The late morning sun cast golden rays across the Lucifuge estate, gilding the manor's black spires and the snow-glazed gardens below. In the estate's elegant parlor, Lucien sat at a low obsidian table with Grayfia and Venelana, the air heavy with strategy and legacy.
A stack of invitations lay between them, each sealed in silver-black wax, the reborn crest of House Lucifuge.
Grayfia reached for her tea…and froze. As a pang of nausea rippled across her face, her hand fluttered to her lips.
Lucien shot upright. "Mother, he screamed with concern?" His shadows coiled instinctively beneath the table.
"Excuse me for a moment." Grayfia rose, dignity intact yet fragile, and slipped toward the side corridor. The faintest tremor touched her shoulders before she vanished.
Venelana's smirk softened into maternal concern. "It seems the heir you carry is already exerting influence, Grayfia."
Lucien exhaled, shadows curling protectively at his boots. He managed a wry smile. "I'll brew her the ginger tonic mother used to make me when I was sick."
"She'll appreciate that," Venelana said, eyes glimmering. "And so will the babe. Sirzechs fretted like a hen when she carried you."
Lucien's cheeks colored; he coughed into his fist and returned to the scrolls, though one ear remained tuned to the corridor in case his mother needed him.
[Lilith Interface — Alert: Vital Monitor Online.]
[Target: Grayfia Lucifuge — Status: Stable. Fetal Mana Activity: Elevated.]
Lucien said, "Mentally, thank you, system."
Grayfia re‑entered a few minutes later, composure restored, a cup of mint‑root tea steady in hand. She resumed sorting invitations. Her complexion was pale, but her posture didn't waver.
"These go to the noble families allied with the current Maou regime," Grayfia said crisply, sorting through them with practiced grace. "But don't neglect the Old Guard. Their silence, even more than their words, will echo across the Underworld."
Venelana swirled her blood-orange wine, a smirk playing on her lips. "Stirring the stagnant waters, are we?
She flicked open a jet‑blue envelope stamped with a glacier crest rumored to belong to an Imperial general named Esdeath. Good. They remembered we weren't bred for shadows, we were forged from them."
Lucien set aside a crimson wax seal bearing the sigil of Rasputin House, all arcane circles and a single eldritch sword. "Magik herself… That'll raise eyebrows."
Another missive wore a golden Public Safety brand: whispers of a mysterious official named Makima. A fourth carried the twin succubus wings of the Naruse clan, Mio's family crest.
Others etched in alien glyphs, infernal brands, soulscript, or even cartoonishly bright sigils hinted at guests from worlds the nobility still dismissed as mere myth.
"Maou's below," Rias muttered nearby. "This isn't a guest list. It's a threat level assessment."
"This gala isn't just about announcing my engagements," Lucien said. "It's a signal. The Lucifuge name is back in play. We're not just heirs to tradition. We're architects of the next era."
Before another envelope could be sealed, a spatial rift chimed above the foyer, fragrant like night‑blooming roses and ozone.
A figure stepped through, radiant and unnerving. Raven‑black hair cascaded like liquid silk.
Golden, feline eyes gleamed with aristocratic menace.
Her obsidian armor, lacquered to a mirror sheen and edged with elegant wing motifs, clung to her sinuous form like a second skin.
. Black succubus wings furled behind her like a war‑queen's cape.
She sank into a perfect curtsey. "Greetings, Lady Grayfia. Lady Venelana. It is my honour to join your esteemed household."
Lucien blinked. "…Albedo?"
Her gaze found his; obsession ignited behind the gold. In two strides, she was before him, arms looping around his neck, tail curling possessively around his waist. "My beloved fiancé," she breathed, cheek brushing his. "I have arrived, as promised. My eternity is yours."
Lucien's balance wobbled; Grayfia cleared her throat, half-amusement, half warning. Venelana's curiosity sharpened.
"Succubus clan…you're Vermeil's prodigy, aren't you?" Venelana mused aloud.
Albedo, still clutching Lucien, only smiled. "I have no ambition beyond his happiness."
Velzaria Tiamat, lounging by the hearth, narrowed dragon‑gold eyes. Her tail flicked. "She's bold."
Kuroka peeked from behind a column, grinning like a cat with cream. "Another one? Lu‑lu, your harem needs a war council."
Rangiku raised a goblet. "Not the shy type."
Yamato folded her arms. "He really does have a type."
Lilith's translucent interface flickered behind Lucien's shoulder:
[Observation: High probability of furniture destabilisation.]
[New Variable: Albedo's physical proximity multiplier = ∞]
Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to need stronger wine."
Albedo's wings tightened around him like a fortress. "Wine is unnecessary. I shall sustain you with devotion."
Velzaria's lips twitched, part smirk, part growl, before she looked away to hide it.
Albedo suddenly produced a velvet box. Inside gleamed a brooch shaped like a flame-kissed raven in silver and violet. "I forged this during my wait… so they know who you belong to."
Lucien coughed. "Terrifying craftsmanship. But thank you."
Grayfia's cool gaze softened with understanding. She recognises that look, Lucien realised—the same fierce devotion Grayfia once bore for Sirzechs.
Venelana leaned toward Grayfia with a half-smile. "Sirzechs is going to lose his mind when he meets her."
Grayfia murmured, "He'll recognize that look in her eyes. It's the same one I once wore."
⸻
Responses from the Old Guard
That afternoon, magical familiars swooped into the estate bearing sealed responses from noble houses.
Rias entered the study, catching Lucien mid-scroll. Her eyes immediately locked onto a black envelope bound in golden thread.
"…Is that from her?"
Lucien nodded, opening it with care. The script within was elegant and brutal.
To Lucien Lucifuge,
Heir of two great houses and torchbearer of reborn ambition:
I accept your invitation.
You and my granddaughter walk a dangerous path.
I will assess your growth… and shape it, should it prove worthy.
Steel must be tested to become a legend.
— Chysis Gremory
Rias inhaled. "She's never answered one of my letters."
Venelana stepped in. "Chysis doesn't waste time on the unworthy. This isn't just a reply, it's a declaration."
Lucien closed the scroll, eyes sharp. "Then I'll meet her challenge."
⸻
The Dungeon Expedition
That night, the Lucifuge peerage and Lucien's fiancées gathered at the central chamber of the Crest Ring. The dungeon gateway swirled open an ethereal passage into the Eternal Vault, where cursed corridors and adaptive trials await.
Its shifting corridors glowed with cursed runes and old-world danger. It was alive, adapting, and growing stronger with each run.
Floor One was carnage.
Yamato stormed forward, kanabō ablaze, shattering goblins with fiery rage.
Ghislaine danced through bone-beasts, her blade howling like storm wind.
Yue floated above, unleashing lunar bursts that scorched through the undead.
Kuroka moved like a ghost, disabling traps and slashing through runes with dark grace.
Velzaria unleashed a violet dragon flame that consumed a troll warlord in seconds.
Rangiku's sakura scythe sliced in graceful arcs, her wine gourd pulsing with heat.
Albedo? Precise, efficient, terrifying.
Lucien struck with controlled fury, shadows erupting from his blade, Lucifuge sigils pulsing across his skin.
Floor Three's boss, a twisted Lich-Root hybrid, summoned necrotic vines and spoke infernal runes.
Yue and Rangiku severed the root cores with elemental harmony.
Velzaria's hellfire broke the creature's shield.
Ghislaine's roar followed her blade splitting bark, bone, and soul in one merciless arc.
The air stilled.
Lilith's holographic form appeared above the fallen boss.
"Host, based on IP valuation, summon branding, and merchandise revenue, your generated Demonic Credits now total: 123,670,000."
Lucien blinked. "Already?"
Lilith's smile widened. "Your popularity index is… extreme."
Kuroka cackled. "Told ya fanboys are the real currency."
⸻
Closing Storm-Whispers
Back in the manor, the final invitations sat sealed, some bearing crests from ancient devils, others etched with emblems of ice, chains, succubi, mutant sorcery, and sigils no scholar dared translate.
Grayfia sipped her mint-root tea, cheeks no longer pale. Lucien draped a thick shawl across her shoulders, standing behind her with quiet vigilance.
Albedo watched from the firelit corner, tail flicking. Her cheeks were faintly flushed. The glow in her eyes hadn't dimmed.
A hush settled over the estate, thick with tension.
Soon, the Lucifuge gates would part for:
– An ice general cloaked in blue regalia...
– A crimson-eyed succubus heiress bearing the Naruse flame...
– A hunter wrapped in golden chains and secrets...
– A blonde sorceress who walked with ghosts and flame...
– And others drawn from corners of legend, madness, and myth.
The Underworld was stirring.
And House Lucifuge stood at its center, rewriting the script of power, one invitation, one obsession, and one unborn legacy at a time.
Lucien turned to the darkening skies beyond his balcony, a storm smirk curling across his lips.
"Let them come."