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(TPD) Chapter 28: A Year And A Half
🕑 Added 2024-12-31 06:00:15 +0000 UTCChapter 28: A Year And A Half
For this chapter I will try to use italics for thoughts instead of the usual single comma—tell me if you think it's good or not, depending on the response I'll either continue with it or revert back to the normal style.
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Supremacy War - Year Five.
The winter season had descended over the Underworld, the wind biting at the skin of devils and fallen angels alike, forcing them to adorn extra layers to protect themselves from the blistering frost. The streets of Lilith for example, were filled to the brim with advertisements for sweaters, jackets, beanies, and clothing of the sort—endorsed by notable figures such as the Rating Game Emperor himself, Diehauser Belial.
And taking a stroll through said street, were three figures most onlookers couldn't help but stare at, their eyes filled with either recognition, awe, or plain intrigue influenced by the people around them.
The least conspicuous of the bunch was a small child with wild onyx-colored hair and bright violet eyes, wearing a purple and black checkered scarf and a puffy jacket with all too familiar insignia staple on the back of it. The Bael Clan's insignia—being sported by none other than its Heir, Sairaorg Bael.
Sairaorg's left hand was clasped with that of a mature woman with an alluring, almost magnetic presence that seemed to pull in the attention and desire of everyone who even happened to glance upon her. Her long, silky black hair that reached down to her waist accompanied by an indigo flower ornament, her soft supple skin that shone throughout the winter morning, and her bountiful chest pronounced by the tightly-fitted sweater she wore. All of it was a painfully blinding example of what perfection looked like.
An undeniable object of envy for every woman who observed her, and one that men couldn't help but yearn to get close to—even if they were accompanied by their significant other.
She was Zekram Bael, and even though none of the onlookers knew who she was, her appearance seemed to be more than enough to attract an onslaught of unwanted attention.
"I don't understand why you so vehemently pushed me to accompany you, you could've easily handled something this trivial on your lonesome," she complained, glancing in the direction of the young man holding Sairaorg's right hand. The joint appearance of all three of them convinced everyone in sight that they were a married couple taking their child out for a saunter.
"You're always so sullen Honey, it's important that you get some fresh air outside of your estate every now and then." He had flaxen hair that had been grown out to shoulder-length, and wore a white sweater as if he were trying to match Zekram's appearance, alongside a brown and black checkered scarf akin to what Sairarog was wearing.
Of course, the only person who could call Zekram Bael 'Honey' without being eviscerated on the spot, was the blindfold wearing Devil himself, Avalon, her betrothed. In the roughly year and a half that had passed since he had killed Armaros, his height had grown from 5'4 - 5'8, about half the amount it had during the three years he had been prohibited from being deployed on the battlefield at the request of his older brother—Sirzechs Lucifer.
He would soon be turning 10 alongside Adaloth, the main boon of his maturing appearance that Avalon had enjoyed being the fact that it was now significantly harder for Zekram to shrug off his flirtatious attitude as he simply wanting to pester her. Something the Ancestor had experienced more and more frequently much to the envy of Adaloth, who was now 5'6, and still being tutored by Grayfia just like Avalon was by Zekram.
"That's because I actually have work to do," she griped, noticing that most of the people around them were starting to reach for their phones. "Look, now they're going to start taking pictures—if you wanted to go out in public the least you could've done is used a transformation spell."
"You could've done the same," he smirked, "Albeit, I'm not a big fan of being photographed either." After the award ceremony had publicized Avalon's reputation as the Blindfold Devil, his face had become something that received instant recognition no matter where it traveled.
Pandorica, he called for the Artificial Intelligence Assistant Ajuka had installed into the choker-style Calculation Assistance Device he was wearing around his neck.
[You needn't remind me, Young Lord.]
Followed by a single beep, everyone found their phones suddenly malfunctioning, something clearly interfering with their devices ability to operate. Courtesy of Pandorica sending out a disrupting frequency at the behest of Avalon, a feature that was originally intended to protect it from outside interference during combat. A natural precaution for Ajuka to take considering that technology was Grigori's strongest point.
"Better?" He donned a warm smile, adjusting a strand of Zekram's hair behind her ear in a blatantly amorous fashion.
"Ah! You're being lovey-dovey in public!" Sairaorg yelped, pointing directly at his face.
"Sorry Sairaorg, I just can't help it when she looks this adorable."
"You can't even see what I look like," Zekram deadpanned—a part of her tempted to kick him in the shin.
"I can't tell if she's adorable! Her chest is blocking her face from down here!" Sairaorg said without even a hint of shame or hesitation, jumping up as high as he could to take a look at Zekram's face.
Avalon was quick to cover his mouth, turning his head away and covering his mouth as the sound of his poorly-restrained laughter was made known. Pff… Pfft! Sairaorg! You… Hahaha! You can't say that to her! It took a behemothic amount of restraint for him to not throw in a comment of his own.
"Is something amusing?" A threatening glint appeared in Zekram's eyes, her demeanor harrowing enough to cause the bystander's to inexplicably begin sweating profusely on the spot, as if a great calamity were about to descend upon them.
"N-No… Nothing's funny at all," it was a lie so obvious that even an actually blind person could see right through it.
"Is that so? Because it would appear to me that you feel like letting out a little chuckle right about now," she leaned towards him, her gaze daring him to let out so much as a stifled giggle. Almost perfectly recreating a Monty Python skit right on the spot.
In a desperate attempt to distract her, Avalon turned his head and gave her a quick kiss, possibly making the situation even worse for himself. Sairaorg! Now's your chance to step in to save your teacher!
"You're acting lovey-dovey again!" Sairaorg's voice was even louder than last time, attracting even more attention than there already was to them.
"We're not acting lovey-dovey!" Much to Avalon's delight, Sairarog's yelp had redirected her attention. "Also, it would do you well to treat your Ancestor with a little more respect—something your teacher is clearly lacking in."
"Ok big-chest Ancestor!" He beamed, nodding his head in understanding.
Ahahahahahahaha! Sairaorg! You're going to make your teacher choke on his own breath! Avalon's face was red like a tomato, his current predicament proving to be exceptional training for his respiratory system.
"Don't call me that!" She chopped him on the head, causing Sairarog to pout as he rubbed the now sore part of his scalp. If Avalon actually ends up turning this defective brat into Heir material, then I can't afford to leave him with this unruly attitude. A certain someone already gives me more of that than I can handle, I should have Albedo tutor him on conduct sometime soon.
In truth, the three of them hadn't taken to the streets of Lilith just for a mere stroll. They were headed to the Serafall Memorial Hospital to pick up Misla, Sairarorg's mother, who had recently been cured of her Sleep Disease through the joint efforts of Ajuka and Sebastian Sitri (Lord Sitri). The news about the disease that had been plaguing the Underworld for quite some time now being cured was sure to bring a smile to everyone's face. Finally allowing Sairaorg to properly reunite with his mother rather than having to visit her in a hospital bed every now and then.
In spite of all your intelligence, even you can be a little silly every now and then, Avalon thought while they neared the medical institute. You wanted them to be an anchor for me, and while that succeeded—you've also become attached to them as well. No, maybe attached isn't the right word, but you've definitely become a lot more involved in their lives than you expected yourself to be.
Once they finally arrived at the entrance of the hospital—Sairaorg didn't waste a second letting go of their hands and sprinting forwards with arms wide open. "Mom!" His attention was locked onto the brown-haired woman standing at the front in anticipation, her complexion looking significantly better than when they last interacted. Thankfully, Avalon's constant Senjutsu treatment had prevented Misla from ever actually falling into a coma while she was afflicted, enabling the mother and son to converse freely each time they met.
"Sweetie!" She scooped him in a classic Bael-style bear hug, tears of joy nearly leaking from her eyes since she would finally be able to mother Sairaorg properly again. My goodness, he's put on a lot of muscle hasn't he? He's like a little lion! She noticed her son's drastically improved physique.
"You do know that you won't explode if you smile—right?" Avalon grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers as their shoulders pressed together. "Come on, even just a little grin would be fine," he tried to push the corner of her mouth upwards with his finger, but was swiftly swatted away before he could do so.
"There's nothing here that would require such a reaction from me," she said while still looking at the sight of Misla and Sairaorg's reunion, which Avalon naturally took full notice of.
"Don't worry, you'll get to experience that as well soon enough." Once more, she shot an annoyed glare his way. "Especially with how—forward, you've been with me as of late," he plastered on a mischievous grin, shuffling a little closer to her.
You're the forward one, if my last husband behaved even half as immaturely as you I'd kill him on the spot. You should be grateful that I'm tolerating your behaviour at all, she grimaced. Well, I ended up killing him anyway alongside my firstborn once they tried to make a run for my power, let's hope a repetition isn't in order.
Sairarorg started to tug at Misla's sleeve, pulling her toward the engaged couple. "Avalon's here as well! And big-chest Ancestor too!"
Misla tilted her head, wondering what her son was babbling on about. It's good that Avalon's here since I ought to thank him, but who's the other—" Once she lifted her head to meet the sight of the couple behind Sairaorg, her face whitened, the entirety of her complexion paling as if she had seen a ghost.
"Y-Your Majesty!" She gasped, covering her mouth upon noticing Zekram's displeasure, which she misinterpreted as her fault for not recognising her sooner, when in actuality it was just Avalon who was annoying her. "My deepest apologies! I didn't recognise you in that stunning outfit!" Again, she felt as if she had some sort of blunder with the latter half of that remark.
"Your flattery is needless, and I'd rather you refrain from your usual formalities while we're out in public." Avalon jabbed her in the rib with his elbow, an expectant look on his face. Tch, and to think you call me bossy. "Please," she added much to his satisfaction.
"Of course," Misla took a deep breath, doing her utmost to regain her composure. Hold on a minute, am I seeing this correctly? And upon obtaining a calmer demeanor, she noticed that Zekram and Avalon were holding each other's hand. I'm not dreaming… am I?
"Mom, why do you look so shocked? I already told you before that they were acting all lovey-dovey back home," Sairaorg questioned, his awareness shockingly high for someone his age—at least in certain situations.
Misla blinked slowly, letting her son's words and the sight in front of her sink in for a brief moment. I can't believe it! I thought he was joking this whole time! But still… How? When? Where? Why? I have so many questions, but I don't want to upset Her Majesty!
"Oh, I haven't told you yet have I? How foolish of me," Avalon tapped his forehead, clearly not waiting for this exact moment to tell Misla so Zekram would feel embarrassed. "We're engaged," he rested his head against Zekram's shoulder.
E-E-Engaged?! Wait, that still doesn't make sense. Even if Avalon looks like that, he should only just be turning 10 shouldn't he? She looked at Zekram with disbelief, leaving the Ancestor to wonder what was going through the woman's head. I had no idea she preferred them that age… She won't go after my Saira anytime soon will she?
Misla swallowed a nervous gulp, "If you wouldn't mind me asking, is there any reason in particular you're here?" Like most, Misla knew Zekram as a complete recluse—and the former Vapula wasn't nearly arrogant to believe she came here solely to visit her.
"My descendant-in-law just recovered from the most deadly disease in the Underworld, is it so wrong of me to want to congratulate her for a successful recovery?" She said with her arms folded.
Avalon could only shake his head, second hand embarrassment coursing through his veins as his fiancée continued to struggle to breath a single sentence without sounding peerlessly arrogant. She's not going to act like this to our children is she? He thought about it for a moment, Who am I kidding? She's absolutely going to act like that to them.
He brought his mouth up to her ear and whispered, "You haven't actually congratulated her yet."
Zekram sighed, "Speaking of which, congratulations Misla, I'm sure Sylas will be—" This time she got a much more forceful jab to the rib-cage, Misla completely bewildered upon witnessing the act. I'm taking those stupid toys made by Serafall you keep collecting when we get back!
Did he just scold Her Majesty? With every action Avalon took, Misla's confusion just seemed to worsen. No, I'm probably still a little light-headed from the treatment.
"I'm just thankful you took the time to see me in person," as Zekram had ordered, Misla referred to her in a casual manner. "It's because of Lord Beelzebub and Lord Sitri's hard-work that I'm as healthy as I am today, alongside Avalon for actually spotting my ailment beforehand." She expressed her heartfelt gratitude.
"I'm just glad you're feeling better—but I don't think words alone will suffice as ample celebration. How about the four of us grab something to eat at one of the nearby restaurants? I imagine you've grown weary of hospital food by now," Zekram looked like she was about to say something, but Avalon met her with a glare that dared to even think about refuting.
He'd wrap her up like an orb weaver and drag her across the streets of Lilith if he had to.
"That'd be lovely," she said, followed by the sound of Sairaorg's stomach rumbling, reinforcing the idea even further. Her Majesty and Avalon, Misla mused, finding the concept of their personalities pairing up with one another extremely fascinating. He doesn't seem to mind, maybe he's into older women? If that's the case then I can see the relationship working.
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"This is ridiculous, we're supposed to be war heroes aren't we? Yet Wilbert has us doing patrol duty of all things!" A girl with ice-blue hair that reached down to her waist protested. She wore a white military-fashioned suit with long sleeves and buttons on the upper arms—accompanied by an officer's cap with the Auten Clan's insignia and high-heeled boots.
Hanging on the right side of her hip was a sleek rapier, and on the left was a purple scabbard with chains tightly fitted around it. She was, of course, the Blindfold Devil's Pawn, Esdeath Auten. Someone who had received Lucifer's Aileron during the award ceremony over a year ago.
"It can't be helped, they want us to focus on securing Mortis so it can be fortified and prepped for conversion rather than advancement." A boy walking beside her replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by the work he had been assigned. "We're playing defense for now instead of offense, just try to bear with it." Just like I'm trying my best to bear with you, he complained inwardly.
He was a boy with slicked back dark green hair and purple eyes, wearing a black tuxedo giving him a butler-esque appearance, alongside a strange white mask with gold accents covering his face—that he could somehow see through despite not having any eyeholes.
Another recipient of Lucifer's Aileron, the Bishop of the Blindfold Devil, Lars Valen.
"There's plenty of other people to choose from, why can't he just send them instead?" Esdeath continued to protest, one of the pebbles littered outside the previously conquered city of Mortis. Avalon would probably just run off if he got bored wouldn't he? Maybe I should do the same.
"Because we're high-level sensors, the barriers we have set up are decent—but our barrier technology is a far cry from what Grigori's capable of deploying," with the exemption of Ajuka Beelzebub of course. "They clearly know we're here, and we have civilian construction workers and research personnel inside the city. It's important that we catch onto any surprise attacks as soon as possible."
Wilbert's army and whatever the fallen were cooking up were in the midst of what could only be described as a "grace period", only interrupted by awfully mild skirmishes every now and then, the likes of which probably only existed for the fallen to try gauge what Wilbert was up to. Each of them being inconsequential in the long-run.
Granted, Wilbert wasn't nearly naive enough to believe that just because the opposing side had chosen to be quiet for the time-being, it meant that they were in any way down for the count. They were most definitely planning on retaliation, and not in a small capacity.
As much as the Valen Patriarch wanted to storm over there and crush out the fallen in one fell swoop, he had been ordered to focus on consolidation and taking apart what little technology had been left behind, so that was what he would do.
Notwithstanding, Lars couldn't help but sympathize with Esdeath to a certain degree. He too felt like they were being a bit too passive, almost as if they wanted the fallen to come back with something much stronger than last time. Such arrogance was unfounded from his perspective, why were they wasting the amount of momentum they had? The death of the three Cadres back then had left them winded, they should've gone in for the kill when they had the chance.
However, he wasn't in charge, the most he could do was make his opinion known. An opinion that's probably been voiced thousands of times over by this point, Avalon, just what is going on back there? You keep telling us to just focus on our training as much as we can, but what exactly am I preparing myself to fight?
Avalon had made sure to keep in touch with Lars and Esdeath, as a matter of fact he kept in touch so often that the two of them found it a little excessive. The positive being that he would constantly give them advice on their training, and even offer them input from Zekram's invaluable experience to help them improve their combat ability.
"Surprise attack my left foot! The last time they gave us something even resembling an attack was over a month ago—and that hardly even lasted a few minutes!" She clenched her fist, tempted to throw her cap on the ground in frustration.
"You should learn to appreciate a bit of silence every now and then, once the war is over it'll become standard after all," Esdeath reeled back, clearly disatisfied with the prospect. Wait a minute, what's that smell? "Stop," Lars ordered, putting his hand in front of Esdeath.
"What's wrong?"
"Don't you smell that?" He pointed in the direction of an area with heavy foliage, his nose twitching as a metallic smell lingered in the air. The smell of blood, Lars activated one of his spheres, allowing it to get some altitude as it scanned his surroundings like a drone.
"Fallen?" Esdeath queried, brandishing her rapier with a tinge of excitement boiling within her.
"No—I mean there are fallen, but they're all dead." He triple checked what he was sensing, the result being the same each time he did. That doesn't make any sense, none of the other teams should've picked up on anything before us—so what exactly happened over there?
"Then there's no use in dawdling, let's go investigate!" Esdeath didn't hesitate to start advancing in the direction of the smell, the thought of doing any sort of preparation beforehand not being so much as an afterthought to her.
"Hold on! We shouldn't just storm over there without—!" Her pace quickened while he was talking, "Esdeath!" He scurried to chase after her, lamenting the fact that Adaloth wasn't here to keep her under control like usual.
Shortly after stepping foot through the foliage, they were met with quite the harrowing sight—one gruesome enough to make most keel over and regurgitate in a split-second.
What the hell… A mound, a mound made of fallen corpses. That was the sight Lars and Esdeath had stumbled upon, blood leaking out the sides of the mound like a squashed strawberry cake. Fallen Angels piled over one another like trash bags, their clothes completely ransacked for whatever rations or equipment they may have carried with them.
Not nearly as bothered by it as Lars, Esdeath approached the mound, putting her hand over the corpses to feel their temperature. "It's still warm, extremely warm, can't you sense if there's anyone else nearby?"
"Albion, should I kill them as well?" They heard a high-pitched voice speak, startling both them as they turned around with their defenses on full-blast. "Oh, I'm not supposed to speak out loud when I'm talking with you right? My bad, I'm still getting used to it."
He was a boy with light-silver hair and hazel eyes, wearing what could only be described as torn rags since the clothing he had looted from those he killed didn't fit him. There were signs of bruising and blemishing all over his skin, but the nature of the injuries almost made Lars believe they didn't come from the fallen he had supposedly murdered.
"You're a devil?" Lars questioned, not sensing so much as a hint of Light Magic from the child. "What are you doing out here on your own? Where are your parents?"
"So many questions, you're making my ears ring." He groaned, "And you don't even look that much older than me, where do you get off treating me like a lost child? Well, I am lost, but the child part is still unnecessary."
Lars and Esdeath exchanged a confused glance, "Did you do this?" Lars pointed to the mound.
"Yeah," the boy replied calmly, pulling out what looked to be some sort of ration bar, presumably what the fallen were using to keep their men fed. "You're all holed up in that city right?" He pointed to the walls of Mortis.
"We are… but you still haven't told me what you're doing out here," Lars narrowed his eyes.
"I'm just a runaway trying to score some grub," he shrugged. "I did you all a favour by killing them didn't I? You should invite me inside and give me some food as a reward." His flippant attitude in contrast to the pile of corpses beside him was extremely off-putting.
"Did you really kill them?" Esdeath asked, scrutinizing the boy as if to try gauge his strength.
"What? Don't believe me?
"Yeah, I don't believe you."
Now what? He wondered internally.
Just rough her up a bit, but don't kill her. We're trying to make them give you refuge aren't we? They won't be of any benefit to you dead.
"Then let's make a bet," he smiled, putting a finger up. "Fight me, if I lose, I'll tuck my tail between my legs and be on my way—but if I win, you'll bring me into that city and give me as much food as I want."
"That's fine by me," Esdeath grinned, Lars facepalming as he came to terms with the fact that nothing he could tell Esdeath would convince her to change her mind. It's about time I had some action, try to give me a good fight brat. "You might as well tell me your name before I pummel your face in."
"Vali."
"No last name?"
Vali didn't answer, instead calling upon two, light-blue translucent wings that protrude out of his back like something out of a mecha anime.
"Not much of a talker are we? That's fine," the temperature around them started to drop, Esdeath's eyes flaring with ice-cold intensity.
Vali stretched out his open palm, a chill running down Lars' spine as he immediately felt that something was amiss, his mouth opening in order to warn Esdeath.
Divide!
"Wha—!" Esdeath felt her power drop by half out of nowhere, a feeling so alien to her that her mind couldn't even begin to process what had just happened. What did this brat just do?!
"Cough cough… What the hell?" Apparently, Vali halfling her power had caused him to take some recoil, blood trickling out of his nose as he too experienced a sensation he had never come across before. Albion? What happened to me?
Hmm… It would appear that the amount of Demonic Power her body holds is far more bountiful than I had expected, actually, I'm pretty sure I recognise her presence for some reason—as impossible as that should be…
Now isn't the time for you to get all nostalgic on me! Quick! Tell me what to do! Vali wiped away the blood, staggering in an effort to regain his balance.
You tried to divide more than your body was capable of handling at the moment, if it weren't for your demonic lineage you would've passed out on the spot. I'd refrain from trying to do it again, you'll just have to tough it out and make do with what you've been given.
"I was shocked at first, but it would seem that the power you just used isn't nearly as benevolent as you hoped." Even with Esdeath's power halved, she had yet to actually receive any damage, not to mention that Vali was clearly already worn out from whatever he had been doing as of late. "From the looks of it that's the only power you had, how boring." She only needed an instant to get behind Vali, hitting him on the back of his neck with the hilt of her rapier and promptly knocking him out.
"Now what?" Lars asked, "We can't just leave him here in good conscience."
"I wasn't planning on it, I want to know more about what the brat just did to me," she picked Vali up and slung him over her shoulder. "If he wants to go to Mortis so badly then why not let him? He's a devil anyway, we'll just tell Wilbert that we saved him from the group of fallen over here or whatever. He'll probably buy it," she shrugged.
