The manor's dining hall was alive with golden firelight and soft laughter.
A long obsidian table stretched beneath a vaulted ceiling, chandeliers dripping with enchanted crystals casting prismatic light across dishes both extravagant and strange — roasted wyvern flank, flame-glazed hellfruit, spiced bloodwine simmering in floating goblets. At the head sat Lucien, lounging with the relaxed ease of a young noble who had claimed his own domain.
Yue, his newest Bishop, sat at his right.
She was calm, poised, and silent. Her golden hair shimmered in the light, her crimson eyes half-lidded as she sipped from a chalice of dark vintage. She barely spoke during the meal, but every glance she cast toward Lucien was unwavering, hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.
Rangiku had been the first to break the tension.
"So, Yue-chan," she said, twirling a piece of fruit on her fork. "Are you going to be like this forever? Staring at Lucien like you're two seconds from draining him dry?"
Yue blinked slowly, then smiled — a beautiful, eerie smile. "Only if he stops feeding me willingly."
Lucien gave a dry chuckle. "I'm not on the menu tonight."
"Shame," Yue murmured.
Across the table, Yamato and Ghislaine sat in measured silence. Yamato watched Yue like she might draw steel at any moment. Ghislaine, however, seemed faintly amused — predator recognizing a rival that didn't threaten her domain… yet.
Kuroka sat curled at the corner of the table, her tail flicking lazily, though her gaze kept sliding toward the windows. Her ears never stopped twitching.
Lucien noticed.
Still, the night passed with strange calm.
⸻
Later that evening, in the quiet of his study, Lucien sat cross-legged on a velvet armchair as the flickering firelight danced across the carved stone walls. He opened his system interface with a thought.
[Mission Complete: "Establish Your Territory"]
[+1 City Reputation]
[+500,000 demonic power points]
[Rare Item Draw x1]
He leaned back with a small grin.
"A good start."
But Kuroka's words lingered. Her posture. The way her eyes tracked every corridor they passed. Like a hunter expecting a trap.
⸻
The next morning, Lucien passed one of the high balconies overlooking the valley. Mist clung to the hills like silk, and the scent of wet stone hung in the air.
Kuroka stood alone at the edge of the balustrade, her back to him. She was still in her sleeping robe, her hair tousled by the wind. For just a moment, she wasn't teasing or purring or draping herself over furniture. Her shoulders were taut, her tail unmoving.
Pure wariness.
Lucien stepped beside her quietly. "Problem?"
She glanced over, too fast. The smile she offered was too smooth.
"Nothing important, nya~"
He didn't press — not yet. But he filed it away like a knife tucked in his coat.
Something was off.
⸻
That evening, the sky over the territory burned with streaks of violet and crimson, the setting sun bathing the towers of the manor in regal color. The capital city in the valley shimmered with awakening lights, and the quiet hum of wards and enchantments whispered against the stone walls.
Lucien stood on the balcony of his private study, sipping aged demon wine, the scent smoky and sharp. He gazed out over his domain, proud — but wary.
Behind him, Kuroka stepped into the moonlight.
"You're tense," she murmured.
"You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
Lucien glanced at her. "Still sensing something?"
"I never stopped," she said, eyes narrowing. "This place is too polished. Like someone tried too hard to make it safe. Like someone wants us relaxed."
Lucien exhaled. "You think we're being watched?"
"I know we are."
Before he could reply, a sharp pulse of magic cut through the air. They both turned toward the courtyard below as a teleportation circle burst into existence — dark violet and laced with ancient symbols Lucien hadn't seen in years.
A cloaked figure emerged from the seal, walking with the slow confidence of someone used to moving in shadows. A grotesque plague mask obscured most of his face, but Lucien knew the aura immediately.
Grayroad Lucifuge.
One of the elder sons of the Lucifuge bloodline — the devil of time, of disease, and of cursed fate.
Rumored to operate behind the scenes of the Underworld's highest councils. Allegedly erased from public record. Feared by both traitors and kings.
Lucien's grip on his goblet tightened.
Kuroka stiffened beside him. "That's the scent I couldn't place," she whispered. "Rot and eternity."
Grayroad raised his head, the mask tilting just enough to reveal crimson eyes — older than kingdoms, older than peace.
"Young Master Lucien," he rasped, voice like parchment over fire.
Lucien stepped forward, his voice sharp. "What are you doing here?"
Grayroad did not answer at first. The shadows bent subtly around him, coiling like smoke across the stone.
Then, softly, he spoke.
"To observe… to advise… and, should it be necessary, to correct."
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
So the game begins.
Grayroad bowed his head, a surprisingly formal gesture for someone cloaked in the scent of curses and timeworn duty.
"My family's charge has always been to protect the heirs of House Lucifuge," he said slowly, each word rolling like distant thunder. "My job was to protect your mother, Lady Grayfia. Now, it is my duty to protect you."
Lucien didn't speak, but his eyes narrowed, voice held back like a blade not yet drawn.
Grayroad continued, raising his gaze just enough to meet Lucien's. "Her last order before transferring me to your side was simple. Keep him safe—or die trying. I will observe, intervene if necessary, and ensure your rise remains… unimpeded."
The words struck harder than Lucien expected.
There was a pause.
A strange silence filled the space between them—thick with history, blood, and burdens passed down like iron chains. For a moment, Lucien's expression betrayed a flicker of something raw:
Betrayal at being watched without his knowledge.
Gratitude for Grayfia's foresight.
And understanding that this was never truly about control.
It was protection—cold, absolute, and without compromise.
Grayroad lifted his head fully. "Because the watchers beyond our borders have begun to stir. Some factions have already marked this territory for reclamation. The Council cannot protect you openly—but I can, by your mother's command."
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
Bootfalls. Shifting magic.
Rangiku, Yamato, Ghislaine, and Yue appeared at the balcony entrance, drawn by the earlier surge of demonic energy. Their eyes instantly locked onto the cloaked figure.
"I take it this is one of those political surprises you warned us about?" Rangiku asked, folding her arms, voice flat but alert.
Lucien exhaled sharply. "Yeah… this would be it."
Kuroka remained silent, her stare fixed on Grayroad.
"If he was watching," she murmured, "then he knows everything. Who you summoned. What we planned."
Grayroad gave a slow nod. "Correct. I have no intention of interfering unless your life is directly endangered. My duty is your survival, not your choices."
Yamato's hand hovered near her weapon. Ghislaine said nothing, but her muscles coiled slightly. Yue, meanwhile, moved beside Lucien without a word, placing herself between him and any threat.
Lucien stared hard at the ancient devil—this relic of the shadows, bound not by love or pride, but oath and blood.
Then, slowly, he gave a grim, knowing smile. "I'll accept your loyalty as my shadow then. You've always been there for me. You even covered up a lot of chaos Ri-chan and I caused as kids."
Grayroad didn't hesitate. He bowed again, deeper this time.
"As you command, my King."
The magic that clung to him swirled like smoke in the wind, and a heartbeat later, he vanished into the gloom with a whisper of dark power.
Silence returned.
Kuroka moved closer, brushing against Lucien's arm. "Told you, didn't I?" she said, her voice a murmur — and for once, there was no teasing, only relief.
Lucien chuckled softly, though a weight still sat on his chest. "You did. I should listen to you more."
Her tail flicked lightly, brushing his hand. "Damn right, you should."
The others joined them at the balcony edge, eyes turned to the horizon. The eternal night of the Underworld stretched far and wide, stars gleaming like ancient runes above.
They stood together — no longer just a gathering of powerful individuals, but a true unit bound by truth, betrayal, loyalty, and purpose.
And far beyond them, past Grayroad's shadowed watch…
Eyes stirred in the dark.
Not just devils.
Not just rivals.
But beings older than politics. Older than Maous. Older than time.
⸻
System Message (Hidden Event Triggered)
[Hidden Flag Activated: Pillar Ascension — Stage One Initiated]
[Warning: You have crossed a threshold that deviates from the intended flow of this world.]
[Unknown entities have taken notice.]
The Serpent coils in stillness.
The Dragon circles the boundary.
The old gods whisper in the void.
Proceed with Caution.
Reward Unlocked: "Draconic Favor — Fragmented"
(An echo of a long-forgotten power sleeps within you. It responds to fire, ambition… and legacy.)