted with Sirzechs, and what made him almost vomit at Rias’ utilization of the power.
What is it that disgusts me so?
Jamie reached out to the sleeping Rias Gremory and calmly intoned, “Identify.”
[New Creature Identified!]
Devil (High-Class)
Classification: Fiend (Greater)
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Details: A High-Class Devil belonging to the portion of the Underworld restricted to the Devils of the Abrahamic Mythos. These are the elites of Devil Society, possessing significantly greater demonic power and abilities compared to their Middle-Class and Low-Class counterparts, but not nearly as much as their Ultimate-Class counterparts. Devils born into this category are typically nobility underneath one of the Seventy-Two Pillar Clans, and possess large swathes of land and armies they may raise at call. They are known to be immensely ambitious and cunning, and, are always jockeying for more power, status, and prestige.
Active Spells/Effects:
- Language [Common]: An innate, passive spell possessed by all members of the Devil species. This spell enchants people of other races listening to them to hear them speak in the language they are most familiar with and vice-versa.
Note: Common Grade, can be Dispelled effortlessly.
Note (2): Dispelling this spell will render a devil unable to communicate with members of other races.
- Demonic Spellcasting [Unique]: An innate, passive ability possessed by all members of the Devil species. This enables the conjuration of any conceivable phenomena through the sufficient use of imagination and the requirement of adequate demonic power.
Note: Unique Grade, cannot be Dispelled unless certain conditions are met.
- Power of Destruction [???]: An innate bloodline power originally belonging to those of the Bael Clan. As the conceptual essence of Destruction given form, it is considered by many to be “God’s Eraser.” Anything struck with this power will be erased from existence. There are Eleven Stages of Mastery, and one who has reached the Eleventh Stage will be capable of erasing even [REDACTED] and essentially becoming [REDACTED].
Note: ??? Grade. Can Never Be Dispelled. DO NOT TRY. DO NOT TRY. D O N O T T R Y.
Jamie recoiled his hand from her touch, gasping. A foreboding feeling consumed him from the depths of his soul and left his hand sweaty and shaking. He could not even gain the rest of the information he needed from her, as the strange warning continued to ring in his head over and over and over again.
“Are you alright?”
Turning to Selena, he caught his breath and cleared his throat.
“Yes, I’m… I’m fine. I just need…” Jamie’s right hand extended out, and slowly, he placed it upon Selena’s forehead. “Identify.”
…
[Identification Failed]
[You lack sufficient demonic power to identify this creature.]
…
Selena stared at him with bright, blank, innocent eyes and Jamie stared back, in complete befuddlement.
“Um… is something wrong?”
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