The grand ballroom of House Lucifuge was no mere hall. It was an arcane masterpiece, a place where the threads of history and power intertwined.
Dark obsidian pillars, veins of silver running through them like veins of pure magic, supported a vaulted ceiling. The ceiling was painted with scenes of the Underworld's ancient wars, now enchanted to flicker and come to life in the light. Gothic runes shimmered faintly along the walls, pulsing in rhythm with the heartbeat of the estate itself. Above, crystal chandeliers floated unaided, casting radiant motes of gold that danced over the polished black marble floors like falling stardust. Every footstep echoed like a ceremony, every glance a silent negotiation.
Hidden behind illusory curtains, an elite orchestra played harmonics designed by Ajuka himself. Every note was enhanced to stir the soul, command attention, and soothe conflict in equal measure.
This was more than a celebration.
It was a declaration.
A convergence of power and legacy, where futures would be decided not on battlefields but over wine and whispered promises, where devils smiled as friends, even while plotting each other's ruin
At the heart of it stood Lucien Lucifuge-Gremory.
He carried himself like a natural sovereign born, dressed in a tailored obsidian suit trimmed with crimson and gold. The fabric shimmered subtly under the lights, edged with golden trim that outlined his frame with regal precision. A crimson tie at his throat marked him not just a host but a commander on a social battlefield. His aura was one of dominance and elegance, a perfect blend of heir to two great houses.
His fiancées and peerage stood beside him, as striking and powerful as any assembly of lords or kings.
Yue, regal and serene, wore a gown of liquid silver threaded with sapphire runes, her calm eyes scanning the crowd like a lunar empress, poised and untouchable.
Yamato, holding herself with ancestral pride, wore an embroidered kimono adorned with golden dragons that flickered as if alive, moving with the grace of a thousand generations.
Kuroka, seductive and dangerous, wore a high-slit black gown that rippled with shadow-thread embroidery, her tails adorned with obsidian rings. Her half-lidded eyes were amused, but her presence radiated a subtle warning to those who dared look too long.
Ghislaine, ever the warrior, wore a military-cut crimson dress with armored trim. Elegant, yet undeniably built for violence, a reflection of her strength and pride.
Rangiku moved with practiced grace, draped in lavender, her scent mingling with the sweet perfume of wine. A coy smile tugged her lips, promising both chaos and charm, a tease for anyone who dared meet her gaze.
Velzaria, resplendent in a volcanic crimson dress traced with glowing draconic script, bore scales at her shoulders and neck like jewels, her eyes fierce, regal, and sharp as ever.
Albedo, in black silk, a vision of dangerous curves, radiated lethal beauty. Her backless gown dared the world to challenge her, her golden irises locked only on Lucien, her devotion clear for all to see.
Behind Lucien, a crimson sigil flared in the air, and Narberal Gamma stepped forward in formal uniform, stoic and imperious.
Her voice rang out, magically amplified across the hall, as all eyes turned toward her.
"Announcing: Lady Makima of the Control Division, Patron of Chains, Tamer of Devils."
A wave of silence cascaded through the room as the crowd held its breath.
Makima entered in silence.
Makima entered in complete silence, her sleek black dress clinging to her like a predator's skin. Her presence struck the crowd like a ripple in reality, subtle yet undeniable. Nobles who hadn't bowed in centuries found their knees twitching involuntarily. Her smile never reached her eyes, and those who dared meet her gaze looked away with the instinct of prey.
"Announcing: General Esdeath of the Empire of Ice, Conqueror of the Northern Abyss."
Esdeath strode in like winter itself, her ice-trimmed uniform tailored to elegance. The air around her seemed to freeze with every step. She handed a bloodied sword to a stunned servant with a smile that froze the marrow in his bones.
"Announcing: Lady Mio Naruse, Heir of Crimson Descent."
Mio twirled into the ballroom, her dress scandalously short and enchanted to shift like living flame. Her smirk was pure provocation, and the air thickened as other women hissed. Men stared too long, unable to tear their gaze away. Mio relished every moment of it, knowing her presence commanded attention.
"Announcing: Lady Raven of Azarath, Daughter of Trigon, Mistress of Shadows."
A shiver swept the chamber as Raven appeared in a swirl of deep blue fabric, her cloak trimmed in glowing sigils. Her skin was pale gray, her eyes dark and endless. A faint six-point rune glowed on her brow. Behind her, a ripple of crimson shadow took shape, Trigon's burning silhouette looming over her like an unseen god, watching through her pendant.
Even the devils hesitated.
"Announcing: Lady Isabella Osa, Whisperer of Beasts, Harbinger of Stormsong."
Isabella strolled in casually, a goblet already half-empty in her hand. Her long white hair whipped around her like it was caught in an eternal wind. Her amused smirk struck the room with the force of a thunderclap, leaving the nobles uncomfortable and captivated all at once.
Now, the moment the room had been waiting for.
"Announcing: Lady Rias Gremory and Lord Lucien Lucifuge-Gremory, heirs of Gremory and Lucifuge bloodlines, joined in status, bonded in legacy."
Together, they walked beneath the chandeliers, their presence undeniable. Rias's crimson dress shimmered with glyphs formed from her Power of Destruction, subtly woven into the fabric, enhancing her own aura. She held Lucien's arm with a regal poise, her eyes burning with both rebellion and pride. The weight of her family legacy, as well as her personal conviction, radiated from her.
Their peerages followed behind them in perfect formation, their presence a wall of rising talent and potential, each of them a reflection of Lucien's growing power.
"Announcing the fiancées of Lord Lucien Lucifuge-Gremory: Lady Albedo of Vermila, Lady Velzaria of House Tiamat, and Lady Kuroka."
Together, they bowed with elegance, veils of rivalry fluttering between smiles.
The room trembled with power, and the Underworld itself seemed to shift as the Lucifuge Revival Banquet reached its climax. The air was thick with tension, ambition, and the whisper of power waiting to be seized. In this room, more than just politics would be decided, futures would be forged, and destinies would be claimed.
Now, Announcing the guest of honor, the Four Great Maou of the Underworld: Lord Falbium Asmodeus. Lord Ajuka Beelzebub. Lady Serafall Leviathan. And Lord Sirzechs Lucifer."
At that moment, all conversation ceased. The room fell into a thick, expectant silence, the kind that only the presence of gods and kings could command. The Maou entered together, as elemental forces, a tide of power, each of them carrying the weight of centuries of rule.
Sirzechs led the way, cloaked in quiet fire, his crimson eyes gleaming with the knowing smile of a ruler who had seen it all. Behind him was Serafall, her usual playful madness tempered by a refined gown that caught the light in every direction, making her radiate like a star. Ajuka, a machine-god cloaked in silk, his calculating eyes taking in everything around him with a silent precision, like a mind that never stopped. And last, but not least, Falbium's bored expression, yet unspoken command, caused half the room to fall silent in deference.
Serafall skipped forward, throwing her arms around Lucien without a second thought.
"Look at my future husband! You've grown so cool, Lucien-kun~!" Her voice rang out in the stillness of the room, echoing with a playful energy that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air.
Lucien whispered under his breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're ruining the intimidation effect."
Sirzechs chuckled, his voice low but proud. "He's already better than I was. The nobles know it. So do the Maou."
Ajuka smirked, his words cutting through the air. "And that's terrifying."
Falbium nodded once, his voice flat but carrying the weight of centuries of judgment. "Which meant: yes."
Lucien's Opening Speech
The music, which had been swelling in the background, paused as Lucien raised his goblet high, signaling for attention. The whole room fell into an expectant hush, all eyes trained on him as he prepared to speak. His presence, as always, commanded the room, his figure poised and proud.
"Tonight, under twin moons, we gather not as relics of old power but as witnesses to new pacts, new futures… and perhaps anew empires. Let the night bind what fear cannot, and let legacy rise from shadow and fire alike."
The room remained silent for a beat, then scattered applause broke out. Some rose to their feet, others clapped quietly, but all eyes remained on him. Serafall cried with unabashed emotion, her laughter filling the hall like music, while Sirzechs smiled proudly from across the room. Makima merely tilted her head, observing with cool, predatory interest.
From the shadows, Raven's pendant pulsed. Trigon's low growl rumbled faintly, an ominous presence that sent a ripple of unease through the room.
🔥 Enter House Phenex – Late
A swirl of fire burst at the entrance as House Phenex arrived, dramatically and fashionably late.
At the head of the procession walked a woman carved from noble flame.
"Announcing: Lady Iolka Rivel Strachur, Heiress of House Strachur, Descendant of the Phoenix Kings."
Her fiery-orange hair glowed like a sun-kissed blaze, and her gown shimmered in flame-etched crimson and black, the very embodiment of flame and royalty. Her molten obsidian eyes locked with Lucien's across the room.
Lucien's gaze narrowed slightly. Rias's voice came softly beside him, the tension palpable. "That's her. The one from Pick Me Up."
Iolka stopped before Lucien and bowed, her movements regal, calculating.
"Lord Lucien. I bring greetings from my house… and a personal challenge. Should you accept?"
The air in the ballroom tensed. The chandeliers flickered, as if even the room itself held its breath. A noble duel? A courtship? Or both?
Lucien's lips curved into a smile, cool and dangerous, his eyes burning with quiet intent.
"It would be my pleasure."
♟ Subtle Conflicts & Maneuverings
As the night continued, the air was thick with underlying tension, intrigue, and veiled barbs:
Velzaria and Albedo: Both ladies flirted with high-ranking noble wives, weaving tales of glory and charm, leaving everyone wondering what truths lay beneath their smiles.
Souma intercepted a dispute between nobles, offended by the presence of "outsiders and monsters" at the gala. His calm demeanor only heightened his unspoken authority.
A noble, too bold in his opinion, murmured slights about Rias' rebellion. Lucien appeared behind him without a sound. "Repeat that for the record?"
They clinked their glasses, smiles sharp and practiced, each one a mask barely hiding the tension beneath. The air between Makima and Esdeath crackled with the kind of threat that didn't need words.
Kuroka's mere presence earned glares from the more conservative nobles, the tension thick with the weight of their judgment.
Amid the whispers of power plays, one particular noble ventured a comment: "Lord Lucien should take more wives." Lucien sipped his drink calmly, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"I'm already outmatched at the dinner table. But I do admire your ambition."
A ripple of surprise passed through the room. Conversations faltered, eyes narrowed, and the air itself crackled with the rising energy.
Was it a duel? A test of wits? Or was it something more binding?
Lucien's lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin.
"It would be my pleasure."
The gala had only just begun, but already, the fires of legacy were threatening to ignite. The pacts, the alliances, the betrayals, they were all about to unfold.