The Mortal God of Olympus Ch.39

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 39- Gods and Devils

AN: Beta'd by Basilisk!

Goddamnit, took too long. Today was looking a bit shaky as well, somehow the Chap was beginning to stretch past 15k words and I just didn't have enough time to edit it all.

Anyway, this is still over 11k words, will add the rest, along with Discord version tomorrow. Hope you enjoy!

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On an island of ice no man nor god ever ventured, Loki of Jötnar stared up across the frozen plains in silence.

Great waves rattled all around him, gurgling and churning beneath the wind's howling might, crashing against the edges of the Island ceaselessly. Yet, in front of the behemothic iceberg he was stood upon, the sea's fury was reduced to a mere tantrum of a child.

It had existed for many millennia, and it could exist for many more. No storm alone would crack through its shell; mortal calamities fell too far beneath the notice of a being that breathed fear in gods.

Beyond the straight plane of ice—glistening like a coating of sugar and diamonds beneath the weak rays of a hidden Sun—the island rose up in the sky to form the peak of a jagged hill; a sharp, perfect ridge, unmarred by any life or tree.

It was there, at the sharpest point of the strait, that he could discern the faded glow of pure power.

'Runic Magic.' Loki mused, eyes piercing through miles of glacial haze to spy upon the finer details of the rune. 'The All-Father's personal work.'

Buried beneath the cover of loose snow—and surrounded by bone fragments of a varied avian species—it twinkled like a small slice of the Sun itself. Should a mortal eye be capable of witnessing its might, even by mistake, it would melt down their brain to a slurry. As the owners of the bones could no doubt attest to. Odin had spared no room for accidents.

Yet, that was far from its intended purpose.

The rune's power shrouded the entire Island beneath its deceptive shade, stretching for many miles from its origin. It was a Master Rune, formed through a complex combination of Greater Runes, and powered by the energy and Authority of Odin himself, who yet remained one of the strongest gods to ever exist.

'This will make things difficult.' Loki smirked. Just the way he liked it.

Besides, it was far from a surprise.

While the Master Rune was the most powerful of the All-Father's work present here, and thus the most eye-catching, it wasn't alone in holding the prisoner in its eternal slumber.

As long as the other Greater Runes existed, no being weaker than a god could willfully step upon this island, and no being, including gods, could leave with their life and hide intact.

Loki glided forward with impunity, undeterred and unconcerned. Floating over the floor of ice, he observed the towering hill and the Greater Runes trafficking its base closely.

There were three layers of Magic Circles—not of Asgardian make—that worked in tandem to ensure the safety of the Master Rune, drawing power from each other in a shared well, and simultaneously working to end any trespasser that entered past the first Circle using the runes embedded within.

He would give credit where it was due; It was a skilled system of security. Not merely because each rune was crafted by a great combination of many others—the ancient language of power used in its most masterful form—but it was the fact that Odin had somehow managed to utilize the kind of Sealing magic he'd only ever witnessed used by one being before.

That one was now dead. Slain, in a battle Loki had missed completely, tied down as he was by the entrails of his sons.

Sneering, Loki drifted ever closer to the frozen, glimmering hills.

While it might be a challenge rendered impossible for even the most learnt mage, he stood many oceans beyond them. It was one of the few good things to ever come out of his hazardous childhood friendship with that one-eyed, bumptious cretin…

Therewithal, it'd be a lie to say he'd done nothing all those millenia rotting in that cave. Through the pain of his seared flesh, he had cast his presence across the world, watching, learning, and eventually, twisting mortal souls to do his bidding…

In that regard, at least, he supposed he could empathize with the Titan Lord. It was the first and last time he would ever admit so.

Soon, he had reached his destination, hovering over the rim of the first Circle; he promptly started upon his task.

His Authority glimmered to the surface, directly contesting the passive one of the All-Fucker, pushing it down, trying to unshackle its control—which proved a challenge unto its own. Though it pained him to admit, Odin was a far superior god amidst the two. The result of a direct battle of Divinities between them would always favor the half-blind fool, even when the god in question was not present.

Yet, this was not a battle. This was a robbery.

A gap, slight crack; that was all he needed, and a brief flash of power jostled past the protection of the Greater Rune, striking at only one particular target before vanishing away. A stone; the width of a handspan, and etched with a straight line conjoined with a slanted 'V'—Thurisaz—and another, depicting a lone, horizontal '' Kenaz…the two were the most prominent, while many numerous Lesser ones lay carved at the edges.

It was a good rune; well crafted and assembled. For the briefest brush of time, it almost seemed to resist his whip of flame…and then the stone crumbled away into blackened powder, and the blue glow surrounding it escaped into the nothingness.

The first Lesser Rune of the first Circle, was now undone—its rune-slate destroyed.

Heaving a breath, Loki peered up at the hills still many miles away. It would take a precious few hours to work his way past all of them, but that was little price to pay for freeing his child. Something he should've done a long time ago.

This alone may not absolve all his mistakes, but it was a start.

Loki got to work. He forged his power in ways he'd never cared for before his imprisonment, unearthing the hidden runestones layer by layer and blasting them to fragments. It took some special care not to arouse the interest of Master Rune—for that meant alerting its maker—but nothing that wasn't within his capabilities.

As he made his slow crawl through the icy plains, however, something new entered his senses. A beat, of a rhythmic tempo, growing louder with every rune destroyed. He knew the beat. Knew it as the back of his hand. His gaze darted to the hunched hills, silently tracing its outline against the gray sky, growing reminiscent.

How long had the time stretched, he dared to wonder, since he last laid witness to the enormity of his child. How long since he'd last heard of that familiar beat of heart…

How much of his life withered away inside that accursed cave, eons of naught but the company of his own screams, and the sobs of a wife whose tears had long dried out.

…And, of course, the garish glint of poison dripping from the maw of the fanged creature he'd so delighted in tearing apart, scale by scale, the moment he'd found release.

'Too long.' Loki mused. Far too long, even for a god.

The mortal world had shifted shades. Even this far past North, he could see how the hand of time had changed things. It was a change that cannot be assessed through a mere projection. The very Earth had transformed since the last time he laid foot in this abandoned circle of the World.

Now, he was a god out of his time. The bones gathered around the upper hills were evidence enough. Once, the sheer disrespect would've had Thor himself casting down from the sky, wrath in his eyes to see the insects infesting his fated opponent…now, this part of the world was as abandoned by the gods as Alaska itself.

Despite it all, he was here. On the precipice of Ragnarok. Bound in the shackles of Infinity, yes, but sane and hale nonetheless.

And he had little intention to change that; not until his purpose was fulfilled.

The first Circle broke.

Finally.

Besides, he had a plan for Infinity as well. All in due time.

Loki moved forward. Soon as he crossed the perimeter of the Circle, however, a storm of ice suddenly manifested around him, raging and clawing at his skin. Hails of white flaked his skin and curdled by his shoulder; icy tendrils biting into his eyelids and freezing the hair stiff and solid.

Yet, Loki never stopped moving. The closer he grew to the silent Hills, the stronger the power behind its fury.

There was nothing natural about this storm. The power behind its every howl rang of Odin's arrogance…if the first Circle was a warning to keep away, the second wished nothing but to tear the intruder apart and render them unliving. Soon, his blood seeped from his eyes—red as a mortal's, though colder than any—and his clothes sweated crimson, the sharp wind lacerating it through the very seams.

Had there been a lesser god in place, they would've already been shredded apart.

Yet, Loki refused to blink or flinch, and his gaze never strayed from the frozen hills. He couldn't use his magic; all it would do was be siphoned away to further power the Master Rune. An insidious trap, one he'd recognized the moment he'd glided into the second Circle. His only salvation lay in throwing his Authority as a God of Fire against the Storm and resisting its currents for as long as he could.

For he had entered past the point of no return. The All-Father's power would either see him destroyed, or alert its owner of his presence. He must keep moving.

By the time he reached the base of the third Circle, there were no clothes on his body. Instead, he wore a new batch of wounds as his shawl, though the blood was now hidden beneath the cover of ice that seeped its cold within his veins and did its utmost to bring him to his knees.

But Loki had eyes only for one thing.

White and glistening, the many headed peak lay, like a pearled jewel basking beneath a lack of sun, encompassing a part of the world so thoroughly it refused to fit within his vision. How many storms had raged against its shores, he wondered. How often it centered the birth of cyclones that could wipe out mortal cities whole…yet, it had stood here, an unmoving prisoner; not even granted the escape of death. Fate had deemed it wouldn't meet its end until it tasted blows from a certain hammer.

But, the prison…it was cruelty given form.

'Another one of Mimir's ideas, no doubt.' Sneering in hatred and disgust, Loki looked away.

Around him, sharp slabs of lesser glaciers stretched out of the ocean's face, surrounding the lonely island like younger siblings. Yet he knew they were all a part of one whole, buried within the vastness of the frozen ice.

Now it was time to wake.

The storm still raged around him, but in his short flight over he had made it a part of his plan. The moment he drew close enough to enter the final circle of the Rune's power, he acted. His divinity flooded his veins, his Authority slamming upon the glacial surface. He withered the fury of the All-father and the Master Rune for the tiniest part of a second before his body shifted. His vision grew numerous and divided and the entire world became narrow; four wings unfurled from his back, while his five eyes saw the world in all directions.

With a quick flapping of his new wings, Loki, now a mere fly, rode the Storm of Odin.

There was a simple trick to it, something he had recognized from the start. The Rune's power was, in some ways, sentient. It assessed the threat and acted accordingly. It was a bold strategy that made sure to prevent exhausting its power against common cretins undeserving of its true fury. But it created weaknesses…the bones of the creatures surrounding its peak attested to it.

A fly could never register as a threat in its limited senses.

By the time it realized something was wrong, Loki had already entered its protective layer, bypassing its greatest threat and landing directly upon the high strait. Of course, the moment he retook his human form, Odin's magic was alerted to his presence, yet it shouldn't matter.

He had timed it well with Fenrir's escape. Asgard should be at its most vulnerable in many millennia right now.

With a concentrated fist of power, Loki struck the Master Rune, his fist cracking down with the strength of an Elder God, rupturing the entire peak apart. The rune was instantly splintered in half—weak as it without its Circles—yet, whilst great cracks spread through its side, the Hill ultimately held, and no amount of punching would change that—not with the greater vestiges of Sealing magic hanging overhead. It demanded something in return, something to quench its thirst…

Ever the All-Father.

The fool had too high an opinion of sacrifices.

But Loki had come prepared. This was not the first time he had studied this Island.

He removed a small device created by his hidden Devil ally—the strongest of his race, barring the two anomalies. Cocking his head, he pressed a button and watched it turn into an anchor—hanging in midair—that split open the next moment, throwing out a group of four mortal figures.

The biting cold of the island froze them stiff as stone a moment later.

Sighing, Loki waved his arm, and the frozen layer shattered, freeing the mortals within. A barrier of golden flames materialized around the foursome, flickering like a firefly amid the assault of hail and storm.

"Lord Loki!" The leader of the mortals shivered, doing his best not to stare at his bloodied, naked figure. "Is it time? Where is he?"

"Why, you stand just above him, Alex."

They gaped as one and peered at their feet.

"Time is of essence, so let me begin by thanking you." Loki announced; even half-dead, his voice was soft and clear. "Firstly, for rescuing me. Secondly, for this last service rendered freely. Now, let me end with an apology. I had hoped it would not come to this."

Their confusion quickly turned into betrayed terror as he held out his hand and the shield vanished, leaving them beset with a Storm. It was quick, far too quick, for someone of their power; they tried bringing forth their might to bear, but his Authority as the God of Magic was near absolute and being a magician was the worst thing to happen in their position.

Soon, their largely mortal bodies were grinded apart, and their rapidly cooling blood seeped within the icy cracks.

Loki grimaced, a tad regretful, as the mortal—albeit powerful—blood gathered together to hover in a distinguished pattern.

Of all in the Khaos Brigade, humans had caught the shortest shaft of the ship. Truly the fools, their only master dead; they didn't even know what they were supporting.

Kronos would prove no fairer to the mortals than a human does to an ant.

Yet here they were—tricked, yes, but voluntarily—having given their lives to wake his child. The Serpent who would poison the mortal Seas with its breath and drown their Lands in disasters.

But pity was all he could spare them, for there was no denying the satisfaction as the binding finally drank its fill of blood.

The Seals disappeared with no more demur.

There was nothing but a sheet of ice holding his child now. A sheet of ice and millennia long sleep.

"Jörmungandr." He whispered. "Arise, child. It is time."

The beat of heart drew faster.

Whistling a soft tune that cut through the din of the white world, Loki raised his hands wide.

"Vakna þú, Jǫrmungandr, mikill ormr!"

The entire Island rumbled beneath him.

"Brest þú baugið, er verǫld bindr,"

The millennia of glacial layers began crumbling apart, splinters wide enough to swallow a dragon whole erupting through the plains.

"Fara skal lopt ok lagar dýpi"

A groan so great, it blasted the Ocean miles back, creating a massive chasm immediately around them—the deepest trough mankind might ever witness.

"Ragnarǫk kemr, skuggar ok eldr!"

An echoing hiss of glee, and suddenly the shattered hill beneath him erupted outwards, leaving Loki upon thin-air, floating amid the falling debris of ice and snow, each the size of mortal buildings.

"Þungt er it gamla, brjót þat allt,"

The whole of the Island was but a slice of one gigantic head, all the miles he had traversed simply making for the snout of his child. The great glacial icebergs surrounding the 'Island' acted as mere tips of his many scales, and now Loki landed upon one; right in front of the still closed eyes.

"Vakna þú nú, endalok er fall!"

The World Serpent, Jörmungandr, opened his eyes; yellow and slitted, they glared down at him.

Loki smiled in greeting.

"Hello, Child."

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If someone were to prod at me to describe my life in a single word, I wouldn't be remiss in going with 'eventful'. Short, yes—awfully so, for a pseudo-immortal—but a colorful one, nonetheless. It had led me through some unlikeliest of events, meeting the unlikeliest of people, in the unlikeliest of places…yet, never at any instance of the said life had I imagined that one day, I would be following a Devil I'd once hated down into his basement for magic lessons.

I had to confirm if the Beelzebub Lord wasn't simply making a dungeon pun—unlikely though it sounded—just to be certain. He was, in fact, not.

Thus it was, the evening of my second day in Hell found me beside the basement-dwelling Super Devil, climbing down a set of hidden stairs to the lowest level of his residence. Throughout those thirty-seven seconds of awkwardly silent descent, my mind was busy conjuring a substantial amount of juicy 'Devil's catacomb' quips, none of which I ended up cracking.

Tough crowds appeared to be my weakness today, and I had a feeling my companion was a harder nut to crack than most.

Whatever misgivings and bouts of hilarity I might've managed to conjure, however, disappeared away the moment I stepped past the threshold of the basement door.

A silence, deep and absolute, rang in the depths of my soul. It was so jarring a sensation, I found my brain freezing for the briefest of milliseconds.

The next moment, all of my senses flared out with the might of an avalanche, my Domain descending upon this strange space, even encompassing Beelzebub within—who simply stood with his hands crossed behind his back, tilted face observing me curiously—scanning and assessing, making sense of the situation, before I realized…

Ever since my ascension into the true realm of godhood—when I first unlocked my trio of Domains—a quiet murmuring had sprung up in the deepest part of my thoughts; the part that bridged the gap between mind and soul. Faint whispers, nigh indiscernible, of a nature I had not quite suspected back then, slowly growing stronger in my soul as my Authority strengthened and stretched wider, and those who recognised that Authority grew abundant.

Eventually, it had formed a common voice, united in its belief. A belief in me and my strength. A belief in my existence itself, acknowledging that I was as real as they were.

The voice was the merger of all who sent their prayers towards the new God of Olympus. All who opened their hearts to me, acknowledging my presence as nothing but a fact. The whispers of my faithful, of my believers, even of my haters, presented to me through my ever-expanding domain…

That voice was gone now. Not dulled, nor distant, simply vanished; stolen away from beneath my Authority, never granting me even the slightest chance to resist.

But not simply that; alongside it was gone the millions of desires usually present beneath the shelter of my Domain.

I felt blinded in a way I'd never felt before; the Devilish Hells might've taken my natural Authority over Wind, but Ajuka's magical basement had robbed me of my more baser mean; my Domain abilities. Or, specifically, the targets under my Domain's ability, for my ability to read the Satan's desires had not been hampered a single bit—though while it remained mostly suppressed, I was reassured the Devil held no intent of causing harm.

What my senses picked up from beyond the now-closed doors at my back was…nothingness. A true, absolute void, devoid of any life capable of experiencing even a shred of desire.

As the Beelzebub Lord turned around and began heading deeper inside his mystery basement, my mind worked through the silent implications. "We're not on Earth at all, are we?"

The Devil stopped, glancing over his shoulder, half-turned. "I am surprised you arrived at that conclusion so quickly. Even Sirzechs hadn't managed to uncover the exact dilemma. Though I suppose it is to be expected; the Domains of gods make them far more in-tune with the world than most."

'So it's because we're too far away.' I concluded, a single realization quickly unraveling the greater mystery. 'Either my Domain is not strong enough to connect with my subjects beyond the planet's reach, or their faith is too lacking to find me here.'

While I felt a tad leery in this new setting—I'd literally left the confines of Earth, essentially turning all my means of escape invalid; can't escape as lightning if there was no path to follow—I had to admit my curiosity far surpassed my paranoia.

It was a working of demonic magic I had yet to touch upon. The show they'd put on in the past two days came nowhere near separating a space beyond the constraints of the world.

'This…this is what I need to learn.'

Following after the Devil, I allowed my eyes to dart all around us, scanning every inch of the dimly lit corridor. "So what is it exactly? An enclosed space?"

The corridor turned out to be a spacious tunnel that blanketed us within, with a barrel-vaulted ceiling curving atop us. The walls smelled of old stone and earthly petrichor, none of which my senses found quite right; they drew stark similarities with the Devilish Moon, lacking something fundamental.

An intangible Authority that made stone, stone.

Pale yellow sconces hung from the walls every few steps, providing a modicum of admittedly unneeded illumination as it led us deeper inside, while the Tunnel turned out to be unnecessarily long, curving on either directions like a slithering serpent; my eyes could not see its end, only the next bend of wall.

"Indeed." Ajuka replied eventually, inclining his head. "It shuts us away from any earthly influence."

"You created it?"

The Devil tilted his head. "Not in the sense that you mean. I created the bauble that encloses it within. Did I form the space itself? No. There is plenty enough to borrow from elsewhere." He resumed his walk. "Come. Our time here is greater than it would be outside, yet still limited."

Snorting, I walked alongside the Satan. "Gotta be honest, I hadn't expected my first 'out of this World' experience to end up like this. A little warning would've been nice." Had I been prone to panicking, this would've been a truly harrowing experience.

"I shall store that in mind." Yet, the Satan simply glanced me, looking intrigued. "But I must ask…what had you expected?

"Well, less walls and more stars, for one." I waved around us offhandedly. "And exploring space just barely scrapped up the bottom of my bucket list—not that I intend to kick it anytime soon. And I mean bottom as in, after I've completed all my tasks on Earth and outgrew the level of gods."

"A weighty ambition." The Satan hummed. "I apologize for ruining your fantasy."

"As you should," I nodded sagely, turning my chin up. "My fantasies are often well crafted, so you best believe it would've come true sooner or later."

Soon, we finally reached the end of the Tunnel, where the last bend opened up to clear light.

"This is the Chamber I first crafted after stabilizing this space." Ajuka explained, as we stepped past the open threshold. "It acts as my portable workshop where I experiment upon subjects I deem not as important."

The Chamber was…massive, even by my standards. More suitable for giants and cyclops than humans. Its ceiling stretched high enough to draw similarities to the Divine Hall in Olympus, capping shut like a dome once it crossed about fifty feet mark.

"Before we begin, I must warn you…my experience as a teacher is limited and wholly unsuccessful." The Beelzebub Lord turned to me for a brief second. "Where things might be obvious to me, they are far less so to the others, yet this seems to constantly escape my attention. I ask that you take the initiative to clarify any doubts you may form."

"Got it." I gave a good ol' thumbs up, and with one godly ear focusing upon his words, let my attention wander along the corners of his private space.

"Very well then, let us begin. I shall start with the very basics." A few seconds of silence and then, "Magic," His voice began anew, humdrum as ever. "Is a working of the laws that govern our reality."

While the Chamber may be suitably grand, the decor left much to be desired. Plain as the Devil walking in front of me, and lacking even the smallest hint of care. Bare stone walls, drab gray floor, and perhaps the only note of interest; a small, dark green desk to the side with a wide assortment of equipment.

"It is a set of instructions, one could say." Ajuka continued on, slowly trailing towards the head of the room. "A command, born from the coding of this world, to enact one's will and reshape a minuscule part of the whole."

I focused back on Beelzebub, mulling over his words. "That sounds nothing like anything I've ever attempted." Well…unless the Devil was talking about Authority, which did sort of sound like that. But I refused to believe a bunch of mortals were capable of imitating Authority with simple coding…or in any way at all, for that matter.

"Magic," Ajuka stated plainly, "Of the kind that does not depend on race or blood, divine or devil, but the talent of the practitioner…that is something most gods or devils never perform. You are not an exception."

"Sure." I shrugged, brushing it away. "But that doesn't explain how it works exactly. What, do they write a bunch of coded messages on a paper with super secret magical language and yell at the world to change?"

"That would present us with an interesting sight but no. The basis of mortal magic requires the practitioners to learn equations. To understand the mathematical calculations of how the world moves, of how it reacts to different stimulants, and what laws govern specific elements within," His finger cut down in a haze of hot air, and suddenly a line of fire materialized in its trailed path. "It is a clever use of the laws that already binds our world. It requires will, and a great deal of talent, but nothing more."

"But how exactly does that work?" I pressed, unsatisfied. "I have wells of power within me. Even though I have the skill needed to manipulate them into something more complex, I'm ultimately dipping my fingers into those wells everytime I use my abilities. What exactly would they draw from?"

"From the world itself, of course. Those not possessing innate magical storages hardly need to forsake this power. It is no different from a fan generating wind. They use the equations to connect to the wider world, and generate the magical power needed to change certain elements. To demonstrate, Demonic Power would be the equivalent of tutting with your tongue, while mortal magic—" The Devil Lord stepped to a side, and with a closed fist, struck the wall behind. It made a small hollow thud, so typical of any empty object, though somewhat similar to a tut a human might make. "—would be knowing the exact physical nature of your fist and wall, and the precise sound the two would make upon contact; knowing from the beginning that this is the result you wish for, and controlling all the elements involved."

That…made some sense.

"So like a discount version of Mist," I mused aloud. "But instead of simply manipulating the energy to cast magic, you need to manually calculate every aspect of the reaction you wish to induce carefully, and then guide the Mist-equivalent along those paths, and just…cross your fingers and pray dearly your Mathematic skills were up-to-date?"

"No self-respecting mage would begin casting without already having considerable practice in calculations…but I see your point. And yes."

"Still," I snorted, shaking my head. "You make it all sound awfully mundane. Like it is a lesson anyone could learn. Advanced science that only bumpkins believe to be magic." I lifted a finger and let a spark of electricity dance along the tip of my nail. "But I don't see most humans charging their phones with the tips of their fingers."

"The coding isn't available to all." Ajuka acquiesced. "It never will be. And even for those who are able to use it, they will never be capable of replicating your feats. You must understand, it is the most basic kind of magic in existence, with no shortcuts or special properties of its own to make it stand out. Every Pantheon has its own brand of magic that is more easily learned, and demonstrates far greater power. As such, yes, I do believe magic shares more with mortal science than it does with our power; Divine or Demonic."

I furrowed my brows. "And you wish me to learn that?" It was an interesting phenomenon, I supposed, but not something I would waste my time upon normally. My natural Divine Authority made it completely inane, for the time being.

"I wish you to do nothing." The Satan stated, heading back towards the other end of the chamber. "It is simply a way for me to state the differences between mortal magic and what we are about to discuss, and clear your theoretical knowledge. If you wish to pursue it further than knowing these basic theories, you are free to. While it isn't strictly necessary for your purposes, it would be wrong to say there are no benefits involved."

"But that is not our lesson today. Come."

We walked past the arched entrance beyond the Chamber. It struck me as odd that I hadn't sensed anything past that point through all this time; even the entrance's presence only registered to me when Ajuka himself began walking in its direction.

I did not get much time to ponder, for the moment we passed the Arch, I was struck by the stark difference between the two chambers instantly. For one, this one was far less plain, and far more…grand. Two overhung pillars protruded through the ceiling, carrying bright blue lanterns that hung in mid-air, spreading a soft cerulean luminescence throughout the entire open hall. Around them roamed stray pieces of metal, swirling in a small vortex of Demonic magic like guards. Here, my senses returned in full, though no matter how I observed them, beyond the initial bout of Demonic energy, I could sense nothing more.

With my eyes still fixed upon the unturned pillars, I followed after the Devil silently.

"Demonic Power, as I just demonstrated, bypasses the need for any mortal coding altogether. Which is why almost every Devil knows some amount of spells, even though I would hesitate to call anyone a mage."

"Hmm…I do believe I've met the kind you might call 'mages'. You wouldn't happen to know anything about 'Nilrem', would you?"

Ajuka waved it off. "Those are simple children, pretending to be someone they could never hope to match. No matter which famous mage's name they try to anadrome and use for themself."

My lips curled up slightly. "Do I detect a hint of contempt in the ever-infallible Satan?"

"You do, and I'm not nearly as infallible as you believe me to be." Beelzebub turned to face me slowly. "There are issues that vexes me…and I believe your hand in a number of them could help solve a lot of problems for our race as a whole—I shall bring them to your attention in due time, if you are willing. For now, let us focus on our purpose today. Prepare yourself."

Before he'd even finished speaking, I already had the Holy power coursing through my veins—ready to act—having already sensed his desire for battle.

To his credit, the Devil did not flinch. "Only Demonic power, if you will."

"Ah." My expression soured. "You want to…test me again?"

Bully-me, more like. I had no delusions to where I stood as far as Demonic Power went. It was easily my most underutilized powerset.

Ajuka inclined his head. "A light spar, if you will. Normally this would not be a very effective way to understand one's grasp on their power. But I believe your only interest in Demonic magic lies in increasing your battle prowess?"

"Well…" I hesitated. "Not entirely. While it'd be appreciated, I'm quite interested in learning something of the more…obscure nature. That Arena you built for instance. And this space around us… still, doen't hurt to know where exactly I stand against you."

Demonic power replaced the Holy.

"I shall take your preferences in consideration, but for now…"

Suddenly the entire room spun, the floating devices swallowed whole into the nearest walls. The carpets beneath us changed their nature, a distinctly glowing Circle of magic forming over it, whilst powerful barriers materialized closely against the walls.

"At your leisure."

I smirked.

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She knelt upon the soft grass, breathing in the scent of her hunt. It had passed through recently, she was sure of it. As all prey were wont to do, there was a trail left behind in its escape. A trail of desperation, reeking of fear and rushing blood.

It wasn't the season yet, but her fingers trailing through the lifeless grass picked up the spoor of a monster all the same.

She breathed in slowly, her senses responding to her divinity—triggered by a fresh hunt—flaring outwards as they sought its path, its nature, its very soul…there was no hiding from her.

'A Manticore.' Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, opened her eyes, a pair of silver-gray burning with surety. 'An adult, and by the whiff of its blood, ancient.'

It was a surprise, to be certain. Manticores rarely ventured this far west, inside her own domain no less. To find one as old as this…it reeked of something foul.

Yet, it was a beast in the end. Better suited as a sport for her hunters. There was no threat to her here; not in many, many miles around.

"My lady." Her lieutenant stepped closer, breaking away from the rest of the hunters awaiting her guidance.

"A Manticore." She informed absently. "A decent challenge for one of them, do you believe?"

Zoë pursed her lips, shooting a quick glance back. "Mayhap not for this present company, My Lady." Her dark hair, usually held by her silver circlet with great grace, thrashed wildly against the unnatural power of the wind.

A strange sense of unease brewed within her.

"Yet, they must learn, Zoë." Shaking the feeling away, Artemis dusted her hands and stood up. "I sense perilous times ahead. Too soon for them to partake in—not if they wish to survive."

Some of them were simply too young; less than half a century even. Learning to be an immortal, to make peace with their new lives; to hunt and to kill, to mingle with wolves and raptors, and shun the company of the very humanity that had birthed them…it was no easy task. Not with such time constraints hanging overhead.

"Perchance if I and Phoebe wert to follow them?"

Frowning, Artemis cast her gaze upon the nine young ones spread far back throughout the clearing. A few had taken to the hunting wolves quickly, but there was yet a sliver of hesitation in the hearts of many. Some still held onto their mortal beliefs and discriminations, not realizing the color of their skin or the accent of their words would be turned worthless in front of the unending river of time.

Despite their inexperience, however, their eyes brimmed bright with bravery and a will to survive; to be accepted as one of hers, and thrive in their new lives.

"Very well." She decided. "But watch only, do not guide."

"Aye, my Lady."

The two rejoined the rest of the Hunters, whose attention swiveled to her at once.

"We move." Her words excited the young crowd; for some, this would be their first hunt without the older Hunters to keep ward. Eyes flitting through all the flushed faces, Artemis singled out the youngest in the group. "Celeste, take charge. This shall be your first trial. Track the monster and lead us to its den."

The girl, sixteen since the last seven winters, silently moved forward. Yet, it was clear by the stiffness in her legs, and the tightness of her palm against her bow…the girl was nervous.

Just as quietly, Phoebe and Zoe moved to flank her, exchanging a nod. The new Hunter did not know this, but they would not let her fall.

Failure in her task, however, was an entirely separate matter.

As her Hunters began moving, Artemis lingered behind, taking another quiet look at the indents of the creature's claws.

For reasons unknown, something about it reeked of wrongness.

Likely it was the first true uncertainty in centuries that made her restless, as the Pantheon moved to war. Things were falling into place far too quickly. Kronos' steering, Ares' fall, a new God of War in their court—who held no such Domain, though what he did possess he cared not to reveal—and now a war itself. A true Divine War, unlike the play they had made out of Troy.

It felt strange to see things devolve into utter chaos so quickly after passing centuries away in silence.

Grimacing, the goddess of Hunt shouldered her bow. With one last look around the empty woods, she followed after her hunters, though her mind would not wander from its current interest.

Somehow, all of it could be traced back to one common link. The new pride of her Father, a godling not even past the mortal age of maturity…

And by all accounts, enjoying the same vices as Lord Father. Yet, the King of Gods he was not, and should his lustful eyes wander to her Hunters, he might find himself short of someone he loved dearly…

Artemis pursed her lips, biting wind whipping past her eyes as she tore through mounds of foliage, struggling to dismiss the irrational anger. This was beneath her. Those words belonged in Hera's mouth, not hers.

For a few seconds, she let herself focus on the world around her as the woods grew deeper and light came scarcer. The early herald of Fall in the air, as the Wild scrambled in panic to begin its preparations; the hoarders gathering food for leaner times, the flocks of birds chirping together, beginning their long journey South, the leaves leaving their deep summer green to be ignited in flames of golden amber…it felt as if the forest was scurrying with an urgency that felt misplaced for the season.

Quick and light, her feet traversed through the trees on her lonesome, leaving no signs of debossing behind. Her path had diverged from her Hunters now; Celeste had lost the trail.

Ultimately, Artemis reasoned, the boy had rendered them a great service. She could acknowledge that. Long had she believed Ares to be the most worthless amongst them, but to see him receive his just comeuppance through his vilest sin coming to light—the very betrayal of their Pantheon—should've brought her endless satisfaction.

Yet, it had come through his tainted hands.

Artemis recognized her anger as irrational. Yet, it felt no less earned.

Once, she had held the boy in higher regards than most. Indeed, watching him grow in strength, whilst wandering the depths of wilderness and using his power for the betterment of the weak…it had reminded her painfully of Hippolytus.

So much so that she had deemed him worthy of joining her Hunt, having beseeched Lord Father; only the third male in History. Even had he ultimately rejected taking her Oath, the time spent guiding the youngest member of her family would've been well worth it. It may even have helped her hunters realize not all males were evil incarnate.

And then to be proven so utterly wrong, to see his ungraceful fall into the sins of men so quickly and so thoroughly…it had enraged Artemis. She had marched straight within the Halls of Aphrodite to demand an explanation, before being informed of a simple truth.

Mikael truly was the son of Zeus.

And Artemis' patience with rapist gods had run thin many centuries back to even humor such a figure in the midst of her Hunters. While he hadn't yet committed that mistake, his path looked set upon its course; to join the infamy of her Father and Uncle. He certainly seemed to possess the strength for it.

Grimacing, Artemis shook the entire subject away, slowing her pace. This was not the time to lament of wasted potential. She was no prophet to go making deductions over the future. Besides, Aunt Hestia liked him; that had to count for something.

Her attention was drawn to the woods around her instead, the earlier sense of unease now blooming into true alarm. Throughout the length of her sprint, the forest around her had simply grown stranger still. The earth itself seemed to be rushing, caught in a rhythm far ahead of its time.

Perhaps it was time to nag her brother into another one of his auguries.

She could only hope that this time, it would result in something more useful than another horrendous Haiku attempt.

----------------------------

As might be expected, I got my perfect, divine tuchus handed to me.

Thankfully, Beelzebub's parents had raised a good, Christian boy; the Devil was far from a sadist, and made sure our spar was more about me showcasing my abilities than him giving me a beatdown.

Yet, even holding back as he was, I almost hadn't reacted when a bolt of crackling lightning came racing towards me—having to forcibly suppress my natural reaction, and mentally toggling off all the instincts and skills that did not follow the spirit of the spar. At the last second my Aegis cocooned me within its protective cover, before I dumbly realized I could've simply let it hit me.

At most, it would've scratched the itching on my back.

After that, I quickly got back into the game. Of all the Demonic skills in my arsenal, defensive magic reigned supreme. So the next few rounds of attacks—ranging from blasts of pure white flames to microscopic thin needles of ice—were either blocked or smacked away by my two skills, the maxed out Defensive Magic: Barrier, and it's currently weaker but more Versatile companion, Defensive Magic: Aegis.

"Demonic energy." The Satan spoke up suddenly, mid-attack. "Tell me your thoughts."

With bright rays of light flashing like blades, slicing through the room like beams of laser, I danced amid the still air.

"Kinda busy over here, mate!" I yelled back, twisting in an imperfect half to let a blade of white whip pass above me uselessly. "Can't your psychoanalysis wait for a few seconds?"

"There is no correct answer," Beelzebub coaxed. "I simply ask for your judgment."

Suddenly, the blades stopped haphazardly whirling about the room, before disappearing into motes of light. I'd thought the Devil was giving me time to think up an answer, but half a dozen Magic Circles materialized in an arc around him, before all extending to surround me like a crown of thorns…

"My judgment, huh?" I smirked, and stood still. "Its damn convenient, that's for sure."

'Aegis.'

Hailstorm from all six Circles assaulted my Sphere, forcing it into a permanent state of bright orange flickering that continued for thirty whole seconds, before the rain finally began to die down.

Ahead, Ajuka hummed. "That it is." If the Devil was disappointed by my blithe answer, he did not care to mention.

Then he upped his intensity and I got his silent response anyway.

Spears of dark ice began forming over his shoulders like an ever-present entourage, his Magical Circles—not unlike my Holy Spear arrays—now numbering twelve, spread through the air individually in rows of two. While one row formed the dark ice spears, the other instantly shot out honing fireballs the size of baby cows and potential to destabilize the entirety of United States should it fall upon its soil.

"Hey, you're multicasting!" I howled at the unfairness, scrambling around like a headless chicken, running, floating, even forming objects rapidly to blast a couple of fireballs far away. Yet, more kept coming. "You cheating, lying, scumbagging little bit—"

The gathered spears fell upon me like an avalanche, dozens of flickering icicles, every single one powerful enough to erase the entirety of Manhattan, and a few of its sibling cities besides…

There was nothing I could do but huddle beneath the translucent cover of Aegis once again, pouring my entire focus upon maintaining the skill. Unfortunately, at early levels, most skills were often incredibly rigid and limited in their ability to adapt under pressure; there was only so much Demonic power I could shove into it before my protective Sphere began flickering from two opposite pressures.

It cracked.

A moment before I could join the porcupine family, I transformed into lightning and dove into the stone. The Magic Circle did not seem to care, and I found myself a few feet to my left safely.

Ahead, Ajuka had stopped casting, studying me silently.

I took the chance to launch my first retaliatory Skill, using Hypnosis on the Devil—also, experimentally trying to enhance its mental effect under my Domain that targeted Desires—while simultaneously channeling the Demonic Lightning manipulation.

I would've loved to throw a Celestial Lightning Bolt on the Satan's face, just to see how he would deal with the mother of all Nuclear bomb like that, but it would take a downright suicidal amount of time to form it using Demonic power.

Instead, I settled for its simpler version. A lightning bolt, short and compact and easily capable of erasing Asmodeus into nothingness, hurtled across the room in a blink.

The next instance, I realized what those fools from Hero Faction and Nilrem must've felt facing me, when the Satan shrugged off my Hypnosis with merely a stumble, whilst extending a hand forward. My fearsome Lightning gently rolled over into his palm before transforming into a white flag.

"Peace." Ajuka waved the flag. Ironic, considering the results. The Devil hadn't even moved. "I believe I've seen enough."

Sighing, I dispersed the new Bolt forming in my hands. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Firstly, your mastery over Defensive Magic is excellent." Ajuka said. "I do not believe I've ever seen a Devil casting it so perfectly and with such consistency. Your choice of Barrier may be basic, but your skill with it matches or perhaps even surpasses mine."

"Thank you." I inclined my head, gracious in victory.

"...Of course, you needing to physically dodge takes away from your score. Three-One to me, I should say."

I opened my mouth halfway to retort before slamming it close. The point was to use Demonic power. Something that turning into lightning did not quite showcase.

"Fair." I shrugged.

"Secondly…what mental spell was that?"

I blinked. "Hypnosis. Why?"

Ajuka nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "I believed so as well, but the power behind it took me by surprise. Nonetheless, I have made my judgment."

With a dramatic wave of his hand, the room transformed back into its original state, the Magic Circles disappearing away.

"Your skill at manipulating Demonic power is astonishing," He began, "and the use of your spells incredible in its precision. To do so despite a severe lack of knowledge and no formal education is…well, either you are the most talented Devil our species has ever produced, or you possess a special bloodline that I cannot yet identify." The Satan folded his hands. "I mean this as no disrespect, but I do not believe it to be the former. While you are often quick-witted and possessing of a highly sharp intellect, I would hesitate to term you a genius."

I rolled my eyes. "I would too, but what does it all mean? You've gone all serious about this. Don't tell me your Faction's going to nail me to a table and run some twisted experiments? Have to inform you beforehand, I have a zero-tolerance policy in place."

"Oh, but there are other ways of extracting Bloodlines." The Satan raised a brow. "I doubt you need me to give you the 'Talk'?"

I muttered unkind things about the Devil underneath my breath. "But is that it? Some noble Devil family might throw their daughters at me?"

I honestly wasn't too concerned. The idea of my children inheriting a system of their own through me was…borderline moronic. That would be like playing life on easy mode. I could literally form an army of Gods in a couple of decades if that were the case, and conquer the world on some random Friday. Whatever my system might be, easy it was not…at least, not until my advancement to Godhood. Though from my recent draught in levels and the coming war, that might simply have been a ploy to instill a false sense of security.

It seemed just the thing my old System would do.

As for the girls...well, I welcomed them with open arms and unzipped pants.

"Among other things, yes." Ajuka replied. "Do not worry, I shall keep it a secret for as long as I can, though I cannot hide it from Sirzechs. Now, let us move onto the next part…"

----------------------------

Zekram Bael rested upon a cushioned couch, head on a pillow and legs in the air. It was the first bit of luxury he had allowed himself in a very, very long time. But an occasional indulgence here and there was surely fine? What harm could it truly do? Even the hardest working Devils spoiled themselves every now and then. Surely…surely it was nothing.

The occasion called for it, at least, if only so he may find some comfort in the familiar feel of laziness and let the mountain load of worry in his heart disappear.

For just a second.

Everything would turn back to normal tomorrow. Today, he would let himself be comforted, for he was in a desperate need of it right now.

It still eluded his senses how easily a single day could change his circumstances so drastically. He had built his small empire one stone at a stone; scheming, plotting, maneuvering pieces across the board that promised crueler and crueler endings everyday. Yet, he'd let none of it hold him back.

But for all his power and achievement, all the opponents he had defeated, the enemies he'd vanished from existence, with none the wiser…a God ranged too far high and away. Even a Minor God could be a huge headache at the best of times, let alone a True God. And a devil-certified Olympian at that!

One of the very few existences with true immortality. Not just defeating age, but death itself.

And he just happened to be Gabriel's son. Her son. An honest to Lucifer True God, the son of the enemy he was planning to imprison…

"How did I miss this!?" He roared, a swipe of his hand shattering the thick walls of Bael Castle.

Beside him stood the cowering members of his son's peerage.

"Father, perhaps there is a misunderstanding—" His son quelled beneath his glare.

"What is there to mis-understand?" He was up on his feet in an instant, true fury defeating the grasp of laziness. "You think something as important as gathering of Three Factions would be delayed for anything less than a God? Fool!" He slapped his son.

The boy stumbled back, ears burning deep crimson along above his cheek, a trail of blood slithering down to his slanted eyelid…

For the first time, a spark of anger reached his dull eyes.

Snorting, Zekram turned away. "Go. Gather everything you can on this new Olympian. He has slain one of ours; a useless piece, but mine nonetheless. Use it as an excuse to dig deeper than proprietary suggests we should. I must know if he is simply a paper-tiger or someone possessing of true divine strength." He whirled around, glaring at each of the fools to lodge his words deep in their hearts. "And pray, pray to Lucifer, pray to the true Four, pray to God himself, that his inexperience makes him less of a threat than I believe him to be. Because if not…" He let the threat linger, before turning away from the subdued faces. "Either way, our plans have changed."

With one last sigh, Zekram Bael shoved himself back on the cushioned couch, sprawling face-down in the luxurious goodness.

For all his confidence…only time would tell what tomorrow brings.

----------------------------

The godless slice of Moon had worked its way back into the ether by the time I left Ajuka's spatial catacomb and the subsequent healing spree. The lesson had proceeded for another hour or so, before the Satan asked for time to prepare something more focused for the next session.

Still, learning to use Demonic magic from the Beelzebub was...interesting, to say the least.

The Devil had promised me a performance capable of erasing any doubts from my mind, and he had delivered.

By the end of the session, my Aegis had leveled up twice.

[Skill Leveled Up: Defensive Magic (Aegis)] Lvl 3

[Skill Leveled Up: Defensive Magic (Aegis)] Lvl 4

There was a great deal the Devil had managed to put inside my mind in a scant few hours, and a greater deal still that I knew I would learn in the coming days. Most of my grasp over Demonic Magic came from my own limited understanding of the world. The only teacher I've ever had for this was Gabriel—who had about as much experience in Demonic Power as me back then—and Azazel, who was no teacher at all.

Ajuka was different. There was a certain Zen to his voice, when he spoke of the matters that truly piqued his interest. Like strands of hidden wisdom that one merely needed to unravel to become wiser. If I had to place a title upon the Satan, it would be the 'Keeper of Knowledge'. I still remembered the sheer mind-boggling sight that had greeted my vision when we'd passed by his Library over the short tour of his Dimensional pocket.

It wasn't simply the complexity of the subject either, or how highly his understanding of Demonic power differed from my own. No, Ajuka knew Demonic magic like a human knows to walk. It was an instinctive, terrifyingly deep understanding that took little effort from the Devil. How does one teach someone to walk? It was no wonder not many could understand his words. Yet, despite his warnings of being a terrible teacher, I found myself following along with little to no problem.

He did not speak any nonsense, and goddamn did I appreciate that. A powerful being who was not in love with his own voice? Even I wasn't that insane!

After the tutoring session, Ajuka had one last request for me—something I'd already granted yesterday—healing the Devils corrupted by my Holy energy.

It had been a piece of cake. My Domain enhanced Authority allowed me to directly take ahold of the Holy Power fused within their body—eating into them from within, forcibly trying to purify their flesh and soul—and quickly reduce, then remove entirely, any and all lingering traces of the energy.

It took a mere five minutes, but by the end of it the sheer waterworks erupting from the eyes of the Devils had left me a tad guilty, if not uncomfortable. Still, the fact there wasn't even a scar left behind after the Devil-healers were done with them seemed to astonish my audience a fair bit, and I'd flapped away into the air with preening shoulders.

With cool wind blowing my loose golden hair back, I coasted across the wide, unsleeping lands of Bael City, flapping my twelve magnificent wings like rowing a massive ship. After the few hours spent in Beelzebub's Chamber of Silence, I experienced an even greater rush basking beneath the raging desires of an entire city, my Domain shrouding over their shoulders once more. Yet, for all that, I still looked forward to going back there again soon.

Silence like that was to be treasured. I hoped, one day, to have my own Spatial pocket, but Ajuka's short lesson had made it clear how far away that day was.

In the distance, the grand Castle of Bael cast its shadow upon a tiny portion of the city, blocking the Devil-made lunar radiance, drenching the small slice in relative darkness while the rest of the city reveled beneath the Devil-made silver rays.

Gabriel's Mansion was placed firmly in the darkness, closer to the Castle than any other Satan.

With a graceful beat of wings, I swiveled in mid-flight, heading for my final destination of the day languidly.

Just a few flaps of wings away, however, a small, urgent ping from my soul brought me short. Frowning, I closed my eyes and focused inwards. I scanned through the souls fixed beneath my Authority, from those who actively prayed to me to the ones below in the city—their desires like midnight firecrackers to my senses. It took a bit of a browse—inexperienced as I was—but I finally managed to locate the most recent addition and brightest addition beneath my Domain.

'NEWS! NEWS! NEWS! PLEASE, MY LORD IF, YOU CAN HEAR—"

Flinching, I cut off the connection instantly, wiggling a finger in my ear to clear the loudness—it went very, very unsuccessfully. Sadly, there was no way to wiggle a finger through your soul.

Regardless of the message, I recognized the voice very clearly. Except…her screams that day had been less of panicked urgency and more of deeply pleasurous moans.

'Katerea Leviathan.' Smirking, I restarted my journey back. 'Perhaps it's time to sneak her into the city somehow…'

Maybe I could have her as my second peerage member…one of the pawn pieces should suffice, if Ajuka's short rundown was to be believed. With Gods incapable of being reincarnated as Devils, Tier 6 might be a premium-quality Peerage member…

'Hmm…no. Not yet.' She hadn't earned that honor yet.

But she might. Her urgency seemed genuine. Maybe sneaking her into the city actually held some merit.

'Her presence could make my life easier.' For one, a proper interrogation—without any debaucherous interruptions—would probably reveal far more than I currently knew.

Though honestly, her situation was a bit of a mess, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't played a hand in it. The post-orgy clarity had hit me harder than the largest boulder after the afternoon of debauchery, and I'd ended up making snap decisions for both the goddess and the devil.

While it had ended up working in hindsight, the latter had definitely bore the brunt of my impulsivity. I wasn't in the business of forgiving enemies, so in search of a permanent solution, I'd ended up permanently marking her soul.

I still remembered my first failed attempt at granting her a blessing; admittedly, I'd tried to shove a mixture of curses and blessings within a single pouch of Authority, so the failure should've been expected.

Still, it seemed to have proven to be a slight boon—at least the Commune Blessing had ended up working, giving me a convenient way of communication to someone on the other side of the world.

'Well, the demigod sisters got away safely, that has to count for something.' I comforted myself, finally reaching my mother's residence.

With my decision still up in the air, I pushed the subject to the back of my mind. I had to remember I wasn't alone anymore; it would be better to have at least Gabriel's, and perhaps even Ajuka's, opinions, before making any more consequential decisions.

One final swing of my wings brought me directly above the Gabriel residency.

Deciding to at least pretend at normalcy in front of my mother's cute, busty Peerage members—especially after that horrible first showing—I pulled my wings back in and landed in front of the ground entrance, intent on making an impression.

As soon as I entered past the main gate, I picked up on the subtle working of Demonic Power. The many perks of magic also stretched their legs to their mortal counterparts, making for a very innovative security system that swung the door open at the touch of my fingers.

It still surprised me somewhat as I sauntered in, but my Angel's residence was a direct upgrade over either of the two Satans I'd visited till now. For all the discrepancy in their official positions, Gabriel seemed to hold greater influence over the Devil Society as a whole than the Four Satans; something my Domain had confirmed time and again. The only ones with a burning resentment in their hearts were the fools who did not accept her heritage.

'Ah, my perfect Angel.' After a very busy day of hard work, I was looking forward to getting my hands on her. 'If only she knew…' The box of Evil pieces still sat in my inventory, untouched; I may have planned a bit of a surprise for her.

The moment I walked past the entrance Hall, however, a strange sight greeted me. Purple carpet with white linings were draped down on the floor in welcome, whilst new furniture and photo-frames decorated the rest of the Mansion. It looked like someone was busy renovating it from grounds up...

Yet, what truly caught my attention were the two Peerage members, one atop the other, laying fallen upon the ground, their large breasts pressed against each other—spilling out of their respective costumes, as they stared up at me like deer caught in headlights.

"Well, now." A smirk curved up my lips. "This is interesting."

Perhaps it might be better to take some time to unwind, after all.

----------------------------

It was a visitor that awoke him from his eternal slumber. Visitors were rare, rarer than dreams. Rarer still than breath. And this one had a stench of death…but not quite like the other one. This one was younger, weaker…but so, very familiar.

It lacked the fear it should when facing him.

His thoughts were still jumbled, his limbs stiff and rotten. To draw a breath was to drink poison, and each one taxed the restrictions placed upon him; the seals, still bearing his mark. But weaker now. For God was no more.

"Serpent, I have come with a preposition." The visitor began, voice goading and provocative, holding all the allure of a deceiver. "Congratulations, you have garnered the attention of gods. And as a gesture of sincerity…"

Suddenly his mind cleared and his mouth unhinged. His thoughts and memories, buried so deep behind his restrictions, came clawing to the surface like an avalanche. It felt freeing in a way only his great act of betrayal through God could compare. A huge agonizing shadow that had accompanied him since he'd been chained...now, it had disappeared.

The seals…they were suppressed. Slowly at first, but no less surely. Only some, of course, less than a handful, yet the relief that struck him was powerful.

Like clawing past an unbreakable dream and coming to the surface for the first time, to draw his first immortal breath.

The Blind One tasted blood and poison. It had been a long time since he was chained, yet his mind did not struggle to regain control almost instantly.

He drew his first true breath in many millennia, even the wicked rot of Cocytus pleasing him more than living in High Heavens ever had.

"You know what I seek, I presume?" The foolish visitor spoke again. "There is one thing you can do better than any. One species whose powers would lower beneath you."

A young Devil, he mused. Young and foolish. Those reeking of death and malice often were.

Yet, he kept quiet. And soon, the blindfold covering his eyes was removed. Blood dripped down his cheek like a river stream, all gathered beneath his eyelids throughout the millennia. It slithered past his naked chest, and down the scales that formed his limb. It gathered in the gaps between his scales; black blood, poisonous blood…the moment it touched the floor of Cocytus, the ground began bubbling.

Yet his eyes, at last, could feel.

"The Blind One." The Devil needled, still lax. "That is what they called you, didn't they? The Evil Serpent." He chuckled. "The Hunter of Dragons…do you even remember who you are?"

The Blind One laughed in return, his raspy breath ushering the very air into a poisonous world.

One after another, his limbs crucified upon the cross were slowly unraveled. First the Wings, twelve great red appendages, wreathed in fire and darkness. He unfurled them fully, like great flags of ships, and the flutter of their feathers mixed with the cruel rasp in his laughter stole the silence away from Cocytus.

"I," For the first time, he glanced at the little Devil with eyeless sockets. "Am the King of the Wicked."

His power began to spread.

And—for the first time—the Devil seemed to grasp upon who he spoke to. His hair was a shade of dark silver, and eyes gray and cool; he wore the Ancestral garment of the original Lucifer, only shaded in white and silver.

The Blind One recognized the whelp. Lucifer's brat, now grown.

Yet, what was a Satan in front of true Evil?

The boy—now grown, yet foolish still—shuddered, taking a single step back as the rest of his lower draconic body unraveled from the Cross, his tail longer than many rivers and his torso taller than mountains.

"I, Am the Messenger of the Evil, the Lord of the Wall."

His voice echoed through the dark, lonely cavern that served as his prison. The more the Seals lingering on his power lowered, the greater the calamity that befell upon the blackened walls of Cocytus.

"I, am the Chosen of Darkness, the Great Deceiver!"

He could sense a shred of true power within the devil; likely he held great respect of his peers, and a pivotal position in whatever Faction he belonged.

It mattered little in front of him.

He towered over the boy, his poison already infecting the mountainous cavern containing his form—his home for the last thousands of years. The walls began to crumble beneath their very eyes.

"I, Am, Samael!" He extended his long, draconic body down, slowly bringing his face closer to the punitive creature beneath him. "Tell me, Little Devil, do you know who you stand forth?"

----------------------------

1 hour ago…

The silence of loneliness had disappeared from her King's shoulders.

It wasn't the first time she had observed this, nor would she claim to be the first to notice it, but in all her years as the Bishop of her beautiful King, Cleria had come to acknowledge the fact that a group of three female devils—all damaged in their own ways—did not make for a very lively company.

And, undoubtedly, her King was the worst of it.

Cleria could count on one hand the number of days the three had spent time together simply for the sake of it. Often, she and Kuroka would either be running errands for their King, or busy sparring in the training Hall—which was also the only time Gabriel-sama joined them.

Not that Cleria didn't appreciate it; getting trained by one of the strongest Devils in Hell had its perk, but on some of the lonelier days, she would close her eyes and remember those days of trudging through thick snow in the middle of winter, hand in hand with her beloved, as they moved about in the city of Kuoh—browsing through their shops like a pair of mortals—whilst their amateur disguises hid them from the gazes of those who may deem them harm…

It was a sense of companionship that she had treasured dearly…a sense of companionship that was somewhat missing from her present company.

It had taken time, and the presence of her family, to truly dampen the pain of losing him, whilst she adjusted to her new lot in life; her cousin Diehauser, her father, her aunt and uncle, and all those who still cherished her, and were—shockingly—equally as incensed on her behalf for the death of her mortal lover…it made her feel less alone in this wide world.

Cleria was further willing to wager that she wasn't alone in this; Kuroka's boat floated along on similar waters. Past all her pain and suffering, the Nekoshou was glad to finally have her only family back in her life, and made sure to take regular trips to see her sister and spoil her rotten.

Both of them owed all this and more—directly or indirectly—to their King. It was no wonder they were willing to go as far as needed to make sure her cause came true.

…Yet, for all their near-worship of her, they'd realized quickly that there was no such being in the life of Gabriel-sama. No family to share her burdens, no ears to hear her pain…she and Kuroka were far too dazzled by their King's presence to go snooping into her business like a bunch of old friends.

And yet, Cleria could see that she was suffering the same way they had suffered. A shadow of loneliness had forged a home within her heart, and it was reflected by the long silences in their Agreas Residence. Beyond her goal of uniting the Three Factions, Gabriel-sama might not even have existed. She had thrown herself at her task with the desperation of a drowning woman who could find no rope to pull herself out…

It had bothered her. Her King deserved the entire world at her feet, and more. To suffer in silence, working at her one true goal, was no life to live, yet there seemed to be no answer…

Until yesterday.

It was utterly mind-boggling to behold how a new life seemed to have been breathed into her King by the mere presence of her son. Cleria had never seen her smile this much in her life before, and it seemed to physically affect her. Gabriel-sama had always been a beauty without peer, of course; while her Wings may be of darker shade, none would disagree she looked purer than most angels.

Now, however, she appeared radiant. Cleria had never seen a goddess with her own eyes before, but she wagered Gabriel-sama would make for more than a match—a goddess of Grace and Beauty whose mere presence made everything around her brighten up. The vile underbelly of Hell—so terrified of gaining her attention—would never believe such a side could exist to Gabriel Arkhangelsk, unless seen from their own eyes.

For the first time, that grim darkness around her shoulders had disappeared, and something other than plotting ways to bring the Three Factions to heel seemed to excite her. Only this morning, she had given them orders of a shockingly mundane nature; to renovate their lifeless Mansion and make it worthy of an Emperor.

It made Cleria giddy. Things were beginning to change for the better.

…And the lone cause of it was a god who had upheaved the entire Unity Festival with his mere presence. An honest to Lucifer, divine god.

'Ah, but if only that was all…'

Before the death of her beloved, Cleria had been a lively spirit. Where Kuroka tackled the darkness of the world with a never back down attitude—and was more than satisfied with the monthly visits to her lone sister—Cleria needed more; she needed to be surrounded by people she considered family. Yet, she'd never once believed it was possible for them to be something of that nature. Never believed the three could ever act as a family; to share dinner on the same table and go shopping in the most expensive Devil malls, where they would chatter of their days and plan what their next action should be together…

But now, for the first time, that long-buried yearning in her heart was given hope. And it all rested on the shoulders of a divine being whose super Masterplan to spy upon the Tournament was ruined by her very own hands…

Cleria had no idea what to do of the predicament.

For now, she decided to let the giddy part takeover and stick to her task. Perhaps time would present her with an opportunity to convince the Olympian God…though of what, she had no idea.

With a skip to her steps, Cleria scrambled down the polished Mahogany stairs of the Mansion. There was still a trace of silence lingering around her, but it was a good kind of quiet. Not born from a lack of things that could be, but from the warmth of the people busy in their own corner of the house.

Cleria decided she quite enjoyed this silence. A companionable quiet, quite unlike the quiet of loneliness.

Behind her floated a miscellany of items, trailing just above her shoulders as if dragged by an invisible rope; they ranged from curled up carpets and curtains bundled in a tight bunch, to new wall decals, decorations, and even some culinary equipment, all gathered inside a single glittering box that really shouldn't be capable of containing it all. They were the spoils of their brief shopping spree through the very busy streets of Bael city; Kuroka had led the charge from the front, seizing whatever struck her fancy, or felt was necessary to give some character to their tragically bare Mansion.

"Cleria!" Right on time, Kuroka's 'hushed' yell—trying very hard not to have her voice echo past the floors above—reached her halfway down the staircase. "Please tell me you've set up the Living quarters by now!"

Cleria refrained from replying, simply hurrying her descent. The last thing she needed now was for them to hear her.

Though as she reached the base of the stairs, she quickly found her feet slowing down, her eyes distracted by a novel sight.

When their King had given them their errand of the day, Cleria had picked up on one very amusing fact—for whatever reason, her friend was taking the task with far more significance than was expected of her.

And now, that fact was reflected through every inch of the cream-gold walls—through all glimpses of halls and chambers within her eyesight—replacing the original purple shade so typical of the Bael. Its vivid golden brilliance further shone light on the posters and shelves that acted as hurdles in front of its previously bare self.

Finally, the Mansion appeared alive.

Kuroka had gone so far as to decorate the place; pier tables equipped with flower pots and crystal figurines standing guard beneath every window and every doorside.

Not that it wasn't needed.

Due to Gabriel-sama's minimalist approach to anything beyond her goal, the Mansion had remained equipped with the same old-fashioned Candelabra, drab carpets, and prideful interior the former Bael Lord was so famed for. Past the most necessary forms of furniture, it might as well not have been intended for habitation.

Not a particularly appealing place to hold meetings of national-importance. Or, as Gabriel-sama had repeatedly impressed upon them, not a place her son, a God of Olympus, should be expected to reside in. Though they both knew it was less 'god' and more 'son'.

And as the two Devils were put to work, guests from the Three Factions arrived throughout the day. The first time Cleria laid eyes on the lone figure of Michael, the leader of Angels—right in the midst of their renovations—she'd almost fainted. It was too sudden, too unexpected…too casual an interaction—he'd nodded at her, her—with someone she'd only ever read about in books or the occasional mutterings of her King. And then to follow it up with Azazel the Fallen, who'd taken the time to flirt with the both of them as if it was just another Tuesday…

Cleria could've died right there feeling vastly accomplished, if that hadn't meant inconveniencing her King. And, of course, forgoing the embers of revenge she was promised…

Still, she was almost proud of her growing composure when Serafall Leviathan herself showed up in the evening—after the others had left—and somehow managed to stay standing as she guided the Satan upstairs, despite the trembling of her knees and arms. And now, the Ultimate Female Devil; the only female Satan to have ever existed, was lounging in a room Kuroka and her had overhauled at the very beginning—a massive Ballroom converted into the Council Chamber—sharing the same space as her…

Cleria had truly come far.

But while the guests may be the most celebrated figures in Hell, there was only one their King treasured beyond any; the only one whose voice would be valued amongst all who'd visited.

One might even say he was the very subject of these novelties. And he would be here any moment.

With a train of supplies still following in her shadows, Cleria continued past the open arched entrance to the opposite side, tracing her friend's presence into the Parlor.

Just like the rest of the ground floor, it had changed its appearance and style. Normally, she would be scanning the room to note every single change—if only to tease Kuroka about her new designing obsession later—but at that moment, a terrible sense of premonition hit her and Cleria realized something was very, very wrong.

Kuroka hadn't moved an inch. In the middle of the room, both hands on her hips, mouth slightly ajar, she stared at her as if witnessing a horrifying act of crime right in front of her.

"What…" The Nekoshou whispered, incredulity and disgust warring in her eyes as they roamed from her top to bottom, eventually settling onto her breasts. "What in Hell's accursed depths did you do to yourself?"

Cleria panicked, a hand moving up to touch her chest subconsciously. She'd forgotten her clothes were no longer the revealing monstrosity Kuroka had forced upon her in the morning.

She'd also forgotten she was supposed to be hiding that very fact from her friend.

"Ah, you know…" Chuckling awkwardly, Cleria glanced around the room, trying to focus on anything but the steaming pile of kitty glaring at her in outrage. "I just think maybe this is more to my style…"

It did nothing to change the fact that not even the slightest curve of her cleavage was in view any longer.

"Nope." The Nekoshou raised a finger, jabbing at her as if to underscore every word. "No, no, no, no, no. Nope. Not hearing that. I told you, you gotta let those puppies breathe today, and you agreed. In fact, I seem to remember someone saying they wanted to try something like this for ages. And now you betray me like this!?"

Cleria grimaced. She had said that. After stewing so long in jealousy, and inspired by Gabriel-sama's newfound cheer and laxity, she had agreed to a change of pace, daring to wear a similar hybrid kimono like Kuroka that hugged her body in just the right places…

She had succeeded. Throughout their entire shopping tour, the eyes of many a men and women—Devils or otherwise—had followed her around like hungry stray devils hunting for their first taste of mortal flesh.

Contrary to her long-held expectations, however, Cleria had not enjoyed that. Not a single bit. No matter how straight a spine she held and how tough and unbothered she tried to appear, every second of it had passed as a long, agonizing eternity and she'd quickly purchased the first thing she saw to cover herself up.

Her will had held until she was out of Kuroka's sight before she'd promptly tugged on her new gray, leather jacket atop her kimono and swore never to try that again. Some things were simply not meant to be.

Unfortunately, she had slipped up this time. Serafall-san's presence had made her forget the fact that she was supposed to remove the jacket whenever in the eyesight of her fellow Peerage member.

"Look, Kuroka—" She tried her hand at an excuse, but her friend looked to be in no mood for it.

"Zip it, we had a deal." The Nekoshou began marching towards her, eyes narrowed into slits—there was something violent within them that Cleria did not like one bit. "Until the day ends, no changing the outfits, that's what we agreed on…you could've at least waited till he saw them! But no…looks like I have to do this one myself."

Her fellow Bishop leaped towards her.

Squawking, Cleria scrambled back, but there was a reason a High-Class would never dare tangle with an Ultimate-Class Devil on their own. A fact that was reiterated a mere second later when she found her legs swept out from underneath her and the earth revolved to show her the ceiling as her back hit the carpet.

"Kuroka!" She yelped.

The wild cat pinned her down and climbed atop, her knees imprisoning her hands while her arms headed straight towards the button of her jacket, her insidious intentions clear as day.

Cleria buckled beneath her. Normally there would be no comparison between their strengths, but her Enhancement magic was second to few. Demonic power coursed through her veins, and for one brief second she almost tasted victory, throwing her friend off of her and sprinting towards the Grand hall…and then one heavy Nekoshou landed on her back like an arrow, and she was back where she started; on the ground.

"No! Bad kitty!" Cleria once again tried to scramble away, but this time all she managed to do was twist herself to face her enemy.

"Don't you dare 'bad-kitty' me right now!" Kuroka pressed herself closer, her hands tearing the jacket apart as if removing the thinnest slices of paper. "I've had it up to my head with your tight-arsed antics ruining my show!"

Cleria glared at her, opening her mouth to retort—

A click of the door shut it back close.

As if of the same mind, both the Bishops froze as one, before whipping their heads to stare at the side, wide-eyed.

The visitor had opened the door gentle-like this time, deluding them from the fact that they were being spied upon until he was right there, staring. But even had they gone blind, there would be no uncertainty of who exactly it was.

Only one being could enter the residence of Gabriel-sama herself with such impunity.

"Well, now…" The intruder spoke his first words, a smirk lingering in his every note. "This is interesting."

As if his voice broke a spell, Kuroka quickly scrambled from atop her, straightening with as much dignity one might possess when caught in such…compromising position. "Lord Mikael! Please, I must a-apologise for our unseemly appearance!"

Cleria was almost caught off-guard by the note of shy panic in her friend's voice, before she remembered the Nekoshou's 'helpless kitten' act that had managed to ensnare so many…

"We truly did not expect you so soon!" Kuroka continued her performance, fidgeting in place and staring at the ground, looking genuinely chastised. "We were just, um…" She glanced at her, as if pleading for support.

"Now, now, there is no need for explanations." The god sauntered forward like he owned the Mansion—which, in hindsight, might not have been far from truth—capturing her attention at once. "I'm sure there was a very valid reason you were fondling her breasts and nothing untowards was ever intended…right?"

The starkness of his words gave even Kuroka a pause.

Cleria felt as if she should protest the insinuation, but she had no breath left to reply. For once, she found herself utterly spellbound, her gaze completely captivated by a face that disabled her from breathing properly.

The lightning in his eyes disarmed her first; sometimes bright blue, sometimes familiar violet, like a strange amalgam of sea and storm. Then her eyes dipped, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, climbing up his cheekbones—sitting high and proud—and up to his locke of luscious, golden mane…If she could've sat there with a paintbrush to make an account of his perfection, she would've.

She barely even noticed the elbow digging at her side, her eyes too busy roaming over the rest of his figure; the way his open, white garb skipped away from the very visible muscles of his chest…

It evoked something in her. Her world began to fade away, the breathlessness wounding a right note within, compelling her to finally close her drooling mouth and stumble to her feet. A tiny part within her was screaming in protest, trying to bring attention to her now-bare Kimono showing the deep ravine of her breasts, yet Cleria remained unconcerned and detached from such worries, like stepping into a fixed sequence of moves. She didn't know what she was about to do, but she knew she needed to do it…

Kuroka was faster than her.

"Oh, but you're truly so wise, my Lord!" The Nekoshou sauntered over languidly, her two tails—swishing even more than usual—breathing the first true emotion beside the strange compulsion within Cleria; irritation. "Lady Gabriel has allowed us to welcome you to make up for our mistake yesterday, and I must admit…it is truly an honor." She bowed down deep, though Cleria doubted it was to show respect if the way she puffed out her chest was any indication. "I hope we can get to know each other more…deeply in the coming days."

The god appeared amused, though his eyes still feasted on the meal presented before him.

Cleria normally kept her jealousy under wraps, knowing the irrationality of it. Yet, the sight of her only friend shoving her considerably bigger breasts into the god's face made her seeth with gritted rage. For one whole second, she contemplated burning Kuroka's favorite lingerie down into ashes as she tore any remnants of the jacket off of her.

One second.

It wasn't because she came to her senses…it was because the god glanced at her, smiling.

"And what of your friend?" His voice was pleasantly cool, yet just deep enough to send shivers down her spine.

Tongue-tied and wide-eyed, she desperately glanced at her friend for help but Kuroka's eyes held something else entirely. Cunning.

"Ah, of course! Do forgive her…you see, she is your biggest fan!"

Cleria gaped, though before a word of protest could leave her mouth, Kuroka was already beside her, dragging her by the hand to the Divine lord.

"She even has your latest figurine! The premium one that winks at you when you kiss its lips." Shamefully, that one wasn't even a lie.

Cleria was dead. She knew she was. She was simply a disembodied soul, floating in a body not hers as she was shoved ahead by her own best friend…

"Please, there's nothing more she would like than a good ol' hug."

…Straight within the jaws of the grinning god.

Instantly, Cleria was besotted.

When she was younger, she'd accompanied her cousin to his third rating game tournament; there, she'd caught sight of the red-haired Satan Lucifer for the first time in her life, sitting in an open, elevated platform, alongside his family. She had spent more time sneaking glances at him than watching the fights in the arena, blushing whenever the Super Devil's face moved even slightly in her general direction. Since then, the bewitchingly beautiful man had set the scale for her very high; she had never believed anyone would come close to touching it.

Mikael Gabrielson shattered all such notions. The longer she stared up at his face, the more otherworldly it became in its beauty; more delicate yet handsome, more angular and symmetrical, more perfect, and beautiful, and intense…she hadn't even known a living being could look like this!

"Really?" The god drawled, the same intense eyes seeming to drink every inch of her blatantly; top to bottom. "Well, consider me flattered, Miss. How could I ever refuse such a request?"

Before she could comprehend her reality, two strong hands enveloped her whole, adjusting her arms to mash her breasts against his chest.

Wide-eyed, Cleria simply hung there silently in the god's arms—her feet almost off the ground, and her head barely reaching his chin. No sound escaped her, not even a little eep…not until she felt his lips press against her cheeks, and her life leapt past her throat in a tiny gasp. Then—to her even wildly beating heart—she felt his hand lowering, softly caressing her back, and down further, brushing against the curve of her behind lightly…

The god hummed, and she felt the vibration inching through her chest. "It's a shame we don't have much time to play." With a final pat to her butt, he released her from his grip and moved towards the grand stairs. "Later, perhaps. For now, I have someone else to greet."

She was vaguely aware of Kuroka hastily following the god, explaining the presence of Satan Leviathan and why it might not be a good idea to intervene. She was just as vaguely aware of the god dismissing her words and giving a different command, before his steps disappeared away up the higher floor…

But even minutes past the time he'd released her, Cleria simply stood there, her mind slowly cracking away the spell the young god had bound her within.

"That went well, don't you think?" It was the elbow prodding her side that informed her of Kuroka's return.

"Huh?" She turned to her friend, no more intelligence behind her eyes than a troll.

Kuroka snickered. "Nevermind that. I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed in you. What, a single kiss to the cheek and you're all gooey and wet? You don't even let me hug you!"

Finally, Cleria found a modicum of sense returning back to her brain. She took a deep breath, and let it all out in one full whoosh, "Did you not see him!?"

"Sure did." Kuroka snorted. "Definitely the best thing to happen to Hell since our King. I was almost compelled to stare at him all day, and I rather doubt I'd have ever grown bored…but to have a line of drool leaking down my chin?" The Nekoshou chuckled, wiggling a finger in front of her face. "Oh, no, no, no, no. You're on your own in that."

Cleria glanced down, one hand leaping to pat at her cheek…and sure enough, a bit of her own saliva had dripped past her lips.

She cursed beneath her breath, face heating up. "I don't know what happened, I just couldn't think straight."

"Well, I know what happened." Kuroka grinned, "Ickle Clerie's got a cruuush!" She made a kissy face and safely managed to pull her head back to evade the subsequent retaliatory punch.

"Why did you even do that?" Cleria glared. "Throwing me at him like that…what if he'd taken offense? You know Gabriel-sama would likely let him kill us should he wish so, right?"

"Oh c'mon, this is no time to be so macabre." Kuroka rolled her eyes, scoffing. "What even is the point? Besides, it's not like I had anything else remaining. He was just too unfazed the entire time! And it worked out in the end, didn't it? Why, our dear god seemed quite pleased with you in his arms…" The cat giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at her almost-bare breasts. "Should've just gone with that from the start."

"Shut up and be serious for a second!" Cleria 'fumed' to hide her flustered cheeks, though she had a feeling the blushing red changing shades might've given it away anyway. She did not, however, do anything to cover herself. "Mikael-sama has gone to the meeting Chamber, hasn't he?"

"Sure, but does it really matter?" Kuroka shrugged. "Not like our King would reward us if we try to stop him." She began marching out of the Grand Hall. "C'mon, we've got a new task. Our residential god wants us to arrange poolside entertainment this fine evening, and I'm almost dripping down my thighs just thinking about the potential fun we can have if we play our cards just right."

Pausing in mid-step, she whirled around suddenly and pinned her beneath a piercing look. "You might've guessed it, but it involves a whole lot of bare skin rubbing against each other, and you better not ruin it this time! This might be the only chance I get to fulfill my greatest desire, and Hell will rot in Cocytus before I dare to miss it."

----------------------------

"—so, of course they feel like being hasty is just not the way to go! You know you can't always keep making decisions on your own, right?…Gabby? Gabriel?"

It was his presence that distracted her from the question posed before her.

The wards were tuned to her senses, and there was only one being she had given complete access to enter or leave wherever and whenever they pleased. So when the entrance of the Mansion alerted her of a presence at this time of the evening, she knew exactly who'd arrived.

"Hello, Hell to Gabby-tan. Is your channel receiving any signal?"

But Gabriel was too busy floating above an intangible cloud of happiness, her entire soul focused on only one thing—his nearing presence. It was as if true magic was occuring right in front of her; all the miserable, restless anguish wound up within her disappearing away as if it were never there.

Her world became a soft color. Sometimes gold and red, sometimes violet and pink. Her heart was a flower, every petal brimming with a new fragrance. It yearned for a touch, to unfurl at the kiss of a prince. No, a king.

A god.

Everything was right in the world. Finally.

"It's my cute outfit, isn't it? Be honest, you never liked the Magical girl! I always thought you just hated us short folks, but now I know…you were jealous all along!"

How could it not be? He was here. A piece of her heart, the largest piece, that had been missing all this while, was finally returned to her.

Ah, if only she could have the courage to ask for a tast—

"You can't keep ignoring me!"

The yell finally broke her out of her fantasy; the cloud popped open, dropping her straight back into the dreary meeting that had kept her from joining her heart.

"My apologies, Serafall." Her smile was as polite as she could make it—which was to say, none. "I was... pondering on something difficult."

The Satan huffed, crossing her arms, indignance clear in her petite figure as she plopped back down upon the couch. "Must be a very enjoyable difficulty then. I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much."

Gabriel very carefully did not blush. She rejected the very notion!

…Well, perhaps a little bit. And if the smirking wiggle of the Satan's eyebrows was anything to go by, that little bit might've been a bit too much.

Clearing her throat, she straightened up.

'This is truly not the time to daydream.' Even if the figure within her senses did its best to distract her something fierce.

She was in the midst of a vital meeting. It may not be of the official kind, but it held no less import to their goals. Further attested by Serafall herself; dressed in her official coat and cravat—alongside a longer, more formal skirt—the Satan had shed her ridiculous clownish outfit for this meeting. A relief, though an unexpected one.

But by dear Father's grace, if this wasn't the last thing she wished to be doing right now…

Attending meetings was all she had done today. Her Kael was here, just a mere breath away; she should be busy planning ways to spend time with him, roaming her fingers through his soft hair in assurance of the fact that her daunting wait had ended at last…her dark vices, the fallen corruption that lingered in her veins, all was soothed and calmed by the strength of his spirit once more. She yearned to feel that every waking moment, ending this gnawing need and worry every time he left her eyesight…

Instead she was stuck here, convincing the cowardly fools in this Hellhole—literally—to stop twiddling their thumbs and take the most obvious of decisions.

Could they not understand? Did they not have eyes to see? Mikael was their future. His was the hand that must guide them, his authority would unite them, his strength would provide them shade to shelter beneath. Even the blind, deaf, and dumb knew of one fact in Hell…

Strength reigned supreme. Power was what separated the higher Classes in Devil society, just as it separated the many Pantheons from each other. Power that let the Olympians always claimed the biggest slice of the West, power that gave Devils their own part of the Underworld…power that allowed Father his seven days of Creation.

Had they the strength, Zeus would never have dared turn his eyes towards the Heavens once more. His last attempt had ended in him hiding in his mountains, complaining to all who would listen of the unfair ways of God. The contempt she felt for him now was second only to the shame of having fallen to him of all living beings…

Worse, he had successfully trampled over their pride, sending a message to all the Pantheons that had a bone to pick with them. It was but a matter of time now; a chink in the strength of Heavens was revealed, and their biggest kept secret was beginning to unravel.

That the God was dead, and neither the Heavens nor the Hells had a figure who could utilize the abundance of faith pouring from across the globe. In mortal terms, they were sat upon a gold mine that they were neither capable of using, nor defending.

It was a grave weakness; a weakness that would have the many Pantheons they'd replaced as the greatest center of worship to set upon them like rabid dragons to cursed gold.

Even if a War that threatened the entire world wasn't knocking on their gates, it would still behoove the Factions to kneel beneath her son and declare him their god. Two super Devils—albeit of terrific strength—were not enough to fight off the long list of enemies their rapidly growing religion had offended. Only a real god's authority—enhanced by the faith of billions—could save them…they knew this. At least, some of them did. And they still chose to hesitate?

What did Olympus matter? Long as they followed Kael, the Factions were sure to survive the coming days. And was that not the greatest blessing in this dire times?

"So?" A pouting Serafall prodded once more—the last of the Faction representatives she must deal with today. "You're still not going to tell me?"

Grimacing, Gabriel took ahold of the water glass sitting innocuously upon the table between them. "Tell you what, Serafall?"

"You know…" Serafall stressed, leaning forward as if to whisper a scandalous secret. "Your son…how does it feel?"

For a brief second her heart leapt in her throat, wondering if her thoughts were somehow read without her notice, before logic prevailed and she calmed. "…Is this another one of your attempts to remind me I'm older than you, Serafall?"

The Satan girl giggled awkwardly, leaning back away. "Ahem, of course not! You and Grayfia-chan might have children, but that is not the reason you're older than me!" She paused, looking up at her cheekily. "You simply…are."

Gabriel struggled not to roll her eyes. "Isn't Grayfia around your age?"

"Nope! A whole year older, actually." She cupped a dainty hand against her mouth and whispered dramatically, "No wonder she has so many silver hair!"

Humming, Gabriel brought the glass to her lips, hiding her lower face behind its glossy surface whist her eyes pierced the female Satan from above. The girl still held the same innocent grin, yet Gabriel knew a thing or two about hiding behind a pure reputation. She would be a fool to dismiss the Satan simply because she liked cosplaying as fictional mortal characters.

Not taking her eyes off of her, she placed the glass back down. "Tell me, Serafall, why the sudden curiosity?" It wasn't truly sudden, to be certain. The waif of a girl had made subtle remarks and inquiries about Kael all evening; it was only now she had pressed her so boldly.

"Oh, you know…" Serafall waved her hands animatedly. "I heard so many things about him! The latest was that he defeated the Olympian War god in a one-on-one combat. I mean, I felt his strength from up close and personal yesterday—" She shivered, though Gabriel had a distinct feeling it really wasn't due to any lingering fear of Holy power. "—but it doesn't quite put into perspective the feat of defeating a god, you know? Even you can't do that!"

Gabriel wasn't so sure about that anymore. The last few years had seen her transcend all limits of her natural power. She hadn't felt this strong even when Father was alive and his Authority granted them a passive strengthening of power.

Yet, she also knew this was all a big attempt at shifting the subject, or at least misleading her down the wrong path. There was just something in the young Satan's eyes that made her suspect her curiosity wasn't limited to Kael's strength alone.

"How about you ask him yourself?" Gabriel cocked her head, sensing the rapidly approaching figure that had begun moving anew. "I'm sure you don't mind him joining, curious as you are…" She raised a brow at the Devil, suppressing a smile when the girl bolted upright.

"H-he's here?" A stutter, almost, before the Satan folded her legs, then folded her arms, in a brave attempt at composure. "Sure! Not like this meeting was going anywhere."

'Yes, definitely something more.'

Yet, try though she might, Gabriel couldn't distract herself with it when her own heart was doing its darndest to escape her chest.

And then the opportune moment arrived. She didn't even need to give permission before the door to the Chamber was twisted open.

He entered the room like a silent phantom. So quiet, so soft, had there not been a click of the door's opening, they both might've missed him. Yet, with their heads already fastened at his direction, there was no missing him.

It always came with an initial bout of shock when her eyes had to climb up so far to reach his eyes. He wasn't a giant yet, but he still stood heads and shoulders above anyone in the Chamber. And along the way up, her gaze couldn't help but wander.

Muscles—chiseled and corded like the most perfect depiction of art—rippled through the gaps between his pale white exomis, doing their best to rear the ugly sin within her heart once more—the only one that simply refused to quieten in his presence, rocketing into the most glorious bouts of passion she'd ever experienced.

"I hope I'm not intruding." His lips mouthed, but Gabriel had ears only to recognise the sound of his voice; the familiar harmony within that could soothe the greatest of her worries.

Then her eyes met his and she could just about die within them. Suddenly she felt the strongest desire to convince him simply to abandon the Faction fools until they learnt their lesson.

'After all, why would he need anyone else when I'm there to serve?'

'No!' Gabriel stopped the thought, stiffening. She couldn't think like that. Not in front of him. Not in front of the god of Desire himself.

Her god…

Gabriel's shoulders sagged, and she looked down, breaking contact and collecting herself whole, all the while kicking herself within for almost losing control.

Normally she was successful in enclosing her desire within a tight fist, but there was just something about him today that aggravated them even further. Regardless of any excuse, she must be prepared in his presence. Must be ready to—

'To be devoured.' The insidious corruption of sin whispered.

'No!'

Thankfully, she wasn't alone in the room.

"Of course not! I Greet you again, Mr. Mikael Gabrielson." Serafall, much more composed now, stood up as the god approached them in leasure strides. "That said, I didn't get to say it this morning, what with everyone listening, but don't think I forgot how you fooled me and took advantage of my body yesterday!"

"Oh?" Finally, his gaze shifted from her to the Devil and Gabriel took a breath of relief. "I think I would remember very vividly if I took advantage of your body…" A smirk lingered in his teasing and Gabriel could almost see Serafall's brain short-circuiting for a brief instance before snapping back.

"Hmpf!" The Satan huffed forcefully. "I'm talking about you touching my head without permission! I knew Falbium-kun wouldn't do something so strange. I should've known from the start the culprit was you!"

Finally, Gabriel chanced a glance above, and the sight that greeted her was of a tiny Satan standing on her toes, wiggling her finger at Kael like an angry chicken.

"What?" Her son chuckled, a deep baritone in his voice that almost set her desires aflame again. "You're telling me you didn't enjoy this?" He raised a hand suddenly, before placing it above a very surprised Serafall's head.

Then he mussed her hair.

To her ever-growing suspicion, the Satan yelped but didn't pull away. "T-this is outrageous! There you go doing it again…"

Gabriel couldn't help but notice that despite her protest, the Devil was leaning further into his touch.

"And even if it feels good, you should ask for permission!"

In fact, she was inching closer to him. And while her body might be short and waif-like, there were two large, distractingly springy mounds of flesh on her chest that seemed to jiggle randomly with minds of their own…and they were currently being thrust forward proudly, as if to present them like gifts and highlight their best qualities…

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind next time." Kael chuckled and Gabriel fumed.

'This little whore!' She'd suspected the tiny Satan was up to something but this…

Yet, the next instance, a different thought hit her. 'I could use this…'

She still had a task in front of her. Uniting the Three Factions beneath her son's rule was never going to be easy. Worse still, her plan had not taken his presence in the midst into consideration…but she was not helpless.

Michael and Azazel...she knew them. Knew them as only a sibling could know another. For all their differences, there were some things that remained identical; both cared for their Faction deeply. That, was exploitable.

And exploit it, she had. Their earlier agreements had to be scrapped; they were too outdated for the current situation. Instead, they'd redrawn new pacts and promises, some of which would require Kael's attention. Neither had agreed to anything concrete but it was simply a matter of time…

The only thorn had been the female Devil that was currently pouting in front of her as Kael stopped his ministrations and turned to her.

This time, however, Gabriel held his gaze, even as he stepped closer to her.

"Mother," His scent filled her world. "You look lovely tonight…then again, I can't remember the last time you did not." He took her within his arms and her brain almost melted out of her ears.

'No! Three Factions! Serafall! Weakness! Must exploit!'

That became her new anchor and she just barely managed to survive not doing something weird in the brief, but deceptively tight hug.

"When will you finish up here?" Mikael asked, stepping back, and a part of her heart cried out in self-blame for not giving in. "I've got some things to discuss."

Once again the sin tried to strike at her will, but Gabriel simply glanced at Serafall, like a predator assessing her latest prey. "Just an hour or so, Kael." Then she paused, realizing now awfully dreadful that sounded, even with her goal in mind. "Unless it is something urgent?" She leapt to amend.

"Nah, it's fine." Kael waved her off. "Take your time, I won't disturb you ladies further. Have to ask though, you don't mind if I have some…fun with your Peerage, do you?"

The images her mind conjured almost threw everything she knew about the Three Factions to the water, but she kept her gaze fixed on the now fidgeting Satan and stopped her own knees from wobbling.

"Of course not, Kael." It wasn't as if she'd planned to offer them to him all along, of course not…

But for now, she had a new prey to play with. And finally, finally a way to bring the disobedient Factions to heel. It was time to get to work.

That was something both her sins and virtues agreed upon.

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AN: Over 18.5k words, hope you enjoyed! The smut version for Discord will arrive tomorow.

Really hadn't expected it to pass 18k. New part is non-beta'd, any errors pointed out will be appreciated. Sorry for all the delays guy, and thnx a ton for your support. Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter, your comments are my fuel.

Anyway, that's it for today. See ya tomorrow!

P.S: When the Discord Version is posted, the top of AN will be changed to 'Discord Version available, though I shall also inform you lot in a separate post.