“What are you pnning to do with this power, Nyx?”

  Ajuka leaned back, his usual sharpness softened as he took a moment to do something he hadn't done in a long time—sit down and clear his mind. It was a rare, almost unguarded gesture from someone who always seemed to be calcuting.

  “What will I do, I wonder…” I allowed a quiet chuckle to slip out.

  An hour before, I would’ve expected him to execute me on the spot to safeguard such magical knowledge. But now? Now I could see the wheels turning in his head, theorizing how to protect me from all the others who would surely come for me if word ever got out.

  “Without a catalyzer…” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low hum. “You’re still fishing in the dark, picking random people. Even if you manage to bring them here safely, a human who died of natural causes wouldn’t be able to survive a reincarnation.”

  I answered him honestly. “That’s why I already have a catalyzer in mind for my Queen. As long as I make a strong connection to the original soul, I should be able to bring back exactly who I want. And considering how many gods and heroes your world has to offer…”

  Ajuka ughed, though there was no surprise in his eyes anymore. “So, the only thing you’re missing… are your own Evil Pieces.”

  As he spoke, a small fme flickered to life in his p. It fred briefly before burning down to reveal a tight, polished briefcase. With a loud click, he opened it, revealing the Evil Pieces inside—some whole, others cracked and jagged. It appeared to be his personal set.

  “We could…” His voice took on a mischievous edge. “As I said before, there’s no real point in you taking the promotion test. If you had asked, I would’ve given these to you any time. You’re my greatest creation, after all.”

  “No.” I shook my head, the rejection slipping from my lips. “I can’t imagine anything I’d want less than that.”

  “You hate it here, don’t you?”

  The question caught me off guard. “You could say I’ve been living in hell. It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but... A pce where I get whatever I want, as long as I don’t leave, just feels like a cage. I’ve… I’ve been waiting for the chance to carve my own path.”

  “Then leave.” His tone was serious now, all traces of pyfulness gone. “Nyx, when I summoned you here, I wanted to see how an outsider’s mind would interact with our world’s magic. For us, everything we can do is already considered normal. But for you, it’s new, and you actually take the time to learn from it.”

  I gave him a bitter grin. “You do realize that once I start, I’m not going to stop, right?”

  He stood up, pcing a hand on my shoulder. “Does that scare you?”

  I nodded. “I wonder what I’ll become. Where I’ll be, a hundred steps from now. I’ll need... power, more than I’ll ever have without taking it from others. And the worst part is how eager I am to take it.”

  Ajuka’s gaze was unflinching, but there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. “And what exactly will you do with that power?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to glimpse the future. “I want to create a world where everyone beneath me can be happy, no matter who or what they are. I want to make sure they reach their full potential, no matter who tries to stand in our way.”

  Ajuka’s lips curled into a wry smile. “The st one who attempted something like that called himself God, and we both know how that ended for him.”

  “That’s because he didn’t have Satan on his side.”

  ?

  At long st, the day of my promotion test had arrived.

  Just as Lord Beelzebub had offered to let me bypass the process entirely, most descendants of the great pilrs never had to take this exam. Their Evil Pieces were simply granted upon coming of age—a birthright rather than something to be earned. After all, the primary purpose of reincarnation was to replenish the dwindling numbers of Devils left in the wake of the Great War. In that sense, this test held little value for me. At best, if I outperformed the rest, the news would spread across the Underworld, cementing my pce as a true, powerful Devil—pcing me above the common, weaker reincarnates and serving as a steppingstone for future political connections, which just wasn’t something I was looking for.

  Of course, I couldn’t take this test under the name Nyx Beelzebub. The divide between the Old and New Satan factions was already votile enough; my mere existence risked igniting a premature civil war. So we had settled on an alias—a name pulled from a long-forgotten house, erased centuries before. It would allow me to move freely, to interact with both sides of society without immediately drawing suspicion.

  Cervantis.

  A name with deep European roots, an easy excuse for my vampiric traits without revealing anything about my true nature.

  From now on, I would be Nyx Cervantis—a young heir to a fallen house, seeking to restore his family's former glory. A fitting story. A complete lie.

  I gnced around the cssroom where we had just completed the written portion of the exam—a tedious, mind-numbing questionnaire on the intricacies of Devil society, more akin to a citizenship test than a measure of power or worth. The room was filled with aspiring Kings, and I could tell that most were older than me by appearance alone. One could never reliably guess the age of a Devil, but the majority looked to be in their te twenties or early forties, which, in Devil years, meant they had likely lived for at least half a millennium. Many wore clothes that were worn at the edges, slightly faded—small details, but ones that told me exactly where I was.

  Among the underdogs of the Underworld.

  For them, this test wasn’t just a formality—it was an insult. The old nobility saw the ranking system as an abomination, a disgrace that spat in the face of their so-called divine bloodlines. To even be asked to prove their worth, to take a test like some commoner, was a humiliation.

  And then there were the reincarnates—like me.

  They hadn’t existed long enough to gain real influence in Devil society. Unlike the old houses, they had no ancient name to lean on, no inherent status to protect them. The only way they could cim a set of Evil Pieces was by convincing a King or sponsor to fund their attempt at promotion. Some sat stiff-backed, clearly overcompensating for their nerves, while others fidgeted in their seats, trying to hide the trembling in their hands.

  I recognized that look—the look of someone standing at the edge of something greater.

  For them, this test was everything. Their one chance to prove they weren’t just the smallest fish in the pond, doomed to obscurity. Being a High Css Devil was the dream of their lives.

  For me?

  It was just the first step.

  “Attention.”

  The room stiffened as we all rose to our feet. The servitor in charge—a mature woman with sharp features and brown hair tied into a severe bun—had returned.

  “We’ve confirmed that all participants have achieved a reasonable score,” she announced, her voice crisp, efficient. “Now, I will expin the rules of your combat test.”

  She made a brief pause. Just long enough to let her words settle.

  “Each of you will be assigned to a group of six to eight participants, chosen at random. Once all groups are formed, you will be teleported to designated battlefields for open combat. As in a standard Grading Game, any participant who is defeated will be immediately removed from the field.”

  A murmur passed through the room. Uncertainty. Anticipation.

  “Any questions?”

  An older man, draped in a heavy coat, stood slowly. He adjusted his sleeves, voice measured. “Can we be reassured that our lives will not be in danger? If we are to face unknown opponents…”

  The servitor regarded him coolly. “I can assure you that lethal force is not required to force a disqualification,” she said. Then, with a pointed edge, “And should anyone attempt it, they will face the full extent of the institution’s disciplinary measures.”

  The room was silent.

  Then, a younger girl—no older than twenty—raised a trembling hand.

  “C-Could I… inquire…” she hesitated, swallowing hard, “about the grading criteria for today, your evil authority?”

  The servitor turned her eyes on the girl, unimpressed. “If you must know, we’ll be watching your every move, evaluating your decision-making and magical mastery.” Her tone was clipped, as if the question itself was a waste of time. “Being a High Css Devil is more than a measure of raw power. If a reincarnate like you aims that high, you should, at the very least, show that you’ve mastered yourself.”

  No one else dared to speak after that.

  Without further dey, we were ushered into formation and led down a long, dimly lit corridor. The air smelled of old parchment and stone, a stark contrast to the grandeur above. Eventually, we came to a row of identical doors stretching into the distance.

  “Choose whichever you like,” the servitor instructed.

  Without much thought, I turned right and slipped into one of the smaller chambers. It was a waiting room—elegant but not gaudy, especially compared to the opulence of the manor. The furniture was nice enough, and the walls were adorned with minimalistic décor. It was a room meant to calm and comfort, not impress.

  Avoiding the urge to sit, I moved to the small sink, letting cool water run over my fingers before spshing some on my face. The chill grounded me. As I looked up, my reflection stared back, scrutinizing. In truth, reincarnation had been a gift, perhaps more than I cared to admit. My skin was pale, unnaturally smooth—fwless. The red eyes added an unsettling edge, making me seem far more intriguing than I felt. My blond hair, though, had grown wild, tumbling in disarray like a lion’s mane, raining down along my face.

  I huffed, shaking my head.

  Whenever I stopped to really think about it, the idea of becoming a vampire demon and gathering a team of misfits to help me sy dragons and gods still felt like a fever dream, as if I had just died and gone to my own version of heaven, which just happened to be some shonen power fantasy. Deep down, I was still just a nameless—

  A sharp, searing pain pushed through my skull.

  I staggered, catching myself on the sink as a wave of sound—no, a wave of voices—flooded my mind. It wasn’t just one voice. It was hundreds, maybe thousands, all scraping against my consciousness like nails against gss, to the point where none of them could really be heard.

  They whispered through the veil of my thoughts, incomprehensible yet crushing. My teeth ground together, ears ringing as the weight of it pressed down, suffocating—

  ????????????????????????????????????

  ??? ??? ????? ??????????????????????????????????????? ??????? ??????????????????? ???????????? ?????????????????? ???????????????? ??????????? ? ????????????????? ?????? ??? ????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????? ???????????????????? ?????????????? ???????????????????? ????? ??????????? ??? ???????????????

  And then, just as abruptly as it began, it stopped.

  The sudden silence was more deafening than the noise had been. My breaths were shallow, my pulse racing. I tasted salt on my tongue, the familiar hunger awakening somewhere deep behind my thoughts. Suppressing most of my old memories had helped reduce these incidents to a minimum, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing something.

  Then, a detached voice rang out overhead.

  “All participants, prepare for imminent teleportation.”

  I took a final breath before my body dissolved into a soft, blue light.

  When I rematerialized, I found myself standing in a vast, cavernous room. The sheer height of the walls made me feel insignificant, like an ant. It was a cube of cold metal and stone, glowing lines of magic were written into the corners, humming softly as they pulsed towards the hallways. It resembled the belly of some immense machine. The only marker was written on the ceiling: Sector C.

  “Hey, you! Your… demonship… fel!”

  I turned toward the voice, and there, on the far side of the chamber, stood the girl from before. She was yelling across the room, her face twisted in an exaggerated snarl.

  “I’m gonna whoop your ass out of that fancy outfit of yours!”

  I gnced at her as she charged forward. She had dark skin and jagged, wolf-cut hair that was even darker framed her face, while her white button-up and bck skirt—typical college attire—fred out with every step. That wide grin and her direct attack told me all I needed to know: she wasn’t new to violence. Using her head, though? That was another matter entirely.

  “Wait,” I said, raising one hand. She skidded to a halt, confusion briefly flickering across her face.

  Without sparing her another gnce, I walked past her, my eyes set on the exit.

  “W-What are you doing?! Are you giving up?!”

  I didn’t bother turning around. Instead, I pointed at the ceiling. “If we’re in Sector C, there’s got to be an A and B. I’m going to beat whoever wins those fights before they can take a break. You do the same.”

  She stood there, dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open as if she couldn’t quite process what I’d said. But since she didn’t try to stop me, I kept walking. I could have taken a moment to appreciate the sheer scale of the underground cube-like prison, but at this point, it felt unnecessary. After all, it had Ajuka’s fingerprints all over it.

  It was like living in your older brother’s shadow, constantly stumbling upon his projects—his grand, intricate, genius creations. And honestly, if I’d wanted to keep marveling at his work, I would’ve stayed in front of a mirror.

  The path led me down a long flight of stairs, each step taking me deeper into a darker section of the complex. The faint glow of the magical lines embedded in the walls was the only source of light, casting eerie shadows as I descended. Then, faint at first but growing louder, came the sounds of battle—grunts, the csh of weapons, and the sharp crackle of magic in the air. The fight was close, just below, two combatants locked into each other, oblivious to my presence as I peered through a gap in the wall.

  “Hey. Hey… Fancy… Yeah, you. Hey…” That same girl crept up beside me, tiptoeing with exaggerated care. Her voice was a harsh whisper. “So… when do we kill them?”

  I gave her a hard look, whispering back, “Why are you here?!”

  “You said we should kill the others first!” she hissed, clearly missing the point.

  “I also said there are at least two other groups! Go for the others!”

  “Well, I looked, but this pce is massive, and after a while, it felt like you tricked me!” she whined.

  I let out a sigh and my eyes drifted back to the arena below—too te to retreat or attack unnoticed. We’d been spotted. The one good thing was that the fight had ended just in time, leaving a single opponent standing, a perfect target for us to pick off.

  “Mine!” she yelled gleefully. In an instant, fmes erupted around her, forcing me to step back. She extended her hands, the fire twisting and coiling into the shape of an infernal bow. “Ehehe… Fuga!”

  With a fiery roar, the attack shot forward like a meteor, engulfing the entire room. The Devil who had been standing there, holding a spear, was obliterated in an instant. Her Sacred Gear had made short work of him.

  “Who… the hell are you?” I asked.

  She turned slowly, a cocky grin spreading across her face. “You’re looking at the new champion of the Rating Games! Name’s Kira. Buncha rich Devils brought me down here ‘cause I’m just that good!”

  We continued toward Sector A, our steps quick as we hoped to finish this test as soon as possible. But that Sacred Gear of hers lingered in my mind. It had raw power, sure, but it was clear she didn’t fully control it. When she fired, the fmes spread too far, scattering across the room, wasting half the attack for no reason. Worse, it was dangerous. If anyone had been standing nearby, they’d have been caught in the bst. She had been lucky, as the Devil below had just finished a tough fight, being left pretty injured.

  This girl had talent, no doubt, but it seemed she was just beginning to grasp her potential. She relied on raw firepower to make up for her ck of precision and control, compensating for the skill she hadn’t yet developed.

  I couldn’t help but wonder how far she’d go once she learned to master it—or how dangerous she’d become if she didn’t.

  “So… Kira, right? Have you been a Devil for long?”

  She ughed with a heavy snort. “Naaaah, not long. Was just another school rat until st month or so. Then this shady guy came ‘round, scouting talent. Knew it was me the moment he looked my way. Nice to finally get noticed for what I am.”

  Well, someone’s cocky as fuck. I would’ve said something, but I didn’t mind a joyful tomboy running her mouth every now and then—A big girl who’s a little dumb is always cute. Still, her words picked my interest even further. There was no way Devils are just taking people off the street and sponsoring their promotion tests nowadays. Even ignoring the cost of spending your Evil Pieces on them, the test price alone wasn’t some pocket change you just threw around. I had my own way of making money down here—some work on the side, some favors for the servants at the manor—but her story simply didn’t add up.

  There was a chance she was a big shot, one of those fast-rising prodigies, maybe even our very own Booba Dragon MC in the making. But the possibility of that was basically zero.

  My thoughts scattered as we entered Sector A, and the complete silence hit me like a wall. The room stretched out in front of us—long, rectangur, unnervingly still, like a crushed accordion. No signs of struggle or battle, just a bnket of quiet darkness. It felt... wrong. Like no one had been teleported here at all.

  Then, without warning.

  An arrow whistled through the shadows, speeding towards my face. Years of trained reflexes kicked in, and my Sacred Gear, the red scarf, reacted instinctively. It extended like a living arm, catching the projectile mid-flight before it could meet its mark.

  “Oh? This one appears to be capable.” A sophisticated, feminine voice came from the far corner. “And would you look at that, Dantalion. It seems like we weren’t the only one who thought about forming a little partnership.”

  Two figures emerged from their little corner, both clearly pure-blood Devils, their old yet finely tailored outfits making it known without a word. One of them, a ginger-haired man with a bastard sword resting on his shoulder, stepped forward.

  “I told you we should have gone looking for them,” he spat, eyes narrowing. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Any Devil who’s recruiting the help of humans can’t be worth much trouble.”

  Everybody’s feeling fucking confident today, huh.

  I looked down, then at my companion. “Can you take care of the archer?”

  Her face lit up with excitement. “Leave it to me. I’ve still got plenty of fire left!”

  Suppressing a grin, I dropped down to the lower level, meeting the ginger Devil—Dantalion—halfway across the room. “Never fought a Pilr Devil before. Always wondered if they’re all worth the fuss.”

  “And what are you supposed to be?” he asked, sizing me up. “Another one of these watered-down Imps trying to cim a throne they didn’t help build?”

  I held his gaze, my expression cold. “Just old blood in a new skin, taking what I’m owed.”

  Dantalion's lips curved slightly, as if he found some amusement in my words. Then he nodded slowly, with the weight of understanding. “Then may hell judge us both.”

  I took a half-step back and gripped my Sacred Gear, allowing it to flow down my arm and into my hand. There, I gripped it with just the tips of my fingers, and focused on mentalizing the shape—the weapon—I wanted for this fight.

  “Second Hardblood Art — Split.”

  From the crystallized crimson essence, a massive pair of scissors materialized in my grasp. I gripped them tightly, the weight familiar, and with a sharp snap, I broke them apart into two shining swords.

  Dantalion’s eyes flickered with something—recognition, perhaps even respect. He readied his stance, his hand tightening around the hilt of his bastard sword. “Impressive. That’s not bad at all... I know all too well how hard it is to recim a legacy that was always yours by birthright.” He paused, studying me. “If I defeat you, would you consider a generous offer?”

  “If you defeat me,” I replied tiredly, “I’ll join you without hesitation. But I’ve already made my Queen wait too long—I can’t afford to disappoint her now.”

  The ambience thickened with anticipation, a final moment of silence hanging between us like the calm before a storm. And then, with a violent roar, the air above our heads erupted in fmes, scorching the ceiling in a cascade of heat.

  With no more words left to say, we both pushed forward, bdes gleaming as they cshed under the inferno’s light.

  We traded blows, each strike cold, calcuted, as two warriors trying to cim the other’s life. But with every csh of our weapons, my initial excitement drained away, leaving only a cold sense of disappointment, which I tried to conceal behind a mask of focus.

  For a brief moment, I had allowed myself to forget—I am already a King.

  Unlike the other pieces, the King is a raw multiplier of power, capable of enhancing your strength tenfold or even a hundredfold. Under normal circumstances, this Devil—who had lived for centuries—would have the physical advantage. I should’ve been relying on my wits, skill, and strategy to overcome his strength and experience. But instead… it felt like sparring with a child. There was no weight behind his strikes, no force that demanded my full attention. His efforts were genuine, but to me, they cked substance—hollow, predictable, weak, boring.

  “You’re more skilled than you look,” he said as we paused, his breath uneven.

  “You’re not half-bad yourself,” I replied, my tone polite but distant. “But I’ve already shown you my bloodline’s technique, while you’ve held back. Can we really call this a fair duel?”

  He smiled, a mix of pride and challenge fshing across his face. “You speak truth. Then allow me to show you why even other Devils have learned to fear the seventy-two.”

  His stance shifted, knees bent as he leveled his sword, power gathering along the bde. I could hear the steel groaning under the pressure, threatening to snap at any moment. “You’ve proven yourself, so witness—behold the might of my Demonic Overload!”

  I could’ve stopped him, probably with one hand, but there was no need to humiliate the man. Drawing unnecessary attention would only complicate matters. The politics of the Underworld were already treacherous enough. So, as he prepared to strike, I extended my blood-forged bde. His arm ran into it as he attacked, earning him a deep gash. Rolling to the side, I dodged the burst of energy from his failed attack as if my life was on the line.

  As the short battle drew to a close, my opponent remained standing, though barely. His hand, mangled and limp, hung at his side, blood trickling from the deep cut. The familiar shimmer of teleportation magic began to swirl around him. “I see... so this is the power of a true demonic bde,” he muttered, a resigned sigh escaping his lips as his body vanished from sight.

  The moment passed, and I barely had time to reset before another arrow whistled through the air, aimed directly at my head. I was forced to dodge this time, my Sacred Gear slowly going back into its scarf form. The previous fight had done little to wear me down—his strikes hadn’t even scratched my weapons, so no blood was lost. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration it left on me.

  I let out a breath, shifting my focus. In an instant, I closed the distance between myself and the archer, the room a blur as I crossed it in a heartbeat.

  “What?!”

  The woman, already scorched and wounded, barely had time to react. One backhanded sp sent her rolling down to the lower level, her body tumbling as she disappeared into the familiar glow of teleportation magic.

  “Hey!” came a cry from behind me. My companion was still on her feet, but she struggled. Kira clutched her ribs, her breaths bored. “That one was mine!”

  Despite the bravado in her voice, her body told a different story. Sweat glistened on her brow, and her entire frame trembled from overexertion. She had pushed herself too far, tapping into her magic and her Sacred Gear beyond what her untrained body could handle. There were no visible wounds, but it was clear that the strain of conjuring fireballs out of thin air had left its mark on the young girl.

  I gnced at Kira, taking in her state. “Stay here,” I said calmly. “If you push yourself any more, you’ll burn out, and they’ll teleport you out of here. I don’t feel like fighting some defenseless girl, so let me handle the rest. You can take a breather, we’ll settle this when you’re ready.”

  “You can’t just leave me here!” she protested, screaming.

  As it turned out, I could, in fact, leave her there.