My younger brother by five months, Nero Morningstar sat across from me, his gaze sharp and carrying a Noticeable irritation at my Prescence.
He was dressed exactly as expected of someone of his standing. A fitted black tailcoat fell neatly to the backs of his knees, its sharp cut giving him a refined royal appearance.
Beneath it was a dark crimson waistcoat, partially hidden beneath the coat, with a high black collar framing his neck. Silver buttons ran down the front, each one engraved with a faint pattern that was difficult to make out from a distance, no doubt it was the insignia of his mother's family though.
Black trousers and polished dress shoes completed the outfit. Everything fit him perfectly, from the sleeves resting just above his wrists to the coat sitting cleanly across his shoulders.
A thin silver chain hung from his waist, holding a small crest at the end—the insignia of our house, a bright nine-pronged star.
He looked older than you would expect from a thirteen-year-old, closer to sixteen at first glance. Demons matured quickly—a side effect of our primeval origins.
Nero's dirty-blond hair fell to his chin, framing a face that was already losing its childhood softness. Like me, his skin was naturally tanned, though his complexion carried a slightly warmer tone. His eyes had the same ringed irises as our father and I. His pupils were a molten amber-gold, surrounded by a pale silver ring that gradually deepened toward the edges of his irises.
The combination gave his eyes a faintly fiery appearance.
Nero's lineage came from the Phenex family, one of the most powerful high-noble houses on the Demon Continent. Their bloodline granted him incredible potential, along with exceptional regenerative abilities and a natural affinity for fire.
But it wasn't one of the Seven Deadly Sin Bloodlines.
I had inherited the traits of the Lucifer bloodline from our father. Because of that, the position of crown prince was essentially my birthright. No matter how talented Nero became, he couldn't take that position from me.
His future was already more or less decided. He would inherit the Phenex name and its territories, carrying on his mother's family while standing beside me as my brother.
"Ehem."
A soft sound cut through my thoughts.
I glanced up from my meal and immediately met my mother's gaze.
Hildegard Beelzebub—now Hildegard Morningstar.
Her ash-gray hair fell gently past her shoulders, soft waves catching the light and making it look almost weightless. It stood out against her pale skin, which was unusually clear even by demonic standards. But her eyes were what caught attention most. They were a vivid lime green, bright but gentle.
Most demons, no matter how beautiful they were, carried some underlying sense of danger. My mother didn't. If anything, she seemed almost out of place among demons. There had even been rumors among the nobility that she wasn't demonic at all. Ridiculous, of course, but it wasn't hard to understand where the rumors came from.
She wasn't dressed extravagantly, either. Her dark emerald dress was simple, without the excessive jewelry or elaborate decorations most nobles seemed obsessed with. Yet somehow, that only made her stand out more.
Her maiden name was Beelzebub. She belonged to the royal house of Gluttony, which meant I hadn't inherited only our father's lineage. I carried the blood of two separate royal houses.
With both bloodlines behind me, my position as crown prince was essentially unquestionable. No matter how much political support the Phenex family gave Nero, they couldn't match the prestige carried by two royal houses united in a single heir, even if I didn't inherit the traits of the Beelzebub bloodline itself.
Seated beside Nero, across from my mother, was Helianor Morningstar—my stepmother.
The contrast between the two was almost comical.
Helianor's golden hair had been expertly braided, with small crimson jewels woven through it to draw even more attention to her appearance. Her amber eyes were sharp and perpetually narrowed, as though she were looking down on everything around her. Yet her posture and expression changed completely whenever Father was around.
Even as the second daughter of the Phenex family, married off as part of a political arrangement, her arrogance hadn't diminished. If anything, becoming the wife of a king seemed to have made it worse.
Her dress matched her personality. Deep crimson fabric covered her figure, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that were anything but subtle. She reminded me of a peacock, constantly flaunting herself—and, by extension, Nero.
Her eyes met mine briefly, narrowing even further for a split second before being replaced by a smile filled with false warmth.
'What a snake.'
"I've been well, Mother," I said, returning her smile without much thought. "How was your trip? You went back to your homeland, didn't you?"
She had gone back to Gula, the country and kingdom ruled by Demon King Beelzebub, and stayed there for nearly a month to visit her father—the grandfather I had never even met.
Actually… I hadn't met either of my grandparents. Not even once.
"Oh, it was wonderful," she said, her expression brightening immediately. "Your grandfather asked about you. I told him you were doing well, and that perhaps you might visit someday—"
'He asked about me?'
I'd never even met him. Hell, I'd never even known he'd been asking about me. I hadn't heard a single thing about it in my past life.
My mother suddenly stopped herself, her gaze dropping to her lap.
"—if you'd like to, of course."
She sounded like she was expecting me to say no.
It took me a moment to understand why.
The answer came when I remembered how I'd behaved in my past life. I wouldn't have responded at all. Back then, knowing I was the absolute and indisputable heir, I'd been arrogant and lazy enough to believe nothing around me required my attention. I spent most of my days lazing around the estate, rarely bothering with official events or speaking to anyone outside of Valentine.
I'd simply copied Father.
His aloofness. His absence. His strict, detached way of dealing with people.
I'd done the same with my own family.
Conversations like this had been nothing more than background noise to me. I hadn't rejected Mother. I hadn't even bothered to acknowledge her. I'd acted as though she wasn't there. Things only got worse when I left for the academy, and whatever little contact I had with her diminished to almost nothing.
I had been a pathetic son and brother.
I'd let that same distance grow between Nero and me until there was barely a family left to speak of.
I pushed the thought aside.
When I looked back at Mother, her gaze was already falling. She seemed to have accepted that I would remain silent.
Something in my chest tightened.
"I don't mind." I said, the words coming out faster than intended.
"I'd actually like to meet them."
I paused before adding, with more intensity than was probably necessary, "…I mean it."
Her eyes lit up so suddenly that it caught me off guard. The change was almost strange against the quiet atmosphere of the room. For a brief second, I could've sworn something near the window shifted, like one of the flowers had bloomed.
'Gah… seriously?'
I raised a hand slightly, squinting.
Fortunately, the moment didn't last long.
"Nero."
Helianor's voice cut through the conversation, sharp enough to kill the warmth in the room. "How is the progress of your bloodline Traits?"
She didn't bother hiding her tone. If anything, there was a faint disgust behind her words, as though a simple mother-son interaction were something unpleasant she had been forced to endure.
"I've heard you've already reached the peak of the Grandmaster Realm." Her gaze flicked toward me for a moment, the contempt in her eyes unmistakable.
Nero answered immediately, without hesitating for even a second.
"Yes, Mother! Not only that, but I've also reached High Middle Comprehension of Phenex Heart and Middle Comprehension of Phoenix Fire."
He turned toward me and flashed a smug grin, making no attempt whatsoever to hide it.
"Oh, wow! That's amazing, Nero!" Mother said, her eyes still shining with the same warmth. She turned toward Helianor with a bright smile. "You must be so proud."
Nero actually had the decency to look bashful for a moment, scratching the back of his head.
"Hehe~ Thank you—"
"Nero." Helianor chided.
He immediately slumped back into his seat like a scolded puppy.
She then turned toward Mother, her lips curling into a thin, superior smile.
"Of course I am. The Grandmaster Realm at thirteen? Who wouldn't be proud?" Her eyes shifted toward me. "Oh, wait… isn't Dante still in the Master Realm?"
The smugness in her voice was thick enough to choke on.
It didn't seem to dim Mother's smile, but the reality remained.
Power in this world was measured through Orders, each one divided into five stages: Low, Middle, High, Grand, and Peak. Nero had reached the Peak of the Fifth Order—the Grandmaster Realm.
For a thirteen-year-old, that was an undeniable achievement. No one could look at his progress and deny that he was a genius.
I was still in the Fourth Order—the Master Realm.
And it wasn't because I'd been forced to endure some difficult childhood or lacked the opportunity to grow stronger. Quite the opposite.
In my past life, I'd barely bothered training seriously at all. I had relied almost entirely on the passive growth of my bloodline, convinced that my talent and status would carry me wherever I needed to go.
When the war finally began, I was forced to take training seriously.
By then, it was already too late.
I had little time, even less proper instruction, and most of what I learned came through desperate trial and error. I grew stronger, but not nearly enough to make any meaningful difference to the larger war.
That was why, when I automatically inherited the title of Demon King after Father's death, I became the subject of ridicule across the continents.
The weakest Demon King in history.
At least, that's what they called me.
Even when I reached the Tenth Order and accumulated a large amount of high-powered Arts, I had been a joke compared to the Hero. Even after days of constant fighting on the front lines, he had been an anomaly. I suspected he was at least three Orders higher—the Thirteenth Order, the Samsara Realm. A bastard like that couldnt be called a human.
"He is! Isn't that amazing? I'm so proud of him!"
My mother reached out to pat my head, but she hesitated halfway, her eyes searching mine for permission. She was stronger than me and obviously held authority as my mother, but her kind nature did not allow her to abuse it, not that I'd mind. I gave a small nod and a faint smile. She beamed and finished the gesture, patting me gently.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nero look at his mother with a longing expression.
Suddenly, my mother gasped, looking between us. "Oh right! Have you two prepared suits for the Heirs' Banquet?"
Had I even gone before?
Ah, right.
I hadn't.
"Uh… no. I haven't," I said, rubbing the back of my head. I'd never been much for politics or building connections, or dressing fancily for that matter. Two of those things would have to change, of course. I already learned that having nearly no connections would get me fucked over in the end.
"Pfft—" Nero scoffed, leaning back to savor a rare moment of perceived superiority. "I can't believe it. 'Big brother' is actually going to the Gathering, and he hasn't even prepared a suit? Are you really showing up in that? You'll look like a commoner standing next to me."
I didn't even look at him. I just leaned my chin on my hand and gave a bored, dismissive shrug.
"I figured I'd just go like this," I said, casually flipping my hair as I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. I let a small, pitying smirk play on my lips. "After all, I already look better than everyone attending. Why waste the tailor's time?"
My meaning was as clear as day to anyone paying attention
'the older brother is effortlessly better-looking, of course.'
"…."
A low growl escaped Nero's throat, and the space around him visibly distorted under the sudden spike of his agitation. It didn't take much to set him off.
The reaction was enough to make a few of the guards stationed near the entrance tense up. Usually, the estate guards ranged from the Peak of the Fifth Order to the lower or Higher Sixth Orders. But Nero, even at the Fifth Order, could become incredibly destructive, and the guards would naturally be forced to hold back against a prince.
After a few tense seconds, Nero forced himself to calm down. He picked up his cup, taking a long drink of his juice—which was actively boiling at this point from the sheer heat of his leaking Aeshma.