"Riser Phenex, what an honor it is to meet the failed artist like you who pretends to be human," a silver-haired man greeted him sarcastically, his tone dripping with mockery. "Shame on you, indeed. A pure-blood Devil Phenex wasting his talent on art and playing games with humans."
"Oh, Lord Rizevim," Riser Phenex shot back, his voice filled with mocking venom.
"It's a shame on you, pretending to be a terrorist when you could be something so much more." He threw the retort at the figure before him, eyes sharp with contempt.
Rizevim Lucifer furrowed his brows in irritation, but his smile twisted into something downright sinister. "I should dispose of you right here and now. Your mouth certainly needs to be shut, young Phenex."
But before Rizevim could make a move, Le Fay Pendragon stepped in front of Riser, glaring at Rizevim defiantly.
"You can try, Lord Rizevim," she spat, her voice cold as ice. "The moment you lay a hand on Riser, my brother will hear about it. The Hero Faction will turn against you, and I'll make sure to tell my brother you tried to hurt me."
Rizevim snorted coldly, unfazed by her threat, and replied with a mocking chuckle. "Very well then. Take a seat, Riser. I'm curious to hear what a failure like you has to say."
"Unfortunately, I have no interest in anything you to entertain the notion, Lord Rizevim," Riser responded with a scornful sneer.
"If this is how you treat your guests, then farewell." He snorted once more, clearly unwilling to entertain the conversation any further, before turning his back and grabbing Le Fay's arm to walk away.
She followed him obediently, but Rizevim's laugh echoed behind them, completely unbothered by Riser's words.
"Take a seat, Riser. Let's talk. I know exactly what you want, and I'm more than willing to provide it, on the condition that we talk first," Rizevim called after them, his voice laced with an unsettling charm.
Riser paused in his steps, turning his head back toward Rizevim as he processed the offer.
His expression remained calm, his eyes calculating.
Slowly, he turned back and walked to the seat, sitting down with deliberate ease.
"There's one thing you've forgotten, Lord Rizevim," Riser said coolly, his tone now much more controlled.
"I'm no longer Riser Phenex. From now on, call me Adolf Riser." He asserted the new name with finality.
"Ah... the rebellion of youth, indeed," Rizevim Lucifer remarked with amusement. "When I was young, I was just like you, Riser. I lost myself seeking the answer to the meaning of life, wasting my existence chasing that elusive truth."
He leaned back, his grin sharp and condescending. "So far, your life has no meaning, no clear answer. You proclaim that you love art, that you love painting, and that you cherish the peace you've found in Vienna. Yet I know that's never been true. You've found joy in violence, in war—you thrive in chaos. You've found your purpose in the heat of battle. Even when you're hurt, blinded, or struck down by stronger foes, you come alive. In war, for the first time in your life, you truly feel alive. Am I wrong, Riser?"
Riser's frown deepened, and his voice dripped with distaste as he glared at the man before him. "Have you been investigating me?"
"I have. I always do," Rizevim said with a smirk, his words oozing nonchalance.
"Join us, Riser. The Old Satan Faction can be yours." He spoke as if handing over the keys to a kingdom.
"It's hard to believe. Why are you so willing to hand everything to me on a silver platter?" Riser Phenex's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in his voice.
Rizevim chuckled, his tone turning blunt and unyielding. "I have no interest in ruling or manipulating this group of people. I'm not my father and never will be. I've found something more—something that I believe can provide me with the meaning of life I've sought for so long. That answer... is you, Riser."
He had investigated Riser Phenex's life thoroughly and discovered something fascinating.
Riser always had his way with people, a charismatic and deeply convincing individual when he chose to be.
Rias Gremory had become obsessed with him after his disappearance. Le Fay Pendragon was willing to defy her allies for him.
Even Sirzechs Lucifer overlooked Riser's reputation as a womanizer, maintaining the engagement between him and Rias despite everything.
Every one of his customers held him in high regard, both as an individual and for his exceptional painting skills.
Those who followed the wars saw him as a reliable figure.
For now, Rizevim wanted to see just how much chaos this young artist could unleash upon the world.
At the same time, it was a test—a test to determine whether Riser could meet his impossibly high expectations or ultimately fall short and disappoint him.
Yes, he handed Riser the keys to his associates and groups.
But whether Riser could truly control them was an entirely different matter.
Rizevim's benevolence came with conditions, and those conditions demanded nothing less than absolute competency.
The offer had a price. And that price was perfection.
Realizing that something felt entirely out of character for Rizevim, Le Fay leaned closer and whispered to Riser. "You don't have to accept his offer, Riser. Rizevim has never been a generous soul. He's wicked, manipulative, abusive, and fickle by nature. You can't trust him."
"Everyone has their flaws," Riser Phenex replied, his tone firm yet contemplative. "I want to change the outcome of this war. If I'm too afraid to face one man, how could I ever expect to change the tides against all of them?"
Without hesitation, Riser extended his hand toward Rizevim, his expression unwavering. "Lord Rizevim, I accept your offer. I will join your organization, but I expect your forces to send reinforcements to Lady Serafall immediately. I want victory, and I won't settle for anything less."
Rizevim's smirk widened into a twisted, playful grin as he clasped Riser's hand in a firm handshake. "Then, they shall be delivered, Lord Riser. And there's no need to call me 'Lord.' You stand above me in rank now. I wasn't jesting when I said I wanted you to rule."
Riser shook his head. "I will not demand everyone to respect me when I have yet to prove that I deserve the same respect they have shown me."
Hearing this, Rizevim's grin widened, a spark of something dangerous and delighted flashing in his eyes.
His grip on Riser's hand strengthened as if testing the younger man's resolve. "Then prove it to me, boy. Prove to me—and to all of us—that you're worthy of respect. I won't announce my intentions to anyone, nor will I let them know you're destined to lead us. Win them over. Show them through action that you are meant to be our leader."
For Rizevim, strength alone had never mattered. He had countless ways to inflict pain on Sirzechs, to challenge even beings as powerful as the Infinite Dragon, Ophis, despite being physically weaker than them.
It was finesse and cunning were the true tools of power.
What he saw in Riser had never been about strength alone.
It was his talents, his grand ambition, and his ability to manipulate and adapt that caught Rizevim's attention.
While others dismissed Riser as insignificant, Rizevim saw what they failed to notice.
Most importantly, he recognized the hidden monster lurking within Riser.
A beast waiting to be unleashed.
And that beast…
Oh, it would deliver.