Chapter 63: Let The Games Begin!
Lord Phenex stood atop his estate's uppermost balcony, his arms crossed over the railing. His gaze was fixated on the courtyard, observing the sight of his youngest son, Riser, training with his eldest, Ruval. The pride and joy of his house, its crown jewel.
The Phenex who had climbed into the domain Underworld's prestigious Top 10, and the one that'd inherit the mantle of the house's leadership once the current Lord decided it was time to pass it on.
Truthfully, Lord Phenex was more than happy to pass the title onto him at a moment's notice, but his son seemed determined to continue climbing the ranks.
All for the sake of dethroning the reigning Emperor of the game.
Despite how proud he was of his eldest son's achievements, he wasn't sure if such a thing would ever come to fruition. The Emperor wasn't just strong after all, he was overwhelming. The gap between him and #2 was ten times as large as that between the rest of the Top 10.
"You might've taught that boy a little too well, Sebastian." He muttered before shaking his head, pushing those concerns aside for another time.
At present, he had much—much more pressing matters to consider.
It had all started nine days ago, when Riser had come home from the human world, in what was supposed to be an effort to retrieve his wayward fiancée—only to come back empty-handed, and clutching his abdomen in pain.
The Lord could hardly believe his ears when his son informed him of what had transpired.
Alduin was there.
Alduin Buné.
The same Alduin who had been let out of the Buné Mansion's bubble less than a handful of times.
The same Alduin who was only ever allowed to interact with Riser because their relationship somehow led to each other's improvement.
The same Alduin whose presence was absent to the point where the limited number of devils who had heard rumours of his birth, relegated him to naught more than an urban myth. A fib told by a desperate Lord Buné to make up for the failings of his first son.
That Alduin, by some incomprehensible twist of fate, had found himself not only in the human world, but right by Rias Gremory's side. The woman whom both Lord Phenex and Zeoticus had mutually agreed would be Riser's bride.
The Lord had listened to each and every microdetail his son relayed to him with near-obsessive attention. Mentally going over each syllable with a fine comb in an attempt to discern what was going on.
Apparently, he was there on Sirzechs Lucifer and Serafall Levaithan's behest, appointed as Rias and Sona Sitri's "Guardian." An arrangement that according to Alduin himself, was decided on over a month ago, and put into effect the instant the two future Matriarchs assumed oversight of Kuoh Town.
However, he wasn't entirely convinced that protection was Alduin's sole responsibility.
The timing of it all felt wrong, suspicious even.
For him to conveniently be by his future daughter-in-law's side at such a time, and for the proposition of an unofficial Rating Game to be brought forth by Sirzechs' wife during Riser's visit during the exchange didn't sit right with him.
The way Grayfia had worded it made it seem like the match was planned as a 'last resort' of sorts by Sirzechs.
But from Lord Phenex's perspective, it almost felt like that was the original plan all along. An escape route planted for Rias Gremory through sheer nepotism, a concept high society in the Underworld practiced all too often.
Granted, nepotism or not, Sirzechs was at the top of the Underworld's Government. His word carried immeasurable weight, and Lord Phenex was in no position to deny such a request.
The only person capable of even challenging his words were his fellow Satans, and the man standing at the head of the Great King Faction's table.
The real head, not the pathetic puppet.
Fully aware of the faction's stance on the necessity of pureblood propagation, Lord Phenex had sent word to House Bael. Hoping they'd take his side in the matter, and oppose it in some manner.
Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get a response from the Ancestral Bael himself, but he was able to procure one from Lord Bael. Who was, in essence, the mouthpiece of the former.
Not that said response was very helpful, quite the opposite really.
"Your frustration with the state of affairs is noted, but I have no interest in standing between you and Sirzechs Lucifer's scuffle. If you wish to resolve this in your favour, I suggest you ensure your son emerges victorious."
Which translated into, 'Piss off and handle it yourself.'
Lord Phenex couldn't help but question their indifference. Rias was of their blood, and that blood was going to be continued with another noble house that the Bael were highly favourable towards—as they paid more than anyone else for their renowned Phoenix Tears.
Sure, Rias bore the Gremory last name, but there was no reality in which the Phenex would reject her Bael ties. A fact which Lord Phenex believed House Bael understood perfectly well.
This was a solid chance for them to strengthen Bael-Phenex ties.
Yet, they chose to play no hand in the situation. Which seemed just as suspicious as the Rating Game proposal itself.
Still, the facts were the facts. The door had been shut on Lord Phenex's face, which left him no other option than to do whatever he could to make sure Riser won the game—and that Rias remained his fiancée.
Hence why he had enlisted the help of his eldest son, the house's leading expert when it came to Rating Games. Since Riser's return, he had been training his younger brother and his peerage to the best of his abilities.
Granted, ten days wasn't an awfully generous amount of time. He could only teach Riser so much, pointing out the young Phenex's most glaring flaws, and offering as much correction as he possibly could in the limited amount of time he had.
You can't afford to lose this Riser, failure would mean so much more than a single political setback. It'd be public humiliation.
"Dear, you're brooding again."
His crestfallen state of mind was pleasantly interrupted by the sound of his wife's gentle, bell-like voice.
"Can you blame me?" He grumbled, rubbing his face in exasperation. "This was supposed to be a mutually agreed-upon, one-and-done marriage arrangement, and now look what it's become? A big, sloppy Satan-sized mess."
"I did caution you, didn't I?" Lady Phenex wore a tight-lipped smile. "It doesn't matter whether Zeoticus approves or not, Sirzechs is far too protective of his little sister to stand idly by while she's pressured into a marriage she's unwilling to entertain."
The Lord clicked his tongue. "She's the future Matriarch. What good does sheltering her from her inevitable responsibilities do?"
She sighed. "The Gremory put family above everything, you know this, Rigel. We don't share the same values, and frankly, I'm not sure Riser and Rias are a good match for one another."
"Maybe not at first, but I'm sure they'd grow on each other." He insisted. "That's how it goes for most of us, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "Our generation's different from theirs, we lived with those expectations from the moment we left the womb. We understood the necessity of it." The Lady peered over the balcony railing, enjoying the sight of her children training with each other. "But times have changed, war isn't looming over the youth's shoulders, there isn't that sense of desperation or necessity weighing down on them like it was for us. Thus, their expectations are vastly different in comparison to ours."
Unable to reject the wisdom in his wife's words, he pressed his lips together in deliberation.
Was she right? Was the matchup doomed from the start?
No, even if it was, it's too late to go back now. The stage has already been set.
"Just out of curiosity," she continued. "Was Alduin really there?" It had been quite some time since she last saw the young Buné.
She had always hoped he and her son's relationship would take a turn for the better, but as she had observed with Riser and Rias' wedding arrangement, some things were just not meant to be.
"I don't see why Riser would lie about that," he nodded, recalling a rather alarming detail about the little dragon's appearance. "According to him, that boy's horns have grown in."
She blinked in surprise. "He passed?"
"So it would seem," his eyes listlessly drifted across the Underworld's violet-tinted sky as he fell further into thought. "I'm still trying to figure out where he fits into all this, somehow, Sirzechs has involved him—I can feel it."
"I think the answer to that's fairly obvious."
He raised his brow. "How so?"
She didn't reply, instead, she simply nudged her head towards the courtyard that resided beneath them.
Lord Phenex's eyes lit up in instant realization. "You mean he's—!"
"Mhm," she hummed affirmatively. "We both know how unbelievably talented of a teacher Sebastian is, it's highly possible that his talent was passed down to his son."
He clenched his fists in frustration, now it all made sense to him. Sirzechs wanted Alduin to play the role of mentor, to shift the odds of his plan regarding his younger sister's marital fate in his favour as much as possible.
Damnit!
House Buné's training methods were truly terrifying, surpassed only by the effects they yielded.
///
Castles were a trademark commodity amongst the Pillars of the Underworld. Not because its architecture was practical by any means, but because it was a chance to show off one's wealth.
How high could your castle reach? How thick were its walls? What kind of defences did you have installed? What materials did you use to add to its lustre? How did its symbolism speak to your family's history? So on and so forth.
Whenever a Pillar visited another's territory, their castle would be the first visual impression made on them. A castle didn't amount to much on its lonesome, but when posited and curated correctly, there were situations where it made all the difference in the noble court of opinion.
And in said court, there was one opinion that stood head and shoulders above the rest.
'The Bael Castle is second to none.'
To even compare it to the others was an insult in and of itself. For every architect in the Underworld, aspiring and practicing alike, that castle redefined the very definition of the word. It was the platinum standard. The unattainable goal they couldn't help but salivate in the presence of.
The highest-ranking noble family's castle reached higher than the rest, its bricks were inscribed with magical circuitry that breathed life into over fifty protective barriers. None of which had ever been compromised—ever. Not since the Great War, nor the Civil, nor anything in between.
Its courtyard was lush with a rare, beautiful, purple-coloured flower species that was once thought to be extinct. Revived by the careful hands and intellect of Lord Bael's second-son, Magdaran Bael.
The clan's elite guardsmen patrolled the entirety of the castle's perimeter around the clock, prepared to flock to their master's side at a moment's notice should anyone be foolish enough to try intruding on the territory.
All of this, just for Lord Bael and his family.
…
Well, most of it at least.
In total, the castle had five floors.
The ground floor contained the kitchen, staff living quarters, and access to the courtyard.
The first was mainly used when meetings were conducted with other Pillars, designed primarily to appeal to foreign eyes and ensure they understood the weight of what it meant to set foot into Bael territory.
The second was where organized events by the Great King Faction occurred, an area that put a heavy emphasis on secrecy and security. Ensuring that none of their dealings became known to outside ears, even a passing staff member or two.
The third was simply the private living quarters of Lord Bael, his wife, and two sons.
Lord Bael had free rein and access to all of these floors, naturally able to command and oversee them as the Patriarch of his house.
As for the fourth?
That place was completely off limits, to everyone in the castle, even Lord Bael himself. And the man himself, with all his pride, arrogance, and ego, had absolutely no desire to poke his head there without explicit permission from its sole resident.
The presence that had drawn the very blueprints of the castle he resided in, the progenitor of the destructive DNA that coursed through every Bael clansman's veins.
Zekram Bael.
"That's no good, sweetheart." The enigmatic figure mused aloud, his hands folded behind his back as he watched over his territory from up above, as per usual. "You shouldn't have let him slip from your grasp like that. How am I supposed to dote on my grandson if he isn't here?"
He breathed a heavy sigh, sparing a glance at the letter Lord Phenex had sent to his house, requesting an intervention.
"How dull, he experiences one little hardship and comes crying at my doorstep like a child whose toy had been snatched from him." He grumbled, carefully slicing a part of his famous, homemade apple pie and popping it into his mouth. "I thought it was only this generation that was losing its edge, who would've thought even their predecessors would start to grow soft?"
To ease his disappointment, he took a moment to admire the long, endlessly spanning purple flowerbed enveloping his courtyard.
He wasn't a fan of Magdaran's soft-hearted nature, far from it—but he couldn't help but deeply admire how much of a phytophile the child was.
It reminded him of her, after all.
"I'm told he has your eyes. If that's true, it'd be nice to have an opportunity to see them for myself." A once-in-a-blue-moon, faint smile appeared across his face. "It's a shame really. Instead of hiding under Serafall and Sirzechs' wings, he could've sought my umbrella for shelter instead."
He swirled his teacup, taking a slow, measured sip.
"No matter, it's still early days, perhaps a chance to play that card shall present itself soon. Who's to say?"
He had high expectations for that child, it was only natural that he remained beside him, where he could carefully watch over his growth.
///
Tonight's the night.
I can feel the tension, the pressure, the weight of the difference between victory and defeat pushing down on my students' shoulders as I sat with them in the living room.
All of us were sitting in silent anticipation, waiting for Grayfia to appear and announce the initiation of the Rating Game.
"Alduin," Rias called out to me, understandably more strained than the rest. "Do you think we're ready?" She crossed her arms, gripping them tightly.
"I think," I paused, noticing that all eyes had become fixated on me. "You've all devoted every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears into training this past month, and I'm honoured to have had the privilege of calling myself your teacher. However, right now, at this very moment, what I think of you is no longer relevant."
Their brows creased, and I could feel their attentiveness to my next words grow tenfold.
"What matters is that you believe in all the effort you've put in. You should all be proud of yourselves, you've all come a long way in a surprisingly short amount of time. I understand how much the outcome of this game means to you, but I suggest you treat it as more than just pressure, instead, let it serve as motivation—let it fuel your desire to trample on that firebird and everything he stands for." I added in a little grin at the end.
She paused momentarily, her frown gradually shifting into a confident smile as my words started to sink in.
"Yeah, you're right." She exhaled, easing some of the strain out of her joints. "We have worked hard, haven't we?" Rias faced her peerage, earning a series of resounding nods in return.
In a moment of perfect timing, the room's temperature started to chill, the teleportation circle lighting up in an icy-blue hue as the Lucifuge crest inscribed itself into the flooring.
"Good evening, Lady Rias, Lord Alduin." Grayfia greeted the teacher-student duo, her attention fixated on the former. "I trust you're adequately prepared for tonight's match?"
"As much as I'll ever be," Rias replied with confidence.
"Good," she nodded approvingly. "In that case, I'll now have you and your peerage teleported to the game's starting position." Not wasting another second, she snapped her fingers, whisking away Rias and her subordinates in a beam of light.
"So, the moment of truth's finally come," I smiled, stretching my legs and leaning back into the couch.
"That it has," she agreed. "Lord Lucifer would like to use your residence as the spectating area for the game. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure," I shrugged. "The more the merrier."
"Thank you."
A different, crimson-tinted crest connected with the teleportation circle, this time that of the Satan Lucifer's.
"It's been a minute, hasn't it? Alduin."
Lord Lucifer appeared before me with an even smile, his attire significantly more casual in comparison to the heavy-plated armour I had first seen him in. Instead, adorned in a tailored white suit with purple accents, and a black coat over the garment.
"Indeed, Lord Lucifer." I shifted my tone, opting for a courtlier demeanour in comparison to how I acted with Serafall.
He chuckled lightly. "Oh, come on, you dropped the honorifics with Serafall. Surely you could afford me the same luxury. Your family isn't all that fond of formalities anyway, right?"
You don't know the half of it.
"Alright then, Sirzechs." Like a switch, I dropped the stiffness in my posture.
He smiled warmly and sat down beside me, folding one leg over the other. "Mm. This is a nice couch, Serafall's got good taste."
Right as he spoke, the teleportation circle lit up once more.
"Speak of the devil," I smirked at him.
"Yahoo! Al-chan! ☆" Serafall cheered with her usual theatrical flair. "How have you been? Did you miss me? Actually, there's no need to answer that, is there? Of course you missed me! ☆"
For some reason, I could feel my danger senses going off as she skipped over towards me.
"It's nice to see you too— MY SPINE!"
Despite the jarring difference in our statures, she effortlessly picked me up in a tight, excruciating, bone-crushing hug.
"Oh my! You've put on some muscle since I last saw you! It looks like someone's trying to compete with Saira-chan! ☆" Her squeeze tightened even further, to the point where I could do naught but croak and pleadingly tap her shoulder, hoping she'd get the memo.
Sirzechs cleared his throat. "Uhm… Serafall? I think you're about to crush your favourite employee to death."
"Nonsense! Al-chan's a tough cookie, he can handle my squeeze love just fine! Isn't that right, Al-chan? ☆"
'Just fine' my ass! You're seriously about to kill me you crazy overaged Magical Girl!
"See? He's fine! ☆"
Damnit! I should've joined Domestic Affairs instead!
For the fourth time today, I noticed a connection link itself to the teleportation circle, one that emanated a pinkish hue, and strangely enough, caused Serafall to instantaneously loosen her grip and click her tongue in irritation.
"…I really shouldn't have let her come," her expression darkened.
Wait a minute, I recognize that crest, don't I?
"I don't seem to recall giving you permission to hug my fiancé like that, Serafall." A scowling, cherry-haired woman appeared in my living room. Two upwards-facing horns resting atop her scalp. Clad in a dark, high-cut formal dress with raised slits.
"H‒hi honey," I rasped, still recovering from the aftereffects of having a Satan squish all the air out of my lungs.
"Hello, darling. I've missed you," Roygun gave Serafall a fierce stink-eye as she walked up to me. Her palms lovingly cupped around my face. "I would've come to visit sooner if I hadn't been swamped in an endless slew of bureaucratic work, I mean honestly, for all that talk about Beelzebub's technological wonders, you would've thought we'd have a more efficient way to deal with paperwork!" She pouted, glancing at the Head of Domestic Affairs who could do naught but chuckle nervously.
"I'll uh… make sure to bring it up when I next see him."
"Hmph, you better. I nearly missed out on an entire month's worth of time with my adorable Alduin!" She pulled me closer, squishing my face against hers. "Fortunately, he's going to make up for all that lost time, isn't he?" She licked her lips. A carnal glint came alive in her eyes as one of her hands discreetly snaked down my torso.
Oh boy. I'm not getting any sleep tonight, am I?
"No, you are not, Alduin. No, you are not."
"Of course, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't?" I returned the sentiment, gently slipping my tongue through her lips, to which she responded in kind—with aggression.
"Ahem," Serafall coughed. "Surely the two of you can save the lovey-dovey routine for another time? We're here to watch Rias' Rating Game, aren't we? Roygun."
Oh, now you're all professional. Real convenient.
"I see you're disgustingly jealous as per usual, Serafall." Roygun sighed, bringing me over to the couch and locking me in a tight cuddle. "The older generation ought to have a little more class than that, don't you think?"
Serafall's eye twitched vehemently. "I'll show you older—!"
"Serafall," Sirzechs intervened. His demeanour noticeably firmer than before. "We shouldn't delay the game's initiation, excessive waiting could needlessly stress Rias out."
"Tch, fine." She huffed.
She isn't going to take her frustration out on me later on, is she?
Nah, surely not.
Sirzechs reached into his coat, pulling out an odd-looking, circular mechanical device, and planted it on the table.
"What's that?" I asked.
"As you're aware, the field for the Rating Games takes place in a separate pocket dimension derived from the Dimensional Gap. I'd love to explain the specifics to you, but I'm afraid only Ajuka's able to make any sense of them." He pressed a button on the device, lighting up a hologram that displayed what looked to be Kuoh Academy. "With this device, we're able to connect to the pocket dimension for spectating purposes."
"Interesting," I hummed, not only intrigued by the device, but the decision to use the school as the grounds for the match.
I'm definitely not complaining, but isn't that a bit biased towards Rias?
Granted, she's got no experience fighting in Rating Games compared to Riser who's participated in about a dozen. It should be easy to pass it off as a balancing act.
"So those are your students," Roygun leaned forward, looking at the section of the screen that displayed the OCR clubroom—Rias' starting position. "I can't help but notice the awfully interesting ratio of women to men among them," her tone lowered. Slowly, she trailed her finger down my spine. "I don't have anything to be worried about, do I?"
Sirzechs turned to me, raising an eyebrow in support of Roygun's question.
"Of course not! What kind of a teacher do you take me for?!" I scowled, pinching her on the cheek.
"I‒I was just making sure, darling! I didn't mean to accuse you, sorry." She tried to make my wounded feelings better with a light kiss, but I wasn't having any of it.
Hmph! Baka Roygun.
"Everyone," Grayfia spoke. "I'll be leaving to begin my duties as game referee now. I hope you all find the upcoming match to your liking." With a respectful bow, she disappeared in a flash of light, returning the room's attention to the holographic screen.
Don't lose this Rias, otherwise your brother might genuinely Ruin the Extinct me into oblivion.
///
[Lady Rias, Lord Riser.]
The backs of both nobles straightened once they heard the Strongest Queen's voice address them through the intercom.
[The rules for this game will follow the same standard as that of an ordinary Rating Game. The win condition for either team will be met when the opposing King has been eliminated from the match, or forfeits at their own discretion.]
[In order to promote your Pawn pieces, Lord Riser, they must be present in Lady Rias' territory—the old academy schoolhouse.]
[Of course, as you're both aware, even though this game has been deemed unofficial, there is a stake that rests on the outcome of your match.]
An individualistic desire for freedom, and the collective sense of duty to one's house.
At the end of the game, only one would prevail.
[Keep in mind that no time limit clause has been put into effect, the game can only end through elimination or forfeit.]
The pressure was on.
[With that said, I'll now begin the game's countdown.]
With Alduin's help, Rias and her peerage had done all they could to prepare. While vastly inexperienced in comparison to their opponent, they had an arsenal of strengths Riser's peerage couldn't even dream of replicating.
[Three.]
Quantity meant very little in the Underworld. One, proper High-Class Devil could wipe out a dozen Middle-Class' with the snap of their fingers.
[Two.]
Even if Riser was equally motivated to win, and had received ten days' worth of his elder brother's help beforehand. It didn't change the fact that his peerage hadn't been chosen for fighting ability, they merely existed to satisfy their master's lustful urges.
[One.]
Losing to a man like that? Becoming his bride? 'Unacceptable' didn't even begin to define how she felt about it.
[Begin.]
That's why, just as Alduin had told her, she'd trample on him and everything he stood for.
///
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