The early morning sun cast golden rays across the Lucifuge estate, gilding the manor's obsidian spires and snow-laced gardens in a glow that felt almost ceremonial. Inside the estate's elegant parlor, Lucien sat at a low obsidian table with Grayfia and Venelana, the air heavy with strategy and legacy.
Lucien sat at the obsidian table flanked by Grayfia and Venelana on either side. The firelight cast flickering halos across their faces. Between them sat a mountain of invitations, each sealed with silver-black wax, bearing the reborn crest of House Lucifuge, a sigil that hadn't graced the Underworld in centuries.
Grayfia reached out for her tea…and froze.
A ripple of nausea crossed her face, subtle but unmistakable. Her hand fluttered to her lips, and her composure, usually carved from marble, flickered.
Lucien shot upright. "Mother", he screamed with concern. His shadows coiled instinctively beneath the table.
Grayfia rose, her dignity intact but fragile, and slipped toward the side corridor. The faintest tremor touched her shoulders before she vanished from view.
Venelana's smirk softened into maternal concern. "It seems the little one you're carrying is already exerting influence, Grayfia."
Lucien exhaled, shadows curling protectively at his boots. He managed a wry smile. "I'll brew the ginger tonic that she used to make me as a child when I was sick."
Venelana's eyes glimmered. "She'll appreciate that. And so will the baby." She chuckled. "Sirzechs fretted like a mother hen when she carried you. Nearly banned spellcasting in the manor."
Lucien's cheeks colored a light shade of red; 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 a 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. Her 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 grandduagher, aren't you?" Venelana mused aloud.
Albedo, still clutching Lucien, only smiled. "I have no ambition beyond my future husband's happiness."
Velzaria Tiamat, lounging by the fireplace, narrowed sharp blue dragon eyes. Her tail flicked. "She's bold, but I wonder if she is strong?"
Kuroka peeked from behind a column, grinning like a cat with cream. "My mate's other fiancée has finally arrived. Lu‑lu, you are going to need a war council for your growing harem."
Rangiku raised a goblet. "Not the shy type, is she?"
Yamato folded her arms. "Looks like our king really has 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 my 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 will meet her challenge together."
The Dungeon Expedition
Later that night, Lucien and his fiancées gathered at the central chamber of the Crest Ring, the dungeon gateway swirling open, revealing the Eternal Vault. Ancient corridors stretched before them, cursed runes pulsing in the dark. It was a place alive with history, alive with danger.
The first floor erupted into chaos. Yamato, Ghislaine, and Kuroka led the charge, cutting down undead and beasts with brutal efficiency. Velzaria's dragon flame turned enemies to ash in seconds, while Rangiku's Zanpakutō cleaved through bone and soul alike.
Lucien moved like the storm he was, shadows dancing in the air, his strikes precise, controlled fury.
When the final boss fell, the dungeon's holographic form appeared: Lilith smiling behind the interface.
"Host, based on IP valuation, summon branding, and merchandise revenue, your Demonic Credits now total: 123,670,000."
Lucien blinked, taken aback. "Already?"
Lilith's smile widened. "Your popularity index is… extreme."
Kuroka chuckled from behind. "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."