"I see you have been taking steroids, Creusery," Sirzechs said jovially, entirely unbothered. "Didn't your mother tell you how dangerous that is? You should ask Tsufamme." ~ quote by Sirzechs Lucifer, Satan of domestic Affairs.
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POV: Serafall
Just how did things become so annoying?
I suppose things had grown too peaceful and everything seemed to be going well for us. Too well in fact, to the point where I feel like a fool for not expecting it to end. It is the kind of situation where everything aligns so neatly that the universe eventually reminds you that you are still only another creature grasping at whatever scraps of certainty you can find.
After centuries of fighting, of negotiating with old men whose only concerns are greed and pride, after managing a race created for the sole purpose of war by a madman with impossible ambitions and preventing it from tearing itself apart, we have come far. Yet the road toward our dream seems to stretch endlessly before us, as if gaining ground only reveals how much remains undone.
In my youth, I witnessed the cruelty of those who claimed to be the masters of our race. People who believed that the purity of their blood and their power gave them permission to trample others. Our society at that time was vicious and convinced that corruption and depravity were its inevitable destiny. It is written in our blood, they said, as though that was anything more than an excuse to indulge their worst impulses.
When the civil war began and Sirzechs shared with me his vision for the future, I accepted it without hesitation. A future where devils lived for themselves and chose their own path instead of following a script written for them by fate. A future where we could discover what we actually wanted rather than performing roles assigned to us by others.
Why should devils always have to be the villains in every tale, he asked. I agreed to join him so that our people could be more than puppets whose puppeteer had already died.
There have been many high points and many low points since then. It turns out that reforming an entire race that refuses to acknowledge its faults or its oncoming collapse is more difficult than expected. Who could have imagined.
There were times when I asked myself what the point of this struggle was. Everything felt hopeless. One only needs to attempt to explain to a lord of hell that kidnapping or murdering a foreign dignitary is detrimental to acquiring allies to witness utter bewilderment. They look at you as though you are speaking an unknown language and ask you why. Because actions have consequences, you absolute fool, is what I wish to say. But manners and etiquette restrain me. Even a magical girl must adhere to certain social norms. The lords of hell do not care that I must practically bend reality to convince this faction or that faction to continue diplomacy instead of severing ties.
The cost of not being tyrannical monsters like our predecessors is that we must actually work. We must placate the lords even when everything we do is for their benefit. Their apathy, whether born from ignorance or the belief that devils are superior to all living beings, turns diplomatic representation into a waking nightmare. If not for the words that Gabriel offered me during my lowest moment, I would have long since snapped. Her words have been one of my anchors in this chaos.
Beyond the light there is darkness, and beyond that darkness a kind of light you cannot even comprehend.
She said it with such conviction, even as she mourned her father. Her belief remained unshaken. I clung to those words to keep myself steady. Even when things appear bleak and without hope, there will come a day when we laugh and rejoice again.
When my so-tan was born, I finally understood what she meant by light unfathomable.
And for a while, it seemed as though things were turning for the better. The arrival of Haruki Yamashiro appeared to be the missing piece we needed to complete our dream. The division among our people has long been one of our greatest weaknesses. The ideological conflict that has endured since the death of the previous Satans still festers beneath the surface.
The Old Satan Faction remains our chief domestic adversary. Even in hiding they continue to hinder progress. Their strength is not the issue. I could defeat the descendants of the original Satans with little difficulty, save for that aberration among them. Yet killing them would change nothing.
You cannot kill ideas. The heirs of the previous Satans are merely symbols of something deeper. They embody the original purpose of devils. The belief that devils exist for war and conquest is deeply ingrained, etched into us by the Morningstar, and a significant portion of our population still believes in that predetermined purpose. This is why killing Katerea or Shalba would accomplish nothing. Another figure would simply rise to replace them and we would find ourselves severing one head of the hydra only for two more to appear.
Their cowardice is another reason to leave them be. Katerea, Shalba and Creusery are too fearful to become true threats, yet their existence restrains those who cling most zealously to the Luciferian Decree. At least that is what we believed.
I walked out into the gray light and stood there, and for a brief moment I saw the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
I took a deep breath and a teleportation circle formed beneath me and carried me away.
I opened my eyes and found myself staring at one of my dear friends and colleagues. Sirzechs's face lit up with delight when he saw me.
"Hey Zechs-chan," I greeted. "And my lovely Fia-chan."
Before the stoic silver haired maid could roll her eyes, I was already upon her, hugging her tightly. I pressed a rapid series of kisses to her cheeks the way one might greet an adorable infant, though I maintain that all infants are adorable.
Grayfia showed no reaction at all, already too accustomed to my behavior.
"Glad to see you here, Sera-chan," Sirzechs said, his enthusiasm matching my own.
It is one of the few traits we share openly. Falbium once described us as over-caffeinated toddlers, which was uncalled for. We are simply comfortable expressing ourselves.
We exchanged pleasantries for a short while, and I asked about Milicas, that polite and charming boy who reminded me far too much of Sona in temperament.
"So, any new developments?" I asked once the small talk had run its course.
"Unfortunately," Sirzechs answered with a sigh.
That was never a good sign.
"One of those cults again?" I asked.
The cults devoted to Lucifer had begun acting openly, finally convinced that their lord had returned from the dead. Their eagerness to destroy what they consider false prophets, meaning us, and all who turned their backs on their creator, had reached an alarming peak. They had begun targeted political assassinations, along with the burning of monuments and buildings.
In the past three months, more than a hundred deaths had been connected to them. They claim to be preparing the underworld for its true king by purging every heretic.
"I wish it were only that," Sirzechs said, and he nodded to Grayfia.
Grayfia snapped her fingers, and a green screen appeared, the standard substitute for a television. On it played one of the news channels owned by Rionas Phenex. A female reporter was speaking.
I looked at Sirzechs, silently asking for an explanation, but he only gestured for me to keep watching. I had been absent for the past week on a diplomatic mission and had missed a number of domestic developments. I returned my focus to the green screen.
The scene shifted, and there appeared the face that had taken the underworld by storm, the one I had become far too familiar with. Haruki's proud expression met the camera directly, his intensity palpable even through a screen.
"What is your opinion on the current state of the underworld, my lord?" the blue haired reporter asked nervously. I recognized her as one of the lesser nobility sworn to House Agares.
Haruki surveyed the reporters crowding around him. "Disappointing," he answered calmly.
I cursed inwardly. I could already see the political disaster that single word was destined to unleash. I continued watching, waiting to see whether he would at least elaborate.
"How so, your grace?" another reporter asked with reverence.
"The eternal darkness is little worse than this bright prison," Haruki said, his tone unreadable.
This was spiraling rapidly. The statement was vague enough to be interpreted in countless ways, and the public would hear whatever suited them. That ambiguity made it dangerous when spoken by him in particular.
Murmurs rippled through the assembled reporters, yet none asked for clarification, each convinced they understood precisely what he meant. More questions followed, voices overlapping with such eagerness that I could not distinguish all of them.
"Is Armageddon finally here?" one asked, unable to hide his excitement.
"Are reincarnated devils true devils?"
"What do you think of the current beings who claim to be Satans?"
"What is your type?"
"Do you aim to take over Heaven?"
The flood of questions continued, some absurd, some reckless. One reporter even offered Haruki all the women in his territory. Haruki ignored them all and walked into the castle of Lord Agares without a word.
"Fuck."
That was all I managed to say.
"Indeed," Sirzechs replied. There was no hint of amusement in his voice.
"How bad?"
"Well," Sirzechs began, "on the positive side, the underworld's news channels have become very entertaining. Nearly all of them have invited experts and scholars to interpret the meaning of this revelation. You should see it. Some do not even attempt subtlety regarding which faction is paying them to explain Haruki's words in a particular way."
"It is the small wins, I guess," I said grimly. "And the bad news is?"
"Let us see," Sirzechs said, thinking it over. "For one, nearly every territory in the underworld is experiencing political unrest in some form. From the Great Lilith to the most rural regions, new groups emerge by the day claiming to be the ones who truly understand his message. A number of charismatic actors have gathered substantial followings, all declaring themselves servants of the Great Revolutionary."
"I suppose that is to be expected," I said.
"Politically motivated violence is increasing," Sirzechs continued. "There have been many clashes between different groups over the last few days. Conservatives, liberals and zealots are crawling out of the woodwork to exploit the chaos. Also, the Museum of Cultural Exchange created by House Gremory has been burned down."
That was genuinely shocking. I had not expected matters to have escalated so far.
"How?" I asked.
"A new cult has emerged amid the turmoil," Sirzechs said, his tone grave. "They call themselves the redpriests, apparently a radical sect branching out from the Luciferian cults. They believe it is their mission to destroy everything created by us new Satans and to flood the streets with the blood of heretics and false devils in preparation for the dawn of a new age."
That was just wonderful.
"Were many injured in the burning?" I asked with a sigh.
"More than I would have liked," Sirzechs replied. "Several yokai and a number of tourists from other factions were harmed. Thankfully Okita managed to intervene before there were any deaths, although nine devils were killed before he arrived."
Grayfia handed me a folder containing the list of foreign species injured during the fire, all currently in hospital.
"Well, this will certainly help endear us to the other factions," I said sarcastically. "Anything else?"
Devils were already disliked and distrusted across the supernatural world, and securing alliances was difficult enough. This would only worsen the sentiment.
"A revolution is on the horizon," he said.
"Obviously," I replied with a deadpan tone. "Haruki essentially called our government a gilded prison. If there is one thing devils universally despise, it is the notion of being prisoners or slaves in any capacity."
Our kind prides itself on freedom and on disregarding rules or taboos. To suggest that we are prisoners who convinced ourselves otherwise is deeply insulting. The fact that the supposed reincarnation of Lucifer voiced it only intensifies the impact. Some might call it ironic considering our systematic use of slavery, but devils are not known for consistency.
"Yes," he said, agreeing. "But I was referring to the reincarnated devils."
"What about them?"
"Well," he said, "they have developed their own interpretation of Haruki's words. Do you want to guess what it is?"
"Freedom," I said.
"Exactly." He allowed himself a small smile. "Ironically, that might be the closest reading of his statement. So far their activity has been limited, but it exists."
"What do they say?"
"They claim," he said, "that the idea of one devil being bound in servitude to another is completely contrary to what being a devil means. They insist Haruki was referring to the Evil Piece system when he spoke of bright prisons."
I could imagine that to be Haruki's meaning, although my guess is no better than anyone else's given how he refused to elaborate, leaving us with this chaos.
"I suppose that is one interpretation," I said. "Anything concerning from their side?"
"Their leader," he answered.
Grayfia revealed another photograph. It depicted a figure wearing a spiked black and indigo mask.
"He has gathered a considerable following," Sirzechs explained. "He claims to have been a reincarnated devil who could not endure the cruelty of his master and eventually became a stray. Now he has returned to spread the message of freedom to anyone who will listen. He is also an exceptional orator, capable of rallying crowds quickly."
"That may become a problem," I said. "What does he call himself?"
"Zero," Sirzechs replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.
The troubles continued to grow more tangled. If this Zero managed to rally a significant portion of the reincarnated devils to his side, the situation could become very bloody.
When it rains, it pours, I suppose.
"Have you spoken to him?" I asked. It was obvious whom I meant.
"No," Sirzechs replied with clear frustration. "I cannot reach him. It is like last time. He has vanished from the face of the earth. He threw oil on the fire and then disappeared."
"But why?" I asked. "What could he gain from this? I cannot imagine he would do something like this intentionally."
More likely he had answered without thinking, without considering the consequences. His pride alone was enough to make him reckless at times.
"I do not know, Sera," Sirzechs said. "We know frighteningly little about him or his true aims. I had thought I understood him back then. His only concern seemed to be saving his sister. He wanted nothing to do with the underworld, much less its politics. Though it was no secret that he despised the peerage system."
"And you think something has changed now?"
"Definitely," he said. "He is different in ways I cannot fully articulate. When I saw him at the celebration, I barely recognized him. He seemed wiser and far more cynical. And he was seen speaking with Lord Meron Naberius."
That was deeply unsettling. Meron Naberius was one of the most radical members of the conservative faction, his ideology practically deranged.
"What would Haruki want from someone like Lord Naberius?" I asked, mostly to myself.
"Something I have wondered as well," Sirzechs said. "They could not be more different. While I can easily imagine Meron worshiping Haruki, I never thought Haruki would indulge him. He is far too proud to associate with lunatics like Meron. Unless…"
"Unless his agenda has changed," I finished. "His alliance with Lord Agares, another conservative house, is another sign."
"Yes," he said. "And then there is his troubling deal with the God of Frenzy. He is planning something significant. But what? And why?"
That accursed meeting almost three weeks ago, when Odin had dismissed me in favor of Haruki, still lingered in my thoughts. I had not pressed either of them, knowing neither Haruki nor Odin would speak of the arrangement, but the sense of looming catastrophe had not faded.
"Either way," I said with a sigh, "we must prepare. Sitting here and guessing at his motives will not help us while our society tears itself apart. We can deal with him when he chooses to appear again."
How we would deal with him was a matter better left unspoken.
"It is interesting how quickly everything is escalating," I said. "It is almost as if they were all waiting for him to say anything before collapsing."
"You think someone else is working behind the scenes?" he asked.
"There is always someone behind events like these," I said. "I am more inclined to suspect the old Satans than Haruki."
"My thoughts exactly," he said. "The only thing that casts doubt is that none of the three are subtle. If there is a grand design to this chaos, it is being directed by someone far more cunning."
"You think it might be Riviziem?" I asked, unable to keep the unease from my voice.
The Prince of Hell unnerved me in a way few beings ever had. He was a monster wearing the skin of a devil.
"Let us pray he is not," Sirzechs said.
Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. After a while, I rose to take my leave.
"You are going to need to see these, my lord and my lady," Grayfia said suddenly.
We both turned to her.
Grayfia summoned another green screen. A massive crowd had gathered to witness what appeared to be a live execution. A man knelt at the chopping block, sobbing. The lord condemning him to death was unmistakably Lord Dantalion. Behind him stood his wife, Marie Dantalion, pointing at the criminal with furious accusation.
"What happened?" I asked.
"The heir of House Dantalion was attacked by a reincarnated devil," Grayfia said.
I doubted that was the full truth.
"He raped my daughter," the man on the block shouted. "My daughter. We may be reincarnated devils, but we are not animals for you to abuse!"
"Off with his head!" Marie Dantalion screamed. "Off with his head! I want it served to me on a plate!"
"I welcome the release of death," the man cried. "The eternal darkness is little worse than this bright prison!"
The axe fell cleanly.
I looked at Sirzechs, who was clenching his fists. His thoughts mirrored my own.
Just perfect. Exactly what we needed. As if the people were not already itching to rebel.