Chapter 112 – Unmatched Resolve
Unlike most young nobles, Sairaorg—despite being from the prestigious Bael Clan—had never lived the life of an elite heir.
Born without the Power of Destruction, the clan's defining ability, he had been shunned and cast aside from a young age. In truth, his childhood might have been even harsher than that of an ordinary low-class devil.
But the man once branded a "failure" clawed his way back. Through sheer, relentless effort, he silenced the noble brats who had once mocked him.
Ironically, that very success only widened the gap between him and the upper crust. Like any society, the Underworld had its cliques and exclusive circles—and to them, Sairaorg was an outsider who didn't belong.
Proud as he was, Sairaorg had never tried to force his way into those groups. Over time, he simply became… solitary. People like Rias Gremory, who still maintained a friendly relationship with him, were few and far between.
Akira, however, couldn't help but have a good impression of the man.
If this guy had "protagonist aura," he'd be the main character of this story, Akira thought to himself.
A child abandoned for lacking talent, rising through hard work alone, toppling so-called "geniuses" who boasted of their bloodline, and taking everything back with his own hands… it was the textbook underdog tale.
Unfortunately, in this world, Sairaorg wasn't the protagonist.
Without warning, a loud crash echoed from further down the corridor.
Akira and the others turned toward the sound. The wall at the end had caved in, rubble scattering across the floor. From the dust emerged two devils—a man and a woman—radiating open hostility. Clearly, things had already gotten violent.
"Zeldor, if you insist on fighting here, I won't hold back. Even if you die, I doubt the elders will blame me!"
The devil woman's eyes were sharp and her tone icy. Her opponent, a street-thug-looking male devil, stood with a mocking grin, his aura dripping with malice.
Her anger, however, didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.
"Heh! Talking big for a stuck-up whore."
The man's words were venomous, laced with vulgarity. "I even went out of my way to invite you to a private room for some fun, but the young lady of the Agares Clan has a fortress for a chastity belt. Still a virgin, huh? How boring~"
"Maybe I should help you with your… opening ceremony?" he added with a lewd sneer.
The insult was enough to make everyone present frown—especially Rias and her peerage.
The Agares woman's expression twisted in disgust and rage.
"Tch… So this is what passes for a noble devil?" Akira clicked his tongue. "I walk in and the first thing I see is a two-bit thug. Lovely."
He glanced at Rias. "And you told me to keep calm? Are you sure these are nobles and not trash off the street?"
"This is an exception," Rias said through gritted teeth, glaring at him. She knew perfectly well it was a jab at her.
Ever since they'd left, she'd been drilling him on proper behavior, and now he was deliberately mocking her.
Still, she couldn't deny it—modern devil society was far tamer than in the past. The peace that followed the war had changed things. Under the rigid aristocratic system, many heirs were little more than pampered second-generation nobles.
Take Riser Phenex, Rias' former fiancé. While spoiled, he at least had respectable strength and enough sense to keep up appearances in public.
Suddenly—
"Hey, you. Yeah, you," the thug—Zeldor—snapped, his glare landing squarely on Akira.
He was clearly irritated. Of course, he recognized the crimson-haired princess of the Gremory Clan. As the sister of one of the Four Maou, her status was nearly untouchable in the Underworld.
And now she was engaged to a human? Many young nobles found that hard to swallow, Zeldor among them.
Not to mention, the beautiful girls standing beside Akira were clearly Rias' peerage members. In Zeldor's twisted mind, marrying Rias would be the same as claiming them all for himself. His thoughts were steeped in jealousy.
"You talking to me?" Akira raised an eyebrow.
"Idiot! Who else do you think I'm yelling at!?"
"…Interesting."
Akira's lips curved into a lazy smirk. He hadn't done anything, and yet trouble had come walking right up to him.
But before he could respond, Sairaorg stepped forward.
"Zeldor. What do you think you're doing?"
His voice was calm, but the weight behind it shifted the air.
"Oh? Look who it is—the 'useless' Bael heir. Beat it, this has nothing to do with you," Zeldor scoffed.
As a pureblood devil from a high-ranking clan, he valued bloodline purity above all else. To him, the fact that Sairaorg lacked the Power of Destruction made him worthless.
"I'll give you one chance," Sairaorg said evenly. "Shut your mouth and return to the banquet hall. Do that, and I'll pretend this never happened."
"Hah? You trying to threaten me? Who the hell do you think y—"
He never finished the sentence.
In the blink of an eye, Sairaorg's massive frame blurred forward. His left fist drove into Zeldor's gut with surgical precision—powerful enough to shatter the wall behind him without crushing his organs.
The impact sent Zeldor flying backward, embedding him into the stone with a deep crater. His eyes went wide for a split second… then rolled back as he lost consciousness.
One strike. No killing intent, no crippling injury—just enough force to completely incapacitate and humiliate. It was flawless control, the kind only a master of pure strength could display.
"Sairaorg! You…" Rias stepped forward, caught off guard by the sheer decisiveness of his action.
Moments later, a group of devils emerged from the banquet hall—Zeldor's peerage.
"Zeldor-sama!" one of them gasped, panic flashing across his face as he rushed to his master's side.
He could already imagine the storm that would hit them when they returned. Their positions could very well be in jeopardy.
"Take him out of here," Sairaorg ordered coldly.
"Wh-What did you say—?"
The man started to protest, but the moment his eyes met Sairaorg's unyielding gaze, the words died in his throat.
Unlike Zeldor, he was just an ordinary reincarnated devil—a servant. And standing before him was the official heir of the Bael Clan. If Sairaorg wanted him gone, no one would lift a finger in his defense.
Besides, Zeldor had just insulted the daughter of the Agares Clan and, in the same breath, provoked Rias Gremory. The number of important figures he'd offended today was staggering.
With his face pale, the servant quickly hoisted Zeldor over his shoulder and hurried away.
This was no longer a safe place to linger. One second too long could mean disaster.
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