Falbium Glasya-Labolas was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent certain that this was the unluckiest day of his entire life.
And given that he had lived through the Great War, the civil war, and countless other disasters, that was saying something.
Grayfia Lucifuge stood before him in his private study, her silver hair immaculate, her maid uniform pristine, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever.
She had just finished delivering a proclamation that Falbium immediately recognized as nothing less than a death sentence wrapped in the thinnest possible veneer of honor and reward.
"Lord Falbium, we believe your great and invaluable contributions to our victory over the Old Satan Faction deserve a proper, fitting reward. After much deliberation, we have decided to appoint you as one of the new Four Great Satans and have you occupy the newly vacant seat of Asmodeus. This is a tremendous honor, and we are confident you will serve the Underworld well."
Falbium refused immediately, without a heartbeat of hesitation.
His voice was firm and unwavering. "I believe you would be far more suitable for that seat yourself, Lady Grayfia. Your loyalty, your strength, and your political acumen are all beyond reproach. I am merely a strategist. You are a leader."
"I will become Sirzechs's Queen and manage his household and personal affairs," Grayfia replied, her tone stern yet calm, brooking no argument. "I cannot serve as both a leader of the entire Underworld and as Sirzechs's personal attendant simultaneously. My place is at his side, supporting him directly."
"Moreover, you have already proven yourself more than capable of high-level leadership, Lord Falbium. Your battlefield strategies during the war were nothing short of excellent."
"Without your tactical input and careful planning, we would have faced far, far greater difficulties in securing our victory. The position is yours by right of merit."
Okay… Stop it, Grayfia.
Please, for the love of all that is unholy, stop talking.
He didn't want this position.
He had never wanted this position.
He wanted to remain in the background where it was safe, where he could do his work quietly and effectively without drawing the attention of powerful enemies.
And the most powerful, most terrifying enemy of all was still out there.
That insane woman was still alive and free.
Who knew what she would do the moment she learned that someone had dared to claim her former title and occupy her former seat?
Falbium knew, with the cold certainty that no one in the entire Underworld would be able to protect him from her personal, targeted vengeance if she decided he needed to die.
"Allow me to refuse once more, Lady Grayfia," he said, his voice turning cold and firm, the mask of the lazy, disinterested noble dropping away to reveal the steel beneath.
"Please seek out another noble for this position, someone far more ambitious and glory-hungry than I could ever hope to be. There are plenty who would jump at this opportunity. I am not one of them."
"Do not force this burden upon me against my will, or I will have no choice but to formally apologize and leave the Underworld entirely to preserve my own safety."
Grayfia looked at him with genuine, uncomprehending confusion, her silver eyes searching his face for the reason behind his stubborn refusal.
"Why…? Are you truly afraid of that woman, Lord Falbium? Asmodeus is a fugitive now. A wanted criminal. You will be perfectly safe here, surrounded by the full might of the new Satans and their armies."
"We will protect you. She is running. She keeps running. She is nothing more than a coward who flees from justice."
Falbium closed his eyes and said absolutely nothing. He simply sat there in his chair, motionless as a statue carved from stone, refusing to respond or acknowledge her doubts or her reassurances.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
After a long, tense pause, Grayfia finally turned away with a quiet, resigned sigh. "Forgive my intrusion then, Lord Falbium. Please pretend I said nothing at all. I will inform Sirzechs that you have declined the honor."
She crossed the room with graceful, silent steps and closed the heavy oak door behind her with a soft click.
The moment she was gone, the moment he was truly alone, Falbium's heartbeat thundered loudly in his chest like a war drum.
He let out a long, shaky breath of pure, unfiltered relief, his shoulders sagging as the tension drained from his body.
"Nothing personal, Grayfia," he murmured under his breath, his voice so low that only the empty room and its shadows could possibly hear him.
"But even you and Serafall together were left completely powerless against her. Sirzechs and Ajuka, despite all their immense strength and resources, still haven't been able to track her down or capture her after all this time. How could you possibly expect me to trust your protection against a monster like that?"
It had already been one month since the Civil War had ended with the decisive victory of Sirzechs Gremory, who now officially carried the name Sirzechs Lucifer, having claimed the title of the original Lucifer for himself.
The war was over.
The Old Satan Faction was shattered.
And the Underworld was supposedly entering a new era of peace and prosperity under the reformed government of the new Satans.
The Capital of Lilith had been rebuilt from the ashes, new buildings erected where the old ones had burned, new streets paved over the bones of the dead.
But it was never the same as it had been before.
The scars of that night remained, invisible but deeply felt by every devil who walked those reconstructed streets.
The population of the Underworld had shrunk dramatically and rapidly, first because of the brutal, grinding war itself, and then because of Makima Asmodeus's single, catastrophic action that had reduced the previous Capital to nothing but ash and rubble and the charred remains of its inhabitants.
The devils were a people on the brink of extinction, and everyone knew it.
In the aftermath of the war, the devil faction had fractured sharply into three distinct political blocs, each eyeing the others with varying degrees of suspicion, resentment, and barely concealed hostility.
The first bloc consisted of those who enthusiastically sucked Sirzechs's ass at every available opportunity, the loyalists, the reformers, the ones who had backed the winning side from the beginning and were now reaping the rewards of their loyalty.
They held the most power, the most influence, and the most seats at the table.
The second bloc was made up of those who had joined the Old Satan Faction during the war and were still bitter and resentful about their loss, nursing their wounded pride and waiting for an opportunity to strike back.
And the third bloc was the Great Baal Faction, the neutrals, the ones who had refused to take either side during the conflict and had somehow managed to maintain their independence through careful diplomacy, strategic marriages, and the unspoken threat of their considerable military power.
Falbium Glasya-Labolas sat alone in his private study, staring at the political map of the Underworld spread across his desk, and considered his rapidly narrowing options.
He knew with absolute certainty that he had already rejected and deeply offended Sirzechs and his ilk by refusing the "honor" of the Asmodeus seat.
That bridge was thoroughly burned. There would be no warm welcome waiting for him if he changed his mind and went crawling back to the Lucifer faction now.
He would be tolerated at best, quietly sidelined and stripped of influence at worst.
That left him with only two viable choices: throw his lot in with the remnants of the Old Satan Faction, or seek protection and alliance with the Great Baal Faction and their policy of armed neutrality.
For someone of his intelligence, someone who had survived wars and betrayals and the rise and fall of dynasties, the choice was painfully, immediately obvious.
The Old Satan Faction was a sinking ship, a collection of bitter losers and broken remnants who had already been defeated once and would inevitably be defeated again the moment they tried anything.
Allying with them would be suicide.
But the Great Baal Faction?
They were powerful, independent, and led by one of the oldest and most respected devils in existence: Zekram Bael, the uncrowned king of the Underworld, the man who had outlived even his own creator.
He chose the Great Baal Faction without hesitation.
It was the only logical choice left to him.
And if Sirzechs and his new government didn't like it, they could take their complaints directly to Zekram Bael himself and see how far that got them.