A dimly lit space—cold, damp, and eerie.
It had been purposely built this way due to its owner's whimsical declaration: "We're cute and charming villains, right? So naturally, our hideout must have this kind of gloomy atmosphere! Otherwise, how could those righteous heroes and brave protagonists enjoy their little game with us? Ambiance is crucial☆."
Atop a raised platform stood an exquisitely crafted, imposing throne. Yet, the owner of that throne was sprawled across it in an utterly indecent manner—head and legs draped casually over the armrests.
The man appeared middle-aged, with silver hair. His outfit resembled that of Sirzechs, except Sirzechs's robes were crimson, whereas this man's were a striking silver-white.
"Oh dear, oh dear~ I heard this little toy could create another Dragon Witch, which is why I went through so much trouble. Now, uncle here is super disappointed. Uncle here feels totally wronged. Could this be a fake? My most capable subordinate paid such a steep price for it too☆..."
His manner of speaking was deliberately irreverent, the type that could effortlessly provoke rage.
His grin, his movements—every part of him radiated pure malice. His obnoxious demeanor was enough to disgust and repulse any living being.
Lounging lazily on the throne, swinging his legs idly, the man eyed the floating [Sephiroth Graal] as he continued muttering to himself.
This was the [Sacred Gear] that his loyal subordinate, Euclid, had retrieved from Romania at the cost of being cursed by Gasper.
"Oh dear, oh dear~ Uncle here is so lonely. Why won't anyone come to take care of this poor, abandoned old man? I had thought if I could just whip up another Dragon Witch, then Ophis-chan would come back and keep me company! I absolutely love NTR storylines like that☆! Plus, if I had Ophis-chan and my handmade Witch-chan, we could visit other factions and flaunt my shiny new toys! Just imagining the stunned faces of those pompous gods makes uncle here excited beyond words☆!"
This man's name was Rizevim Livan Lucifer—the one Euclid served, and the current leader of Khaos Brigade.
Exactly as Azazel suspected, Rizevim had initially wanted the [Sephiroth Graal] to use its powers to create another Dragon Witch to counter Jeanne Alter.
The result was evident: he had failed.
Therefore, he'd settled for the next best option—using the Graal's power to resurrect long-dead Evil Dragons, stripping them of their draconic attributes so Jeanne Alter's abilities wouldn't affect them.
The plan to trap Jeanne Alter in a dimensional prison, sending Aži Dahāka, Grendel, Ladon, Apep, and Níðhöggr to besiege her, had also been Rizevim's meticulous design.
In the end, none of those Evil Dragons returned—but Rizevim wasn't even slightly upset. The legendary Evil Dragons possessed vitality tougher than cockroaches; as long as a single shard of their souls existed, resurrection was possible. Over the years, Khaos Brigade had gathered plenty of these soul fragments, and with the [Sephiroth Graal]'s power, they could easily revive them again.
As for betrayal... Rizevim never even considered that possibility. Since he'd resurrected them himself, a mere thought using the [Sephiroth Graal] would reduce them to dust. From his perspective, those Evil Dragons wouldn't dare make such a foolish choice.
"Where did things go wrong, I wonder? What's missing?"
Rizevim furrowed his brow, momentarily adopting an exaggerated expression of deep thought.
"Could it be the power of love? Was it because that French Marshal's love moved the [Graal], thus creating Jeanne, the Dragon Witch? Love sure is great, isn't it? Uncle here is moved, truly, truly moved~☆."
After this insincere mockery came silence again.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Or perhaps...did that adorable witch who's good with dragons trick us?"
BOOM!
The entire space suddenly shook violently, jolting Rizevim out of his contemplation, nearly sending him tumbling off his throne.
Bewilderment filled his expression.
"Eh? Eh? Eh? Was there an explosion somewhere? Have the heroes, brave warriors, and gods from the other factions finally arrived? Has my self-scripted BOSS scene finally started? Uncle is ecstatic☆! Performing solo is so boring—I need an audience! Boredom is the worst; entertainment is the best~!"
He anticipated chaos with giddy excitement, eagerly awaiting disaster and mayhem.
But the next moment, he froze completely.
A purple magic circle appeared in mid-air within the dark chamber.
From it, a figure emerged, gently landing on the floor below. Sharp platinum eyes locked onto Rizevim from afar.
Shoulder-length hair closer to pale white than silver framed her features. A black metal headpiece with an "M" insignia adorned her forehead. Flames danced upon her dark cloak, which matched her sleek black armor. Long legs clad in black stockings enhanced her allure, and at her waist hung a sword. Behind her fluttered a banner bearing an Evil Dragon insignia.
Rizevim's eyes widened comically, mouth gaping as he stared blankly at Jeanne Alter's sudden appearance. After a stunned pause, his entire body started trembling.
"What—the—hell—are—you—doing!?" Rizevim erupted angrily, jabbing a finger toward Jeanne Alter. "Aren't you going to play by the rules?! Don't you have any sense of ceremony!? Which protagonist skips straight to the final boss room!? Do you barbarians not even understand the concept of entering through the front door? "
"You're supposed to overcome numerous trials, gather clues, experience heartfelt tragedy, betrayal, and conflict along the way! That's how it becomes interesting! That's how it becomes thrilling! I painstakingly prepared all those stages and carefully scripted drama...and now you've completely ruined everything! How will you compensate me!?"
He stomped his feet childishly while shouting—an act that might appear cute coming from a young girl, but disgustingly repulsive when performed by a mustachioed middle-aged man.
Jeanne Alter stared at Rizevim as though looking at a complete idiot.
"Hah? Did your brain short-circuit? This is war, idiot. Our goal is to slaughter every last one of you bastards without exception. Waste time with your silly 'trials'? You'd be long gone before we finished!"
She sneered disdainfully, "And here I thought all Transcendents would be impressive like Sirzechs. Instead, the first-ever Transcendent—the child of Lilith, mother of devils, and Lucifer, original Maou—is a pathetic moron. What a disappointment."
Back in Romania, Azazel had correctly guessed Khaos Brigade's leader to be Rizevim Livan Lucifer—the figure recorded as "Lilin" in biblical texts.
This mission united every faction to crush Khaos Brigade utterly, and Jeanne Alter had gone straight for the leader himself.
Azazel had warned Jeanne about Rizevim before the operation—his tension and apprehension not stemming from Rizevim's power but from his madness and pure sadistic whims.
Rizevim's cruelty knew no bounds, capable of torturing his own grandson, Vali, through his son, then casually killing Vali's father out of boredom after Vali fled. Yet, despite his twisted nature, he was undeniably powerful—one of the three known Transcendents. He'd coined the term itself: beings surpassing the devil race, fundamentally different yet originating from devils, such as Sirzechs Lucifer and Ajuka Beelzebub.
While weaker than Sirzechs and Ajuka, Rizevim still stood beyond Maou-level. More troubling was his unique ability—immunity to all Sacred Gears.
Unfortunately for him, Jeanne Alter relied on no Sacred Gear. Against her, that ability was utterly meaningless.
"Oh my~ the Dragon Witch actually knows uncle here! Is the little miss a fan of mine?" Rizevim cooed, dramatically cupping his face. "Oh dear, my irresistible charm is such a bother..."
"As far as final words go, yours are incredibly dull," Jeanne Alter remarked calmly.
"Ooh, scary! Uncle here's trembling~" he shivered theatrically. "It seems uncle's finally met his end today. But, as a dying wish, would the cute little witch satisfy one last curiosity?"
Suddenly, his vile grin returned, eyes locked intensely on Jeanne Alter.
"Little witch… Do you believe in other worlds?"
At this, Jeanne Alter's eyes narrowed sharply.
"You see," Rizevim whispered, "someone from another world has arrived here. Tell me, are you that person?"
Jeanne Alter said nothing, but her eyes betrayed a deadly chill.
Yet, Rizevim smiled broadly, as if her silence confirmed everything.
"Thank~you☆for your answer!"