The hot water continued to envelop his body while steam rose in gentle spirals around the bathtub.
For a few minutes, Alear remained motionless, eyes closed, simply feeling the gradual relaxation of his muscles and the strange weight of a body that was still recovering. But, unlike an ordinary person enjoying a bath after years of unconsciousness… his mind didn't stay still for very long.
Eventually, his magenta-pink eyes opened slightly as he pondered the "magic" of this world.
…Magic here is much simpler.
The Magecraft of his former world revolved around the concept of "Mystery," which was nothing more than fragments of power originating from the Root, the source of all supernatural phenomena in that world. If one considered modern magic, Magecraft was, in essence, a degraded manifestation of that "Mystery"—something explained by science yet performed in a supernatural manner. That was precisely why current thaumaturgy was so vastly inferior to that of the Age of Gods.
Back then, the magical arts stood far closer to true Magic, something incomparably superior to what existed in the present, where, in practice, Magecraft was little more than a supernatural imitation of phenomena that science would eventually be able to replicate.
The reason was simple.
Ever since the beginning of the Common Era, human history had been steadily driving Mystery away. As the light of science expanded, the darkness of the unknown—the very essence of Mystery—retreated.
No matter how much mages resisted.
That law was inflexible.
But in this world, no such limitation existed. Here, magic was extremely flexible.
From what he knew—both from the memories of what he had seen of the High School DxD franchise in his first life and from the memories of his predecessor—magic was a phenomenon that apparently originated from other forms of energy and could be manipulated even by humans.
There were countless magical systems: from Norse magic and fairy magic to completely distinct structures, each based on its own formulas and principles, including those employed by gods and their respective pantheons.
Among humans, the majority of magical practices derived from the teachings of the legendary mage Merlin Ambrosius. His arts were born from deep research into the so-called "Demonic Power" of Devils themselves.
Regardless of the system, magic could be employed for countless purposes: attack, defense, support, healing, or even everyday tasks.
As a Devil, he possessed his own way of manipulating energy: Demonic Power. Unlike human magic, this force relied heavily on imagination, creativity, and the user's natural instinct. Human magic, on the other hand, was grounded in knowledge and calculations—the mastery of complex equations that demanded rigorous logical reasoning…
Thus, although both powers might appear similar at first glance, in essence they were fundamentally distinct.
In any case, from what he had observed, the most common form of magic in this world was based on the application of knowledge and logic to predict outcomes: "If I do this, then that will happen."
This held true regardless of the magical system used—and it was worth remembering that there were many. Norse magic, fairy magic, and countless other variations with their own formulas, including those employed by gods and their respective pantheons. In the end, everything depended on the logic behind the method and the energy used to fuel the spells. Of course, there were exceedingly rare mages capable of casting magic without relying on that rational process, depending solely on pure talent and intuition. But such individuals were so extraordinary that one would need to place "super" at least ten times before "rare" to describe them. That was something his father in this world had told him when he was still younger—exactly… his predecessor had been precisely one of those anomalous cases, someone absurdly talented.
Now, however, that talent had multiplied even further. He had reached the pinnacle of Magecraft to the point that even Medea admitted her inferiority—a feat that, by itself, already said everything.
After all, the magical system of his previous world was immeasurably more difficult and infinitely more complex. And yet… he had reached the top of modern Thaumaturgy and even of the Age of Gods that he learned from his Servants. In comparison, the magical system of this world seemed far too simple. If he still weren't the best… honestly, it would be reason enough to die of shame—perhaps even choking on a hard piece of cheese, or maybe he'd have to ask Furbaide to throw one at his head the way she did with Medb?
An ironic smile appeared on his lips.
Setting aside his jokes and confidence in his magical talent, he ended up thinking about the "Demonic Power" circulating through his body…
All Devils, regardless of whether they belong to high or low class, possess the innate ability to use Demonic Power—a fundamental form of energy that allows them to create and manipulate supernatural phenomena for combat and other applications. This force serves as the foundation of the Underworld's power system and is shaped primarily by imagination, creative capacity, and the user's common sense, although the main requirement remains the raw amount of demonic power the individual possesses from birth.
Within the Seventy-Two Pillars and among the so-called Extra Devils, there exist unique abilities inherited through bloodlines that cannot be reproduced outside their respective clans. However, due to frequent marriages between noble families, Pure-Blooded Devil children can inherit powers from either side. A classic example is Venelana Gremory (née Bael): upon marrying into the Gremory House, her children—Sirzechs Lucifer and Rias Gremory—inherited the [Power of Destruction], originally tied to the Bael lineage.
In terms of innate capacity, members of noble families—especially the Seventy-Two Pillars—are already born with far greater reserves of "Demonic Power" than ordinary devils, to the point that many don't even need serious training to use it effectively. Above them are the descendants of the Four Original Great Satans, who possess even more absurd levels of raw power. Among these, the Lucifer lineage is considered the most dominant in terms of pure quantity of Demonic Power.
On rare occasions, individuals emerge whose power directly rivals that of the Satans themselves. Notable examples include Serafall Leviathan, one of the current Four Great Satans, and Diehauser Belial, the legendary Rating Game champion—both recognized for possessing power levels comparable to the rulers of the Underworld…
Even rarer are the so-called Super Devils (Chōetsusha), anomalous existences whose "Demonic Power" surpasses even that of the Original Satans, including Lucifer himself. Among them are Rizevim Livan Lucifer, Sirzechs Lucifer, and Ajuka Beelzebub. Sirzechs, in his true form, is powerful enough to overpower Hades, while Ajuka has shown confidence in facing even Shiva—placing both firmly among the most powerful beings in the entire supernatural landscape.
Despite this, not all devils follow the rule. There are extremely rare cases of individuals born with difficulty manifesting Demonic Power or even completely without it. The most famous example is Sairaorg Bael, a Pure-Blooded Devil of the Bael House who was born entirely devoid of both demonic power and his clan's unique ability. Due to the extreme pride of Underworld nobility, individuals in this condition are usually scorned or hidden—as happened with Sairaorg himself, who was effectively exiled by his father along with his mother to avoid public disgrace.
Although the initial amount of Demonic Power has a strong hereditary component, it can be increased through intense training, even though the exact mechanism of this growth is not fully understood. There are also artificial amplification methods, such as the influence of Ophis's snake or the use of the "King Piece"—a special "Evil Piece" capable of multiplying an individual's demonic power anywhere from ten to a hundred times.
Finally, one of the classic weaknesses of devils remains the Holy Light of angels and artifacts tied to the system created by the Biblical God. Still, Devils with exceptionally high levels of Demonic Power can develop significant resistance to this disadvantage and, in extreme cases, are even capable of passively suppressing and dispersing holy energy simply through overwhelming power difference.
Recalling the memories of his predecessor, he recognized that he had been born with rare hereditary luck. From birth, he possessed an absurdly high amount of [Demonic Power]—something that, during childhood, caused him enormous difficulties in control; even before contracting the sleeping disease, he couldn't efficiently control even half of it.
Now, however, with Mystic Eyes capable of bypassing that adjustment process, he could confidently state: his energy reserves had already reached, at minimum, the level of a High-Class Devil.
In other words, he had won the lottery in this new life—reaching supreme strength would be far easier than in his previous one…
Alear shook his head and finally rose. The water slid down his slender body, revealing skin that was still pale but already regaining a faint healthy tone. He stepped out of the bathtub unhurriedly, picking up a fluffy black towel folded on an onyx shelf. He dried himself with efficient movements, feeling his muscles respond better with each passing second…
Hm? That was probably related to adapting to this body…
While putting on the light robe he found hanging, he walked to the full-length mirror embedded in the marble wall. The reflection showed a young man of aristocratic appearance—cold, piercing magenta-pink eyes, hair of the same color falling in damp strands across his forehead…
His appearance was practically the same as in his previous life… The only difference lay in the color of his hair and eyes. Still, to be honest, he liked his current appearance better.
…Probably the devil's pride influencing that perception.
He was finishing tying the robe's belt when he heard two soft knocks on the double doors.
"Young Master? I brought the clothes as requested."
Lotte's voice—still slightly nervous, but firmer than before.
Alear raised his voice just enough to carry through the carved wood.
"Come in."
The doors opened carefully. Lotte entered carrying a neatly folded set over her arms: a flawless black dress shirt, slim dark trousers of fine fabric, a thin silver tie, and a light jacket with the subtle Häagenti family crest embroidered on the chest…
She kept her eyes lowered…
"I chose pieces that haven't been worn in a long time, but they belonged to your father, Young Master. They're still in perfect condition. If you'd prefer something else…"
She began, ready to obey any order.
"It's fine. I don't mind that they were my father's. Anyway, I already figured you'd bring his clothes—I was unconscious far too long to buy anything for myself…" Alear interrupted calmly, explaining before extending his hand. "Thank you, Lotte…"
The girl handed over the clothes, blushing slightly as she realized he was only in a robe. She turned her face for a second before regaining composure.
"I… will wait outside, Young Master. When you're ready, Her Majesty Serafall should be arriving soon. The doctor she brought as well."
Alear nodded while taking the garments.
"Perfect. You may go."
Lotte gave a deep bow and retreated, closing the doors once more.
Alone again, Alear began to dress. While buttoning the shirt, his thoughts returned to magic—and to the fiancée he was about to meet.
"Simple magic… But politics? That remains complicated in any world."
He adjusted the tie in the mirror—the knot perfect in three movements—straightened the jacket, gave his reflection one last look, and exhaled slowly.
Finished dressing, he walked to the door, his expression returning to its usual state: calm, elegant, and completely unreadable. He opened the bathroom's double doors; the light jacket swayed slightly as he crossed the threshold. The mansion's wide corridor received him with the same oppressive, luxurious silence as before.
Lotte was already waiting outside, posture straight, hands clasped in front of her. The nervousness was still present, but she had grown somewhat accustomed to his rhythm.
"Young Master…" She said with a short, precise bow. "The formal meeting room has been prepared. It's the most suitable for receiving Her Majesty Serafall and the doctor. It's on the ground floor, to the right of the main hall. I can guide you, if you wish."
Alear gave a single nod.
"Lead the way."
They began walking side by side—or rather, she half a step ahead, as protocol demanded. While ascending the wide black marble staircase, Lotte ventured a careful suggestion, voice low but clear:
"Young Master… the doctor Her Majesty is bringing specializes in recovery for patients with Sleeping Disease. He'll probably want to examine you while resting. Perhaps it would be better to wait lying down in your bedroom bed. I can prepare everything there, with extra pillows and—"
"No need."
The reply came calm, without irritation, yet with a firmness that left no room for discussion.
Lotte blinked, surprised, but quickly lowered her head.
"Understood, Young Master. I apologize for the unnecessary suggestion."
Alear didn't respond immediately. His magenta-pink eyes glided along the corridor as they continued upward.
Indeed, it was strange that, after years unconscious, he could walk and speak normally—as though he had only slept a single day. It probably had to do with his "rebirth"—or perhaps with a Devil's own biology—but the first hypothesis was easier to believe. After all, rebirth didn't merely mean returning to life; it represented a true restarting of the body. And as someone who had already gone through that process more than once, he understood very well what it meant. As for the abnormally rapid recovery, that came from the food he had eaten combined with his basic technique of accelerating metabolism through [Demonic Power], allowing his body to absorb nutrients efficiently and quickly exit the critical state…
But other people didn't understand that mechanism. He knew his recovery could easily be seen as a miracle… and attract far too much attention because of his impulsive refusal to stay in bed and his rather healthy movement around without concern. Yet even knowing this, he didn't care…
There was one thing he never doubted: his own strength. Even with little energy for casting spells, he could still resort to virtually any magecraft he knew through the imagination mechanics of his [Demonic Power]. The problem was the weakened body—that state limited his performance and prevented him from drawing out his true full potential. Still, if he needed to face a Maou, he seriously doubted any of them could stop him from escaping. His reaction time was absurdly extended thanks to the [Mystic Eyes]; at his command, a single instant of reality could stretch into nearly a minute inside his mind—more than enough time to structure and activate a spell…
But that was merely him considering an unlikely scenario.
He doubted his fiancée would openly attack and kill him…
They reached the ground floor. Lotte opened a more discreet double door, revealing the formal meeting room.
The space was imposing but not as extravagant as the bathroom. Walls paneled in polished dark wood with old-gold accents, a black stone fireplace crackling with bluish flames—probably magical—deep leather armchairs arranged in a semicircle around a low ebony table. In the center, an ancient Persian rug bearing the Häagenti crest. Tall windows with dark stained glass filtered the Underworld light, tinting everything in soft purples and crimsons.
A tray with steaming tea and a few sweets had already been prepared on the table—obvious courtesy of the maids.
Lotte gestured toward one of the larger armchairs, positioned facing the room's main entrance door.
"Here, Young Master. This chair offers the best view of the entrance and is the most comfortable. May I bring anything else while you wait? Water, wine, or perhaps a light blanket for your shoulders?"
Alear walked to the indicated armchair and sat with deliberate movements, crossing his legs and resting his forearms on the armrests.
"Not necessary. Just let me know when they arrive."
"Yes, Young Master."
Lotte gave a deep bow and left, carefully closing the doors.
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the gentle crackle of the blue flames in the fireplace.
Alear reached toward the silver tray on the low table. His fingers picked up a small, delicate-looking sweet: a chocolate-coated sphere. He brought it to his mouth unhurriedly, chewing slowly as the flavor burst—quite delicious. He followed it with a sip of the steaming tea. The liquid was dark as ink, with an earthy, faintly sweet aroma. The warmth slid comfortably down his chest, helping dispel the lingering trace of weakness still lingering in his muscles…?
Probably some kind of magical medicinal tea—kind of his maids…
He leaned back a little further in the armchair, magenta-pink eyes fixed on the double doors. The wait didn't bother him; in fact, it gave him time to organize his thoughts.
The silence lasted exactly seven and a half minutes.
Two light knocks echoed at the door—not Lotte's respectful touch, but something more lively, almost playful.
Before Alear could respond, Lotte's voice sounded from the other side, slightly hurried:
"Young Master… Her Majesty Serafall Leviathan has arrived. And… she is accompanied by His Excellency Ajuka Beelzebub."
Alear paused the cup halfway to his lips.
…Ajuka Beelzebub?
The name rang in his mind like an alarm bell. This wasn't just any doctor. It was one of the current Four Satans—the "Super Devil" known as the Underworld's greatest tactical and magical genius, creator of the [Evil Piece] system, and one of the Ten Strongest beings in this world. He had expected a specialist in demonic coma… not Ajuka himself personally accompanying Serafall.
Genuine surprise flashed through his magenta-pink eyes for a fraction of a second. Then it vanished, replaced by the usual mask of aristocratic calm.
He set the cup down with a soft clink.
"You may let them in, Lotte."
The doors opened with an exaggerated flourish.
Serafall Leviathan entered first. Despite being one of the Four Great Satans of the Underworld, her appearance was that of a girl barely out of late adolescence—delicate, innocent, and exaggeratedly adorable features that brutally contrasted with her position of absolute authority.
She stood exactly 160 centimeters tall—a petite stature that made her seem even younger and more fragile at first glance. Her body was slender and well-proportioned, with soft yet defined curves that stood out in her Magical Girl uniform; her figure gave her a delicately voluptuous silhouette without excess—the kind of proportions that seemed drawn to be "too cute to be real," with a slim waist accentuating a moderate bust and rounded hips that lent a charming sway to each bouncy step…
Her hair was the most striking feature: deep black and long enough to reach her waist when loose, but tied into two high, voluminous twin tails secured with enormous pink ribbons that swayed like bunny antennas.
Her eyes were large, expressive, and mesmerizing—a vibrant, crystalline blue that seemed to sparkle upon meeting his.
"Ale-chan! You finally woke up, my lazy fiancé~! Sera-chan came running the moment I heard! You took way too long to wake up, huh? I almost died of missing you!"
She opened her arms as though about to leap into his lap.
Behind her, Ajuka Beelzebub entered. In contrast to his "fiancée's" exuberance, his gaze was extremely curious. He also appeared to be in his twenties, with stunning beauty and irresistible charm—clear blue eyes and green hair swept back. He exuded a mysterious aura that gave him a diabolical air, dressed in green clothing that looked like something a scientist and mage would wear…
…Exactly what one would expect from the greatest scientist among Devils…
Alear set the tea down with a soft clink and rose slowly, completely ignoring Serafall's impulse to hug. He inclined his head in a formal, precise, aristocratic bow.
"Your Majesty Serafall Leviathan. Your Excellency Ajuka Beelzebub. It is an honor to receive you in my humble residence during these times. I deeply thank you for the visit and for your concern regarding my health."
His voice emerged cold, polite, and distant.
Serafall froze mid-leap, arms still open, and pouted dramatically, cheeks puffing out like a spoiled child.
"Ehhh? Ale-chan, why so formal? That's not how you treat your future wife, you know? Where's the 'Sera-chan, I missed you!' or at least a hug?"
She crossed her arms, the pout deepening, her large eyes blinking with a mix of drama and genuine confusion.
Ajuka, standing one step behind, raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly but said nothing. He was already accustomed to formal occasions—though his interest in the boy before him had increased, because he seemed far too well for someone who had spent seven years in a coma…
Alear maintained his upright posture, magenta-pink eyes fixed on hers without wavering.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty…" he replied, voice low and firm, "we have never met in person before today. My knowledge of the engagement is limited to the words of my late father and the arrangements Your Majesty kindly made during my… period of unconsciousness. Therefore, I believe formality is the most appropriate for this first meeting."
He paused briefly, his gaze sliding to Ajuka for an instant before returning to Serafall.
"Furthermore… I did not expect the presence of His Excellency Beelzebub. That makes this occasion even more… significant."
Serafall huffed, crossing her arms tighter, the pout now accompanied by a slight tremble of her lower lip.
"Muuu… Ale-chan is too cold! I took care of you for years, sent the best maids, paid the mansion bills when your family could no longer… and now you treat me like some boring state visitor!"
She took one step closer, pointing an accusing—yet still childish—finger at him.
"You're going to have to make it up to me later, okay?"
Alear didn't move a single centimeter.
The room fell silent for a second, broken only by the crackle of the blue flames.
Ajuka finally cleared his throat lightly—a nearly inaudible sound, but enough to draw attention.
"If I may interrupt… I came because Serafall insisted I examine the case personally. The 'Sleeping Disease' that affected your lineage is not something common. And your sudden awakening… is intriguing."
His eyes fixed on Alear with analytical intensity.
"Shall we begin the examination, or would you prefer to continue discussing… personal matters?"
Serafall turned to Ajuka with a displeased tone.
"Ajuka-kun, don't ruin the mood!"
But Alear simply nodded calmly to the Super Devil, ignoring his "fiancée's" drama.
"I am at your disposal, Your Excellency. Whenever you wish."
___________________
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