Reinhardt stood on a cliff overlooking the Beelzebub stronghold. The fortress was a jagged obsidian structure, pulsating with sickly green defensive wards designed to repel any spatial intrusion. High-tier sentinels patrolled the battlements, their eyes glowing with artificial malice.
"The defenses are decent," Reinhardt remarked, his eyes reflecting the base's lights. "But they are built on the assumption that the sky won't fall on them."
He looked toward Morgan, who was already chanting in an ancient, forgotten tongue. Her staff glowed with a chaotic, violet light. "Morgan, shatter their sky. Leave them no roof to hide under."
"With pleasure, Rein," Morgan smirked. She raised her staff high, and the clouds above the stronghold began to swirl into a violent vortex.
The Meteor Strike: Initiating the Massacre
Morgan unleashed a localized Great Ritual: Starfall. Huge fragments of condensed mana, shaped like burning meteors, tore through the atmosphere.
Impact One: The first wave slammed into the anti-teleportation wards. The green barrier flickered, groaned under the sheer weight of Morgan's magic, and then shattered like glass. Impact Two: With the wards down, the remaining meteors rained directly onto the barracks and the sentinel towers. The sound of stone grinding against stone was drowned out by the screams of Beelzebub soldiers.
"The gates are open," Reinhardt said, his hand gripping the hilt of Ryujin Jakka. "Scáthach, Lancer—don't let a single messenger escape. Every soul here stays here."
"Understood," Scáthach replied, her body turning into a blur of violet shadows as she plummeted toward the smoking ruins. Artoria followed, her spear glowing with a golden light as she prepared to harvest the survivors.
The Battlefield
Reinhardt walked calmly through the main gate, which had been blown off its hinges. The heat from his presence began to char the ground. He saw a High-Class Devil commander struggling out of the rubble, reaching for a communication device.
"Don't bother," Reinhardt said, stepping on the commander's hand.
"Who... who are you? The Asmodeus House... sent a monster?" the commander wheezed, seeing the crimson silk accents on Reinhardt's suit—deliberately left exposed to mimic the Asmodeus style of the 'Hit Squad' from earlier.
"Tell your ancestors that you died because of your neighbor's arrogance," Reinhardt replied. He didn't even draw his sword; a simple flick of his fingers sent a spark of Phoenix Fire that consumed the commander instantly.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Stronghold Status: 65% Destroyed]
[Enemies Remaining: 142/500]
[Evidence Planted: Asmodeus Signet Ring (Fake) dropped in the Command Center.]
As the base burns, Scáthach brings a captive to you—a lead researcher who was trying to smuggle out a suitcase of classified documents.
Reinhardt stood amidst the dancing embers, the air shimmering with the residual heat of his Phoenix flames. Scáthach tossed the trembling researcher at his feet, the man clutching a silver suitcase as if it could save his life.
"Please... I'm just a scholar! I have nothing to do with the politics!" the man wailed, his eyes darting between the burning ruins and the cold, golden-eyed devil before him.
Reinhardt knelt, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, hypnotic intensity. He didn't need to shout; his voice was a silk-wrapped blade. "You are more than a scholar tonight. You are a messenger."
The False Witness
Reinhardt placed a hand on the researcher's temple. Using a mix of high-tier Memory Manipulation and his Conqueror's Haki, he began to rewrite the man's last hour.
In the researcher's mind, the purple magical bombardment of Morgan was replaced by the signature crimson strikes of the Asmodeus clan. The silent lethality of Scáthach was replaced by the shouting of Asmodeus shock troops.
"Look at me," Reinhardt commanded. "Who attacked this base?"
The researcher's eyes went dull, reflecting a manufactured nightmare. "The... the Asmodeus. They screamed for the 'Young Master's' revenge. They killed everyone... they stole the data..."
"Good," Reinhardt whispered, stepping back. "Now, run. Run to the nearest outpost and tell them that war has found them."
The man scrambled to his feet and bolted into the dark woods, a perfect, living piece of evidence that would spark a firestorm between two Great Houses.
The Great Pillage
While the "witness" fled, Reinhardt turned his attention to the stronghold's vault. He gestured to Artoria and Morgan, who had just finished clearing the final pockets of resistance.
"Loot everything," Reinhardt ordered. "I want this place picked clean of its wealth. If it's not nailed down, it's ours."
The System interface began to scroll at a dizzying speed as they breached the Beelzebub treasury.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Looting Beelzebub Stronghold S-7G...]
Currency Obtained: 10,000,000,000 Devil Coins (Secured in System Inventory). Research Documents: Project Hive-Mind (Experimental Soldier Enhancement Data). Materials: 500 units of Abyssal Steel, 10 crates of High-Grade Mana Crystals. Special Item: The Staff of Gluttony (Cursed Tier - Enhances Mana Absorption).
"Ten billion," Reinhardt mused, looking at the massive increase in his balance. "The Beelzebubs were certainly hoarding for a long campaign. It's a shame they'll think the Asmodeus spent it all."
"The 'Pig' King is going to be very happy with the dinner we buy with this," Morgan joked, pointing at Artoria, who was busy carrying three chests of gold at once.
"Call me what you want, Witch! This gold is going toward my new armor!" Artoria retorted, though she looked quite satisfied.
The Return
Reinhardt looked back at the smoldering crater. Ryujin Jakka's heat had sterilized the site, leaving no trace of his specific magical signature—only the "evidence" he chose to leave behind.
"Let's head back," Reinhardt said. "By tomorrow morning, the Underworld news will be screaming about the Asmodeus-Beelzebub conflict. I want to be home having tea when the first report hits."
[SYSTEM STATUS UPDATED]
[Balance: 10,480,000,000 Devil Coins]
[World Event: 'The War of the Heirs' has been triggered.]