"DXD: Infinite Loot System"Chapter 286: A Mother's Miracle
Sairaorg's mother wasn't in the Bael estate, but in a renowned hospital on Sitri territory—a place Rias knew well from past visits. After their sky train pulled in, Tenra, Rias, and Ravel picked up flowers and fruit, then caught a shuttle straight to the hospital.
The Sitri lands were lush and tranquil. Forest roads twisted through ancient groves, sunlight dappling moss and grass. Tenra watched the scenery slip by from his window seat, while Rias and Ravel whispered together beside him—closer now than ever, their bond quietly deepened by everything they'd shared.
If Ravel once treated Rias with formal respect, now she sometimes clung to her like a little sister. Tenra couldn't help but smile. Maybe "big sister" fits better than "sister-in-law" now. At this rate, our family tree's going to need a flowchart…
The shuttle soon arrived.
Emerald lawns and towering trees surrounded a cluster of elegant buildings, each connected by airy walkways. The atmosphere was peaceful, almost sacred—an ideal refuge for healing. Rias had told him this was one of the Underworld's most famous hospitals.
As they stepped off the bus, a dignified, middle-aged devil in butler's attire greeted them with a bow.
"I've been awaiting you, Lady Rias, Lord Tenra Kamiyo, Princess Ravel of House Phoenix."
"We're here to visit Aunt Misla," Rias said, her voice gentle. "Please, lead the way."
"Of course. This way, please."
Efficient and courteous, the butler led them to a spacious, sunlit room.
Inside, a woman lay resting—elegant, beautiful, but ghostly pale. Her breathing was shallow, her sleep unbroken.
"Aunt, can you hear me?" Rias murmured, sadness thick in her voice as she approached the bedside.
The butler accepted their flowers and fruit, then turned to Tenra and Ravel.
"This is Lady Misla Bael, mother of Young Master Sairaorg."
Tenra nodded. "Is there anything I can do?"
The butler dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief, his composure slipping. "Lady Misla is the gentlest soul I've ever known, but fate has been merciless. Our only hope today is that your power, Lord Tenra, might awaken her. Whatever reward you require, House Bael will provide."
Tenra shook his head. "You're too generous. I don't know if my abilities can help, but please—tell me her story."
The butler began, voice trembling.
"It all began with Young Master Sairaorg's birth. Lady Misla was a daughter of House Vapula—a noble line famed for their mastery over lions. She married the Bael patriarch, first among the seventy-two Pillars, and bore Sairaorg."
"Both parents were pure-blood devils, paragons of their houses. Sairaorg should have inherited every advantage. Yet… he was born with almost no magic at all."
Tenra glanced at Rias, who nodded gravely.
"As a Bael, he couldn't wield the Power of Destruction. Meanwhile, Venelana—who married into Gremory—gave birth to Sirzechs and Rias, both inheriting that devastating power. For House Bael, it was a bitter irony."
"In the world of devils, strength is everything. Sairaorg was branded a failure and cast aside by his father. Lady Misla, for bearing such a son, was scorned and mistreated. From then on, mother and child were the family's shame. Even servants felt free to abuse them. The Baels refused all help from Gremory and others, leaving them to fend for themselves."
"For Sairaorg's sake, Lady Misla gathered her son and loyal attendants, leaving the main estate for the borderlands. But prejudice followed. Even in the countryside, Sairaorg was bullied—his magic weaker than even common devils' children."
The butler paused to wipe his tears, voice thick with grief.
Tenra's heart ached. He'd been called a failure too, but his family never abandoned him. People mocked him, sure, but none dared lay a hand on him. Even Riser, for all his arrogance, only mouthed off—well, except that one time he tried to start a fight and ended up getting walloped by Tenra's dad. Riser had sobbed and threatened vengeance, but that was the extent of it.
"What happened after that?" Tenra pressed, Ravel leaning in, eyes wide.
The butler continued,
"Whenever Young Master Sairaorg came home in tears, Lady Misla would scold him sternly. 'You may lack magic, but you have a strong body! If that's not enough, find a way to make up for it—strength, knowledge, speed, whatever it takes! No matter what others say, you're a Bael. Even without magic or the Power of Destruction, never give up on yourself!'"
"'As long as you don't give up, you'll win one day.' Sairaorg always said that was the most important lesson his mother taught him."
Rias added quietly, "Lady Misla blamed herself more than anyone. 'I gave birth to you without the Power of Destruction…' She would apologize to her sleeping son, crying night after night."
"One day, Sairaorg must have realized. He stopped his mother's tears, and from then on, faced everything head-on—never running away again."
"He grew stronger, training himself relentlessly. But just as he became powerful enough to stand against mid-class devils, Lady Misla collapsed."
"Years of exhaustion had worn her down. She'd forced herself to keep going for Sairaorg's sake, but when she saw him finally grow up, her body gave out—illness took hold."
"It's a rare disease," the butler explained. "Those afflicted fall into deep sleep, unable to wake. Their bodies weaken, fading away until… until it's over."
"Poor Lady Misla. Sairaorg has become so accomplished, but she may never see it."
The butler's tears flowed freely. Rias and Ravel, moved by the story, wiped their own eyes.
There was no question—Lady Misla was a remarkable mother.
Tenra felt a pang of recognition. His own mother had done the same—raising him alone in the human world, defying every doctor's prognosis. She'd been told her illness was terminal, yet she lived long enough to see him grown, independent. Even the doctors called it a miracle.
When she passed, Tenra had smiled through his tears, promising her he'd eat well, sleep well, live bravely—and someday marry many beautiful, capable wives to care for him in her place.
Her death remained Tenra's deepest sorrow. He didn't want Sairaorg to endure the same pain.
Looking at Lady Misla's pale face, her breath barely stirring, Tenra made a silent vow.
I will save her. Whatever it takes.
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