After finishing another glass of Devil Wine, Sirzechs let the cool liquid settle in his chest as his gaze lingered on the ever-present purple sky of the Underworld. The decision he had made moments earlier weighed heavily on him—one that would reshape the future of devilkind and satisfy a desire he had been wanting to Accomplish for Decades.
The soft sound of the balcony door opening pulled him from his thoughts.
Alexia stepped outside, her White hair loose, flowing gently in the warm infernal breeze. Without a word, she crossed the distance between them and lowered herself onto his lap, settling comfortably against him, by rubbing her plump bottom on his member and settling it between her ass cheeks.
Sirzechs felt her familiar warmth, the quiet certainty of her presence grounding him.
Alexua wore a sleek black dress of infernal silk, high-collared and backless, hugging her slender frame. Silver embroidery traced demonic sigils along the hem. Long gloves reached her elbows, and subtle heels clicked softly, elegance and authority woven seamlessly into every deliberate step. A thin choker glimmered at her throat.
She leaned back against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his with unspoken intimacy. His arm wrapped around her waist naturally, fingers tracing slow, absent patterns on her stomach just below her Navel on her womb with a loving touch.
Alexia tilted her head slightly, silver-white hair slipping over her shoulder as she looked up at him with curious crimson eyes.
"Daddy," she asked softly, her tone thoughtful rather than playful, "why are we all going to the Gremory estate together this time? Usually it's just me with Mom, or sometimes with you. And when you go alone, it's because you're busy with important work."
She paused, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his coat as if weighing her words.
"I don't mind at all," she added quickly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Actually, I like it when we all go together. It feels… nice. Just different."
He listened to her quietly, then set the glass aside and rested a steady hand over hers, his expression shifting into something calm and instructive—the look he wore when he spoke not just as a father, but as the Devil King.
"This time," he began, "it's because of something that will shape the future of our race—the Evil Pieces system."
Alexia's ears practically perked up.
He explained it to her patiently: how Evil Pieces allowed Devils to reincarnate others, form peerages, strengthen bonds of loyalty, and most importantly, solve the long-standing population crisis of the Devil race. He spoke of Kings, Queens, Rooks, Bishops, Knights, and Pawns—not as tools, but as responsibility.
Then he looked down at her, crimson eyes softening, his hand continued there comforting rubs on her womb.
"When the time comes," he said, "you'll have the choice. I can grant you your own set of Evil Pieces… or you can become part of my peerage first. Learn. Experience the world properly. And later—when you're ready—you can form your own."
Alexia went quiet.
She leaned back against him, gaze drifting toward the purple horizon as she thought it through. For once, there was no teasing, no mischief—only genuine contemplation. Several long moments passed before she finally spoke.
"I want to join your peerage first," she said decisively. "I want to learn properly. Not shortcuts. And after that—after I reach Ultimate-class on my own—I'll form my own peerage."
She turned to him, confidence blazing in her eyes.
"I don't want to rely on the King Piece to get there."
For a heartbeat, he simply stared at her.
Then he smiled—truly smiled.
"That," he said warmly, "is exactly the answer I hoped for."
His both hand around her waist tightening to pull her into a hug on his lap which caused her giggle.
He nodded once, firm and proud. "Very well. You have my permission. When you reach Ultimate-class without external support, I'll personally authorize your peerage."
Alexia didn't hesitate for even a second.
"I will," she said confidently.
After all—she was the daughter of the strongest Devil alive.
After that, the conversation naturally shifted into calmer, more familiar territory.
They spoke about her progress—her control over demonic power, the refinement of her magic circles, and the steady, disciplined growth of her Power of Destruction. He listened carefully as she explained where she felt confident and where things still felt unstable, occasionally offering corrections or suggestions in a patient, measured tone. There was no pressure in his guidance—only quiet expectation.
"You're progressing well," he said at last. "Your output is already impressive. What matters now is precision. Power of destruction is all about the Control, the better Your energy Control, the better Your Use of PoD will be."
She nodded seriously, taking his words to heart.
Then, after a brief pause, she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Daddy… what about magic runes?"
He blinked, surprised.
"I've been reading about them," she continued, eyes bright with curiosity. "They're different from normal spell formulas. More… structured. I want to learn how to use them properly. Could you teach me sometime?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Runes.
The word stirred an old memory—of a certain woman, a teacher revered by heroes and feared by gods, someone whose understanding of runic magic bordered on the absolute. It had been a long time since he last visited her. Far too long, in fact.
He wondered how she was doing.
And whether she would be pleased—or annoyed—to see him again after all this time.
"I can teach you the fundamentals," he finally said, smiling faintly. "But runes are a deep art. If you truly want to master them, learning from someone specialized would be best."
Alexia's eyes sparkled. "So… that's a yes?"
As she relaxed against him again, he gazed out toward the Underworld sky, thoughts drifting. Once matters here were settled—once the Devil race stood on stable ground again—perhaps it was time to visit that old teacher of heroes.
He smiled down at her and spoke gently, his tone warm and reassuring.
"I promise," he said, "once we're done handling a few important affairs—nothing too long, just a few weeks—I'll start teaching you magic runes properly. We'll take our time with it. No rushing."
Her eyes widened immediately.
"Really?" she asked, barely containing her excitement.
He nodded. "Really. After that, we'll set aside some time just for us. Training, studying, and a bit of relaxation too. Some Personal father–daughter time."
That was all it took.
Her serious composure vanished, replaced by an unrestrained smile as she hugged him tightly, practically vibrating with excitement. "Then it's a promise!" she declared happily. "No backing out!"
He laughed softly, resting a hand on her head. "I wouldn't dare."
The thought of those quiet weeks—teaching her, watching her grow stronger, answering her endless questions—filled him with a rare sense of peace. For all the burdens he carried as Satan Lucifer, moments like these reminded him why he endured them in the first place.
Alexia leaned back, clearly pleased, already imagining the days ahead. In her mind, it was simple: learning from her father, training under him, and having his attention without interruptions.
And for now, that happiness—pure and uncomplicated—was more than enough.
Their casual talk bled into the evening, the hours dissolving as easily as the wine in their glasses.
They were on the couch, the world narrowed to the space between them. A kiss that began soft deepened, turning hungry and raw. Their tongues met in a slick, urgent dance, and a thin thread of saliva escaped, trailing down her chin.
Alexia pulled back just enough to break the string, her eyes dark with a Heated glint. She leaned in, her mouth finding the sensitive skin of his neck.
She didn't just kiss; she claimed. Her lips and teeth worked in tandem, sucking hard enough to bloom deep red and purple marks against his skin—hickeys that were a brand, a visible testament to the forbidden line they always obliterate being daughter and Father.