Location: Master Bedroom, Lucifer Castle, The Underworld
The morning light filtered through the heavy obsidian curtains, casting long, dim shadows across the room. Sirzechs Lucifer opened his eyes, but he didn't move. He simply breathed, syncing his rhythm with the soft, steady exhalations of the woman sleeping in his arms.
Grayfia Lucifuge. The Strongest Queen. His wife.
Her silver hair was fanned out across his chest, her usual stoic mask replaced by the softness of sleep. Her naked back was pressed against his front, her skin cool and smooth against his.
As he lay there, the "merge" settled. The memories of the original Sirzechs blended with the sharp, cynical awareness of his new self. He flexed his fingers, feeling the hum of power beneath his skin. But it wasn't just the Power of Destruction—that chaotic, red energy of the Bael clan.
It was something else. Something from the Gremory side.
Mathematics. Calculation. Probability.
The Gremory clan was famous for their magical affinity with calculation, allowing them to control magic with pinpoint accuracy. But what Sirzechs felt now was the zenith of that concept. He looked at the dust motes floating in the sunbeam. He didn't just see dust; he saw the equation of their trajectory. He saw the variables of the wind currents, the temperature, the gravity.
'I can see the probability of every outcome,' he realized. 'And if I push enough magical power into the equation, I can rig the result.'
He could turn a 1% chance of hitting a target into 100%. He could turn the 99% probability of an enemy attack hitting him into 0%. It was the ultimate cheat code: Absolute Probability Manipulation.
He tightened his arm around Grayfia's waist, pulling her flush against him. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. Silver eyes met his.
"Sirzechs-sama?" she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. "Is it morning?"
"It is," he replied. His voice was deeper than she remembered, lacking the usual cheerful bounce he put on to annoy her.
Grayfia shifted, intending to get up and start her duties as a maid, but Sirzechs didn't let go. He held her there, his grip firm, possessing.
"Sirzechs?" She looked at him, confused by the sudden intensity. Usually, he would be whining about paperwork or gushing about how cute Rias looked in a photo by now.
"I'm tired, Grayfia," he said, staring into her eyes with a cold clarity.
"Tired? Do you wish to sleep longer?"
"No," Sirzechs said, brushing a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear. "I'm tired of acting. The naive brother. The hen-pecked husband. The gentle Satan who smiles while the Old Faction sharpens their knives."
Grayfia froze. She propped herself up on one elbow, the sheet falling to reveal her chest, but she ignored it, studying his face. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the mask is off," Sirzechs said, his eyes glowing faintly with the Power of Destruction. "I am the Lucifer. From this day forward, the Underworld will remember why that name is feared. No more 'Sis-con' nonsense. No more leniency."
Grayfia stared at him for a long moment. She was a woman of iron and ice, bred for war and politics. She had loved the gentle Sirzechs, but this... this man looking at her with the eyes of a conqueror?
A flush rose to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"As you wish, my Lord," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly. "I have always preferred the wolf to the puppy."
Location: Hallway to the Administration Tower
The walk to the office was different.
Usually, Sirzechs walked with a light step, greeting servants with a wave. Today, he moved with the predatory grace of a apex predator. His cape flowed behind him like a river of blood.
A servant carrying a stack of silver platters tripped near the entrance of the hallway. In the old timeline, the platters would have crashed, creating a mess.
Sirzechs didn't even look. He simply tweaked the variables in his mind. Probability of falling: 0%.
The servant wobbled, the platters defying gravity for a split second, righting themselves in mid-air before settling perfectly back into the servant's hands. The servant gasped, looking around in confusion, but Sirzechs had already passed him, his face an impassive mask.
Grayfia walked a step behind him, her clipboard in hand. She noticed the subtle magic. She noticed the silence that fell over the guards as he passed.
"The Phenex engagement," Sirzechs said without turning his head.
"Yes, Lucifer-sama?"
"Tell the Elders I will be handling the evaluation of Riser Phenex personally. If he is found wanting... his immortality will not save him."
"Understood." Grayfia wrote it down, her hand steady, though her heart beat faster. This was the leadership she had been craving.
Location: The Satan's Office
He had been at his desk for twenty minutes, clearing a week's worth of backlog with terrifying efficiency, when the door burst open.
"Sirzechs-chaaaan~!"
Serafall Leviathan. The Satan Pink. She pirouetted into the room, pink frills spinning, sparkles erupting from her wand. She landed in a pose, winking.
"I need your signature for the 'Magical Girl Levi-tan' budget expansion! We need more fireworks! The children demand it!"
She bounced up to the desk, leaning over to shove the paper in his face, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. "Come on, sign it! Don't be a boring old Devil!"
Sirzechs stopped writing. He slowly placed his pen in its holder.
The silence stretched. Serafall's smile twitched. Usually, he'd be laughing nervously or sighing by now. He wasn't doing either. He was staring at her as if he were dissecting a frog.
"S-Sirzechs-chan?" she tried again, her voice wavering.
"Grayfia," Sirzechs said, his voice calm. "Leave us."
Grayfia, standing by the door, bowed deeply. "Of course." She stepped out, closing the heavy double doors with a distinct click.
Serafall stood up straight, the act slipping. "Okay, serious mode? Did something happen with the Old Satan Faction?"
"Lock the door, Serafall."
"Eh?"
"Lock it."
She hesitated, then waved her wand. The tumblers clicked shut. She turned back to him, confused. "Sirzechs, you're acting wei—"
He was already moving. He rounded the desk not with speed, but with inevitability. He caught her wrist before she could raise her wand.
"You exhaust me," he murmured, backing her up. "Not the work. This." He gestured to her outfit with his free hand. "The sparkles. The voice. The desperate need to be seen as harmless so no one notices you're the most dangerous politician in the room."
Serafall's back hit the stone wall. Her breath hitched. He had seen through it. He had seen her.
"I..." She looked up, her violet eyes trembling. "It keeps people happy. It keeps you from looking so grim all the time."
"You do it because you want me to look at you," Sirzechs corrected, leaning in close, trapping her. "You've been parading in front of my desk for three hundred years, Serafall. Hoping the 'Sis-con' would notice the woman right in front of him."
Serafall's face burned scarlet. She opened her mouth to deny it, to make a joke, but the intensity in his blue-green eyes paralyzed her. "And... did you?"
"I'm looking now."
He kissed her. It was possessive, rough, and demanding. He tasted of tea and dark power. Serafall melted instantly, her wand dropping to the floor with a clatter. She grabbed his collar, pulling him down, letting out a small noise of surrender that she would never let the public hear.
His hand slid down her back, gripping her hip, pulling her flush against his hardening body.
He pulled back just an inch, his lips brushing hers.
"We have an hour before my meeting with Falbium," Sirzechs whispered, his voice dark and husky. "That should be enough time."
Serafall blinked, dazed. "Time for what? The paperwork?"
Sirzechs smirked, a wicked, devilish expression that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. He ran a thumb over her bottom lip.
"To find out if you're as loud as your character, or if I have to make you scream for real."
Serafall's eyes rolled back slightly at the sheer dominance of the threat. She bit her lip, grinning wildly. "I guess you'll have to do a thorough investigation, Lord Lucifer."
Location: The Balcony, One Hour Later
The wind of the Underworld was cool, but Serafall felt pleasantly warm. She was fixing her pigtails in the reflection of the glass door, her legs shaking slightly.
Sirzechs stood at the railing, buttoning his cuff. He looked pristine, as if nothing had happened, though the satisfied set of his shoulders told a different story.
He looked out over the capital, Lilith. His mind shifted from the pleasure of the last hour to the calculus of the future. The Probability equations floated in his vision.
Rias Gremory. Issei Hyoudou. Raynare.
The probability of Issei dying tonight was 99.9%.
The probability of Rias reviving him was 100%.
"Are you okay, Sirzechs?" Serafall asked, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She didn't use the baby voice. She sounded like a woman in love.
"I am better than okay," Sirzechs said, covering her hands with his.