Yuuki Kagurazaka was a man of principle, determination, and sheer willpower.
A mastermind who had been confined by the invisible laws of modern society for far too long—rules that constrained ambition, dulled potential, and punished those who reached too far. That problem, at least, had been solved the moment he was summoned to the Cardinal World.
Yuuki had never been truly separate from the supernatural, even back on Earth. In fact, among humans, he had stood near the very top. One of the strongest. One of the most dangerous. A man who understood that power was not merely strength, but leverage, timing, and intent.
But this world…
This world was different.
Here, someone who would have been among the top five strongest humans on Earth was reduced to merely competent. The Cardinal World was saturated with power. Monsters hid behind forests, gods walked behind churches, and smiling kings carried weapons that could shatter nations.
Yuuki had learned that lesson the moment he arrived.
A short, yellow-haired young man had blocked his path. Yuuki had attacked without hesitation—only for his own strength to rebound upon him.
"Full Counter!"
A single blade of grass.
That was all it took.
The defeat had been humiliating, absolute—but also illuminating. It had shown Yuuki the ceiling of this world, and just how laughably far above him it was.
And now, once again, he had tasted that same disparity.
Once again, his plans had awakened a sleeping dragon.
The outcome of the war reached him shortly after it began.
A war led by the God of War himself, concluded before the sun had even set—in total defeat.
Yuuki exhaled slowly.
Yes.
He had been the one who pushed the pieces into place.
When the Harlequin Alliance reported the existence of a being in the Jura Forest capable of commanding monsters, Yuuki had immediately recognized the threat. Left alone, that existence would invalidate everything he had planned for the region.
So he nudged the world.
Telos Karma.
A whisper here. A misfortune there. Frustration seeded within the Church. Fear sharpened among the nobles. Pressure applied until war became inevitable.
The war was never meant to be won.
It was meant to probe.
But what emerged was far beyond his projections.
As Yuuki's thoughts lingered on Lucian—
Lucian was already watching him.
With the completion of the Harvest Festival, Lucian's perception had transcended conventional limits. Ultimate Skill: Saga – Lord of Knowledge bypassed nearly every known protection against observation. Only Ultimate Skills could meaningfully resist its reach.
Yuuki Kagurazaka had none.
From Lucian's perspective, Yuuki was transparent—an open book left unattended in a public library. Saga traced causal threads effortlessly: Telos Karma, the Church's agitation, the nobles' impatience, the Harlequin Alliance's involvement.
Lucian learned everything.
And then, more.
Yuuki was not alone.
Two other hands had guided the war toward ignition—one tied to the Goddess Clan, another to the Eastern Empire. Their defenses remained intact, not because Lucian couldn't pierce them, but because doing so would alert them instantly.
For now, Lucian chose patience.
His plans adjusted smoothly, almost lazily. Enter the Demon Lord Council. Establish influence. Build alliances. Apply pressure through existing religious structures—Luminous's Church, if necessary. Let the board reveal itself before flipping it.
"Veldora Smash does sound cool!"
Veldora muttered enthusiastically, sprawled across the room with a stack of Marvel comics scattered around him. Lucian had given him the entire collection.
Soon after, Noir entered with his usual relaxed posture and impeccable, butler-like demeanor.
"Lord Lucian," he reported calmly, "the task has been completed. As your subordinates have begun awakening, custody of the war prisoners has been transferred to them."
Lucian nodded once.
Then, without ceremony, he summoned the remaining Primordials.
"You've completed your task," he said casually. "You may choose to be named by me and become my subordinate, or you're free to do as you wish."
"Khe khe khe khe khe…"
Noir laughed softly, reverence thick in his voice. "Who would refuse such a privilege, Lord Lucian? Anyone foolish enough to do so hardly deserves existence."
Lucian sighed faintly. "Alright. You're Diablo. Welcome to the team."
Blanc inclined her head. "I also accept you as my Lord."
"Then you shall be named Testarossa."
The remaining two accepted just as easily.
Ultima.
Carrera.
Four cocoons formed as the Primordials began their evolution.
Lucian observed without concern. His magicule reserves barely fluctuated. Lilith provided an immense internal reservoir, and the surrounding environment replenished the rest.
As the Primordials evolved within the Cardinal World, Lucian's attention drifted elsewhere.
Not toward a direction—
But toward another realm.
Through established soul corridors, his perception extended beyond dimensional boundaries, precise and deliberate. He watched Sona Sitri.
She was preparing for a Rating Game—but more than that, she was preparing to assert herself. The Underworld respected strength above all else, and now she finally possessed enough of it to silence critics who whispered about her engagement to a non-Devil.
Serafall Leviathan, meanwhile, was visibly shaken.
Rias.
Sona.
Akeno.
Tsubaki.
All Noble Class.
Not weak ones either.
Serafall didn't understand how several young Devils had evolved so rapidly—and together. When Sona explained that their evolution was connected to Lucian, and that she couldn't say more without speaking to him first, Serafall could only let the matter rest.
Still, curiosity lingered.
If I had a closer relationship with him… would I have evolved too?
Probably not.
Transcending Satan-class was an entirely different matter.
Around three days after the war, a meeting was convened in the heart of Tempest.
The chamber was fuller than it had ever been. Lucian and Rimuru sat at the head of the table, naturally anchoring the room. To their sides were the newly arrived Primordials—silent, composed, and unmistakably dangerous. Benimaru and the other Ogres stood with disciplined ease, Geld occupying a seat large enough to creak under his weight, while the Goblin Chief and several other leaders filled the remaining space.
This was no longer a gathering of a fledgling nation.
It was the council of a rising power.
Lucian leaned back slightly, fingers resting together.
"So," he said calmly, "what's our plan moving forward?"
Rimuru blinked, then smiled.
"I think a small celebration is due after all this."
A few heads nodded instinctively. After everything they had survived, the suggestion wasn't unreasonable.
Lucian sighed softly.
"Sure. Eventually. But I'm talking about the war. The consequences. Becoming Demon Lords. Everything that comes with that."
"Oh." Rimuru tilted her head. "That."
She paused, expression thoughtful—then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted. Her posture straightened. Her gaze sharpened.
"Well… honestly, I was fine going along with whatever you decided," she said lightly at first. Then she stopped mid-sentence, eyes unfocusing for a fraction of a second.
And when she spoke again, her tone had changed.
"Our best course of action is to enter the Demon Lord Council."
The room quieted.
"Now that we're Demon Lords, entry shouldn't be particularly difficult," Rimuru continued, her words flowing smoothly. "But more importantly, we need connections. Power alone isn't enough—recognition matters. Demon Lords are feared, yes, but they're also acknowledged as political entities. That fear gives weight to negotiations and discourages unnecessary provocations."
She gestured faintly, as if arranging pieces on an invisible board.
"If we remain outside that structure, we'll be treated as an anomaly—something to be tested, isolated, or eliminated. Inside it, we gain leverage. Influence. Information. And, perhaps most importantly, time."
She didn't stop there.
"We also need to investigate the origins of this war. It was too coordinated, too deliberate to be coincidence. Someone wanted Tempest tested—or removed. Until we know who initiated it and why, we'll remain reactive instead of proactive."
Lucian watched her carefully.
Then nodded.
"I agree. On all counts."
Several figures relaxed slightly.
"That said," Lucian added, "only one of us should publicly reveal themselves as a Demon Lord. My awakening was witnessed. There's no point hiding it. Yours, however, doesn't need to be announced yet."
Rimuru blinked again, the sharpness fading just a little.
"Huh… yeah. That makes sense."
"But how do we actually get in?" she continued. "I mean, I know a few Demon Lords—Milim, Ramiris—but Milim does whatever she feels like, and I don't even know how to contact her properly. As for Ramiris, I'd have to go back to the Dwelling of Spirits just to find her."
Before Lucian could respond, a smooth voice cut in.
"My lord, if I may interject," Diablo said politely, hands folded behind his back. "I could certainly visit Rogue. I'm sure he'd be honored to invite you into his… little club."
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
"That does sound fun," he admitted. Then sighed. "But I'd rather not offend him by sending you just yet."
Diablo smiled, clearly amused.
"Well," Lucian continued, shifting the discussion, "we can revisit that later. For now, there's a more immediate concern."
He tapped the table lightly.
"The prisoners. Keeping them locked up indefinitely will bleed resources. Food, guards, infrastructure—it adds up fast. We need a sustainable solution. Labor, exchange, repatriation, or something more… creative."
The room stirred as leaders began to consider the implications.
"And that," Lucian finished, "is just one of many issues we'll need to address."
The discussion stretched on, branching into territory assignments, administrative restructuring, new roles within Tempest's hierarchy, and the foundations of a more formal government.
By the time the meeting finally began to wind down, one thing was clear—
Tempest was no longer reacting to the world.
It was preparing to face it.