The air in the council chamber still hummed with the residual energy of Kael's spiritual assault. The oppressive silence was broken only by the shuffling of feet and the sharp intakes of breath as humiliated lords were helped upright by their aides, their faces ashen masks of fury and profound shame. Servants with downcast eyes scrambled to clear the splintered remains of the once-opulent chairs, their movements hurried and nervous, as if fearing the very air might once again turn against them.
It was Serafall Leviathan who shattered the tense quiet. Her voice, when it came, was not the familiar, playful chime but a blade of absolute zero, sharp enough to flay the soul and cold enough to flash-freeze the blood in their veins. She rose from her throne, a statue of incarnate fury, every line of her body radiating a terrifying, glacial rage. "Kael!" she spat his name like a venomous curse. "What is the meaning of this outrage? Are you truly so arrogant, so foolish, as to try and start another civil war among devils?"
Her words struck the assembled nobility with the force of a physical blow. The expression on every face in the room shifted palpably. Even the most indignant lords paled further, the blood draining from their features as the ghost of the Great War was summoned amongst them. That conflict was the foundational trauma of their society—the reason their numbers were still so desperately thin, why the old elite had been nearly erased from existence. To invoke it was to wield their deepest, most potent fear. Serafall had not merely chastised Kael; she had threatened him, and the entire Bael clan, with the specter of total annihilation.
Before Zekrum could formulate a response, Kael spoke. His voice was a stark contrast to her icy fury—calm, flat, and devoid of all heat, which made its menace infinitely more profound. "War?" he repeated, the single syllable dripping with cold consideration. He turned his full attention to her, his royal purple eyes locking onto hers with unnerving intensity. "If it is war you seek, Serafall Leviathan, then it is war you shall have. I will give it to you."
All air seemed to vanish from the vast room. The tension stretched into a taut wire, humming on the edge of catastrophic failure. Every devil present, from the shaken lords to the standing Satans, became highly guarded, their postures shifting into instinctive readiness for a conflict that could erupt into world-ending cataclysm between one heartbeat and the next. Serafall herself recoiled almost imperceptibly, the sheer, unflinching certainty in his tone more terrifying than any battle cry.
"War is not a word to be thrown around so lightly!" Sirzechs Lucifer's voice cut through the stifling atmosphere, sharp and uncharacteristically severe. The weight of his station and history was etched into the grim lines of his face. "You would all do well to remember what happened to our people the last time those words were spoken. We were brought to the very brink of extinction. This is not a game."
Kael's gaze remained fixed on Serafall, utterly dismissing the Supreme Satan's warning. "Then let it come," he stated, his voice still that same, chilling monotone. "I will win it. But the true question remains: do you possess the courage to be the one who starts it, Serafall Sitri?" The deliberate use of her clan name instead of her title was a masterful political stroke. He was publicly demoting her from a Satan to a mere clan head, deftly reframing the potential conflict not as a rebellion against the ruling government, but as a simple, brutal territorial war between the Sitri and Bael clans. It was a brilliant, ruthless maneuver. Nothing less, nothing more.
Serafall's mouth opened, a torrent of frigid power and fury gathering on her tongue, but she was preempted.
"Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves here!" Falbium interjected, his typically lazy drawl somehow amplified by the tense silence. He shifted his considerable weight in his throne, adopting the role of the reasonable mediator. "We should all take a breath and discuss this like the civilized beings we are. Cooler heads must prevail."
"What is it you propose?" Zekrum Bael asked, his voice a low, supporting rumble from behind Kael. He seamlessly accepted Kael's framing of the dispute, lending the full weight of the Bael clan to the young devil's audacious play.
Falbium gestured toward the ashen-faced Lord Sitri, who looked as though he might be sick. "As we are all aware, a clan's archive is its very backbone. The knowledge within constitutes its lifeblood. To demand access is... unprecedented. Perhaps we can come to another arrangement." He looked pointedly at Lord Sitri. "Substantial compensation? A concession of territory? Something of material value would be more appropriate."
"Three years of unrestricted access to the Sitri archive," Kael interrupted, his voice a sharp blade slicing through Falbium's placating words. "And the full compensation originally demanded by the Bael clan. Those are my terms."
A thick, heavy silence descended upon the chamber.
Ajuka Beelzebub cleared his throat, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward. "Kael, you must understand. The archive does not merely contain spells; it holds a clan's most sensitive knowledge. The very foundation of their magical heritage is built upon its secrets. To grant access is to—"
He was interrupted once more by Kael. "Then they should have considered that before they chose to betray their word. I have already granted you all a significant measure of face by not reducing Sitri territory to a smoldering crater. My final offer is this: two and a half years of access, the full compensation owed to the Bael clan, and thirty percent of the Kouh mining territory, which the Sitri clan currently controls. This is my utmost concession." He let the exorbitant price hang in the air, a palpable weight on the assembly. "If these terms are not accepted, then I will formally request a Territory War with the Sitri clan on behalf of the House of Bael."
The ultimatum was delivered with the cold, irrevocable finality of a judge's gavel.
"Agreed," Falbium said swiftly, seeing the only path that avoided immediate and catastrophic open conflict.
"Seconded," Ajuka stated, his data-driven mind having already calculated all possible outcomes and identified this as the least destructive variable.
"I also agree," Sirzechs Lucifer said, his voice laden with a heavy resignation. He looked directly at Kael, and in that gaze, Kael saw the true reason for their swift capitulation. They had seen the absolute, unshakeable conviction in his eyes. They knew, with chilling certainty, that he was not bluffing. He would unleash a territorial war, a brutal and grinding conflict that would shatter the stability of the Underworld and draw countless other clans into the fray. Faced with that certainty, they chose the preservation of their fragile peace over the wounded pride of the Sitri clan.
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AUTHOR NOTES
ANY SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOMED FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER THE ORIGINAL STORY OF DXD STARTS KAEL IS TWO YEARS OLDER THEN RIAIS JUST TO LET YOU KNOW
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