Azazel pov
"A-At any rate, I'm just an aged female warrior with a history of no boyfriends! I too want to have a boyfriend! Auuu!"
Odin massaged his temples with a weary sigh. For an All-Father who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, it seemed even he wasn't immune to the melodrama of lonely women.
"Forgive her," he said, voice gruff yet strangely fond. "She's efficient in battle, dignified in presence… but a bit too rigid. No man dares approach her."
I resisted the urge to snort. This was the assistant of the King of the Norse Gods? Someone who cried harder than rookies on their first heartbreak? Maybe I shouldn't question the hiring practices of a deity. Everyone has their quirks. Even me. Especially me.
Odin's attention then turned toward Sirzechs and Serafall—the reigning Maou siblings who, despite their status, were arguing like high school coaches cheering rival teams.
"I've heard," Odin began, scratching his beard. "Your families are being pitted against each other in battle. For two doting older siblings, you devils sure are cruel."
Sirzechs chuckled quietly, blue-green hair shimmering under the chandelier light.
"Conflict is how devils grow stronger. If Rias cannot overcome even this challenge, how can she lead in the future?"
Serafall puffed out her cheeks, waving her magical-girl wand like she might cast a glitter-based curse.
"Mouuu! My adorable Sona-chan will win! ☆ She's smart, beautiful, and so responsible! It's decided!"
Two leaders of the Underworld—reduced to doting sibling energy in front of the All-Father. The absurdity of peace was becoming more obvious by the second.
Odin dropped himself into a chair with the casual authority only ancient gods possess.
"Well, whether these exciting games happen or not depends on your success handling that terrorist group—but I've come to enjoy the show. When's the date?"
And just like that, the mood shifted. The Khaos Brigade incident from the party earlier—the breach that threatened another war—was casually set aside. Political nightmares could wait. Spectacle and competition were apparently the real priority here. That's devils for you.
I exhaled, easing myself up from my seat. Conferences filled with egos and immortals could really stiffen the shoulders. A quiet moment sounded like heaven.
Or… fallen heaven, in my case.
The hallway outside the chamber was dim and long, lined with portraits of previous Maou who would definitely be facepalming if they saw what we had become: gamblers, magical girls, and crying Valkyries.
I slumped into a sofa, finally feeling the tension ebb.
"Escaping so soon, Azazel?"
Sirzechs appeared beside me, graceful as always. Even in casual conversation, he radiated a power that could crush mountains. He sat beside me, voice dropping to something more personal.
"May I ask you something before the Rating Game?"
"Shoot."
"If you were facing Rias in a match, who would you take out first?"
I didn't even need to think.
"Ise. Obviously."
Sirzechs nodded, waiting for the reasoning. So I elaborated.
"He's the one who keeps the Gremory group's spirit burning. Their morale, their resolve—he's the spark at the center of it all. Remove him, and their rhythm collapses."
I leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Even his unpredictability is a weapon. He pushes through walls; the rest hesitate to approach. And that recklessness? It lifts everyone around him. Even Rias. Especially Rias."
People are drawn to dragons—a universal rule across mythologies. The Sekiryuutei was no exception. The moment Ise earned Balance Breaker, the world tilted just a little more toward chaos… and potential.
Sirzechs folded his hands together, crimson eyes dimming with brotherly worry.
"…Sona will aim for that."
There was no doubt. Sona Sitri—tactical genius, strategist, calm ruler—would target the heart of Rias's power. And she'd be right to do so.
"Here's the real gamble," I said quietly. "What will happen after he falls? Will they rise in fury… or break under the pressure?"
That question hung between us—heavy as prophecy.
"They've yet to see the Sekiryuutei cut down in front of them," Sirzechs murmured.
Both of us stared forward, lost in our individual what-ifs.
~~~
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