Life.7: Great King, Zekram Bael
.
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Dulio's head jolted upward letting him know he fell asleep. His eyes grew wider than usual and took on a wild look as he scanned for new signs of danger. For a few seconds, he felt confused, unsure of where he was, then it all came back to him and he felt his arm for the injection point. The drowsiness was a side effect that may or may not wear off before the visit came...
He was in his bedroom, which would explain the homely feeling.
At cue, the doors burst open by three young figures, two boys and one girl. Their eyes scanning all over the small room until they settled to the dozy exorcist.
[Mr. Dulio!] they all bolted to different directions of the bedstead but holding back to not jump atop the bed. [You're awake! You're awake!]
"H-hey there," He saw the children wincing by his hoarse voice, his throat felt like it gulped shattered glass, he urgently needed water, "I'm glad you three are alright… I was worried that…"
"W-we wanted to visit you earlier, we promise!" the freckled boy who seemed to be the leader of the group stated, "but they told us to not disturb you in your sleep…"
Dulio smiled a little, "It's fine, thank you for the consideration."
"We brought you this," the girl leaned forward, placing a folded sheet of paper in his lap.
"W-we made it together," Dulio heard the second boy stutter as he unfolded the gift, smiling as he saw the drawing, "do you like it…?"
"Like it? I love it," Dulio beamed at them, "thank you. I'll treasure it."
"Hope you get well soon, Mr. Dulio!" she exclaimed, "you're missing out!"
Dulio curved an eyebrow, "Missing out?"
"Yeah! It's amazing, Mr. Dulio!" the kid with freckles chirped in agreement, "we saw angels! Many angels are here helping us!"
A pause. Dulio cleared one of his ears, just to be sure he'd heard right, "… What?"
"Angels, Mr. Dulio! Angels!" the excitement was evident in his voice, "Mr. Michael and his friends are here!"
Dulio stared at them in shock for a long moment, "T-the Archangel is here?"
"Yes! Yes!" the girl squealed out excitedly and lifted her ponytail, showing it off, "Gabby made me this! Do you like it?"
"Gabby?" the blond repeated until his eyes furtherly widened in realization, her question flying above his head like a plane, "Lady Gabriel?"
"Y-yeah…!" the boy with the cap stuttered, a blush adorning his cheeks, "y-you should see her Mr. Dulio! A-all these paintings don't do her any justice…"
The other boy clasped his hands and nodded in agreement, his face colored the moment her name was mentioned, "She r-really is the most beautiful woman…"
Both boys sighed dreamily.
The girl deadpanned.
Dulio coughed a laugh, "T-that's quite the scandalous expression you two got there… perhaps you two caught a cold on your way here, with how red your faces are?" a playful smirk slowly grew in his pained face, "or it was because of Lady Gabriel? I'm not surprised, I heard she has an impressive buck."
"Dulio, this is sexual harassment you know? You're lucky she isn't here yet."
"Now, now. Don't be harsh with young Gesualdo. He's in the age where he starts finding women attractive!"
The two voices boys never had the chance to reiterate at him. They all turned to the entrance to see Griselda with arms folded and a disapproving look. Behind her was Vasco with his intoxicating smile.
And, to Dulio's surprise, Vasco didn't have any wounds whatsoever, as if he didn't participate in the fight.
"He should still keep those comments for himself at least," she eyed the three children with a scowl, "You three are trespassing. This area is prohibited for children."
"B-but we wanted to see Mr. Dulio…"
"And you did," Griselda pressed her hands over her hips, "Now I have to ask you three to leave."
"C-Can we stay a bit longer? P-pleeeeaseeee…?"
Griselda's expression darkened and veins visibly popped from her forehead, "Out. Now."
[V-Vatican's Evil Witch!] They cried out and stormed off the room with god-class speed, leaving a trail of dust behind.
"Witch?" she grinded her teeth, "… that's a new one."
Vasco's face was ashen white, a bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, but he still laughed, but it came out forced, "H-hahah… Quite the reputation you've built-up in the Vatican, Miss Quarta!"
Griselda sighed, "Since love and fear can hardly exist together if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved."
"Niccolò Machiavelli," Vasco guessed, "a man who encouraged leaders to use judiciously, but sometimes ruthlessly, power in order to maintain order. I didn't expect you were interested in his works."
"I'm not. But most of his advice tends to hold a grain of truth depending on the situation," she finally turned over the patient, a weak smile over her lips, "I'm relieved to see you awake, Dulio."
"L-likewise," the blond winced, passing a hand over his sore throat, "… good to see you two are in good health."
"Let's hope you'll eventually be back in your feet soon," Vasco shifted closer to offer Dulio a bottle of water, "take it. You should always stay hydrated."
Griselda watched as Dulio accepted the gift with a grateful nod, "So, I guess they ruined the surprise," she started with a hoke, "The Seraphim are here."
A relieving sigh fled from Dulio's lips, "Ah yes. I was spoiled without a warning," he replied, his voice somewhat better, "It doesn't matter. I'm glad they came. Their presence will boost the morale of everyone."
"Your guess is correct. Archangel Michael and Seraph Gabriel are visiting each room holding a patient, their reactions were as I expected," Vasco smiled widely, "The smiles and tearing eyes of everyone was a sight to behold… a memory that I will keep from myself until my time comes."
Griselda took a seat on the empty chair beside Dulio's bed, "Although, they don't look alright themselves."
Dulio frowned at her, "What do you mean?"
"They look… sick," the blue-eyed woman recalled, "their skins a bit paler than I imagined."
"Maybe that's their complexion, Griselda," Dulio tried to reason with her, "No one alive had seen the Angels since today. All these paintings are only portrayals based on verses and descriptions found in the Bible."
"While you brought a valid point, I don't think that's the case here," she argued, "by chance, I caught Archangel Michael coughing in his hand discreetly. When he pulled away I swore to see a… 'liquid light' in his palm."
Vasco arched an eyebrow, "Liquid light?"
"The substance was golden and had a bright tone." Offering a brief description of her discoveries, she met the gaze of Eminence Strada, "Your Eminence, I believe its blood. Angel blood."
Dulio this time kept his mouth zipped, preferring to glance over the Cardinal-Priest and hear his opinion.
"Hmm," Vasco caressed his chin in deep thought, "You have good eyesight, Miss Quarta. I admit I haven't seen or heard anything about this before. It sounds so unusual. Maybe if I hadn't lowered my guard and let my excitement get the best out of me, I would've noticed something odd. A rookie mistake from my part."
"I'm afraid there's not so much we can do," Vasco lamented, "… The anatomy of an Angel is an anomaly to us, but it doesn't hurt to still try our hand."
"We have healers," Dulio said, "maybe they can figure and heal whatever ill they have? Diethelm is an expert in that field."
"Young Waldseemüller? I agree," Eminence Strada chuckled, "the young man graduated with high notes from the Magician Association: The Golden Dawn."
"And with his Sacred Gear, the speed of his healing should increase," Griselda theorized.
"Don't worry too much about this, it's not healthy to stress out at a young age," Vasco chided them, "Worst case scenario is that you two will grow grey hair. Like me!"
Griselda and Dulio saw as Vasco pointed at his bald head.
"Nonetheless, I'll share this with the Pope and my fellow Cardinals," the elderly man continued, "even if we have a vague understanding of this issue, it sounds extremely serious, we should approach it cautiously."
They nodded in unison.
"In return, I beg you to keep this conversation between us. The fewer knows about this, the merrier. The news of the Lord being dead has already traumatized many."
"Yes. Of course your…." Dulio froze once the elder's voice finally sunk into him like an anchor, "Wait. What?"
The Apex of Humanity felt a knob in his throat, "Ah… yes," he drawled, inwardly chiding himself, "I forgot that little detail, didn't I? You were not present when the Devil announced it publicly."
"I wanted to tell you," Griselda quickly placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, "I really did. But you were still asleep and I… I still can't believe it myself."
His brain didn't detect the tender touch of the woman. His eyes, while appeared to be locked over the gigantic cardinal, were dazed into space. The bad news had the impact of a slap to the face. He could only fathom the many devotees and zealots falling to their knees as their beliefs were stolen from them.
That's all he had to keep himself with a head held high throughout his traumatic childhood. All these prayers to express gratitude and seek spiritual help were nothing but words? Empty miracles?
"It's amazing how a few words could shatter your goals."
That Fallen Angel, Satanael.
He knew.
He knew about his past and mocked him about it. His words powerful enough to put his mind through previous and regrettable memories.
Worst case scenario Satanael had information about the origins of his powers. The first days when he'd joined the war, but refused to reveal his cards.
"Many things…" a weak snort escaped from the Übermensch, his gaze dropping over his huge and monstrous palm, "Truly, I had confronted many soldiers of a countless number, slaughtering blindly all those opposed to a fascist movement. With the Lord dead then what's..."
Gifted with strength, speed, tactical knowledge senses that verged on the superhuman and regeneration. He was a Frankenstein's monster, going rampant with only a mere sword in a battlefield meant for gunpower. Now feared by the supernatural realm once he proved his effectiveness and ruthlessness against Kokabiel.
But in exchange, he removed his humanity.
Sometimes, he wondered if he was worthy to be called Apex of Humanity?
"Even if the previous Pope had pardoned me of all my sins... I was left unsatisfied," his stare became distant, "Perhaps... I wanted the Lord to punish me from my crimes. So young and naïve I was back then."
"Your Eminence," Griselda softly said.
"But do not pity me. A Cardinal cannot do their duty if they ignore the truth," Vasco looked at them, his expression stone-hard, "I wish an old-timer such as myself wouldn't need to fight, but the world is blind to age."
The Strongest Exorcist took a breath, collecting his thoughts.
"When the Vatican needs me, I will not stand and watch. I will do everything necessary to fulfill my obligations to my people," he declared, "that is my duty. The duty which the previous Pope entrusted me with. The duty I must and I will carry out, no matter how the times may change. Even if the Lord is dead, I will press forward."
They both watched as Vasco slammed a proud fist to his broad chest and relaxed once more, "But enough about myself. Neither of you wants to hear an old truck whittle on now, do you?"
"… Thinking about how I won't see any of my friends ever again, it's..." Dulio stopped himself, shaking his head, "No. I should stop thinking that way. I have people who look up to me now, and I can't let them down! Besides, I doubt they would like seeing me with my head hung low."
"That's the spirit!" the Apex of Humanity erupted with a thunderous laugh, "remember you are today's Strongest Exorcist, you have a lot of people looking up to you, young Gesualdo! I know I'm being selfish from asking this, but stay strong for them."
Dulio forced a smile but nodded nonetheless.
"Well, I'm afraid it's time for my retreat," Vasco announced, "I've exceeded my visit. I have to make sure Ewald isn't overworking himself, the poor man must be saddened by the news of the Lord."
"There are few things you can do with one, single-working arm," Griselda agreed.
"… and knowing how stubborn he can be…" Vasco sighed, "I hope you two don't mind."
"We understand, your Eminence," Griselda bowed her head, "I'll just stay here another minute."
"We'll keep in touch! Best regards!"
Once the door closed, Dulio could taste the sudden change of atmosphere and he knew Griselda was aware of it as well. In fact, it may suit the topic that the woman was about to share.
And yet, the woman still didn't speak, preferring to succumb in silence. It only made the hospitalized Dulio more uncomfortable.
…
…
…
"When I saw you flying to the other end of the room, my heart stopped," Griselda began, "you were splattered on the floor, covered in blood and burnt flesh. I almost thought everything was over."
"You were lucky to miss out on the expression of the exorcists," she continued, "Some of them were already on their knees after seeing their hero close to death's door."
The blond could only look away from her like a brat caught with a hand in the jar.
Despite her quiet chuckle, he could spot the tears threatening to fall off her eyes, but she immediately wiped them off, "Goodness, in your twenties and you still behave like a reckless child."
"Griselda…"
"You were supposed to be dead, but when we found you, you were no longer bleeding," Griselda said and saw how his gaze instantly fixated on her, "Diethelm still spotted a few wounds hidden in your body, but were not life-threatening. Whoever treated you left their work half done."
"..."
"Who did it, Dulio? Who healed your injuries?" the woman interrogated him, but gasped when memories dawned her in realization, "Was it the masked man that was after you? This… Mastema?"
Underneath his sheets, Dulio gripped the bed tightly. He wasn't the type of person to judge someone so fast, but first impressions always mattered. And Danhauser failed to leave a good, mental image of himself.
What he took from their brief meeting was simple. Someone hard to like and hard to know. A maverick. A loose cannon.
In spite of Danhauser saved him from succumbing to his flesh wounds, he failed to distinguish any positive character trait. Unless being a good liar counted as such.
A soft knock came from the door, and their eyes quickly locked on it. The air saved in their lungs was gone by a mutual gasp.
The radiance behind the door was something they had never experienced before. Almost suffocating.
"Can we come in?" The new voice asked carefully.
"Y-yes…"
Dulio didn't know if the breathless answer came from Griselda or from his mouth. Their wide eyes were locked on the two blond figures, gently stepping inside.
The holiness increased tenfold.
With the same shade of eyes and hair, Dulio almost thought they were twins. They could be.
Something he was sure about these was the Angels written in the Bible. Archangel Michael and Seraph Gabriel respectfully.
While the beat of his heart increased with excitement, there was something off the more he studied their faces.
Just like Griselda had said, they were pale. Really pale. He had to squint his eyes to have a better look, spotting a tint of red in their eyes as if they caught a cold when they'd descended to the human world.
Regardless of his ill appearance, the broad smile of the Archangel could incite many blushes, "Dulio Gesualdo," he noted and nodded to Griselda, "And Griselda Quarta?"
Technically, the Archangel was the new God of the Bible.
"Y-yes, Archangel," Griselda stuttered, her hand sneaked behind his head and forced him to give a deep bow. "But how did you…?"
Michael chuckled weakly, "We've been watching and listening to your prayers for a long time," his smile widened, "We appreciate your loyalty. Truly."
"I had a brief conversation with someone who shares your surname — Xenovia Quarta," Gabriel added, "She's really beautiful, you know? Oh! From her description, you must be a good teacher… a strict one, but a good one nonetheless."
"Strict…?" Griselda whispered, a twitching vein growing on her forehead.
Dulio sent thoughts and prayers to the blue-haired.
"You should keep her company," Gabriel suggested, her voice was hesitant, "she… she looks broken."
Griselda's anger quickly evaporated, her expression worried, "I knew it. The news of the Lord must have severed her in some way…" she bit her lip, "she told me she was fine, but that wasn't the case. Irina must feel the same way too. Poor girls..."
Making her decision in the snap of a finger, Griselda stood up, "I have to go, Dulio," she stated, "she… she needs me."
"Please, look after Lint too," Dulio pleaded her, "Even if David is watching her… I need to make sure."
"Take care," Griselda patted softly his shoulder and bowed her head to the Angels, "With your permission, I'll take my leave."
Michael bowed his head as well before moving to the side, "It was a pleasure knowing you."
"Yes!" Gabriel nodded, albeit a bit enthusiastically for her age, "I look forward to hearing more of you!"
"It's good to see the Hero of the Vatican," Michael began once Griselda left the room, "you have my deepest gratitude for protecting everyone."
Dulio looked the other way and scratched his cheek, "H-Hero of the Vatican?" he repeated with a stammer, "I-I'm not sure if I deserve such honors…"
"Don't be modest!" Dulio may be the first human witnessing the Seraph Gabriel pouting, such an honor, "We heard how you took care of the lethal gas of your Longinus. You are a very courageous man, Dulio. I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't made hearts flutter by your bravery."
Getting praised by the Archangel was one thing, but being complimented by the Most Beautiful Woman in Heaven was the last straw. His beet-red face was evidence of that, "P-Please! Stop! I-I just did what any sane person would do! B-Besides! Eminence Cristaldi was the one who came up with the plan! I just f-followed orders!"
Michael laughed, but stopped to cough briefly, "Still, I may sound like a broken record at this point, but we are glad to have people like you in the Vatican, symbolizing the virtues that we adore," he paused, his smile faltering for a bit, "… You know, if Father was alive, He would be angry for seeing us interact with humans."
Dulio blinked owlishly, "Why?"
"… He never told us why," Gabriel explained, "We always believed He was traumatized when Samael enticed the first humans to sin and how Grigori, later on, fell as well."
"The only ones who could interact with humans were Gabriel and me," Michael added, clearing his dry throat, "but only when He told us to do so, never voluntarily."
Dulio said nothing. Like Nietzsche had said long ago, God was dead. Literally. And they still followed the same guideline that their Creator had implemented since the first human breathed life?
He was still loyal to all of his Father's rules, without faltering. Dulio respected that.
But still…
"I'd like to offer an apology," Michael said as if he'd read the exorcist's concerns, "All these years I hadn't acted as Father, like a 'Biblical God' per se. My mind was still accustomed to the 'Archangel' role... to be his right-hand and protect Heaven. Nothing more. Not anymore. The past is the past. I have to embrace this new duty that Father's last words became true. If I want the teachings of Father to reach our people then I'll do my best to act as the new Biblical God."
Gabriel flashed him a wide smile, "Don't sell yourself short. It's thanks to your hard work that Heaven is still functional, Michael. W-who knows what would happen if—!"
Dulio was startled when Gabriel suddenly hacked. Michael immediately moved to her side as she continuously coughed for a while then taking in a sharp gasp of breath. It was whooping cough for sure.
"Are you alright?" The Longinus user stared at her with worry, the words of Griselda echoing in his head.
The Seraph brought a hand to her neck and harrumphed, "… Please, don't worry about me," she flashed a pained smile, "but thank you for your concern."
Had she noticed the tears sliding from her eyes?
"Gabriel."
"R-right."
Dulio pursed his lips as the Seraph pressing her hand over the door. A magic circle of gold suddenly grew on the frame.
The magic of angels.
"Umm…" Dulio awkwardly shuffled in his bed, "What's happening?"
"Don't worry. Gabriel is just making sure we don't have any eavesdroppers," Michael assured him, despite the gentleness and warmness in his voice, the exorcist felt the goosebumps traveling across his rested body, "We need to talk with you. Privately."
It must have been his brain fooling him, or maybe his sight was still a bit blurry, but he swore the Archangel's halo flickered black for the briefest second.
He swallowed, "What for?"
"… This topic is of utmost importance."
His heartbeat missed a beat.
They knew.
"Tell me about Danhauser," the direct question was enough to almost make Dulio jump out from his clinic bed, "or Mastema if you prefer to call him that way. I was told Mastema was chasing you when you left the Church. Did he attack you? Killed any civilian? Speak to you? I need to know each detail about his activity while he played as a spy."
Dulio clashed with the concerned eyes of Gabriel in the background before shifting down to the sheets hugging his lower half, "Yes… we talked."
"I'm listening," the blond faced the Archangel right in time to see him kneel beside his bed, his puffy eyes towering his green ones, "You're the only one who had any interactions with him. You are the only trustworthy source I have at this point. You have the answers that Heaven and I need... You would be our hero."
…
The cat was out of the bag now.
.
.
He held his head high as they climbed the stairs of the Castle of Bael. Liveried guards stood sentinel every twelve steps, but his flinty gaze was locked on the back of Sairaorg's father, unwavering. This wasn't Danhauser's first time in their territory, it was his second time, actually.
Purple banners of a beautiful flower rippled in the evening's dry wind as they ascended.
Hours had passed since he's returned to his birthplace. The Underworld.
Ars Goetia. A powerful kingdom that had faced 'constant' changes since the first walls were made. From the Original Satans ruling the whole Underworld as a whole, to the Clan Bael taking the responsibility after the conclusion of the Civil War, and finishing in today's era with Six Houses being on par with the Great King. No one knew what the future held for Ars Goetia.
Despite the many arguments of the citizen, their culture was untouched after so many years, the purest blood had the right to rule the Remaining Pillars.
Clinging on an outdated system.
Nobility. Aristocracy. Oligarchy.
That statement was enough to prove that the golden age of Ars Goetia had ceased, and the only thing keeping them relevant was their two Super-Devils, the Evil Pieces, and their unique sport: the Rating Games.
Unless Ars Goetia proved able to adapt to a changing world. But Danhauser hadn't seen or heard of any 'change' whatsoever. Aside from the creation of the Great Six Houses, the Great King losing some of its influence and the Rating Game hatching a few haters, nothing noteworthy occurred these past four years the more he pondered about it. Members of Noble and Great Housecarls were still sticking to their old fashion ways, never thriving for progress.
They were still living in the past.
Which, if he stood in their position, which he had, he would understand. They were surrounded by treasures to build many castles. They had multiple partners to indulge in sex with. They had a big land that had their housecarl's name written all over it.
Everything they desired was at their doorstep. Why fight for more when they were satisfied with the morning bread that the Six Royal Houses threw at them?
Because they lacked vision.
They lacked ambition.
They were conformists.
He despised conformism.
Unfortunately, a symptom his family was diagnosed as well—Danhauser thought. Many times they had encouraged him to step down from working as intelligence for the Great King. That they were fine with being a Lesser King, they may face financial hardships, but they would endure. Together. Like family.
But aside from political reasons that even got Diehauser to stop from leaving Ars Goetia for good, he refused to watch his family live eternally as a Lesser King.
Because of him, his family lost its rank, and he would retrieve it. Whatever it takes.
How funny. He was fighting tooth and nail to pull the Clan Belial out of the Lesser Faction and become a Noble House. A King once again.
A petty and pathetic goal, mostly when that was the deadline of his 'master plan'.
To become a King. Nothing more, nothing less.
After that, what proceeded? Live the 'dream' like the rest of the elites?
Maybe that's why he hated conformist so much. Because he was one as well.
Because at the end of the day, the similarities between a Lesser and a Noble House was that both of them licked a boot of the Great House they were pledged with. The difference was that one was aware of it, while the other was way distracted by luxury to notice it.
Lesser King or King. It didn't matter, he was still Bael's lapdog.
And that pissed him off.
…
…
…
But what else he could do? His family had lost everything and had no political power to do anything. They were known as the 'cheaters' of the Rating Game. What else could Danhauser demand aside from his Clan being crowned as a King and be seen as a hypocrite for the rest of his life?
He could try his hand and spread his views to the whole Underworld, to any potential listener willing to spare a few minutes. But that would just make life complicated.
Danhauser brought to an end the negative thoughts and watched his step. His gaze became steady, his mind slowly remembering what Tiamat told him before he departed.
Which, funnily enough, was bad news as well.
.
.
"Ingvild can't stay in Ars Goetia."
"You love to cut the chase, don't you? What's the matter now?"
"The attack of the Vatican shook the Supernatural World, many pantheons are aware of it. Governor-General saw from his headquarters the sudden activity that many factions had taken, mainly Śakra's Faction."
"I can tell. Sun Wukong even rolled-up his sleeves and took matters in his own hands. What I don't get is what Ingvild has to do with all of this?"
"The Old Satan Faction left the Underworld panicked by their performance. Everyone is speaking ill about their bloodline. And thanks to The First Great King's remaining influence, most of the Six Great Houses are supporting him from behind… expressing their disdains somewhere in their speeches."
"Just adding fuel to the fire. You think they'll do something on her if rumors of her existence reach Zekram?"
"Satan Beelzebub believes so. The Great King loathes their Housecarls."
"Any idea where you're going to take her? Wait… shit."
"Here. With you."
…
"… a pseudo-Longinus user following me around. Maybe I should paint a target of the size of the moon on my back, too."
"What?"
"Isn't there another place where you could leave her? Somewhere safer?"
"This is safer."
"… That's why you came here, didn't you? To make sure this place was a haven for Ingvild."
"I said it before didn't I? I came to the human world for various reasons. This is one of them."
"And I had to be the chosen one…"
"Satan Beelzebub says that he can only rely on you for this task, aside from that you have a capable peerage of fighting off with your absence, the Great King isn't much interested in this town."
"Technically, Kuoh belongs to the Great King Faction. Hence they still kept my cousin as governor of Kuoh."
"This 'Ryoukuu Town' isn't owned by him. And it's unlikely that the Great King will take a single step over the human world."
"Point. Still… the Old Satan Faction, they want her... and Qlippoth may grow interested once they hear about her Sacred Gear."
"Mastema is dead, isn't it?"
"They could still send spies all over to Kuoh, even kidnap Roygun and abuse of her Mutated Clan Trait."
"Unlikely. They don't have time for that. They are trying to take the Monkey King off their backs first."
"…"
"If something wrong happens, I'll help. Like a duet."
"I'm still not sold. I know you two are desperate, but this is way too soon for me. I need time to think about this."
"When the curtain falls, never make the audience wait. They'll grow impatient. Just this once, I'll make an exception. I'll stay here in Ryoukuu Town and make sure you haven't been followed. Until then, I await the finale of your requiem…"
.
.
After his conversation with the Dragon King, he swore to pay attention to his gut from now on. Somehow he had a suspicion that Tiamat's abrupt appearance in Ryoukuu Town wasn't only to be Ajuka's errand dragon. She even openly admitted it.
He knew Zekram despised the Original Satans, the descendants were not spared it seems. This wasn't information he managed to obtain from the mouth of Zekram or even by eavesdropping, his uncle Malacoda told him the tale. He didn't know why, but if Danhauser had to guess why the great king harbored any hatred was either because Lucifer and Lilith were awful parents or because he was forced to participate in the Great War despite his wishes.
Maybe a mixture of both.
But now? The activity of the Old Satan Faction only managed to further ignite the malice Ars Goetia had stored for their Housecarls. And Zekram was joyfully sitting back, laughing while swirling a glass of fine wine.
And yet, Danhauser found himself sharing their opinions. Sort of. He didn't like the Old Satan Faction, but he wouldn't extend his grudge over the descendants, such as Vali or Ingvild.
But now. They were added to their blacklist with the other races.
Mixed heritage.
Reincarnated Devils.
Lesser housecarls.
The Remaining Pillars adored scorning about them daily, especially members of Noble and Great Houses. The pure and blue-blooded. Always acting as the top dog above the food chain, while putting the rest to lick their shoes.
They were all bark and no bite — Danhauser would always say. The exception is only to Sairaorg, Ruval and his siblings, and the Four Great Satans. These were the only nobles who he could respect thanks to their hard work and strength.
Nonetheless, Ars Goetia was still awful. He wasn't joking when he'd told Diehauser that the only way to escape from the Great King's grasp was by starting a coup.
But… who would support their cause? Fight alongside them? He knew the Malebranche Clan would lend them a hand, and maybe some of the Lesser Housecarls and reincarnated Devils as well, sharing his dislikes and negative opinions of the higher-ups would convince them, if not, snare their attention.
But to earn their loyalty, he had to prove them Belial was worthy to follow.
And the Clan Belial had it difficult the past years, even if there was still a group that had faith in the great talent of the undefeatable Emperor, their opinions were drowned by the buzzing sound of the media.
That's mostly one of the reasons why he wanted to participate in the Young Devil Gathering, to obtain contacts if anything went downhill. In case if Zekram plotted against his family.
Then again, the Youth Gathering was implemented only for Noble Houses and Great Houses to enjoy, NOT Lesser Housecarls. The moment they spotted the grey hair and matching eyes of Belial somewhere on the ceremony, the collective frowns of the aristocrats would build up, questioning his presence.
Or the elite would confuse him as a waiter that forgot its uniform in his shitty-ass house.
Not manor, but a house.
They wouldn't take him seriously, but Devils were greedy by nature. If he just pressed the right buttons, their deep desires would eventually show up. That didn't mean they would immediately shake hands with him, but at least he would get their interest. He just had to convince them.
If not, then the Great House they're pledge with had them tied around their finger. Again, they were happy with what they had or were afraid of being demoted.
A world where pureblood was still a thing... So outdated from the outside world.
It didn't matter anyway. The Youth Gathering was gone for good.
…
…
…
Maybe that's what Ars Goetia urgently needed. A wake-up call.
But even if Clan Belial had back up… was it enough to grasp victory against today's government? The Four Great Satans were bodyguards of the Great Houses, they would jump to their rescue if they were being threatened, no matter who the opposition was.
They followed a motto: to protect Ars Goetia from danger, and an overthrow, usually, started and finished with violence from both sides.
Meaning Ajuka Beelzebub wouldn't help him. He was a Maou. His kindness and compassion had a limit, crossing that line would only pour down the chaos that could be aimed at those who stood against the Nobles and Great Houses.
… what about Ajuka Astaroth?
"We're here."
Danhauser had to abruptly stop before his face crashed over the back of Lord Bael. For a second, he almost forgot he was a guest on the Bael Clan and that his company was none other than the owner of the fortress.
"What's wrong with me?" Danhauser kneaded his temple, mentally chuckling inwardly, "Starting a coup. What I should start is a date with the psychiatrist."
…
But, if it would benefit his family, then…
He watched as the Head of Bael headed into the room before closing the door. He'd heard muffled voices behind the locked entrance, they were in deep discussion. But that soon ceased and slow footsteps neared the entrance.
A gentle knock came to capture his attention, "Enter." Then footsteps once more, signaling his retreat.
He could feel the pair of eyes piercing through the doors, their mouths and silver tongues ready to kill him with nothing but words.
Danhauser had had to go in, he knew he would, but at least this way his mind had a few moments longer to prepare.
Most likely a spanking was coming through because of the awful results of the Vatican. They knew what he did and they're not happy about it.
Not the first one, nor the last one.
…
Maybe Tobio was right this whole time.
Slash Dog didn't say it aloud, to not make things awkward.
But he committed a crime.
No sugar-coating.
He had to accept it.
A crime.
…
Fine.
If making a crime would help him kill the greater criminal, if he had to fight fire with fire, then so be it.
"Better a few perish than the entire world," Danhauser twisted the knob and dived into the belly of the beast.
He first clashed with the keen-eyed and unblinking Zekram Bael. He was in his chair and his gaze, which seemed too much, bore into him. He resisted the urge to stare at the wall in his left but held back. His clenched fists shaking inside his pockets.
The fingers of one elegant hand drumming a steady tune upon the wooden armrest of his chair, the sound came from Zekram's right, it was Lord Bael, the man who lead him here. His expression was hard, clearly not hiding his displeasure of this meeting.
As despicable as ever – Danhauser thought.
"Take a seat, please," Zekram offered, indicating the opposite chair.
"I prefer to stand, Great King," Danhauser declined, "I'm not planning on staying too much."
"As you wish."
There was something undeniably threatening and predatory about the First Head of Bael, Danhauser always thought. Considering he was a Devil heading into his twilight years…
The better he could keep a distance from him, the merrier.
In the end, Danhauser stood before them, his head held high, arms crossed on his back. The members of Bael regarded him carefully. The purple orbs of Zekram were, to Danhauser at this moment, perhaps the most intimidating of the two.
It was Zekram who broke the silence, "I'll speak plainly," he began, his voice as smooth as soft butter, cultured, "The Clan Belial is of great value to the Great King Faction, you proved it the moment you unmasked Diodora Astaroth's shady allegiance with the Old Satan Faction as well as confirming the existence of Khaos Brigade and its leader. Congratulations."
Danhauser remained silent.
"However, not so valuable that we would protect you from outside factions. That would doom the Great King Faction as a whole. Give it time and many of the other Lesser Kings would be lining up with demands of additional 'personal guardianship' for their Housecarl without offering something in exchange. No, that was never going to happen. But, you already knew that."
"While it may not look like it. The attack of the Vatican affected us severely," Lord Bael continued grimly, "Not only did it force us to cancel the Youth Devil Gathering, but it worsened our… 'pseudo-alliance' with Heaven so to speak."
"…"
"And the worst part, Rizevim is allied with Shalba, he decided to show up after all these years and in the worst moment…" Zekram shook his head, before looking up in realization, "And your newest reports states that the Monkey King is somehow involved as well. Correct?"
"Correct."
"You told us Shalba would invade Kuoh Town while the three leaders negotiated," behind Zekram's calm demeanor, a surge wave of annoyance ran through his veins, "Sirzechs and Serafall were prepared to counterattack. The Governor-General and the Archangel most likely were in position as well."
"… They had a change of plans."
Sairaorg's father glowered at him, "The Archangel left a message," Danhauser could feel the venom lashing out from his mouth, "And by the tone of his voice, he's displeased. Does anything of this sound anything familiar? You know what he wants now, don't you?"
"… This isn't the first time I'm being threatened. It won't be the last one, either."
"What have you done, Danhauser?" Lord Bael hissed, sinking into his chair.
Danhauser wanted to look away, to run away and hope the earth swallowed him, but he planted his feet firm on the ground.
"I gathered data and information about the organization and its alliance," he replied, composed, "to expose the size and strength of the enemy forces."
"At what cost?"
"The few for the many."
Zekram cocked an eyebrow, "The few for the many?" he repeated, mildly surprised, "My, my. What a bold answer, cruel as well. Is this coming from the very same young man who was willing to protect his cousin in exchange for many? Times change it seems."
"…"
"The Archangel was generous in his request," Zekram returned to the main focus of the meeting, "Apparently, you didn't kill off Dulio Gesualdo… and the latter trusts you were not involved in the slaughter but says you didn't lift a finger to offer any assistance. Sticking to your role as a spy."
"…"
"Nonetheless, the Archangel was still unsure what else you did while playing the reverse mole. You have two options; whether you turn yourself to Heaven or solve this immediately. If you're empty-handed, then I'll have to select the former for the safety of the Great King Faction. The few for the many as you say… but I believe I don't have to resort to that option, you are here after all."
Danhauser heard the complaint coming from Lord Bael, but chose to ignore it, "I have something in mind. I wanted Dulio to take part in it, but given my bad reputation within the Vatican, he didn't have a lot of faith in me. Despite that, I made a vow to him. A promise that I'll make sure it comes true, whatever it takes."
Lord Bael rolled his eyes, "Would you look at that? We have a man of his word," he mocked, "Get to the point, Danhauser. What is this plan anyway? Take out Creuserey Asmodeus? That was your brilliant plan?"
"That was the first step," the heir murmured, wisely swallowing a sneer, "I'll never put my cards on the table unless I have their full support."
"Is that so?" Zekram smiled, somewhat amused, "Usually, keeping people in the dark won't persuade them to follow you. First, you must clear their minds from doubt. Don't you think?"
"Of course." Danhauser nodded stiffly, inwardly scolding himself.
"Anyway, with no further ado," the raven-haired elder drawled, hands clasped and elbows resting on the arms of his seat, "Please, humor me. Earn my trust."
The room had become very still. Even Lord Bael had ceased the incessant tapping of his fingers, watching keenly like a hawk.
And they felt it, the sudden boost of demonic energy that came from the gray-haired youth. The cough that Danhauser wheezed out alarmed them, but they still watched the event with morbid curiosity. A black viscosity spurted from the devil's mouth and completely enveloped him, turning him into a horrendous creature.
Lord Bael quickly left his seat once he saw Danhauser's True Form standing menacingly before them. However, it quickly began shapeshifting. It's pitch-black skin turning paler and his appearance swapped to a good looking man with black hair tied in a small ponytail.
The violet eyes of Creuserey glared daggers at them, or rather, at the silent Zekram.
Lord Bael could only stare in silence at the Lesser King then swap his gaze over the Great King, repeating the same action multiple times, growing frustrated and impatient at their mental conversation.
He felt left out, like a third-wheel.
But the silence soon died out when the doors behind Creuserey were thrown open.
Striding behind Creuserey were warriors who sworn to protect the life of their great king at the cost of theirs, imposing and ominous demonic energy in their dark armor, halberds at the ready.
Zekram smiled, raising his hand to stop the guards from taking action, "Should I remind you that you still don't have permission to use True Form in Ars Goetia, Danhauser?" he teased, not taking his eyes off the copycat, "You could get in trouble."
A barely perceptible nod from Lord Bael assured and dismissed the perplexed soldiers. Nonetheless, they slammed their armored fists to their breastplates to pay their respects and retreated to their previous positions.
"Where's Creuserey?" the great king asked once the three were alone, "The real one."
"Gone. My rook took care of him," Lord Bael winced at the horrendous voice, "Shalba and Katerea had a conversation with me while I was in this disguise. They bought it. I guess I fit the one-dimensional character to a T."
"I see," Zekram noted, "I believe I know your purpose in taking out Creuserey, but the question is… what's the result you're looking for?"
"The end of the Old Satan Faction."
Lord Bael chocked and stared at Creuserey in horror. This was a turn he had not been privy to, and his mind stumbled at its implications. The True Form continued to gaze levelly at the first Bael with its two small, bright discs that denoted its eyes.
Zekram remained unconvinced, "And you want to start this as soon as possible. Even after coming back alive from an invasion?"
"The early bird catches the worm," Danhauser reverted to his normal form, "Progress should never be kept waiting, Great King. The Old Satan Faction only sent two members of their faction, Creuserey, and Mastema, a nod that they're low in manpower. They are an easy target, they are weak. Especially with Sun Wukong jeopardizing them from left to right."
"Which begs the next question, why would they send a leader of the Old Satan Faction to the Vatican?" Zekram quired, "I fail to see the logic behind this."
"Qlippoth sent the muscles from their group, from a Longinus User to the Strongest Evil Dragon," Danhauser quickly explained, "Maybe Qlippoth wanted Shalba to send someone valuable of their ranks in return? To make it even."
"I would've demanded more than a single general if that was the case," Lord Bael grunted, hesitantly taking his seat once again, "Unless they took pity on them, or…"
Zekram hummed, "Now I see the wide canvas. Shalba has something that Rizevim craves for. He's playing safe with them by not getting in their nerves," he stated, "You may be correct as well, Danhauser. He knows he lacks strength... if a whole Faction can't defeat a Monkey King is evidence of that. They had to swallow their grudge, grit their teeth and reluctantly shake hands with Rizevim in order to stay relevant, but Qlippoth hasn't offered any help against the Buddha. Not yet at least."
"Rizevim never participated in the Civil War with the other Satan Housecarls," Lord Bael recalled, "The Old Satan Faction has a grudge against the Lucifer and Lucifuge Clan because of that, and yet, they're cooperating... whatever Shalba has is dangerous enough to have Rizevim 'watch his back'."
At long last, Zekram turned over the troublesome guest, "Your plan is nothing but a risky gambit the more I ponder about it. Almost suicidal. There may have been different ways you could've approached this."
"A calculated risk is no risk at all," the gray-haired countered.
Zekram chuckled, "Perhaps. But I insist, wouldn't it be wiser to accept Dulio's offer? To win the battle and make up for the hundreds that are gone? I doubt this is only because of mistrust. Be honest."
Silence fell around the table. The coldness fitting in the ambiance.
"When we are in the middle of a battle, we always try to figure out how to avoid defeat," the young Devil began after a long period of silence, "But some battles cannot be won. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to lose. To give your all and take the bullet, knowing full well you will die, but to remember that an army marches behind you. Someone with greater power."
In the depths of his mind, there were rare occasions when that thought would slip out from its jail.
It would always cause a knot tie up in his throat.
He wouldn't even dare to look at that person in the eye when those beliefs constantly swarmed his head.
But…
What if he abandoned Cleria and made an attempt to run? She would die, that's for sure. But would the fate of his family change? Would they remain as King rather than a Lesser King? Would the death of Cleria be a warning to their Housecarl if they were to repeat the same mistakes as her? If that was the correct answer his family would still be respected Kings, but with some surveillance on each corner of their territory.
What's done is done. Period.
…
Still…
If something through the arcane appeared at his doorstep, offering him a chance to travel back in time, at that specific moment… would he have the guts to sacrifice the few for the many? After witnessing the consequences of acting like a hero with good intentions?
The phrase "easier said than done" had a lot of weight in moments like this.
Thinking deeply about this was enough to make him feel disgusted with himself, but...
No.
No ifs ands or buts. She was family.
And yet…
"Victory and peace always come at a great cost. Don't judge the means I take, but the end I expect," his face softened a bit, "… And once we successfully wipe out the Old Maou, I swear I'll turn myself to Heaven."
Zekram curved an amused eyebrow, "Oh? I never took you as someone with a martyr complex."
"Not my fetish, Great King. But if it's to encourage the peace treaty, then I'll answer the Archangel's demands."
Lord Bael scoffed, "A bit late for that. Should've accepted that exorcist's offer then."
"And let Shalba and Qlippoth get away with it? No."
"... Keep amusing my selfish curiosity. What will be their reward, Danhauser?" Zekram saw the perplexed look of Danhauser and further elaborated, "the many offered sacrificial lambs that fell from the flock, will they be rewarded?"
"The last laugh. That's their reward."
The elder quietly placed his palms atop the table, looking at the Lesser King deep into his eyes, almost piercing at his soul, "What if you fail?"
Zekram spotted it, his stoic mask cracking slightly under his stern gaze, but Danhauser quickly recovered, "I will not fail."
Wrong answer. "I'll ask again. What if you fail?"
"Then tell my family I did my best."
At first, there was no reaction until Danhauser and Lord Bael saw Zekram's shoulders twinging and twitching.
"Great King?" Lord Bael called out, concerned.
It's as if he was barely holding back.
Barely containing himself.
Barely holding onto the feeling he had in his chest. In his breathing.
"Hah. Hahaha!" And finally, he boomed a laugh. It came so sudden, like the eruption of a newborn volcano. Effective enough to make Danhauser's shoulders jump a tad bit.
The laugh was reflected in his eyes, in the way his face changed into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth.
The more he cackled, the more Danhauser could hear the dark accentuation somewhere in between his seamless laughter.
Danhauser and Lord Bael shared a look before turning back to the elder.
"F-Forgive me," he snickered, gently massaging the bridge of his nose, "My mind slipped off somewhere else. I-I was picturing the whole set-up you see. A dagger at our throats, but their hands quivering. Pathetic, really."
Lord Bael's face drained of color.
Danhauser's mouth opened a little in shock, "D-does that mean…?"
"G-Great King!" Lord Bael intervened before the gray-haired could get his hope high, "d-don't tell me you will–!"
"I will what, Lord Bael?" Zekram stood up with a small, Cheshire grin, "Accept his request? I never said I'd agree to help, not yet at least. I just want to listen."
Lord Bael gestured rudely over the gray-haired, "C-can we even trust him? What if he discreetly crossed his fingers behind his back?"
"I'd just shoot myself on the foot," Danhauser muttered, even raising his hands in the air, "My family and peerage are at stake as well. I will not make their trust go in vain. I've washed my hands before coming here, your majesty."
Lord Bael glowered, "Washed hands? I doubt it. I can still smell the innocent blood coming from them."
"Enough you two," Zekram firmly said, "This is a meeting, not a fighting pit. I expect order on this castle, are we clear?"
Lord Bael reluctantly demurred, "Of course, Great King."
Danhauser just nodded. This was it. He was halfway through. He wanted to leave the room to take breaths for his heartbeat before pressing forward. But he refused, turning a deaf ear to the pleas of his heart and headache. He was so close to having his shoulders finally released from all this responsibility. To complete his promise he made to the blond. To avenge them. To win.
His worn-out body could wait for its nap. By sitting and licking his wounds would mean giving the Old Satan Faction time to proceed to the next step. He'd done that same error with Cleria and Masaomi's situation, by letting the storm grow rather than putting an end to their relationship, he would not repeat that same mistake.
The first days in DxD he was just dicking around. Exploring the Underworld. Training with Diehauser and his mother, Calcabrina. Searching for potential members for his peerage. More training. Interact with Valerie. More training. Fight the Utsusemi Agency and Satanael. Training.
Not saying training was a bad choice, but he could've dedicated one of those days to send someone of his peerage to spy on Cleria for her safety. To interrogate her about this, even if it meant to get on her nerves and made their relationship strained. But it wouldn't matter. He would gladly do it a hundredth times if it was for her safety.
And yet, he'd just sat there, watching everything unfold with a great lack of apathy. Like a spectator with bystander syndrome. No fingers were lifted since those days.
Never interfering in any romantic progression between Cleria and Masaomi whenever he visited her in Kuoh, only taking action until the last moment. He had months to counterattack or at least make an effort. And nothing.
However, he managed to save her, but it came with a great cost. He rescued the 'few' in exchange for the 'many'.
He could've done it better. Many possibilities with positive results.
Way, way, way better.
Maybe he was afraid to stray from the rails of the canon timeline back then, hence his lack of initiative. Maybe a subconscious part of him wished for everything to be similar to canon, with a few twists that wouldn't affect the plotline negatively. To avoid the unknown.
Naïveté and conformism at its finest.
But not anymore.
Yasaka compared him to a walking pandora box. A bad luck charm. Wherever he went, something chaotic was meant to happen.
And he wouldn't dare to admit it with her around, he wouldn't bear seeing her smug face, but her words had harsh truth behind them. It was a curse.
A curse he would gladly spread out. Shalba and his group deserved a taste of their own medicine. He will make sure his barely alive faction burned once for all.
They had their days outnumbered.
And if Rizevim was there, then he would gladly welcome the Super Devil with arms wide open. Two birds with one stone.
To defeat an unseen future.
To avoid the coming darkness.
Technically, this was the part where he should scream out 'fuck canon' at the top of his lungs. Typical for those that faced the same situation.
But canon was fucked, long ago.
And even if Danhauser knew that actions had consequences… not all of them had to be negative outcomes.
"Wipe that long face, my friend, it doesn't suit you," Zekram advised to his descendant, pressing his hands firmly on the elegant table, "While I have an idea what he envisions, there's a single detail that I fail to understand."
The merest hint of an icy smile lifted the corner of Zekram's mouth as he faced the young devil. "So then, Danhauser Belial..."
To outwit destiny.
To conquer the unknown. Or at least try.
"This plan of yours… what role does the Great King of Bael play?"
Because, what's another change, when he had done so many?
.
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Alexei Kaulko: The mute swan has been discarded from the peerage long ago, but if you want to know, it was Rossweisse. The updated version has the confirmed peerage member it's written on my profile, but maybe you already figured that out. Octopus will appear eventually, but not as a peerage member, mostly as an ally. Take care.
Killburn: I do have something for Rossweisse. But it'll take a while to reach her development. Around chapter 60ish or something. Take care.
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Life.8 The Devil Is in the Detail
