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Chapter 74- War In The Horizon
AN: Beta'd by Basilisk, Lord Shiva, and Deathwish! A huge thnx to all of em!
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That said, onwards!
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"Ragnarok approaches," Odin murmured, voice soft yet heavy. "Hastens ever so close."
They stood on the balcony of Odin's hall, gazing across Asgard, the land of the Æsir gods. Hermes would never admit so to a soul, but he preferred the bordered lands of Asgard to the mountains of Olympus.
"And you would have me ignore all that to do what, Hermes? Challenge a being who could swallow my entire pantheon with nary a problem?" The Supreme god's voice did not rise but Hermes struggled against quailing all the same...
'Shouldn't have tried pranking Heimdall again...' He bemoaned. 'Odin doesn't seem to be in a tolerant mood.'
But then again, it would've been downright criminal if he'd missed the chance...
As the god of Messengers, his Authority allowed him to bypass the natural boundaries of any pantheon. He could enter the territories of other gods, and not just Greek, completely unannounced.
Combined with his Authority over speed, he was likely one of the few gods in existence—along with Zeus, Odin, and Ra—capable of outrunning Heimdall's all-seeing gaze and enter Asgard without a single soul's knowledge. Except, perhaps, an Odin sitting on his throne, Hlidskjalf.
It never failed to entertain the god of Thieves, the way the Asgardian gatekeeper would squawk every time Hermes announced himself with a cheery 'Hello, there!' from behind.
But perhaps this was one occasion that should've been treated with greater gravity. He did come here to discuss war after all, and the possible destruction of everything they ever knew.
Pinching his nose, Hermes turned to the miffed Supreme god beside him. "We would have you fight." He answered mildly. "We would have you prepare for a war that may very well surpass the promises of Ragnarok—"
Odin snorted, shooting him an amused look.
Hermes continued unheeding. "A war with the potential to extend its limb wide, encompassing the entire world within its grasp. And even if it doesn't, Lord Odin, with all due respect, can you truly afford to spurn us? Do you truly think Ouroboros' meddling will stop with one pantheon, O wise king? If it has decided to finally break the ancient pacts, would any upon this world ever be fully safe?"
The king stayed silent, his one piercing eye boring over the firmament.
Hermes turned as well, taking in the beauty of Asgard laid before him.
He could see the castles from hither, grand as the grandest of Olympus', save perhaps from Zeus'. He could see Valhalla—not as ornate but even bigger than some castles—Odin's einherjar leaping for battle, uncaring of death, trusting the magic of Asgard to see them safely revived. The rainbow bridge awaited at a distance, but equating it to a rainbow was comparable to drawing parallels between a mountain and a rock. Perhaps if a thousand rainbows were stitched together with divinity, they may come close to resembling its appearance.
It was every bit as beautiful as Olympus, but without the chaotic city and its chaotic occupants that partied every night over the streets. Now, Hermes would never be one to say no to a good night of partying—especially for the sneaky opportunities it provided—but he wasn't Dionysus. They get old sooner or later, and a thousand years would qualify as 'later' in every immortal dictionary.
Beside him, Odin sighed. "It is not that I do not see the threat, my friend. I would like nothing more than to gather my warriors and march to the battlefield. But that would be reckless and foolish, and an utter waste of the wisdom my poor innocent eye provided me with its sacrifice. You ask me if I can afford to spurn you, but it is not what I can afford to do. It is what you let me."
"Lord Od—"
"I won't play sly with you, Hermes. You know me too well for that. Your pantheon has always looked down on us, that is but a bland truth. Our supposed mortality makes you question our power and position. Don't think I haven't heard your king's disparaging words; claiming us to be barely better than demigods, forced to depend on some fruits for survival. What assurances do we have that this isn't all a plot to usurp the western civilization for yourselves?"
Hermes grimaced. "Those comments were made in bad faith, and my king apologizes for them." Then he leaned close, as if to depart from a great secret. "He may genuinely mean them this time. He's...changed."
He leaned back again, shaking his head. "And please don't try to fool me, King Odin. Your Ravens must've surely whispered the coming dark tidings. Heimdall must've surely seen enough to ascertain the truth of my words. And your Throne makes you capable of peering at every corner of the Nine realms, you can't possibly tell me you haven't a clue of what's been going on in the shadows? Now you're just insulting my intelligence."
Odin hummed. "Well in that case…" He gave him a sly glance, the tips of his lips twitching. "Why shouldn't we wait until the dragon god destroys your pantheon? The Norse can become the true power of the West, and your destruction will provide a convenient motivation for all the pantheons to scramble together and deal with this new threat. Why, Asgard might even come to lead this alliance."
Hermes shook his head. "If we are pressed, we will fight without restraint. And believe me, my lord. The true might of my pantheon will see this world ruined and its lands barren. You will be the true power of ashes and dust, and rubble and debris. My father's wrath is well known. He will desecrate this continent just because he could, so none may claim the prize we deserve."
"Wrath." Odin snorted. "You mean pettiness."
"...Be that as it may, you're forgetting that the other pantheons might simply side with the Ouroboros. Allying with an entity powerful enough to destroy Olympus seems a more desirable choice than joining gods whose immortality depends on apples."
Odin chuckled. "You underestimate a god's pride. No matter how minor, all gods think themselves the center of the world in their tiny corner. To give it all up is simply not in their nature."
"...But you still wouldn't do it, would you, Odin? Abandon the Greeks?"
For a moment, the one-eyed god stayed quiet, before glancing down at the shorter god with a smirk. "No. No, I won't. While I have no love for your king, it would be a true shame to see the rest of you go."
Hermes nodded gravely. "The world rests at the edge of the precipice; it is upon us to drag it back to the light."
They both shared a chuckle.
"I have missed your wit, my friend." Odin clapped him on the shoulders. "You don't visit, you don't send letters...not even a call. I stood in line in a blizzard for six days to discover the sorcery of the smartphone, and yet my contact list is as empty as ever. Can you imagine my pain? The only good thing about it is the internet and Wikipedia; it holds all the secrets of the current century, making it infinitely easier to keep up with the mortal world." The king of Aesir hesitated then. "You...do know what the internet is, yes?"
"...Who do you think invented it?" Hermes shot him a bland smirk. "I'm tempted to ask which smartphone you brought, but there's really no point. I always have the best and the latest ones that aren't even on the market. Embarrassing you is not my purpose for today's visit."
The amusement didn't last long, and the god of Messengers turned back to take comfort in Asgard's beauty with a sigh. "I must say, it would be difficult to see the end of this civilization. Just when humans have finally shifted the gears of their progression, their entire existence is in threat of undergoing terrible upheavals. Did you know they've made weapons capable of matching the power of Divine beings? Nuclear bombs, they call them, and the most powerful one could affect multiple cities. Give them another couple of centuries and I'm sure their weapons would come to rival the power of a Minor god. Can you imagine the potential?"
"I can..." Odin sighed. "But this war…I'm afraid humans won't survive. Well...they certainly won't come out unscathed. There would be gods aplenty, looking to upset the natural order and bring the mortals to heel. Not all are happy with the recent increase of Atheists. The lack of worship rankles many. Even those who're widely worshiped do not like the absence of conviction and belief in their followers. They've always been looking for opportunities to meddle in the affairs of mortals more freely, to remind them of their presence and dictate their lives."
The Supreme god turned away, walking back inside his chamber. "This war will give them exactly what they wanted; a chance to change the balance. No matter how much we may've jested in the past, the truth is; our world as we know it is about to change. New alliances will be forged, and new territories formed. I hope you're right about your king, Hermes. I won't appreciate a stab in the back. We may not be as thoroughly immortal as you, but you'll still find us a bitter enemy to have."
"I understand." Hermes nodded solemnly, walking after him. "And so does my king. He has made my purpose for this meeting clear; find true allies."
"Your purpose..." Odin hummed. "Tell me, Hermes. Is it true you have a new god of War? Mikael Gabrielson, I believe his name is."
"A new god of War?" Hermes raised a brow, snorting. "No, Mikael is no god of war. In fact, we're short a god of War. Ares' stupidity finally caught up with him, and Father's attempts to spoil his new favorite ensured his punishment to be much harsher than it normally would be. Not a huge loss I'll admit; for in his stead, we've gained…a very unique god. A god of Holy Power, if you can believe it. His other domains are unknown to us, and he doesn't seem interested in exercising it amongst us, so he's still a mystery most of my family is trying to solve…or bed. Whichever comes first for Apollo and Aphrodite."
"And Ares? Did he defeat him?"
"With the help of the Lightning bolt, yes." Hermes nodded slowly. "Though I have reasons to believe he could've done so without it as well. Perhaps he wished to portray himself as weaker than he truly was, lull us into a false sense of security, quite devious of him, I'll admit—but he failed. It was Athena's plan really, we just went along with it. She wanted to push his buttons, know where he truly stood; with or against Olympus. He lost control over his Divinity, unleashing his true power and revealing himself to be stronger than Hestia and Demeter. Suffice it to say, no one tried testing him again. Of course, it could've also been due to his harsh words that rang with a bitter truth."
"Fascinating." Odin rubbed his bearded chin.
Hermes glanced around as they entered the chamber of Odin. It was a grand thing to be sure, but unlike the Throne Room on Olympus, it didn't seem made to hold godly meetings. Only one throne rested in the room, with a great table in the middle arranged with an assortment of dishes. The most magnificent amongst them was the lone apple resting in a bowl too big to hold it.
'Apple of immortality.' Hermes mused. How different was it from the Golden apples?
He turned back to Odin. "Why the sudden interest?"
Odin snorted, glancing at him with crinkled eyes. "Do you jest? He is the most interesting thing to happen in the last few centuries. I saw him battling Heracles, did you know? A stroke of fortune truly; I was spying across the Nine Realms from atop my throne when the earth-shaking battle took my attention. The boy defeated him with ease, but it was his mercy that intrigued me the most. Had Heracles not been twisted through Infinity's curse, he may have still been alive."
The King of Aesir approached the table and plucked the apple out, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps I should ask for a betrothal between our pantheons in return for our support. He'll have many goddesses to choose from, and I'm sure my Valkyries would be thrilled to be of service."
"If you want the said goddess or Valkyrie to be as miserable as Hera, then go ahead. Out of us all, he takes after Zeus the most."
Odin tilted his head. "I sense bitterness in your words. Don't tell me he raped one of yours…?"
"Oh, no. He's not that bad. Not yet, at least. But he was the one to kill my son. He could've saved him, could've pushed him to the right path…but he let him fall. They were friends once, close even, and while I don't fault Mikael entirely, he didn't even try to save him."
"You don't sound vengeful about it."
Hermes shrugged. "He's family. And if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you can't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it. And while Mikael Gabrielson isn't a second Hestia, he is still much better than some of us. Though of course, that will likely change in time."
"Sounds fun."
"What can I say?" Hermes chuckled. "Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy."
"Well then, let us hope our families make it out of this war in one piece." Odin raised the Apple in cheers. "To messy immortal families."
Hermes smiled. "To families."
That was the last cheers Hermes was about to partake in for a long, long while, but even that was interrupted by the female yells outside Odin's hall, stalling the Allfather from properly sinking his teeth into the Apple.
"Enter!" Odin barked grouchily and the door banged open, revealing two out-of-breath, well-armored Valkyries.
"Allfather!" The first one called, her voice barely keeping the panic at bay. "The Wolf...Fenrir...he has escaped."
Hermes had only once seen Odin fearful in his life, and that had been when Frigg came after him with rage in her eyes. However, right now...fearful would be a wrong word perhaps. It was a kind of resigned acceptance that flashed past the king's eyes.
"How?"
"The dwarf meant to replace the ropes...it was Loki in disguise!... He had the support of human magicians, enabli—"
Odin ignored the Valkyrie's rapid account, glancing at him with a half-smirk. "Well, it would seem my supposed invincibility has come to an end. Perhaps I might just meet my end in this war. Perhaps this is Ragnarok, after all. Or a version of it."
Hermes sighed. "Things can just never be easy for us..."
It was certain to be a long and trying week for the Greek Messenger. While he may have a healthy friendship with the leader of the Norse pantheon, the same couldn't be said about the others.
Not all gods were as wise as the Allfather, and not all gods would overlook the contempt shown to them in the past.
One could only hope the tidings of war were taken with appropriate gravity; for should the pantheons not band together, should they not deal with the imminent threats, existence as they knew it may cease to exist.
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I lounged lazily upon the beach chair, a white spa robe around my shoulders—undone from the waist down—and a glass of wine loosely held between my fingers. The sun flew high in the sky, its smoldering rays falling comfortably on my skin; a great way to spend a couple of relaxing hours after a battle.
Sipping from my glass, I hummed in satisfaction. "I must say, you've got a delicious supply of wine, Circe. Hadn't expected much from an island in the middle of nowhere."
The sun-kissed goddess didn't reply. It wasn't a sullen silence though—something you would expect from a defeated opponent whose home was just overtaken. No, it was the silence of a woman unable to say anything due to the grave malady of having her lips wrapped around a thick cock.
I chuckled, releasing the glass—which hovered in midair—to pat the goddess comfortingly. "You can do it, love. I believe in you."
Her piercing green eyes came up to glare at me but her head didn't stop bobbing up and down, the warm tongue massaging the underside of my shaft as her lips stretched along my length, unable to take more than a couple of inches...
Just the sheer sight of the gorgeous goddess struggling to swallow my cock was enough to keep me hard for a century, even though the head I was receiving may have been one of the worst ones yet. Had I not been a True god even in my mortal form, I would've been leaving with a bruised dick from the amount of times her teeth scraped along my length.
As it was, they just tickled a little, which was a source of pleasure in itself.
Behind me stood the demigod I'd gone out of my way to save, her fingers massaging my scalp with all her strength…which wasn't much but her enthusiasm more than made up for it.
And the last was kneeling by my side, feeding me berries from a small dish balanced on her massive tits—which were half hanging out from her skimpy dress that looked more like a bunch of ribbons wrapped around her nipples and clit, than an actual dress.
Accepting a blueberry on my tongue, I glanced at her with a lazy smirk, chewing softly. "So Rea, I believe you have some information for me?"
The buxom devil set her eyes stubbornly. "I-I will never betray the Ourobo..."
She trailed off, eyes fixed upon my body as I pushed Circe's head away, revealing my throbbing manhood, slathered and shining in all its glory. "You need to learn a lot of things, Circe. Luckily for you, I'll be giving you plenty of chances."
I stood up slowly, letting the robe slide off of me. "It's a hot day, isn't it?"
I yawned, stretching slightly as I pressed upon my Authority of Beauty and Desire.
All the three females serving me froze up, as did the girl's sister, Reyna, just as she bustled out of the shed right at that moment—an assortment of lotions and creams in her hands that fell to the ground from her sudden halt.
I turned back to the kneeling devil, catching her hungry eyes that did their best to devour my body. She glanced away bashfully at being caught, her cheeks red and glowing.
"What do you desire, Katerea?" I purred, pressing down with my Authority again.
Her cheeks flushed further, but she still fought on, refusing to look up at me.
I took a step closer, my member—still standing proud and hard—coming an inch away from her kneeling figure, almost brushing against her lips.
Slowly, my finger dragged her chin up, forcing her eyes upon me. "What do you desire, Rea?"
Her jaw clenched tightly, eyes darting elsewhere to avoid looking at the thick pole poking against her cheeks.
Finally, she bit out with a stubborn tilt, "R-rule the devils."
"Is that so?" I thrust forward, letting my cock touch her lips, which clenched together even tighter, her eyes closing as if to ward away its presence.
My member pressed against her lips with increased insistence, trying to pry open the full pouty lips.
They stayed locked stubbornly.
Grunting, I let my shaft drag across her face, from her lips to her nose, then up her forehead, leaving a trail of precum behind, before I backed up slightly to slap both her cheeks, taking care to not break her jaw. "Are you sure that's all you want? You can have so much more."
'That'll be a first for sure. Killing a woman by dick-slaps.'
Absently, I wondered if this would've constituted as sexual harassment in my old life.
…The answer was a big fat yes. I doubted anyone would take my word that the kneeling devil secretly desired some divine dicking.
The devil beneath me increased her struggling, though never once flinching away from the meat pole rubbing her face with growing rapidity.
"Rule. The. World." She spat one by one desperately, trying to convince herself with a weak attempt, even as her lips gladly kissed my tool with each word.
Humming, I stepped back suddenly and hooked my fingers under her armpits, dragging her up. She yelped but didn't struggle, and I let my twin domains of Beauty and Desire flare up once again.
Her eyes glazed over, lust and hunger finally winning. Behind me, my audience gasped, the two demigods and a goddess helpless against my aura.
Circe was, perhaps, the most susceptible to my Domain. A large, masochist part of her felt incredibly aroused at the image of being dominated by a powerful male. The idea of being utterly helpless against something she'd spent most of her life looking down upon seemed to bring her a sense of reluctant, shameful excitement. For all her glaring and grudging supplication, a part of her wanted to be bent down and forcibly taken against her will.
And that part was quickly growing strong with each second under my Domain.
The two demigods, on the other hand, simply did not have the Will and sheer raw power required to fight off my Authority. While neither appeared to have a secret desire of becoming pleasure slaves for a god, their mind was being forcibly shaped under the presence of my Domain.
The younger one was practically drooling right now, while the elder at least tried to maintain a respectable image.
Smirking, I turned back, dragging the devil closer with a quick tug.
Katerea whimpered, biting her lips at the contact as I let my hands wander across her body, slowly caressing her naked midriff. "What do you want, little devil?"
My shaft poked at the ribbon covering her clit, dragging across the thin strip of cloth with each thrust.
She moaned, rubbing her legs together. My hands slowly circled the small of her back before dipping down, feeling up the curve of her behind, squeezing and caressing the mounds of flesh.
I moved behind her, pressing my hardened shaft into the deep valley hidden between her rump.
"What." I breathed upon her back. "Do." I kissed her neck. "You." And bit the jade-smooth olive skin. "Desire?" I whispered in her ears, cupping her body tightly, my hand an inch away from mapping the enormity of her tits.
"...I want.." She started weakly, her tits pumping into my palms with each heavy breath as I cupped them softly, before finally breathing out, "Y-you…"
"Me, honey?"
"You." Suddenly the busty devil took on a commanding tone, even as her legs shook and her entire body looked ready to bolt and hide behind some cover, "You, you kneel beneath me, and use your tongue to pleasure me. Now."
I hummed, before biting her ear until she released a pained gasp. "Little devil's grown some fangs, hmm?"
"Y-you asked—"
"You think you deserve that?" Grinding against her behind, I let my fingers dig into the softness of her breasts, pinching the visibly hardened nipple. "No, you don't. Not yet. You'll have to earn it."
I let go of her completely, leaving her gasping, a whine of complaint on her lips as I retook my seat on the sunlounger, four pairs of eyes transfixed upon me.
"If you please me, I'll see about returning the favor." I said, reclining against the spa chair, my shaft saluting the ladies. "You have until I finish questioning Circe."
"Get to work."
Her pupils shrank, a gulp in her throat as she took my words in.
Then Katerea Leviathan dropped to her knees with newfound enthusiasm and got to work.
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No matter how much Cleria might bemoan about the coming troubles, she knew the day was about to get exciting.
It wasn't always that you find the streets of Belial territory filled with Devils, young and old, all here to see their heroes compete in a thrilling tournament of Rating Games.
And it certainly wasn't always that the leaders of the Three Factions would be assembling together in a single place. In fact, Cleria suspected this might be the first time that a bunch of Angels, Fallens, and Devils were arranged to sit together peacefully.
'And it's all thanks to my King.' She thought giddily, an exciting current passing through her breasts as she realized how close to the top in the Devil society she stood right now.
None in their house since Diehauser had brought this much prestige to the Belial clan.
'And compared to Diehauser-Kun, what exactly did I need to do? Be loyal to my King and follow up on her brilliant plans.'
The only thing her King asked in return was to grow more powerful and put appropriate enthusiasm into learning and training.
Who wouldn't want that? Heavens, any devil would gladly kill to have a master like Gabriel-Sama. Kind, gentle, caring, understanding...the Gremorys might brag about treating their servants like family, but she'd never actually believed in any such notion before...
...Until she became Gabriel-Sama's bishop. Yes, her master could be downright frightening sometimes, but only to her enemies, and that wasn't a bad thing at all. If you're foolish enough to become Gabriel-Sama's enemy, you deserve all the punishment she would deliver.
Feeling jubilant and cheerful, Cleria rounded a corner as her feet traversed through the crowded streets of Bael territory, navigating to the mansion gifted to her King.
"Cleria!" A familiar voice called out, and her earlier cheer subdued slightly as the crowd divided in two like peasants before a queen.
She glanced towards the voice, a flare of jealousy igniting within her heart when her eyes fell upon her fellow Peerage member sauntering through the parted crowd. Her black robe, fastened by a yellow scarf, barely covered the two massive melons squished out to the front, her ample cleavage leaving little to the imagination.
All the males bar none followed her movements in awe; the jiggling breasts that Kuroka assured her needed no bra to hold, the toned legs—bared till her inner thighs—that peeked out at the viewers bravely with every step, even the two cat-like black ears played no small part in drawing the attention from everyone around.
Kuroka was built to crush the hearts of men and she knew it.
A part of Cleria knew she didn't truly have a reason to be jealous; they'd both been naked around each other enough for her to know she wasn't lacking in anything. Yet, her friend received most of the attention when they were out and about in public, and insecurities had a way of ignoring common sense.
It may have been due to the way they dressed; where Kuroka breathed seduction, Cleria preferred practicality. It may even have been due to her fame; ever since their king delivered upon her promise of absolving Kuroka from her earlier wanted status, her story had circulated far and wide in the underworld, giving her quite a reputation within the Devil society.
But most of all, Cleria knew it was in the way she brushed away the attention—shooting contemptuous glances to any who dared do more than stare—that made her special…
"Kuroka." She greeted the Nekomata with her usual cheer, not letting her feelings flash on her face.
"Cleria, I was searching for you!" Kuroka's lips tugged up, her usual lazy smirk making an appearance. "Come, our dear king calls for us."
Sighing, Cleria let herself be dragged on, trying her best to imitate her partner and ignore the attention.
Like always, she failed.
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They sat quietly under the shadows of their King's radiance, not daring to interrupt her scribblings. The lone lamp in the room was barely enough to light up the floor, but as creatures of darkness, neither of them needed it to see the subject of their King's letter.
'...Zekram Bael.' Cleria grimaced. 'She's writing to him again.'
It was quiet here, inside Gabriel-Sama's temporary private room, in stark contrast to the outside world that was loud enough to bleed the ears of mortals. Yet, Cleria was far from feeling any type of comfort. As long as their feet were laid upon the Bael territory, she would not be able to feel a quota of peace.
"Kuroka," Their King finally broke the silence, her striking violet eyes peering up. "Have they arrived yet?"
The busty Nekomata lounged on the arm of her chair like a lazy cat, her elbow on the table and her head on her palm. "The top ten are here, though the leaders of other factions are yet to arrive." She answered, before chuckling mischievously. "I must say, you've fooled the entire world this time, my king. The Satans won't take it lightly if this ever gets out."
Gabriel-Sama hummed, standing up slowly. "Which is why I'm not using magic circles."
Cleria let her eyes roam up and down her King's figure in silent admiration. She may act jealous of Kuroka, but her King was on an entirely different level; feeling envious would be a painfully useless endeavor. Gabriel-Sama's grace and beauty was not something anyone could ever hope to match, and even beings like Satan Serafell and Grayfia Lucifuge could only hope to compete for the second best with her around.
There was a reason even her cousin acted like a love-struck fool in front of her after all; the former Seraph's beauty was widely known through the Underworld and above. Had she shown even a wick of interest, there would've been a line of willing bachelors, all lords and heirs of great clans, throwing themselves at her feet.
Though, of course, a part of her beauty came from the power to back it up. Even as a Mid-class Devil, Gabriel-Sama had been strong enough to match the Satans.
Now? Even Cleria did not know where the former Seraph stood.
There was a flash in the room as her King summoned an eagle familiar, letting the majestic bird flap away with the letter.
"If I may ask, Gabriel-Sama?" Cleria waited for her nod. "What was in the letter?"
"A reminder." Gabriel-Sama's lips tugged up slightly. "If he tries to back out of the deal, the consequences would be…painful."
Cleria suppressed a shudder.
"Do you mind, Cleria?" Her King glanced at her. "That I'm making deals with a man who plotted to have you killed? A Devil who hunted down your lover?"
Cleria hesitated briefly, the old anger stirring within her heart, trying to make itself known, before she forced it down with a deep breath.
"You promised me revenge." She replied, her voice coming more wooden than intended. "You said you will kill him once he's served his purpose."
"And I shall." Gabriel-Sama nodded seriously. "Once he throws his support behind me publically, he will be of no use."
"Wouldn't it be better to just reveal him to the world, My lady?" Kuroka voiced, her shapely legs dangling to the side casually. "You already exposed the whole King piece thing, putting a name on the main culprit will make the devils even more grateful to you. Who knows…maybe you can even replace Asmodeus as the new Satan? With the public by your side, it wouldn't be too hard. He's way too useless for the job anyway."
"No, the public is already behind me." Gabriel-Sama shook her head, slowly beginning to pace the room. "I need someone capable of opposing the influence of Ajuka and Sirzechs. Right now, only the Great King faction qualifies."
The info stunned Cleria into silence. She knew her King had a greater motive in mind than simply uniting the Three Factions, but opposing the two strongest Satans had not been in her mind.
Kuroka, on the other hand, seemed to take it in stride. "What exactly did you promise him in return for his support? Please don't tell me I'm part of the deal, kind master." She scrunched up her face, her kitty ears drooping down, and her innocent watery eyes staring up at Gabriel with such fake timidity that it broke through Cleria's earlier shock.
"Of course not." Gabriel-Sama laughed, the twinkling sound finally washing away her remaining surprise. "The only thing I've given him is a promise and a chance. This tournament that I've arranged, in Bael territory no less, is a part of that chance. I shall stay quiet about some of the Devils they have supplied a King Piece to. And should they win the tournament, they will receive a chance to challenge me directly."
"Challenge you, my King? Have they lost their minds?"
Gabriel-Sama shrugged. "They think the former Rating Games Champion, Roygun Belphegor, will be sufficient to defeat me."
That jarred Cleria out of her thoughts. "Roygun Belphegor, Gabriel-Sama?"
"As it turns out, Bedeze Abaddon was not the only one. Roygun Belphegor, along with most of the Devils in top ten, are mere puppets under the Great King faction, using King Pieces to fix a match's outcome and earn themselves a stunning source of income."
"But…she's incredibly strong, Gabriel-Sama!" The words fumbled out of her mouth. "On par with Satans even! At least…in power. And she has an entire Peerage, while you only have us two…"
"I will win. You need not worry." There was not a single flicker of doubt, not a whisper of concern in Gabriel-Sama's voice. "And when I do, Bael will support me unconditionally, with Roygun Belphegor agreeing to become my Rook. As a gesture of good faith."
"B-but…if you lost?" She voiced meekly.
Gabriel-Sama didn't seem concerned, tilting her head in thought as if she'd never even considered the possibility. "Officially, I will no longer try to expose their corrupted business. Unofficially…I will kill him and get around the oath, exposing their business anyway. Roygun Belphegor will still join me, even if simply to keep fighting in the rating games. We may lose the Great King faction's support, but the void in the economy their absence creates will give us plenty of opportunities for it to not be a complete loss."
As the words settled in her mind slowly, Cleria felt a smile creeping up on her face. While it was a little concerning to hear how drastically her king had changed over the years, she had nothing but admiration for her growing ruthlessness and cunning.
Suddenly a stray thought entered her mind in the midst of pondering over the new information, hitting the living daylights out of her.
Eyes widening with realization, she turned to her King slowly. "Gabriel-Sama...do you wish to rule over the Three factions?"
That's it! That's what I was missing!
It made so much sense now, especially after the argument she'd heard upon accidentally walking in on her and Lord Azazel. The words about uniting their religion behind one true ruler hadn't made too much sense to her then—she knew about God's death after all, and who else could hope to qualify except him?—but now, knowing her King was preparing to oppose the Satans…?
Suppressing the light bout of pain igniting within her over the word, she asked herself again, this time smiling, 'Who else could hope to qualify except God?'
Why…Gabriel-Sama, of course!
Unfortunately, her budding excitement died a quick death when her master turned to her with a confused frown. "What? No. Of course not."
"Uhh…" Cleria flushed, opening her mouth to say something, anything…
"But my son will."
For a moment the room was encompassed within stunned silence as Cleria did naught but gawk at her, with even Kuroka sitting up straighter beside them.
"Your son…Gabriel-Sama?" She finally voiced.
"My son." Gabriel nodded proudly. "With the blood of Angels, Fallens, and Devils, he alone is qualified to rule over the Kingdom of God." A flash of irritation entered her eyes at His name.
Cleria shared a look with Kuroka, quickly turning to address the doubts mirrored within both their eyes. "But your son... isn't he...barely of age now?"
"Yes?" Gabriel looked completely clueless of their worries.
Cleria took a deep breath, changing her strategy. The topic of her King's son was a dangerous territory she knew, as some of Gabriel-Sama's foolish hopeful suitors would reveal. "My lady, why are you being so hurried about this? If you're doing this for your son, we have decades, if not centuries, to unite the factions and bring peace. Your son would need a lot of time to grow into a…a c-competent ruler. W-well, I mean…"
"No." Gabriel-Sama denied firmly, eyes hardening in determination. "Three years. We have but three years to prepare our factions."
The two Devils digested the info uncertainly.
"But will three years be enough, my king?" Kuroka voiced, having no problems entering the danger zone. "What if your son is too weak by then? What if we mess it all up by rushing this?"
Cleria held her breath…
Fortunately, their King chose not to dwell upon the words this time. "My son is a god. You need not worry about him. As for us, we will have to not 'mess it all up' of course. Besides, I have already set the stage. Azazel and the Great King faction's support is all but secured. Now if I can somehow convince Michael…it would be all too easy to corner the Satans and undermine their authority."
They pondered over the info in silence, realizing with a start they didn't seem to know their King's plans as well as they'd thought.
'Devils, this all makes so much more sense now…' Cleria chewed on her thumb.
"Lady Gabriel," Finally Kuroka broke the dominating silence. "This all may be good, but didn't you say your son was only a mid-class devil when he left from here? If he is a god, I'm sure he would match a Satan's might someday, but perhaps you should hold onto the throne till then? You know, take it slow and steady?"
Gabriel shook her head. "No, we do not have the time. Trusted sources have informed me of Hercules' death at the hands of Mikael just a week ago. Which means he is already a Satan class being, or close to it. Three years are enough, I assure you. When the time comes, I do not want the factions to dissolve into a civil war again. Nonetheless, we must be prepared. You two must be prepared. Improve yourself in these three years. You must be capable of matching the might of an Ultimate class devil at least, If you wish to be useful."
Troubled, she glanced at Kuroka, but the Nekomata raised her hands defensively. "Don't look at me, I'm already ultimate class."
Cleria huffed.
"Now come." Their king waved at them. "We have a rating game to attend."
For some reason, Cleria had a terrible premonition that something was about to go completely awry. All their plans, all their efforts, she had the strangest feeling that it was all about to be undone, and the four fearsome Satans had nothing to do with it…
Kuroka caught her eye and gave her a look that said "Eh, you're just being a nervous wreck again. Straighten up, everything will be alright."
She did not believe it for one bit, but there was nothing to do but follow after her King.
All she could do was hope.
'This…is going to suck.'