DXD SI : Chapter 4.1 : The Farce (Patreon)

Coming of Age ceremony, Bael Terriroty, Underworld

–Magdaran Bael–

He rolled his eyes at the gaggle of children who had gathered in one corner of the large, opulent hall where his family regularly hosted events like this to show off their wealth. As if the entire Underworld was not aware of just how rich the Bael Clan was. 

Power was everything in the Underworld, and Bael Clan had that in spades, and that was not just because of Sirzech's Lucifer, though that did play a large part. For the people who were only aware of surface level information, they would think that Sirzechs, bearing the Power of Destruction of the Bael Clan, would favour the Bael Clan, and thus, treat the Clan with the appropriate amount of fear and respect.

But that couldn't be farther from the truth. As it turns out, Sirzechs really was an outlier of a devil, not really favouring any clan, well, not to an outrageous extent anyway. For the people in the know, they knew that the Bael Clan was as powerful as it was because of the existence of their Ancestor.

Zekram Bael.

A devil alive since the time of Lilith, someone who had no peer at the moment. Well, a certain Camel riding midget came to mind, but she was sealed deep in the Gremory Lands. So, at the moment, the most influential devil alive was most certainly Zekram Bael. Half of the underworld would balk at the Clan if they knew that most of the Clan’s power at the moment was political, rather than physical.

No, the Satans had a monopoly on the higher tiers of violence. There were certainly no members in the current iteration of the Bael Clan who could fight beyond Satan levels, whatever that meant. 

Sipping on his drink, he thought of just how useful that so-called political power was. To the real monsters like Sirzechs, Ajuka, and Rizevim, Zekram Bael might as well have been a Low Class devil, but even with that power disparity, it was really impressive just how easily Zekram could outmaneuver them at every turn. 

The Satans’ unwillingness to use violence at every turn, like good proper devils, was ironically what stopped them from enacting the bulk of their reform that could have changed the image of devils as this bloodthirsty creature.

He perked up as he felt the arrival of the creature he would never call Father. The hubbub in the room died down as he sipped on his drink, leaning on the bar counter, ready to see how the events unfolded, if they remained the same, despite his existence. To be fair, he hadn’t done much when it came to Sairaorg himself, just focused on himself to extreme extents, but even so, that was bound to create ripples, the result of which was probably going to be presented today.

The doors to the hall were opened on their own, as the Illustrious Head of the Bael Clan and his perfect family entered the Hall with polite smiles on their faces. Misla Bael, the only wife of the Clan Head, smiled at everyone, looking positively resplendent, with the young Sairaorg Bael looking nervous about the attention and afraid of something else, clutching his mother tightly.

Zephyr Bael, the current Clan Head, allowed his gaze to roam all over the crowd before his eyes met his. He smirked, and raised his glass towards the man before gulping down the entire glass while maintaining eye contact the entire time. Zephyr’s smile turned a little caustic momentarily before he assumed his polite face as the main family of the Bael Clan entered the hall.

As the gathering was only of pureblood devils, i.e. stuffed in the ass people, there was no excitement in the air, only fake polite claps and nodding, something that was routine to him by this point and was expected by everyone in the nobility. After all, being too excited was considered uncouth.

“Thank you all for coming for this auspici—” He tuned out the speech as he ordered yet another drink, only for the bartender to smile apologetically, and inform him that drinks had been stopped until dinner begins, i.e, his sperm donor wanted everyone to hear his pretentious self speak and do nothing else.

How devil like.

Smiling at the man, he snapped his fingers, as the chair that was, up until as second ago, fixed to the floor, morphed into a rotating luxurious chair. Turning around, he watched as the Clan Head continued his speech, with the rest of the nobility pretending to hear.

Even the kids had gone quiet, understanding what was happening. In the middle of all this, his gaze went to Sairaorg who was standing next to his mother, looking deathly pale, with Misla doing a better job at hiding her anxiety, but even then, anyone could tell that she was nervous and somewhat resigned as well, holding onto Sairaorg with one hand, with the other clenched hard.

He sighed internally. It would seem that his asshole of a sperm donor (heh), was about to make the same mistake he did in canon. Changing the Heir of the House internally, within the clan, was one thing, but to do so in front of an audience? To create such a drama on purpose?  The man clearly was far too gone in the head to properly lead the Bael Clan, and yet, Zekram allowed the man to do as he pleased.

It either meant that Zekram approved of his actions and had gone senile in his old age or there was some other angle that Zekram was working through, something he could not see right now. Because the current actions of Zephyr were only going to create more animosity between the Clan and the Vapula—

His eyes widened minutely as he looked in the audience and found the absence of any member of the Vapula Clan, a pureblood clan that was not as strong but was still nobility. So that’s what Zekram’s play was.

That was why Misla was about to fall victim to the Sleeping Disease. A bit better than openly creating hostilities, but still not as refined as he expected from his Ancestor.

Sighing, a glass of Orange Juice appeared in his hand, in a Wine Glass, obviously, as he once again confirmed the absolute lack of demonic power in Sairaorg, and resigned himself to the events unfolding in front of him.

He was born a decade earlier than Sairaorg, just 3 years after Misla married into the Clan. The Devil race's birth rate being what it was, every single Devil was important and precious, especially one of the Bael Clan, so he was not treated badly, despite being born from a lowly maid who oh so conveniently, died shortly after his birth, something that was far from the truth. After all, he had personally witnessed her dead body leaning on his crib, pale and zombie like.

Could she have been saved if she had gone to someone in the Clan, to get a healer for whatever ailed her? Maybe. He still did not know what had happened to her, and seeing how everyone around him pretended like she did not exist, he did not push too much in that direction either. One day, though, he will have his answers, so help him, Lilith.

He was named Magdaran by his mother but everyone told him that he was named by Zekram himself, who was alerted to the commotion created by his birth. He did not know why, but they had kept the name his mother had given him.

But he was not named Heir, not officially anyway. After all, he was not the son of the main wife. Then came Sairaorg, a decade later. He was named Heir instantly atleast unofficially, which was expected.

Sairaorg was supposed to be the big, strong Bael Clan Heir. Vanquish foes with Demonic power alone, disintegrate everything around him with his power, and more.

The only fly in that particular ointment was the near absence of Demonic Power in the boy, let alone the Power of Destruction, something that was twice as intensive on Demonic Power reserves as other Devil Clan traits.

The best healers, the best medicine, and everything else under the Purple Sun had been tried, but it ended with the same result.

Sairaorg will never be able to cast even middle tier spells like Teleport, let alone become a powerhouse like he was expected to become, or so the world thought.

Which led to today.

The Coming of Age ceremony. A way for the Bael Clan to show off the power of their younger generation, to the rest of the underworld, to show the famed Power of Destruction still running through their veins.

Only everyone involved knew what was really about to happen, and that just ticked him off.

Sairaorg was just 7, the same age he was when he was shown to the rest of the Clan like a zoo animal, and yet, he did not have his adult memories and understanding. Right now, he was just a frightened kid who had some idea of what was about to happen and was trying to hide behind his mother.

He could stop this farce. Right now, with a mere flex of his power, he could pause the entire thing, force Zephyr into a duel for the Clan Head position, win easily, and correct the wrong turn the ship known as the Bael Clan had taken. Alas, he could not do that without repercussions. 

He was still not strong enough to do whatever he damned well pleased. He was strong, Satan Class without a doubt, and reaching that level at his age was a damned near miracle, and yet, he knew that in front of the real monsters, he couldn’t do as he pleased, not yet. He needed more time and more power to do what he wanted to do.

And what he wanted to do was make sure that Sairaorg, a pure soul, did not fall into darkness and become the beacon of hope for the entirety of Devilkind that he would undoubtedly become in the future. Alas, he could not do that, not without forcing things into motion far earlier than he wanted to. No, there was still time, he told himself. Time he could use to make sure Sairaorg became strong enough to kill Zephyr with his own hands.