Shuo's words rang out across the hall, sharp and unflinching. Every Devil present turned to stare, an uneasy hush falling over the crowd.
"Did you just laugh at me, you bastard?" Zephyrdor snarled, his voice thick with venom. "A filthy human dares to show up at a Devil's banquet? You're nothing but an insect!"
He'd hated Shuo from the moment he set eyes on him. Rias—princess of the Gremory clan, unrivaled in heritage, power, and beauty—was the obsession of half the Underworld's young Devils, Zephyrdor included.
Now, seeing Shuo so close to Rias, surrounded by stunning women, jealousy twisted Zephyrdor's face into something almost monstrous.
Shuo's reply was ice-cold, every word a warning.
"Here's some advice: shut your mouth and get lost. Or you'll regret it."
Zephyrdor's sneer widened. "Who do you think you are, punk? Get away from Princess Rias, you—"
Sairaorg's fists clenched, ready to step in and teach Zephyrdor a lesson.
But Shuo beat him to it. No hesitation, no mercy—just a single, open-handed slap.
CRACK!
Zephyrdor flew across the hall, smashed into the wall, and left a crater behind. His jaw hung crooked, teeth scattered, blood streaming from his mouth as he collapsed, motionless.
Had Shuo used his full strength, Zephyrdor would've been dead—he'd held back only out of respect for Sirzechs and the other elders.
"Lord Zephyrdor!"
His peerage rushed forward, faces pale with panic, ready to shout Shuo down.
But Shuo's gaze alone was enough. One cold look, and they dropped to their knees, coughing blood, fear etched into every line of their faces. Not one dared speak again.
A chorus of sharp intakes swept the hall.
No one had expected the human to be this ruthless, this powerful.
The spectacle they'd anticipated had ended before it began—Zephyrdor and his followers were left broken and humiliated.
Shuo's expression didn't waver; his voice was flat and final.
"Take this trash out of here. If I weren't a guest, none of you would've left alive."
They scrambled to haul Zephyrdor away, desperate to escape before Shuo changed his mind.
Silence settled over the hall.
Rias pinched the bridge of her nose, torn between exasperation and relief. Even she'd wanted to put Zephyrdor in his place.
Sairaorg, on the other hand, looked positively energized. Shuo's direct approach was exactly his style.
If not for his status as Bael heir, he'd have joined in—at the very least, Zephyrdor would've been half dead.
Noticing Shuo scanning the room, Sairaorg leaned in.
"Looking for someone?"
Rias and the others perked up. Was Shuo searching for Sona and her group?
Shuo's gaze swept the crowd. "You guys know who Diodora is?"
Sairaorg's brow furrowed. "Diodora Astaroth? He's Beelzebub's kin and the next head of the Astaroth family. Don't tell me you've got a grudge with him too?"
Shuo's eyes flashed. "A grudge? That's putting it mildly. I've only got one thing on my mind—killing him."
The words stunned Sairaorg, left him questioning his own hearing.
Diodora was heir to a Maou bloodline—taking him out would be a direct slap in the face to Lord Beelzebub. Suicide, basically.
Rias and her group stared at Shuo in shock, trying to piece together what could drive such hatred.
"Shuo-kun, did Diodora do something to you?"
Xenovia's voice trembled with concern.
Shuo laid it out, no detail spared.
Diodora—next heir of Astaroth—was a textbook nun fetishist. His entire peerage was made up of former nuns and saints.
He was the Devil Asia had saved when she was still a saint. Because of that, Asia was excommunicated, branded a witch.
But the whole thing was a setup. Diodora had orchestrated it all just to get close to Asia, manipulating her kindness, ensuring her downfall so he could swoop in as her "savior."
Shuo had interrupted his plans, but the damage was done. Asia's pain was something Shuo intended to make Diodora pay for—double.
"Disgusting! Scum!"
Rias and the others exploded in outrage.
Xenovia, once of the Church, was so furious she could barely speak.
Even Sairaorg, who'd planned to counsel patience, now looked grim.
He hadn't realized Diodora was so twisted—a disgrace to Devils everywhere.
"So, Sairaorg—he hurt my family. There's no way I'm letting him walk away. Now you understand."
Sairaorg nodded, understanding clear in his eyes.
If someone had done this to his own family, he'd do the same—even if it meant risking everything.
As more young Devils poured into the hall, Sairaorg's attention snapped to a new arrival—a man with a harmless smile, eyes always half-lidded. Diodora.
Shuo caught the look and moved instantly, closing the distance and clamping a hand around Diodora's arm.
A scream tore through the hall, silencing every conversation.
Diodora's eyes darkened as he spat, "You dare attack me, the Astaroth heir? What's your game, human?"
Shuo didn't bother with words. He unleashed a pulse of psychic power, stripping away every trace of Diodora's false humility and exposing his rotten core.
The hall watched, horrified, as Diodora's secrets spilled out—his obsession with nuns, his manipulations, his depravity.
His peerage—once proud nuns and saints—stood frozen, eyes empty, spirits shattered by the truth.
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