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One hour earlier, within the Satans' palace:
At a large round table, the two current Satans—Lucifer and Leviathan—sat opposite one another.
Serafall Leviathan, still dressed in her magical-girl attire, calmly sipped flower tea from her delicate porcelain cup, her eyes carefully skimming over the stack of reports on the table.
"Hmm~ Seems like those folks up in the northern territories are getting restless again. What do you plan to do, Sirzechs-chan?"
"Hmm..."
Sirzechs frowned slightly as he leafed through his own documents, seemingly lost in thought.
The Northern Territories were exactly as the name implied—the northernmost continent of the Underworld. In stark contrast to the prosperous, temperate lands occupied by the 72 Pillars, the Northern Territories were harsh, unforgiving, and barren, filled with severe weather and massive rocky landscapes.
Even the most hardened demon laborers wouldn't willingly choose to live in that godforsaken wasteland.
After all, it had long served as a place of exile for those who had dared challenge the 72 Pillars for the position of Satan and failed.
There, no grand cities thrived, no majestic castles rose—at best, their civilization was on par with Fate's ancient Babylonia under Gilgamesh's rule.
Probably even worse.
The defeated rebels had spent centuries in the Northern Territories, gradually forming their own loose power base under the previous Northern Demon Lord, Wilbert. Eventually, they even mockingly mimicked the 72 Pillars, forming their own makeshift assembly.
However, just in the last decade or so, Wilbert—this previous Northern Demon Lord—mysteriously vanished without a trace.
With their charismatic leader gone, the already chaotic and violent Northern Territories swiftly fractured into two opposing factions: the New Demon Lord faction, led by Leohart, and the more moderate faction, led by Wilbert's younger brother, Ramusas. Both factions had begun making troubling movements, eager for revenge and desperate to reverse their humiliating defeat from centuries ago.
In truth, the current Demon Lords weren't overly concerned.
Given the present might of the 72 Pillars, even if the entire North mobilized for war, they could crush them in no time.
Especially with Wilbert vanished and Leohart still inexperienced—Serafall alone could probably stamp them out single-handedly.
And that wasn't even factoring in Sirzechs himself.
But the sole complication was…
"Haaah…"
Sirzechs let out a weary sigh, staring at the photograph within his reports—specifically, at Ramusas, leader of the moderate faction, who had a mane of red hair remarkably similar to his own.
The Gremory family hadn't always been as sparse and quiet as it was today. Centuries back, the family had flourished—producing numerous talented heirs, all fiercely competing to become family head.
The victor inherited the glory and power; the defeated fled into obscurity and exile.
But if these issues could be brushed aside as merely old grievances between their elders, there was another more immediate concern bothering Sirzechs.
Wilbert once had a daughter—a girl who, just like Rias, inherited both the Gremory family's trademark crimson hair and the Bael family's power of destruction. Judging by her age, this girl would be slightly younger than Rias—probably just entering high school.
According to these recent reports, both the New Demon Lord faction and the moderate faction were desperately hunting Wilbert's daughter, intending to extract her inherited power of destruction and use it as a weapon in their coming rebellion against the 72 Pillars.
"Oh~ Actually, I've got an idea!"
Seeing Sirzechs troubled expression, Serafall put down her teacup excitedly and quickly flipped through her reports.
"According to this, Wilbert's daughter might be hiding in the Human World, right? Why don't we ask your sweet little sister Rias and little Bokue-chan to keep an eye out once they head back after summer vacation ends~?"
It's not that simple…
Sirzechs thought silently.
Finding someone in the Underworld was straightforward enough—the realm wasn't overly large, and most regions had clearly defined territorial borders. Plus, every major family had their own distinct magical signatures, making pinpointing someone relatively easy.
But Wilbert's daughter was a completely different matter.
They didn't know what she looked like, for starters. And the Human World was unimaginably vast, filled with billions of people. How could they possibly find her?
Especially considering she'd know full well that she was being hunted, meaning she'd probably hide her magic signature completely.
They couldn't exactly just run around looking for every random red-haired girl, could they?
What were the odds, anyway?
Yet just as Sirzechs was about to set this headache aside for the moment, a subordinate hurriedly entered the room, immediately dropping to one knee before the two Satans.
"I deeply apologize for the interruption, Lord Lucifer, Lady Leviathan. The Governor-General of the Fallen Angels requests an audience with you both."
"...Huh?"
"What?"
A brief stunned silence filled the room as the two young Satans exchanged bewildered glances, equally confused by this bizarre development.
Again, although they were currently in a state of uneasy ceasefire, tension was still high between the three major factions. Even the smallest border-crossing could ignite another devastating war.
Yet here came Azazel himself, casually waltzing into the very heart of Devil territory?
Seriously?
Before they could voice their thoughts, reality swiftly confirmed their doubts.
"Sorry, sorry~ My bodyguard was in a hurry to take care of something, so I figured I'd just stroll right in."
A familiar voice echoed cheerfully from outside as Azazel—wearing his characteristic black suit, leather shoes polished to perfection, and his signature black-gold hair styled just-so—sauntered confidently through the doorway.
Azazel waved a hand in greeting, his carefree expression at odds with the palpable tension in the room.
"Yo~ Long time no see, you two. Relax, relax. I'm not here to fight. It's just me. My buddy Vali didn't even come through the front gate—he went off looking for that Red Dragon Emperor kid as soon as we arrived."
His casual, easygoing attitude helped the two Satans ease their immediate wariness. After a slight cough to gather attention, Azazel got right to the point.
"Actually, I'm here to apologize personally. It's about the mess my subordinate Kokabiel stirred up in the Human World a while back."
Finishing his sentence, he snapped his fingers dramatically.
Instantly, a massive chunk of ice—easily twice the size of an adult man—appeared in the middle of the room, dominating their attention.
Frozen solid within, his features contorted grotesquely, wings twisted and shattered, was none other than the fallen angel cadre himself: Kokabiel.
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