The Marchosias mansion was imposing, with fire visible in every corner of the house, even though it was predominantly blue in color.
Altair looked at the place with respect. The Marchosias family had died out more than 500 years ago during the devil's civil war.
It was by no means common for these ancient houses to be occupied by newcomers, but Altair had earned the opportunity to claim it. His contribution to the devil faction was greater than what many families had achieved throughout their entire lives.
The help and support of a Leviathan helped the whole process. This could cause problems in the future, after all, if one person could claim unowned land, more and more people would want to expand their territories.
'A problem for the Leviathan in the future,' he thought, with a slight hint of concern for her.
Altair genuinely liked her. He even sometimes thought that she gave him more than he deserved. Not because he underestimated himself in any way, but because he didn't feel that he had offered much in the past. The devils put a lot of effort into attracting him to their side, even with only the inferior healing potion that Albus had negotiated.
It wasn't a big deal. It hadn't been in the past. In the present, it could be, as it experiences synergy with Phoenix Powder and is perfect for drinking it or applying it to the skin.
Altair had enjoyed the devils' attention, but he hadn't stopped to wonder where it came from, which was probably a mistake.
"It's pretty big," Serafall said beside him. She had returned minutes earlier in a rather good mood, as if she had just seen the best movie in the history of mankind. She was always happy, but on that particular day she seemed radiant. About to explode with happiness.
"But...?" Altair caught on to where the Leviathan had stopped.
"It's also old. The Sitri mansion is quite modern and much prettier," she seemed to speak with hidden intentions. Every word seeking to change his mind.
He would agree with her at first. The Sigri mansion was more modern and up-to-date, but in terms of appearance, although impressive, it was not superior to the Marchosias house.
"It seems as if the Sitri family doesn't even want to pay me," he complained aloud, with more confidence than he should have.
"I want to protect you," she said firmly. "I have always longed for peace. Lately, I have been receiving quite a few calls from Azazel. He wants to be your 'Scientif Bro,' so he is seeking to cooperate with the devils. Even the angels are interested in you." That Azazel would harass Serafall was something he could expect.
But the angels? They weren't even interested in the abused children in the Vatican. Altair listened to some of Kiba's story. Experiments on children.
If the leaders of a faction ignored the suffering of their believers, they were either evil or lacked the interest or ability to intervene.
As for why he attracted their attention? He might have an idea. And it was in his resistance to holy magic. The light of the fallen couldn't do much to him, and he believed that even that of angels would not affect him. Unless it was one of high rank.
In general, he was a weirdo. As if God himself had made him to attract attention. Although if he was designed by God, he would certainly thank him. No matter how ugly his childhood had been, he would not change his current life.
"I think peace would have been inevitable. No matter who or what intervenes," he replied. The factions were not at war, nor were they at peace. It was a tense non-aggression agreement that was broken from time to time.
If Kokabiel had managed to kill Sona or Rias, war would have broken out without a doubt. Between devils and fallen angels, could the angels stay out of it? Could God simply watch from the sidelines?
"I believe so too," Serafall did not seek to flatter him excessively. "But you have become an important factor in it. You became important without meaning to," she said.
"Why?" he asked this time.
He could say without a doubt that he was a genius, that he could create, and that he was good at learning new things. He was talented and, apart from his lust, dedicated to his work. But he felt overrated.
'Impostor syndrome?' he thought bitterly.
Serafall's face fell into contemplation.
"Ajuka values your mind very highly," she said finally, deciding to be honest. He opened his eyes in surprise. He hadn't had the opportunity to interact with Maou Belzeebub. But everyone hailed him as a genius. And seeing the evil pieces, Altair understood why.
"And he figured it out with just a potion?" he asked suspiciously.
"A simple potion. That's what he said. A potion he wouldn't know how to create. Not because you're smarter, but because you're able to think differently. I honestly didn't understand it very well," she explained. Her voice sent shivers down his spine.
Altair did not believe that the creation process was anything extraordinary. He simply applied Muggle research methods to create the potion. Some other wizards used them too, although none with such incredible results.
"And sometimes you also seem to have a special interest in me," he commented, glancing at her sideways.
"You have the ability to make devils strong," she said, unabashedly. "Strength brings peace," she added at the end, looking at her own hands.
The hands that brought that scarce peace.
They continued touring the house. Despite being abandoned for so long, there was not a speck of dust in it, nor were there any damp, mold-eaten tapestries. The wood looked new, and so did the furniture. It was as if it had been frozen in time.
"Fire. The whole house seems to scream fire," said Altair.
"That's right. They were rivals of the Sitri," replied Serafall. The magic of the Sitri family was water. Fire and water were polar opposites.
"Did you extinguish them?" he dared to ask. Serafall's face twisted into a grimace.
"Yes and no," she replied. She seemed ashamed. "During the civil war I killed their lord, but I intended to spare the children. Part of our army did not listen to orders, and boys and girls were killed," the sadness was palpable in her voice.
The logical part of Altair told him that the children could have continued the war when they grew up, that it was best for them to die. But that wasn't his real opinion, of course. He could see it as the most effective way to eliminate potential rivals. But would he be capable of killing a child? He knew the answer. He could imagine the Malfoys having a third child, and he believed he would spare it. He would find other ways to control him.
"You saved thousands of lives," he said simply. "You can't control everything, or everyone who follows you," he added.
"I know, I know, Altair~chan," she tried to return to her normal mood, but it sounded fake. "So you won't change your mind?" she asked, changing the subject. Her eyes became watery as she looked at him. She reminded him of a puppy after being abandoned in the road.
"I'll take this mansion," he said. It was good land, there were resources to be exploited on its grounds.
"Don't you feel the evil vibe here?" asked Serafall.
Altair concentrated; until that moment, he hadn't felt anything. His detection of magic had improved greatly, even if only a little, he should have sensed any irregularities.
His senses told him nothing.
'Maybe it's just guilt making her feel that way,' he theorized in his mind. But he wasn't going to take any chances. He sent for Lily and Katerea.
"I don't feel anything," they both said.
Serafall was stronger than both of them, yes, but the fact that neither of them felt anything at all suggested that Serafall was the one with the wrong idea.
"I'll send Ajuka to check," said the Leviathan. "He owes me a favor. In the meantime, stay in my territory." She struck a strange pose as a circle opened beneath her feet.
Lily and Katerea left shortly after. Leaving him there alone, he should have left with them, but a painting in the looked so interesting that he decided to stay.
It was a painting of an elegant man. In his hand was a golden staff, a color quite similar to that of his wand. Altair took it out, just to compare the two metals. Despite being a painting from 500 years ago or more, it was quite detailed.
"Is your staff also made of Orichalcum?" Altair asked the painting. The man simply extended the staff toward him.
The staff grew larger and larger until it ended up coming out of the painting.
"Judge for yourself," said the man in the painting.
Altair weighed the cane in his hands. It felt incomplete, powerful but not his.
"What do you want from me?" Altair asked.
'I shouldn't negotiate with the devil... But I'm a devil too, aren't I?'