Ichigo stepped out from the maw of the portal and onto uneven ground that shifted faintly beneath his weight, his gaze lifting without urgency as it swept across the expanse before him. The land stretched outward in a vast, barren sprawl of dark stone and broken plateaus, the terrain jagged and irregular as though it had been torn apart and left to settle without care. There was no sand, no trace of erosion or wind-carved shape: only a dead, unmoving plain of gray and black that gave the impression of something stripped down to its most lifeless form.
Behind him, the portal churned as Nihil emerged first, the Imperator’s heavy presence settling into the space with a low, rumbling weight, followed closely by Gremory, whose arrival was far quieter, though no less intrusive. The Reavers poured through after them in steady succession, their numbers swelling rapidly as they spread across the wasteland in disciplined formation, their movements sending faint tremors through the fractured ground.
Overhead, the sky hung low and oppressive, thick with heavy clouds that rolled sluggishly across one another, their color drained into a dull, lifeless gray. A jagged flash of lightning split through them, but even that carried no brilliance—only a pale, ashen flicker that illuminated nothing and faded just as quickly.
Gremory’s voice drifted from behind him, smooth and a touch amused. “The Alkrichend Wastes. Once a gleaming ocean, now scoured of all life after the Cadre Zankriel and the Demon Baleth warred onto death.”
Ichigo gave no outward reaction, his expression remaining flat as his attention turned inward, his senses extending beyond the physical plane and pressing into the layered realities that bled through the region. The deeper he reached, the more resistance he felt, something thick and stagnant pushing back against his awareness.
The ancient resentments and lingering wills of the Great War pushed back against him – apparently they wanted to be left in peace. The corner of his lips twitched as he thought even the Underworld was sick and tired of war and just wanted to be left alone.
But then, behind him, Nihil let out a low, guttural growl and Ichigo exhaled quietly as he turned his gaze towards the sky. “Looks like our contingent’s here.”
A shift of power tingled in the skies, subtle at first before steadily mounting, drawing Ichigo’s gaze beyond the folds of space as the already heavy clouds parted beneath the descent of two immense presences.
Light bled through the opening they carved, though it carried no warmth, only a harsh, corrosive brilliance that seemed to leach what little color remained from the wasteland below.
He recognized them both quick enough: one from his previous encounter during the Summit, and the other from the various files arranged by the Ministry of Intelligence.
Scions of Darkness that counted amongst the greatest of the Host that Fell beside Lucifer, Lord amongst the Fallen – Baraqiel the Thunderer and Shemhazai the Whisperer.
Their wings unfurled as they descended, vast and oppressive, each feather drinking in the dim light until the scattered shades of gray across the land collapsed into deeper shadow. Darkness spread beneath them in unnatural gradients, ink-thick and absolute, swallowing every distinction the terrain still possessed. Baraqiel’s ten wings moved with restrained authority, while beside him Shemhazai’s twelve framed a broader, heavier presence that pressed more insistently against the senses.
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed slightly as he measured them, his posture remaining relaxed even as their power fell across his broad shoulders. Not that it affected him.
His gaze fell first on the Vice-Governor and his lightly greyed hair: by his measure, Shemhazai was a step below Azazel in power, but the gap wasn’t too great. He wasn’t entirely certain, but what he could perceive, despite the Cadre’s own attempt at veiling the depths of his power, Ichigo deemed that Shemhazai carried enough weight that placing him alongside Serafall and Falbium did not feel like an exaggeration.
But whether they were stronger or weaker was something he couldn’t quite discern.
As Shemhazai’s gaze locked with his own, Ichigo couldn’t help but notice the strange shifting hues of violet within the Fallen’s eyes. And he immediately realized there was some magic there, an inherent enchantment that was being woven.
From Tiamat’s memories, Ichigo knew that the Fallen Lord had once dabbled with the Mesopotamian deity Ishtar, having elicited from her the power to manipulate the hearts and desires of others.
“Greetings, Dark Lord,” and it was very obvious by his tone that Shemhazai really did not want to be here. “On behalf of the Lord Azazel, Governor-General of the Grigori, Cadre Amongst the Dark Winds, Paragon-Lord of the Fallen and a list of too many other ostentatious titles that no one aside from me remembers anymore, I bid you welcome to our lands.”
“Thanks,” Ichigo responded dryly.
Shemhazai then turned towards Gremory and frowned prominently. “By the stars, what rotten fortune has you crawling out of your hole Gremory?”
For her part, the older Demon gave a smile, but Ichigo noted it lacked any true mirth. “It has been a long while, Whisperer.”
“Not long enough,” the Cadre replied wryly. Shemhazai then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, all of his previous grandeur and magnificence melting away. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
Baraqiel frowned heavily from behind and said in a low, chastising tone. “Brother.”
But Shemhazai merely sighed again. “What? Satan is one thing. Sorry, Satan and his army of murder machines is one thing - and don’t tell me you haven’t recognized that monster behind him as the same one from the War – but Gremory? I wasn’t told anything about a second Demon Lord!”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ichigo said, not meaning the apology at all. “She was something of a last-minute addition. But I’ll vouch for her.”
Shemhazai looked at him flatly. “You’ll forgive me for not taking Satan at his word.”
But before Ichigo could assure him further, Gremory cut in with a throaty purr. “Fret not, dear Shemhazai. His Highness has me on a very tight leash.”
And Ichigo had to close his eyes in a silent sigh at her blatantly suggestive tone.
A heavy moment passed before Shemhazai said quietly, “I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”
But despite the Fallen Lord’s justified protest, Ichigo peered beyond the Cadre, beyond the skies of the Underworld and into the thinly veiled pocket dimension hidden behind them. The one holding an army of Fallen that Ichigo could sense numbered in the millions.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t come with insurance of their own.
Not that Ichigo blamed them.
“Well, again, sorry for the last-minute retinue addition,” and again, the apology fell empty from Ichigo’s lips, “but I’d like to not waste any time. I get the feeling the quicker we get all of this over with the quicker we can all go home and placate our nerves.”
And to be fair, Ichigo was a touch nervous. He was literally leading an army into a foreign territory, one that had only stopped being a technical hostile enemy after the very tenuous, not to mention tumultuous, Summit negotiations. He really did want to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Right,” Shemhazai said with a tired exhale. “If you haven’t noticed it already, the dimensional layers here run quite thin. Malebolge is as much next to the Underworld as it is a part of it as it borders on the Realms of the Dead. There’s a pathway already made for you and your merry band of monstrosities to cross through into the region. For the purpose of security, and the unsaid but obvious intel gathering of your abilities, Baraqiel and I will be following and monitoring from afar as you hunt the Sinners taking refuge from the First Flame, as agreed upon in the treaty. However, we will not interfere nor aid you in your endeavors against the Damned nor whatever other horrors you encounter in that forsaken pit. We are in agreement, Satan?”
Ichigo nodded. “Works perfectly fine for me.”
“Oh… good,” Shemhazai said with a touch of approval. “Azazel was right, you are far more agreeable than your predecessor.”
“Not exactly a high bar to clear,” Ichigo muttered.
“Very true,” Shemhazai said as Baraqiel nodded from behind. “Whenever you’re ready, Dark One.”
And without hesitation, Ichigo took flight and moved forward, his army of bloodthirsty monsters marching across the waste as he willed the dimensional layers open.
=======
Malebolge had long since rotted into something far fouler than the Underworld from which it bled. Across its fractured reaches, where the land lay broken into jagged shelves of blackened stone and pale, fused remnants, countless abominations had taken root over the ages. Some were the byproducts of more recent conflicts, malformed things born from the ceaseless wars waged by Fallen and Demons, their existence shaped by violence and sustained by lingering malice.
Others, however, were far older, their origins tracing back to forgotten epochs when beings long erased from memory had carved their sins into the fabric of existence through rites and atrocities that no longer had names.
These ancient fiends lingered in the deeper recesses of the realm, embedded within its shadows and fractures, sustained not by sustenance or purpose, but by the accumulated weight of cruelty that had seeped into Malebolge over uncounted centuries. In such a place, where the veil between the Underworld and the Chthonic Realms thinned to a tenuous boundary, malevolence did not merely exist; it gathered, condensed, and endured.
It was for this reason that Sinners had found refuge here. Drawn to its metaphysical anchoring which was caught in a flux state between the living and the dead worlds. Here, they clung to what shattered remnants of life they once had, trapped in the most defiled sanctuary, a lone place where the pull of the First Flame receded just enough for them to persist beyond death. They carved out dominions within its desolation, forming fragile hierarchies and uneasy alliances, all of it resting upon the false belief that the shadows alone could spare them from their inevitable fate.
And for eons, that illusion had held.
But on this day, a tremor passed through the realm, subtle in its origin yet absolute in its consequence, and the countless horrors that inhabited Malebolge stirred in unison. Awareness spread through the wasteland in equal measures of instinct and understanding: something deeply rooted within their corrupt nature recoiled at the approach of a colossal force that intruded upon their demesne.
And with that understanding, swift then followed their fear.
Among the eldest of them - those who had endured the violence of the ages and the cataclysms of the Great War - recognition took hold with a horrified clarity.
Many of them remembered when the thunderous advance of the creatures known as Reavers brought entire worlds to their ruin. How, beneath their relentless hunger, the echoes of billions cried out as they were ravaged and consumed along with their realms.
Many more remembered the Demon Gremory, a more cunning evil than they could ever dare to be, whose mastery of sorcery had twisted realities into grotesque shapes, whose presence alone had heralded the breaking of minds and spirits.
And all of them, all of them, remembered the Dread Master who lingered in the darkest corners of the minds of mortals – that primal evil whose only invitation was Hell.
Whose only promise was eternal despair.
=======
High above the fractured expanse of Malebolge, Ichigo hovered in still silence, his figure suspended against the weight of the dim, oppressive sky as his gaze moved steadily across the battlefield below, where the Reavers surged through the hordes of ancient horrors with relentless violence. Their massive forms crashed into twisted fiends and malformed remnants of bygone ages, claws and fangs tearing through corrupted flesh while the abominations of the wastes answered in kind, the clash unfolding less like a battle and more like a brutal convergence of things that existed only to destroy and consume.
And as Ichigo watched on with burning crimson eyes, he felt his Sin unfurl within him, its presence spreading outward in cascading waves that seeped into the world and bled into the Reavers below, sharpening their instincts and driving them into a heightened frenzy that pushed their already immense strength further still. He rarely permitted such freedom, just as he rarely allowed Hell itself to stir beyond the confines of his soul, yet here he let it slip through in unrepentant measures, its influence curling through his thoughts and filling his mind with that familiar, ceaseless hunger.
He could feel them clearly now, the Sinners hidden throughout the filth of Malebolge, their presence staining the air with fear and despair as they recoiled from the encroaching touch of Hell, their terror quickly twisting into defiance that did nothing to dull the inevitability closing in around them.
And not just feel, he could practically taste their despair staining their already blackened souls, and it only further fueled the frenzy within him. And though he kept expression flat and cold, deep within, he felt as eager as Zangetsu for blood and violence.
But he stayed his hand and kept his sword in his soul.
His newly developed sight into the eddies of Fate told him there was something greater here, something far more worthy of his attention. But he wasn’t sure just what it was… at least, not yet.
His attention shifted across the breadth of the region, where subtle distortions in space-time marked the presence of Gremory’s work, her layered barriers stretching across a domain vast enough to rival a continent. And it was both to ensure the Sinners could not escape him and to keep the rest of the Underworld safe when Ichigo inevitably flexed his powers to claim their souls.
But it spoke volumes of her magical abilities that she could so easily and readily deploy expansive barriers with such little effort.
Sirzechs, for all his dreadful Powers of Destruction which he inherited from the Bael bloodline, was no less a monster in when it came to his inheritance: Gremory’s inheritance. Being able to unleash oceans of magic and wield it all with minute precision was ridiculous overpowered feat.
It was no wonder why Gremory was so feared during the Great War, and why she managed to survive it.
For a brief second, he pushed through the haze of frenzy battle and blood lust and allowed his mind to wander back to Infernity and that young teenage girl with identical crimson hair. Perhaps, when all this was done, he should push Rias towards developing the finer nuances of her birthright. That being said, mastering the finer aspects of the arcane arts was the pursuit of several lifetimes.
But he quickly pushed such idle thoughts away and returned his attention to carnage of the present.
Below him, the battlefield suddenly convulsed as the ground split apart under mounting pressure, stone and bone shattering outward while a colossal four-armed creature forced its way to the surface as giants slabs of rock and stone were hewn skyward.
Ichigo looked on with some interest as he had never seen such a creature before, what with its massive purple form twisted as thick tentacles writhed where a head should have been. That being said, as he took measure of its presence and power in an instant, he quickly deduced it as a being in the Ultimate-class range and thus far beneath warranting his direct attention. Instead, his gaze shifted slightly and his voice carried downward with a quiet command.
“Nihil.”
The Imperator responded immediately, launching forward with brutal force against the eldritch titan with a thunderous roar.
From his vantage in the sky, Ichigo watched as Nihil closed the distance in an instant, his comparatively small frame striking the mountain-sized abomination with a force that belied his size, the impact alone enough to buckle the surrounding terrain and send a violent tremor racing outward through the fractured wastes. The Imperator moved without hesitation, his fists crashing into the creature’s massive form in rapid succession, each strike detonating against its flesh and forcing the colossal body to shift and stagger under blows delivered by something no larger than a man.
The creature answered with overwhelming violence. Its four immense arms hammered downward in brutal arcs, smashing into the ground with such force that shockwaves tore across the plains, splitting the earth and sending entire plateaus collapsing into rubble. The battlefield convulsed beneath them, mountains crumbling as the sheer scale of its strength reshaped the land with every movement.
Nihil wove through the devastation with relentless precision, his movements sharp and direct as he drove a kick into the creature’s midsection before surging upward again, his jaws parting as a concentrated blast of demonic energy erupted forward and carved through the abomination’s upper mass. The creature recoiled, but its writhing crown of tentacles lashed outward in response, dozens of tendrils snapping forward as light gathered at their tips.
The wasteland split apart under the barrage.
Blazing lances of energy tore across the land, carving immense trenches that stretched for miles, the ground parting and collapsing into newly formed canyons as the space itself warped under the force of the attack.
Ichigo’s gaze followed the exchange, even as his supernatural senses continued to observe the entirety of the battlefield and every minute detail.
Through the barrage of dark beams, Nihil deftly flew through the air and then pivoted, its dark frame suddenly brimming with a haze of potent, dark red energies.
As Nihil surged upward, his ascent tore through the stagnant air of Malebolge with a violent force that rippled outward across the layered terrain, and Ichigo noticed the psychic bond between him and the Imperator widening as the creature called to him. Nihil called to the Sin of Wrath, allowing the ancient Sin to embolden and further its own ineffable sense of rage and hate, further throwing it into a frenetic insanity.
The Imperator’s form erupted like a nova.
A terrible, seething red bled across his body, the glow thick and oppressive as it rolled outward in cascading waves of raw emotion made manifest. Anger and hatred did not simply fuel its power, they became it. The Imperator’s malevolence erupted from it in violent surges that cracked through the air as jagged arcs of red lightning snapped and coiled around his frame.
Both arms rose above his head, and as he gathered that power, thousands of those writhing tendrils converged, compressing and folding inward until they fused into a single, churning mass. The sphere took shape rapidly, its surface unstable and boiling as it expanded outward, swelling until it dwarfed Nihil’s body dozens of times over, its malignant glow casting a deep crimson pall across the entirety of Malebolge.
For a brief moment, the battlefield below fell silent beneath the sheer presence of it, the roar of carnage drowned beneath the low, resonant thrum of concentrated destruction.
And then Ichigo’s eyes fell back to the eldritch titan as it answered in kind, no doubt realizing the sudden mortal danger it found itself in.
Its countless tentacles snapped inward, gathering into a single point as a massive beam of violet energy erupted upward, tearing through the sky toward Nihil with catastrophic force.
Nihil snarled without hesitation as he tore his arms down and sent his enormous sphere of demonic energy hurtling down.
The two forces collided with a deafening impact, and the resulting shockwave tore outward across the realm, flattening mountains and ripping through the wasteland in a violent surge. And the numerous fiends and monsters beneath the two were instantly vaporized from the force of their energies. For several heartbeats, the clash held, the struggle between the two monsters ripping against one another, and Ichigo’s keen eyes saw the very fabric of space-time begin to tear apart from the force of their power.
But finally, Nihil roared and his aura surged, and the power feeding into the sphere gushed again, doubling in intensity as it ripped its way through the four-armed giant’s beam.
The scarlet sphere tore through the beam and engulfed the creature entirely, its massive form unraveling in an instant as flesh, bone, and writhing tendrils vaporized into nothingness.
The detonation surged outward in a vast hemispherical wave of crimson force, its expanding edge rolling across the wasteland with unstoppable momentum as it consumed everything in its path. The terrain buckled beneath it, layers of stone and fused bone collapsing and vaporizing into a storm of incandescent debris, while the blast carved a widening basin deep into the ground of Malebolge.
From its blazing core, tremendous waves of condensed energy shot outward in all directions, streaking across the horizon for hundreds of miles, tearing through the ground and sky and searing them in demonic blight.
And as he beheld it all, Ichigo couldn’t help but drop his head into an exasperated palm.
Because Nihil’s violent blast was quickly approaching their side of the battlefield and was threatening to annihilate thousands of his own Reavers. Because naturally his mindlessly violent monsters would end up wiping out countless of its own kind in a berserk display of power.
With a sigh, Ichigo lazily flicked a finger and suddenly, the gargantuan blast of energy was brutally pushed back as it exploded with renewed force in the opposing direction.
And despite the brutal thunder of the explosion still ringing through Malebolge, Ichigo fixed his Imperator with an annoyed glare and pointed towards the his own front lines. “Kill them, not us! Is that really so hard?”
Through his psychic connection, he received a vague impression that was a mixture of chagrin and fear. But Ichigo quickly waved away his monster’s worries and said with a touch of aggrievement, “Just focus on the enemy.”
And as Nihil instantly relaunched itself in the swell of the fiendish horde, Ichigo turned as he heard Gremory chuckle from beside him.
“It was very much the same during the Great War,” she said as she crossed her arms, a touch of wistful mirth in her tone.
“Reavers responsible for friendly fire?” he asked sardonically.
She chuckled again, but with a darker undercurrent to her laughter this time. “Partially – there was little friendly fire, my Prince. Just fire. We killed each other as oft as we did our enemies. Both on and off the field of battle. Had we presented a united front, what with our scorched-world tactics and readiness to force brutal annihilation, I believe we could have won the war. Alas, it was never meant to be. Ultimately, our own cruelty and savagery turned against us.”
Ichigo said nothing, but a part of him felt doubtful about her claims of potential victory. Oh, he didn’t doubt for a second that had the Seven Crown Princes and Original Pillars been able to unify and coexist, then they would have inflicted even more devasting losses and tragedies upon the Fallen and Angels than they already did. But Ichigo felt quite secure in his belief that they ultimately stood no chance against the Heavenly Father. It was only because he had devoted his energies throughout the Great War to keep the Six-Fold Beast sealed and slumbering that allowed the destruction of that apocalyptic war to reach the point that it had.
And in the end, it all came crashing down in the Outrage of the Scaled Emperors.
Gremory then said, “Have you noted, my Prince, how the ambient magic of Malebolge is heavier than other parts of the Underworld?”
Ichigo frowned as he reached out to magical ether in the air. “Not particularly, no. Should I have?”
She smiled at him warmly, at least what Ichigo assumed was the Demon’s attempt at being warm. “Few amongst Demonkind pay attention to the natural flow of magic, as we are predisposed to corrupt and blaspheme all that is around us. And, punish me if you so deem sire,” Ichigo had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at her near eager tone, “but I would encourage you to think step beyond the limited scope of our lesser kin. Corruption has its uses, but otherwise, manipulating the natural course of magic within a world has far greater utility.”
And even as she said so, the far horizon where Nihil rampaged shook ferociously and suddenly there were six enormous beams of energy, each a unique color, that ruptured high into the sky. And every single one unleashed waves of power deep into the limits of Ultimate-class. From within, he could perceive new fiendish creatures that were probably as strong as his Imperator… which Nihil was probably about to get the ass kicking of a lifetime.
So, Ichigo turned towards Gremory with an expectant look as said, “Care to demonstrate?”
Her smile widened, and this time, her lips fully showcased her inhumanity, her alien and inherent viciousness as her presence spread out through the realm. Though Ichigo noticed rather curiously, not an iota of her power was attached to the tendril of her consciousness snaking through Malebolge.
It was almost as if it were… detached?
How odd.
Nevertheless, Ichigo reached out and, despite the hundreds of miles separating them, his hand fell on Nihil’s shoulder and pulled the Imperator back beside him. The Imperator responded with confusion, but Ichigo just gave it a pat on the back and mentally let it know to simply observe for the time being.
And then he put his full focus on Gremory and her witchery.
What struck him immediately was the absence of her corruption, for despite the inherently vile nature of her being, there was no trace of her essence staining the magic she touched, no signature that marked it as hers, and yet the flow itself began to change.
When he reached out with his own awareness, her presence met his without resistance, brushing lightly against his mind before guiding it deeper into the process. Actually, not just brushing, but it definitely felt like a… caress? How did she even accomplish that?
Ichigo threw the ancient Demon an exasperated glare and, though she didn’t meet his eyes, he could plainly see the self-satisfied smirk on those red lips. Lucifer, she was as vexing as Sirzechs.
Nevertheless, Ichigo continued to allow Gremory to guide his mind through the ebb and flow of the natural magicks of Malebolge and from her, he received impressions that settled into his thoughts with notions of certainty: concepts of shall, must, and is—foundational assertions that embedded themselves into the very structure of the magic. The effect wasn’t noticeable in the least, at least not to him, but he understood the profundity of it because the ambient energy did not resist or distort under her influence, but rather aligned itself, as though it had been convinced that obedience was its natural state.
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed slightly as he followed the extent of her reach, and the sheer scale of what she was doing unfolded before him with startling clarity, because the entirety of Malebolge’s inherent magic now bent in accordance with her will… and it was impossible to tell.
Every current, every fluctuation, every passive strand of energy remained outwardly unchanged, which meant that any spell drawing upon it would inevitably pass through her influence without anyone ever realizing it – and it would allow her to twist and redirect it at will.
The elegance of it struck him as much as the danger, and as the thought settled, he realized that she could sustain her casting until she drained the world dry, never needing to rely on her own reserves.
And once again, Ichigo was left speechless at the sheer calamity that must have been the Great War if these were the kinds of feats that its generals were capable of.
At the same time, he was starkly reminded of an old conversation with Uryu from years past, how he had admitted to utilizing the natural Reishi that made up Soul Society to bolster and enhance his own Quincy powers. And from that thought, he wondered the possibilities of a Quincy who could potentially command all of the Reishi of Soul Society, how monstrously formidable would such a foe be?
But then his eyes widened imperceptibly.
Oh…
That would be the Soul King…
And not just Soul Society, but Hueco Mundo too. The Lord of the Shinto afterlife could utilize all of that power as every ounce of his realm was infused with his divine will. And now that he had merged with Hades, they could further call upon the Fields of Asphodel and Elysium.
Holy crap, Ichigo realized, just how insanely powerful are they now?
But his focus snapped back as the six Ultimate-class fiends closed the distance between them in less than a fraction of a second. But in that same atom’s breadth of a second, Gremory had impossibly responded. The sky above had already shifted, its dull expanse deepening into a suffocating red as the clouds thickened and coalesced into something far denser, until Ichigo understood with a flicker of surprise that what hung above them was no longer sky at all, but a vast ocean of blood suspended overhead.
And he knew well enough that it wasn’t just normal blood, he could sense every single drop supercharged and infused with the very magic Gremory had stolen away from Malebolge. Every monster in Malebolge stilled as they stared transfixed at the crimson sky, and Gremory herself moved her arms above her head and struck a sensual pose, the lace of her dress fluttering in the high winds.
With her painted lips curved and pouted, she dropped her arms and the red sea.
It fell in a single, overwhelming surge, all that magic crashed down upon the battlefield with catastrophic force and erased the millions of fiends in an instant, evaporating them and the surface of Malebolge in a torrent of crimson magic.
And even more impressively, not a single drop fell onto his Reavers…
He cast an appreciative glance at the ancient Demon who put a finger to her lips and gave him a saucy wink.
And as he turned away from Sirzechs’ disturbingly flirtatious grandmother, he couldn’t help but curse his former boss for being the ultimate nepo baby.
=======
Sirzechs strolled leisurely before the line of kneeling prisoners, his hands clasped behind his back as a soft, tuneless whistle slipped from his lips, the sound almost cheerful in its cadence. He did not so much as glance at the trembling nobles arrayed before him, their bowed heads and rigid postures treated as little more than scenery, while a few paces behind him Grayfia stood in composed silence, her gaze steady and cold, not to mention the ever-present austerity that lingered in her eyes.
Souji’s voice cut cleanly through the chamber as he read from the anachronistic scroll in his hand. “Baronet Vayken of the Lesser Nobility and his kin stand accused of supplying the traitorous remnants of the now extinct House Leraje with funds -”
“That’s not true, my Lord Lucifer!” Vayken burst out, his voice cracking with panic.
Souji did not so much as pause. “- with personnel and with critical military secrets.”
Sirzechs continued to whistle, his expression unchanged as he listened, quietly noting to himself that the final charge was pure embellishment. A minor house like Vayken’s would never have had access to anything of real strategic value, but the accusation had its uses, and he had found that such additions lent a certain flair to proceedings like these. The other charges, however, required no such embellishment. The Baronet and his family really were guilty of such felonies.
“For the crime of aiding the traitorous rebels,” Souji went on, “Baronet Vayken and his House are being tried with the prosecution seeking the death penalty.”
A part of Sirzechs did find it amusing that he was executing people for treason when he himself was once the Empire’s greatest traitor. Or, well, the old Empire. But then, all those who bore the title of Lucifer were prone to rise in rebellion, after all.
But he was broken from his musings when the line of prisoners erupted into frantic protest, voices overlapping in desperation, and Sirzechs brought his whistle to a halt with a single, sharp clap. Silence fell at once.
“You wound me, Baronet,” he said, his tone laden with exaggerated sorrow as he turned at last. “I admit, you are distant cousins with the remaining Leraje, but to choose them over loyalty to me? I pride myself on being an exceedingly merciful Demon King. Why, I would say I am filthy with mercy! Can you not imagine how deeply this betrayal cuts me?”
“My Prince, I swear—”
Sirzechs raised a hand, cutting him off, his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes in theatrical anguish. “I am hurt. I am wounded. I am filled with murderous rage. Even now, I am seized with the urge to see your severed head roll across the floor.”
A soft swish answered him, followed by a wet thud.
Sirzechs opened one eye and glanced down at the head that had come to rest near his feet, blood pooling quietly beneath it, and then lifted his gaze toward Souji with clear irritation. “Did you seriously just decapitate him? I was being theatrical!”
Souji bowed slightly as he answered nonchalantly. “Apologies, my liege. Shall I have the necromancer summoned?”
Sirzechs straightened, affronted. “As if I’m not the greatest necromancer in the Underworld! No, no - the moment is quite ruined.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the remaining members of House Vayken were instantly Destroyed, their forms dissolving into nothingness as though they had never existed at all.
With a sigh, Sirzechs walked over to his throne and quite petulantly lopped himself down, much to Grayfia’s displeasure. She gave him the smallest of frowns, and after their centuries together he knew it was tantamount to her bashing her head against the walls. She was very adamant that he always maintains decorum when in the presence of servants. Never mind Souji was family and had been for well over a century now.
“How many more traitors do we have left on our list?” He asked as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.
Grayfia immediately answered and said, “Thirteen individuals and three families… though we would have finished by now had you not insisted on putting on your awful displays of buffoonery.”
Sirzechs put a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. “Awful? That’s a little harsh. I thought I was performing rather spectacularly. What about you Souji, what do you think?”
For his part, the samurai folded both hands behind his back and gave a careless shrug. “Admittedly, not your best work, my liege.”
Sirzechs rolled his eyes. Everyone’s a critic.
“Well then,” he said with another sigh, “let’s streamline the process. Send the thirteen individuals to Sera, she said something about needing disposable extras for a new TV show of hers. As for the two noble families-”
“Three,” Grayfia instantly corrected.
“-three noble families, we can organize a hunt. It’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together, and given what’s about to happen soon, we could use some festivities before the bloodshed.”
Grayfia threw Souji a sharp look and he bowed quickly. “I will have your orders carried out at once, my liege.” And his Knight disappeared from the spot, leaving him alone with his Queen.
But then, Sirzechs tilted his head off to the side, as if straining to listen to something far away.
Grayfia looked at him curiously and asked, “Is something the matter, my Lord?”
He gave her an exasperated look. It was literally the oldest argument in their relationship, she knew he didn’t like it when she used titles and formality when it was just the two of them together.
But not wanting to pick up that discussion for 47,844th time, he brushed it off and answered, “No, just taking a gander at how Ichigo’s doing over in Malebolge. Azazel has so many anti-scrying wards thrown over his territory that it’s damn near impossible for me to get a good grasp of what’s going on. Luckily the presence of another Sin on the inside lets me cheat a touch. That being said, I am surprised he agreed to allow grandmother to accompany him. I do wonder what she’s plotting.”
“Do you think she’s attempting to make up for Duke Gremory’s slight and ingratiate House Gremory to Ichigo?” Grayfia asked.
Sirzechs considered it briefly, but then quickly shook his head. The notion that grandmother would ever try and apologize for someone else’s mistake was beyond ridiculous. Father made his error and, so long as his life wasn’t in danger, grandmother wouldn’t lift a finger to aid him.
“She has some scheme in place, and no doubt it’s for personal gain… though I am uncertain as to what.”
Grayfia pursed her lips for a moment before saying, “Historically speaking, grandmother has never separated personal gain from familial gain. She sees it all as the same.”
“Oh, trust me, I know,” he said with a drawl. “But in this case, I can’t help but feel she’s being selfish. Well, more selfish than usual, anyways.”
“And somehow her ambitions involve Ichigo,” Grayfia noted with a hint of tiredness.
Sirzechs let out a low chuckle. “Yes, our poor former Pawn. How does he keep finding himself as the focus of attention of the most unscrupulous people?”
“You do realize,” she began sarcastically, “you are undoubtedly the most unscrupulous of them all?”
“Oh, I know!” Sirzechs said delightfully. “But at least I’m upfront with my lies!”
She shook her head, “You’re incorrigible.”
About to respond with a witty remark, Sirzechs suddenly tilted his head further as he felt an abrupt shift in his fellow Sin. “Ah! There he goes! Ichigo’s let loose a touch! I do hope Azazel has invested in some good barriers, it would be a pity if his side of the Underworld is burnt to cinders!”
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Saviġuk was a good girl.
In fact, she was the bestest girl!
How did she know? Because her master repeatedly told her so through numerous head scratches and belly rubs! And it was with petty glee she would delight in his praise even as the very grouchy thunder-lizard glared on from her perch in the storm.
Honestly, what her master saw in that one she would never understand. Someday, she would convince him that he needed to find a better mate. Preferably one that would not compete with Saviġuk over the best hunting spots in their territory! Honestly, sweeping down from the sky and scaring away all the manticores and chimeras! How rude!
But, for some inexplicable reason, the grouchy she-storm made her master happy. And what made her master happy, made Saviġuk happy.
See? She was undoubtedly the bestest girl!
Which is why Saviġuk was so utterly baffled when her master left her behind in their territory and took only the angry-brute-who-breaks-things-better-than-other-angry-brutes and the crimson-witch-who-smelled-rotten! Saviġuk should be with her master, tearing through armies and severing spirits from the mortal plane! She was the Amaroq! The Lord of Strength! The Devourer of Souls! The Stalker of the White Wastes!
She was not some glorified guard dog to sit at home!
And worse, her fellow packmate, the towering-winds-that-rage was, much to the shame of his name, content to sit in his forest gifted by their master doing nothing but gazing at the painfully slow growth of trees!
But she pushed past her inner vexations as she looked down at the little pup who bore an odd resemblance to the crimson-witch, as well her puny pack that trembled behind her.
For now, Saviġuk would help beat the ways of the hunt into this little pup-who-plays-at-being-alpha. She was an Amaroq, she knew the value of being patient and waiting for her opportunities.
And when the master did finally return from his adventure, she would pounce on him and give him a piece of her mind! Because she was the bestest girl!
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A/N: Sorry meant to get this out earlier today. I did end up cutting this chapter shorter than usual, shy of 7k words, but that's only because of my very watery and swollen eyes.
I can't remember what Shemhazai was like in the Light Novels (I haven't read them in over 10 years) but I imagine someone who'd dealt with Azazel for several millennia must be just so done with everything. So in my head, he's just very, very mentally exhausted.
Sirzech contiues to be a delightful sociopath, he's always so fun to write.
And Saviġuk! I've been meaning to write something from her perspective for ages! I just really like the idea of Ichigo having a giant murder machine that's also cuddly and fluffy af.
Anyways, see y'all Saturday!