The crowd roared their approval, chanting "Azeroth! Azeroth!" with fevered intensity.
But instead of leaving as he had after every previous victory, Algernon remained in the center of the arena. Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands to his mask.
The chanting died down as thousands of devils watched in breathless anticipation.
In one fluid motion, Algernon removed the black mask, revealing his face to the world. Crimson eyes swept across the crowd, his expression confident but not arrogant—this was a calculated move, not a dramatic flourish.
"I am Algernon Azeroth," his voice rang out, magically amplified to reach every corner of the coliseum. "Some of you may know me as connected to the Gremory Branch House. But I stand here today not as a representative of that house, but as myself—someone who has earned power through effort, not inheritance."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Gremory connection explained some things but raised even more questions.
"I have faced your strongest fighters and proven my strength," Algernon continued. "I have reached Satan-Class through training and combat, demonstrating that power can be achieved through determination rather than bloodline alone."
He conjured a sphere of Power of Destruction, letting it hover above his palm for all to see. "This ability—the Power of Destruction—was not inherited from the Bael bloodline. It was granted to me through unique circumstances, and I have mastered it through rigorous training. Let this serve as proof that the old hierarchies based purely on noble blood are not absolute."
The crowd's reaction was mixed—excitement, shock, some anger from conservative nobles who didn't appreciate having their worldview challenged.
Then Algernon looked directly at the ornate viewing platform where the Four Great Satans sat, his next words carefully measured.
"To the leaders of our world, I make a request—not a challenge, but a petition. I wish to establish my own independent clan, separate from the Gremory house that raised me. I have proven my strength. I have gathered capable allies. And I believe the time has come for new blood to join the ranks of devil nobility."
The arena fell silent. This was unprecedented—openly requesting to establish a new clan in such a public forum.
"I do not ask for a place among the 72 Pillars without earning it," Algernon said, his voice steady. "I ask only for the opportunity to prove myself worthy through official channels. If the Satans wish to test my capabilities personally, I welcome it. If they require me to complete specific trials, I will do so. But I will no longer remain in the shadows, content with being merely a branch house member."
He extinguished the sphere of Destruction, then bowed formally toward the viewing platform—a gesture of respect that acknowledged their authority while asserting his own worth.
"I leave my fate in your hands, great leaders. I trust in your wisdom to judge me fairly."
With that, Algernon turned and walked toward the arena exit, leaving the crowd in stunned silence that gradually built into chaos as everyone tried to process what they'd just witnessed.
Satan Viewing Chamber - Moments Later
The Four Great Satans sat in their private chamber, the magical projection showing Algernon's departing figure.
Sirzechs Lucifer, the strongest among them and Rias's older brother, leaned back in his seat with a complex expression. "So, Azeroth was Algernon all along. I'll admit, I didn't see that coming."
Ajuka Beelzebub, the genius researcher, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting approach. He didn't challenge us directly—that would have been suicidal and politically foolish. Instead, he made a public request that we can't easily dismiss without appearing tyrannical."
Serafall Leviathan clapped her hands excitedly. "I love it! So dramatic! This is like something out of an anime!"
Falbium Asmodeus, lounging in his characteristic lazy manner, actually looked somewhat interested. "He's smart. Making the request public means we have to respond officially. And achieving Satan-Class at eighteen is... remarkable, even if he's still at the low end of Tier 2."
Sirzechs stood, his crimson aura flickering slightly. "The question is: do we grant his request? Establishing a new clan outside the existing Pillar structure sets a precedent. Others will follow."
"Perhaps that's not entirely a bad thing," Ajuka suggested. "Our society has been stagnant for centuries. New blood, new ideas—they could reinvigorate the underworld. And he's right that he's earned recognition through merit rather than birth."
"But he's also wielding the Power of Destruction without Bael blood," Falbium pointed out. "That alone will create political complications. The Bael clan won't be pleased."
Serafall waved dismissively. "Oh, please. The Bael clan can deal with it. It's not like he stole their power—he said it was granted through unique circumstances. Maybe that's related to his connection with Rias?"
All eyes turned to Sirzechs, who looked uncomfortable. "I... am aware that Algernon and my sister have grown close. Their relationship has developed naturally over several years. If he gained the Power of Destruction through their bond, that would explain certain things."
"A resonance effect?" Ajuka mused. "Fascinating. That would suggest a connection deeper than normal courtship. Perhaps a—"
"We can discuss the metaphysics later," Sirzechs interrupted, his tone making it clear he didn't want to delve too deeply into his sister's romantic life. "Right now, we need to decide how to respond to his request."
Silence fell as the Satans considered their options.
Finally, Ajuka spoke. "I propose we grant him the opportunity to prove himself, but with conditions. A trial, as he suggested—something significant enough to justify establishing a new clan."
"What kind of trial?" Falbium asked, actually sitting up slightly.
"A demonstration match," Sirzechs said slowly, the idea forming as he spoke. "Not a fight to the death, but a formal combat assessment. He faces one of us—not to win, which would be nearly impossible at his current level, but to demonstrate his capabilities and tactical thinking."
"Oh! Oh! Can I do it?" Serafall raised her hand enthusiastically. "I promise I won't break him too badly!"
Sirzechs smiled despite himself. "Actually, I was thinking Falbium might be most appropriate. His Absolute Defense would provide good protection against Algernon's Power of Destruction, and Falbium's tactical approach would test more than just raw power."
Falbium groaned. "Why do I have to do the work? I'm too lazy for this."
"Precisely why you're perfect," Ajuka said with amusement. "If Algernon can impress even you enough to actually exert effort, that's a strong endorsement."
After some discussion, they reached consensus. Sirzechs stood, his authority as the strongest Satan evident in his bearing.
"Very well. We'll issue a formal response tomorrow. Algernon will face Falbium in a demonstration match in one week. If he can demonstrate Satan-Class capability to our satisfaction—not necessarily winning, but proving his competence at that level—we'll grant him permission to establish the Azeroth clan as an independent noble house."
"Not among the 72 Pillars though," Ajuka clarified. "That would require significantly more. But as an independent noble house with the potential to earn Pillar status through future achievements."
The others nodded agreement. It was a reasonable compromise—acknowledging Algernon's strength while not completely upending the social order.
"One more thing," Sirzechs added, looking at his fellow Satans seriously. "We keep this fair. No political interference, no stacking the deck against him. He's earned a genuine chance, and we'll give him one."
One Week Later - Official Arena
The venue wasn't the Grand Arena where Algernon had fought his previous matches. This was the Official Combat Stadium, a space reserved for formal devil government business, Rating Games between high-ranking nobility, and apparently, trials to establish new clans.
The stands were filled with devil nobility—heads of Pillar clans, influential merchants, powerful independents, all gathered to witness this unprecedented event. The Satans sat in their designated viewing area, their presence lending gravitas to the proceedings.
Algernon stood on one side of the arena floor, wearing formal combat attire rather than his usual cloak. Across from him, Falbium Asmodeus lounged in his characteristic lazy manner, though Algernon could sense the deceptive power lurking beneath that casual exterior.
An official referee—a High-Class devil serving the government—stood between them.
"This is an official capability demonstration," the referee announced, his voice magically amplified. "Algernon Azeroth will face Satan Falbium Asmodeus. The objective is not victory but demonstration of Satan-Class competence. The match will continue until Lord Falbium is satisfied with the assessment, or until Combatant Algernon is deemed unable to continue."
He looked between them. "Rules of engagement: no lethal intent, no permanent injury, magical restoration available if needed. Are both parties ready?"
Algernon nodded firmly. "Ready."
Falbium yawned. "Let's get this over with."
"Begin!"
The moment the match started, Falbium's entire demeanor changed. His Absolute Defense activated, an orange aura surrounding his body that seemed to simultaneously exist in multiple dimensions. The lazy expression remained, but his eyes were sharp, analytical.
Algernon didn't waste time. He'd spent the week studying everything he could find about Falbium's abilities. The Absolute Defense was legendary—able to block virtually any attack by distributing impact across dimensional layers. Brute force wouldn't work.
But the Power of Destruction wasn't about force. It was about erasure.
He opened with a Wave of Destruction, sweeping crimson energy that covered the battlefield. Not concentrated enough to overwhelm immediately, but testing how the defense responded.
The orange aura absorbed the attack, dispersing it harmlessly. Falbium didn't even move.
'As expected,' Algernon thought. 'Direct attacks won't work. I need to find the optimal frequency, the exact type of application that can interact with his defense.'
He changed tactics, unleashing a series of compressed demonic energy orbs—his original technique from before he had the Power of Destruction. These struck the aura from multiple angles, probing for weak points.
Falbium raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. You're not just spamming your new toy. Smart."
Algernon combined techniques, mixing compressed demonic energy with threads of Destruction, creating hybrid attacks that behaved differently than pure applications of either power. He varied timing, trajectory, power levels, constantly adapting based on how the Absolute Defense responded.
Minutes passed. Algernon was clearly not winning—Falbium hadn't moved from his starting position, hadn't taken any real damage. But he was learning, analyzing, improving his approach with each exchange.
"You know," Falbium said conversationally, blocking another volley of attacks, "most Satan-Class devils at your level would have either given up by now or exhausted themselves trying the same thing repeatedly. You're actually thinking."
Algernon smirked, breathing heavily but not exhausted. "I didn't come here to mindlessly throw power around. I came to prove I belong at this level."
"Then show me something interesting."
That was when Algernon unveiled his breakthrough technique—something he'd developed specifically for this match.
Instead of attacking Falbium directly, he targeted the space around him. Not trying to bypass the defense, but to alter the dimensional structure it relied on. Threads of Destruction woven with compressed demonic energy created a lattice pattern, subtly distorting the area where Falbium stood.
It wasn't an attack. It was a cage.
Falbium's eyes widened slightly—the first genuine reaction he'd shown. "Now that's creative."
The dimensional cage wouldn't hurt him, but it limited his options. If he moved, he'd have to interact with the Destruction lattice. If he stayed still, Algernon could control the battlefield.
For the first time in the match, Falbium actually had to do something. His Absolute Defense shifted, transitioning from purely defensive to what Algernon recognized from his research as the Offensive Position.
The orange aura inverted, becoming aggressive, and absorbed the dimensional cage before converting its energy into a counterattack that forced Algernon to defend.
They exchanged several more volleys, each one more complex than the last. Algernon couldn't match Falbium's raw power, but he demonstrated tactical thinking, adaptability, and creativity that impressed the watching nobility.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of intense combat, Falbium raised his hand. "Enough."
The referee immediately called a halt. "Match concluded!"
Falbium approached Algernon, who was breathing heavily but still standing strong. The lazy smile returned to the Satan's face. "You're not strong enough to beat me—not even close. But you demonstrated something more important: you think like someone who belongs at Satan-Class. You analyze, adapt, and create solutions rather than just throwing power at problems."
He extended his hand. "I'm satisfied. You've earned your chance."
Algernon clasped the offered hand, relief and satisfaction flooding through him.
Sirzechs stood in the viewing area, his voice carrying across the stadium. "The Satans have reached a decision. Algernon Azeroth has demonstrated capability at Satan-Class and tactical acumen worthy of recognition. We hereby grant permission for the establishment of the Azeroth Clan as an independent noble house, with the potential to earn Pillar status through future achievements!"
The crowd erupted—some in celebration, others in shock, a few in anger. But the decision was made, and by the authority of all Four Satans.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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