One Month After Kuroka's Recruitment
The Branch House training hall had become Algernon's sanctuary once again. With Kuroka safely hidden in the human world estate, working on her spatial manipulation, he'd returned to his own relentless training regimen.
But progress had stalled.
Algernon dismissed another orb of demonic energy with a frustrated gesture. His control had plateaued at 50%—a respectable achievement for any Mid-Class devil, but nowhere near what he needed for his ambitions. He'd been stuck at this level for three weeks now, and no amount of additional practice seemed to push him past this barrier.
'There has to be another approach,' he thought, sitting cross-legged in the center of the hall. 'I've mastered shaping and multitasking. What's the next evolution?'
His mind wandered to his previous life, to the comics and anime he'd consumed. Heroes who compressed energy attacks to devastating effect. Techniques that traded size for overwhelming power.
Compression.
The concept crystallized in his mind with sudden clarity. He'd been focusing on control and manipulation—shaping his demonic energy into complex forms. But what if instead of making it bigger or more intricate, he made it denser?
'If I can compress the same amount of power into a smaller space, the energy density would increase exponentially.'
Excited by the possibility, Algernon immediately formed a simple orb in his palm. Then he focused, willing the energy to contract, to pack itself tighter.
The orb flickered and destabilized almost immediately, dissipating into harmless wisps.
He tried again. Same result.
And again. And again.
Failure after failure, but Algernon had long since learned that breakthrough only came through persistent effort. Each failed attempt taught him something—how much pressure the energy could withstand, what patterns worked better for compression, how to reinforce the structure as it contracted.
Hours passed. Sweat dripped down his face. His reserves depleted and recovered multiple times as he pushed himself to the edge of exhaustion.
Then, finally—success.
The orb in his hand began to shrink, but this time it held stable. The energy compressed, growing denser with each passing second. What had been a fist-sized sphere of dark violet energy became marble-sized, its color shifting to a deep, ominous gray that seemed to absorb the light around it.
Algernon could feel the power radiating from it—the same amount of energy he'd started with, but concentrated into a fraction of the space. The destructive potential had multiplied several times over.
He stood, walked to the reinforced training dummy at the far end of the hall—enchanted stone designed to withstand High-Class attacks—and threw the compressed orb.
The impact was spectacular.
The dummy didn't just break—it exploded. Stone fragments scattered across the hall with enough force to crater the walls. The shockwave rattled the entire room.
Algernon stared at the destruction, then at his hand, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
"That's what I've been missing."
Over the following weeks, compression became his obsession.
He practiced constantly, refining the technique until he could compress orbs almost instinctively. Each successful compression improved his control, and each improvement allowed him to compress further. The feedback loop accelerated his progress beyond what simple shaping exercises had achieved.
But then a new thought occurred to him: if he could compress external energy, could he apply the same principle internally?
His demon energy core—the source of all his power—functioned as a reservoir of raw magical energy. What if he could compress that reservoir itself, making the energy denser at its source?
The idea was both exciting and terrifying. His core was fundamental to his existence as a devil. Experimenting with it could be dangerous.
But the potential rewards...
Algernon began carefully, meditating deeply to visualize his core. He could feel it—a pulsing presence near his heart, vast and formless. Slowly, cautiously, he applied the compression technique.
The sensation was immediately uncomfortable. Pressure built in his chest, his breathing became labored, and warning signals fired through his entire system.
He stopped, let everything return to normal, then tried again with less force.
The process was agonizing and slow. Unlike external compression, which happened in seconds, compressing his core required sustained effort over hours. Each session left him exhausted and drained, forcing him to rest for a full day before attempting it again.
But gradually, incrementally, it worked.
His core contracted, not in capacity but in density. The same amount of power, packed into a tighter space. The effects were remarkable—his energy felt more responsive, more potent. Techniques that had required significant effort now came easier. His reserves, while not larger in raw volume, could be deployed more efficiently.
Three Months After Starting Compression Training
Algernon stood in the training hall, surrounded by the wreckage of another intense session. Destroyed dummies, scorched floor, impact craters in the reinforced walls—evidence of his progress.
In his palm, a compressed orb spun lazily. Gray-black energy crackling with barely contained power, no larger than a marble but radiating an aura that made the air itself seem heavy.
He'd refined the technique to an art form. External compression now came as naturally as breathing. His core had been compressed multiple times, each iteration increasing the density and efficiency of his demonic energy.
The system agreed.
[Current Status Update:]
[Class: Tier 1 - Mid-Class (Peak)]
Peak Mid-Class. After three months of focused compression training, he'd finally broken through the plateau that had stalled him.
'But High-Class is still a significant leap,' Algernon thought, dismissing the orb. 'I'll need to push even harder to break through that barrier.'
Still, satisfaction settled in his chest. Progress was progress, and he was moving in the right direction.
__________________________________________
The Gremory main manor's library had become one of Algernon's regular haunts. When he wasn't training, he spent hours studying—demonic history, magical theory, political structures, anything that might prove useful for his long-term goals.
The librarian had long since stopped questioning his presence, simply nodding as he passed through with armfuls of books.
It was evening when he finally left, mind full of new information about ancient devil hierarchies. The walk back to the Branch House took him through the manor's gardens, a sprawling expanse of carefully maintained beauty under the perpetual twilight of the Underworld sky.
That's when he spotted her.
Rias lay on the grass, staring up at the sky. At first glance, she seemed peaceful—her crimson hair spread around her like a halo, her expression relaxed.
But Algernon had spent enough time with her over the past year to recognize the subtle tells. The slight furrow in her brow. The tension in her shoulders. The way her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.
Something was bothering her.
He approached quietly, not wanting to startle her, then settled onto the grass a respectful distance away. "Beautiful night."
Rias turned her head, surprise flickering across her face before it softened into a tired smile. "Algernon. I didn't hear you coming."
"Lost in thought?"
"Something like that." She turned back to the sky, and silence stretched between them.
Algernon waited. He'd learned that Rias would talk when she was ready, and pushing only made her withdraw.
Finally, she sighed. "It's the engagement. I just... I don't want it, Algernon. But no one asks what I want. It's all about alliances and bloodlines and maintaining power."
There it was. The political marriage to Riser Phenex—an arrangement made when she was a child, designed to strengthen both families and preserve pure-blood devil genetics. A cage disguised as duty.
"Have you told your family how you feel?" he asked carefully.
"My brother knows. But he says it's complicated, that there are factors I don't understand yet." Frustration bled into her voice. "I'm not a child anymore. I understand politics. I just don't agree with being treated like a bargaining chip."
Algernon considered his response carefully. This was delicate territory—one wrong word could damage their friendship or, worse, raise suspicions about his own interest in her.
"You know," he said slowly, "there might be a way out. A legitimate one that even the conservative factions couldn't argue against."
Rias sat up immediately, her full attention on him. "What do you mean?"
"A Rating Game. When you come of age and form your complete peerage, you'll be eligible to challenge Riser directly. If you defeat him, you could demand the engagement be annulled. It's within your rights as a High-Class devil from a Pillar family."
Hope sparked in her eyes, quickly followed by doubt. "But I'm not strong enough. Riser is an adult with a complete peerage of experienced devils. How could I possibly—"
"You have the Power of Destruction," Algernon interrupted gently. "One of the most devastating abilities in the entire devil race. Your potential rivals your brother's, Rias. The problem isn't your power—it's your training."
She looked down at her hands, skepticism warring with hope. "Even with the Power of Destruction, I'm years away from being able to use it effectively in combat."
"Not if you train properly." He shifted to face her directly. "Rias, your ability isn't just about raw destruction. With the right development, you could learn to target specific structures—destroying from the inside out, bypassing defenses entirely. Your magic has the potential to erase anything from existence."
"And you think you can teach me that?" The question held both hope and doubt.
"I know I can. My training methods are... unconventional. But they work." He met her gaze steadily. "If you're willing to put in the effort, I'll train you every weekend. We'll develop your Power of Destruction into something that could defeat even experienced Ultimate-Class devils."
The transformation in Rias's expression was immediate. The sadness and frustration evaporated, replaced by fierce determination and excitement.
"You really think I can become that strong?"
"I don't think—I know. You have the raw potential. You just need someone to help you unlock it properly."
Before Algernon could say anything else, Rias launched herself forward and wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you, Algernon! This is—this means everything to me!"
The embrace caught him completely off guard. For a moment, he froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was. Her warmth, the scent of her hair, the way she pressed against him with genuine gratitude and relief.
'We're both twelve,' he reminded himself firmly, even as his mind acknowledged how much she'd matured over the past year. 'This is just friendship. Just a friend thanking another friend for offering help.'
Rias seemed to realize what she'd done a second later. She pulled back abruptly, her face flushing red. "I—sorry, I didn't mean to—that was—"
"It's fine," Algernon said quickly, trying to ignore his own slight discomfort. "You were just excited."
"Right. Excited. About training." She stood quickly, still flustered. "I should go. But this weekend, right? We'll start this weekend?"
"This weekend," he confirmed.
"Great! Perfect! I'll—I'll see you then!" She hurried off toward the manor, practically fleeing in her embarrassment.
Algernon watched her go, then lay back on the grass with a long exhale.
Training Rias would serve multiple purposes. It would strengthen their friendship—important for his side quest. It would help her escape an unwanted marriage—which aligned with his genuine desire to see her happy. And it would give him insight into the Power of Destruction, one of the most potent abilities in this world.
But it was also dangerous territory. His feelings toward Rias were complicated—genuine friendship mixed with the meta-knowledge of who she'd become, colored by the system's objective to win her heart.
'One thing at a time,' he told himself. 'Help her get stronger. Everything else can wait.'
The moon hung overhead, casting silver light across the garden. In the distance, he could sense Kuroka's presence through their peerage bond—she was practicing spatial displacement techniques, her determination bleeding through their connection.
His first Bishop, growing stronger in the human world.
Rias, about to become his training partner.
And somewhere in the future, another piece waiting to be claimed.
Everything was falling into place, slowly but surely.
'I'll help her become strong enough to choose her own future,' he decided. 'Whether that future includes me or not... we'll see.'
For now, he had training to prepare—both for himself and for the crimson-haired heiress who'd just entrusted him with her hopes.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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