POV: Meruem
What was truly fascinating about a world in which every myth and fragment of folklore existed as reality was the sheer breadth of possibilities it offered in, well …nearly everything.
Take magic, for instance. The primordial energy that resided within every living thing and served as the source of all supernatural phenomena manifested differently depending upon the nature, history, and origin of the being in question.
Within devils, that primordial force expressed itself as demonic power, which could then be shaped through imagination and intent to produce the desired effect.
Within yokai, the same fundamental energy manifested as youki, which they refined into Youjutsu, granting them a broad array of techniques and abilities beyond their inherited racial abilities.
Magic differed across races, and these differences led each culture to develop its own system for channeling and refining that power. Naturally, each system came with its own strengths, excelling in certain applications while falling short in others.
Demonic power, being rooted in imagination, was instinctive and comparatively easy to wield, yet it was also notoriously inefficient when used without a magic circle, for the act of forcing imagination directly into reality demanded immense energy.
The Melinean system used by humanity, on the other hand, was vastly more complex and difficult to master, as it relied upon calculation, esoteric logic, and deep understanding of cause and effect, and was in return remarkably efficient and accurate.
Meruem found himself endlessly captivated by these systems, and studying them had long since become a personal hobby. It was for that reason that he now watched his pulchrtudinous queen with unwavering focus as she carefully arranged a series of candles along the floor.
Their placement formed a long vertical line intersected near the top by two short diagonal branches, creating the shape of an arrow dividing into two paths.
"Close your mouth before you catch flies, Master," the ever-pleasant voice of Kuroka chimed from the bed behind him.
"Are you jealous?" he asked, glancing briefly toward his bishop with faint amusement.
"Why would I be?" she replied with an exaggerated pout. "You have only been staring at her without blinking for the last thirty-two seconds, while I'm lying here almost naked and being thoroughly ignored."
"Can you blame me?" he said, returning his gaze to his queen. "Watching her work is like witnessing poetry given motion."
"First of all, that's totally not the thing to say when your hot girlfriend is mad at you," Kuroka said with visible annoyance. "Secondly, I know for a fact that you're only interested in rune magic and not Rose specifically, which somehow makes this even more humiliating. I'm literally losing to a magical concept. Molest me, you big fucking nerd."
"I can do that later," he replied absentmindedly. "It's not every day that I get to observe rune magic applied like this."
Kuroka hurled a pillow at him.
He tilted his head slightly and avoided it without once looking behind him, which only deepened her irritation.
"Pay attention, Valerie-chan," Kuroka said, turning instead toward the other occupant of the room. "Never fall in love with an autistic guy. The moment he discovers a new hyperfixation, you cease to exist."
"Why did you fall in love with him then?" Valerie asked, clearly amused as she stood nearby, ready to assist Rossweisse if needed. A white pigeon rested in her hands while she gently stroked its feathers.
"Because my life is an uninterrupted sequence of poor decisions," Kuroka answered without hesitation.
"What's a hyperfixation?" Valerie asked curiously, the outside world still new enough that many ordinary terms remained unfamiliar to her.
"It means becoming intensely interested in something to the point of obsession," Kuroka explained.
"And master's hyperfixation is rune magic?" Valerie asked for clarification.
"Magic in general, and war crimes probably," Kuroka said casually, muttering the final part under her breath.
"I will have you know that I have never committed a single war crime in my life" Meruem said, sounding genuinely offended.
"Why don't we ask Dimora Bael about that?" Kuroka snorted. "Ah, that's right! we can't, because you boiled her alive in holy water!"
"That's not classified as a war crime," Meruem replied patiently. "In fact nothing is considered as a war crime in hell, all is fair. Besides, she deserved it. Many people on the devi-net are praising my decisiveness. They're even calling me an honest Satan-sent prophet of depravity."
"That's not the defense you think it is," Kuroka said dryly.
Before he could respond, Rossweisse came to a halt, drawing his attention immediately back to her.
"Valerie dear, bring me the knife and the pigeon, please," Rossweisse said in her soft melodic voice.
Valerie obeyed at once and handed both the bird and the knife to her.
"Thank you," Rossweisse said softly, before swiftly cutting the pigeon's head with a graceful motion.
She knelt and carefully drained the blood into the rune inscribed on the ground.
The rune drank the blood as though it were a living thing, drawing every crimson drop into its grooves before multiplying it unnaturally and sending it coursing through the entire formation. Veins of scarlet spread outward in every direction until every inch of the great symbol pulsed with blood-red light.
Then the color shifted, transforming into a radiant blue luminescence that rose from the floor in shimmering waves while the surrounding candles flared brighter, their flames rising higher and steadier, as if stirred by an invisible current of power.
Rossweisse then took the same knife and carefully carved a broken spiral into the palm of her hand, a circular shape that never fully closed, allowing her blood to gather within its lines.
"Neroth is the rune of finding," she explained calmly. "By carving it into my hand, I turn my body into a conduit through which magic flows into the knife. The knife then acts as a lodestone that guides us toward our target."
Rune magic was not widely practiced, particularly within the Underworld, which did not surprise Meruem in the slightest, as it demanded extraordinary discipline to learn and considerable caution to use safely.
He would describe it as a system that's both simple and profoundly complex.
Each rune represented a fundamental concept or function such as finding, binding, or revealing, and invoking it caused that concept to manifest in reality.
In this case, Rossweisse had invoked the rune of finding, allowing the object to actively guide itself toward what was being sought.
"Do you always have to do that?" Valerie asked, visibly disturbed by the sacrifice of the pigeon.
For someone who had endured so much suffering and cruelty, Valerie possessed an unexpected capacity for gentleness and compassion, as though her hardships had shaped her into someone who cherished life even more deeply.
"Normally, a sacrifice is not required to activate a rune," Rossweisse explained. "But since we don't have enough information about our target beyond vague description of what he might look like and the sacred gear he possesses, I had to use the pigeon as a supplementary ingredient."
"What about his name?" Valerie asked, her gaze lingering on the lifeless bird. "Wouldn't that help narrow it down?
"It would," Meruem replied instead. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure what his real name is."
"Master, we can now teleport to his general location," Rossweisse said, glancing briefly at Valerie. "Keep the candles lit from now on."
"Very well," Meruem said as he stood, then turned his attention to Kuroka. "Would you like to come with us?"
"No," Kuroka replied, waving a hand lazily. "I will stay here with Valerie. Maybe I can convince her to let me ravage her since my boyfriend has been criminally neglectful today, nya~"
Meruem simply laughed before teleporting away alongside Rossweisse, who responded with a quiet roll of her eyes.
…
...
"The son of man will send out his angels, and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil. They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth…"
Being greeted by scripture the very moment he stepped out of the teleportation circle was not how Meruem had expected this venture to begin, yet surprise lasted only an instant before instinct took hold.
He concealed both himself and Rossweisse from sight with ease, wrapping their presence in layers of concealment magic so subtle that even a trained observer would struggle to notice the space they occupied.
Ordinarily, scripture recited aloud carried an unpleasant effect upon devils, inflicting migraines, nausea, and a piercing pressure akin to the agony suffered when one of their kind attempted to pray to Him.
Meruem and the members of his peerage, however, no longer possessed the racial weakness to holy power that burdened ordinary devils, thanks to the [Sephiroth Graal]. He could kneel in a cathedral and pray with the devotion of a lifelong priest, or read scripture cover to cover, and it would affect him no differently than any other collection of words.
His attention shifted to his surroundings, and he quickly discerned that they had arrived within the shell of an abandoned building, its hollow interior echoing faintly with the voices of those gathered within. His gaze settled on the group standing at the center, and he suspected at once that his target was among them.
There were seven individuals in total. Six wore the standard attire of exorcists, while the seventh stood apart in pristine white priestly robes. Their backs were turned toward Meruem and Rossweisse, obscuring their faces, though their focus was clear.
All of them were watching a young boy seated on the narrow concrete ledge of a window, looking down at them with visible boredom, as though the entire affair were wasting his time.
The boy could not have been older than fourteen. His stature was small, his skin dark, his hair a muted gray-blue, and his eyes carried a striking shade of purple. Meruem recognized him at once, and a faint grin touched his lips at how easily he had located his target.
The priest had just finished reciting the scripture, and Meruem chose to remain still, observing the exchange with quiet interest.
"Tell that to someone who gives a fuck," the boy replied after the priest had finished. "The only reason I'm entertaining you at all is because you have been following me for the last three days. I don't like people following me."
"It was never our intention to trouble you," the priest said softly, his voice measured and calm. "But we received reports of creatures born of shadow terrorizing the people of this great city, robbing them, assaulting them, and preying upon any who resisted. We have sought the source of that disturbance, the one some have begun calling the Demon of Bologna, and the path of our search has led us here. Would you happen to know why?"
"Of course I know," the boy replied casually. "I'm the one who has been terrorizing those weaklings. What are you gonna do about it?"
The exorcists behind the priest drew their swords at once and shifted into combat stances, yet the priest calmly raised a hand, halting them before they could advance.
"Peace, my friends," the priest said. "You must forgive my companions. They are zealous souls who wish only to destroy what they perceive as evil, in accordance with the Lord's will. But I believe there is misunderstanding here, and I don't believe blood need be shed this day."
"I'm not scared of you," the boy said defiantly.
"And why should you be?" the priest replied with a soft laugh. "Do you know who we are?"
"You're from the Church," the boy answered.
"Aye, then you know you have no cause to fear us," the priest said warmly. "We are servants of the Most High, charged with shepherding His flock until the day of the promised return of our Lord and Savior. We are called to uproot corruption wherever it festers, to cast down wickedness wherever it takes root, and to cleanse the stain of evil wherever it seeks to flourish.
"We bear mercy for the repentant, protection for the innocent, and righteous judgment for those who delight in cruelty. We bring holy fire against the unrepentant wicked, and we humble the proud who trample the weak beneath their feet. Only the corrupt, the malicious, and the unclean have reason to dread our coming. Tell me, child, are you one of them?"
The boy fell silent, perhaps beneath the pressure released by the assembled exorcists, whose holy presence had grown heavier with each passing moment.
"No," the priest continued gently. "I don't believe you need to fear us. What's your name?"
"Leonardo," the boy answered.
Meruem's smile widened faintly at the confirmation. This was indeed the wielder of the Annihilation Maker. He was not sure whether Leonardo was the boy's true name or whether, like many within the Hero Faction, he had chosen to cosplay as some historical figure. It would seem the name was genuine.
"Leonardo," the priest repeated. "The name means lionhearted, one who bears courage like the lion bears strength. It's a beautiful name. Tell me, Leonardo, why have you been using your gift to terrorize the good people of this city?"
"Why should I answer that?" the boy huffed. "You haven't even properly introduced yourself."
"You are right, of course. My apologies," the priest said with a gentle smile. "It would seem I have neglected my manners. Allow me to correct that. I am Archbishop Emmanuel, and these are my companions..."
…
"We are in Bologna, master," Rossweisse confirmed quietly through the aid of her scrying magic. "Are you certain it's wise to remain here? Italy in its entirety falls under the sphere of influence of the Church, and our presence within its territory, especially unannounced, could be interpreted as a provocation of war."
The fragile peace between the Three Factions remained delicate even now, and at any moment a sufficient act of provocation could reduce years of restraint to open war. Leonardo being here complicated matters considerably.
If it became known that Meruem had entered Church territory without permission in pursuit of a Sacred Gear wielder, he might earn the wrath of both the Church and the Satans who wished to preserve the present peace.
Meruem had no intention of leaving empty-handed.
And like iron drawn toward a lodestone, the method by which he could accomplish that without revealing his presence came to him at once.
…
One by one, the priest finished introducing each of the six exorcists who accompanied him, three of whom were women.
"...will you now answer my question, Leonardo?"
"What do you know of my gift?" the boy asked instead.
"I know it to be a blessing bestowed by the Lord," Reverend Emmanuel replied. "A Sacred Gear is granted to those chosen to stand as protectors of humanity, to shield others from harm and to carry out a purpose greater than themselves. We, as servants of the Lord, seek out those who bear such gifts, so that we may guide them, train them, and ensure that they may fulfill the role they were meant to play without falling into despair or corruption. I would extend that same offer to you, Leonardo.
"The world is harsh, and there are many who would seek to exploit your power for their own ends, twisting it into something that spreads suffering and ruin. We can protect you from them. You would be given purpose, and the means to wield your gift without fear. If you don't wish to share your reasons, then you needn't do so. As long as you repent your evil deeds and open your hurt to the Lord and walk in the path of redemption, all is forgiven."
"Just like that?" Leonardo asked.
"Just like that," the priest said with a gentle smile. "The house of the Lord remains open to all who are willing to open their hearts to Him."
Meruem listened with rapt attention, curious what Leonardo would say. He wanted to know how the boy born with power to bring creatures of nightmare to reality grew up to be.
Leonardo laughed. He looked at the priest with open incredulity, as though the words he had just heard were too absurd to be taken seriously.
"How ridiculous," Leonardo said. "So I can commit as much evil as I want, and if I say I'm sorry afterward and repent, then I'm saved?"
"All who sincerely desire salvation may receive it through His sacrifice," the priest replied calmly. "Leonardo, I understand your suspicion of us, understandably so, but we only mean to help you. You have been entrusted with extraordinary power. Such gifts are not cast blindly into the world without meaning. The Lord has chosen you as an instrument through which His divine will may one day be made manifest, and with such blessing comes great responsibility. Responsibility toward your fellow man, toward the innocent who cannot defend themselves.
"The Kingdom of God stands besieged on all sides by enemies, by heretics, by monsters who prey upon the weak and corrupt what is sacred. Many suffer because there are too few willing to stand between cruelty and the defenseless. And you, Leonardo, have the power and the duty to save many lives."
"I beg to differ, sir," Meruem said as he revealed himself at last, stepping forward with calm assurance, Rossweisse moving in quiet tandem at his side.
"Who are you?" the priest asked, his eyes narrowing as they settled upon him, a subtle tension entering his posture as though some instinct warned him of what stood before him.
Holy men were said to possess keen senses when it came to recognizing devils and creatures born of darkness.
"A passerby," Meruem replied smoothly. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. And it seemed hardly fair to me that you're trying to rope in the kid into your cult without really giving him a choice. So I decided to offer him an alternative."
"You dare refer to the house of the Lord in such a manner?" one of the exorcists snapped, anger rising in their voice.
"Silence!" Leonardo said, his tone sharp and cold as he glanced at the exorcist. "You have already said what you came here to say, so now you will keep quiet while I listen to what he has to offer."
"Say Leonardo," Meruem began. "Do you truly wish to spend the entirety of your life in service to others, bound to a role that demands everything from you while offering nothing tangible in return? Do you wish to deny your earthly desire for some heavenly fulfillment that will never come?
"Because that's what they want you to do. The core tenet of their faith is sacrifice for the greater good. To give, and give, and give again…until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell they can point to as an example of virtue."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He could see Leonardo reacting with disgust at that, which gave him insight into the boy's character. Someone born with a power such as the Annihilation Maker would almost inevitably develop a sense of superiority, a quiet belief in their own exceptionality.
Vanity, in such cases, was practically assured, and Meruem had always found vanity to be the easiest of sins to understand, and the most satisfying to exploit.
"But what's a life spent denying oneself?" Meruem continued with disgust. "What's the value of power if it is never used? What is the purpose of desire if it must always be restrained?"
He gestured lightly toward the priest and his entourage.
"They will dress it up in noble language. They speak of duty, of responsibility, of being chosen. But strip it down to its essence, and what do you have? A life spent kneeling. A life spent obeying. A life where your desires, your ambitions, your very identity are secondary to a will that is not your own.
"A life that places a burden upon your shoulders while freeing them of theirs. You are to become their instrument, their weapon, their martyr if necessary. And for what? For a kingdom you will never see. A reward you cannot touch. A future that conveniently comes only after you've given everything you are. Empty promises!"
Meruem could tell that his rhetoric, along with his subtle appeal to Leonardo's ego, was beginning to take effect, evident in the shift of the boy's body language and the way his posture adjusted in response.
"Tell me, Leonardo… have you ever seen a starving man fed by promises alone?" Meruem asked solemnly. "I haven't. And perhaps it's true that the world is besieged by monsters and heretics alike. But ask yourself this, why must you be the one to bear that burden? Why must your life be spent fighting battles chosen by others, for a cause defined by others, under rules imposed by others?"
"Y-you…" The priest's voice shook as he stared at him. "You are him… the devil! Leonardo, you must not listen to a word he says. He's the prince of lies."
"It's not your turn to speak, Reverend," Leonardo replied, his tone firm and unyielding. "I will make my own choices."
"Well said," Meruem smiled approvingly. "You've been given power. Real power. Something that sets you apart from the masses who will live and die without ever leaving a mark on this world. And they want you to waste it. To chain it. To bury it beneath guilt and obligation. To make you believe that wanting more - being more - is somehow wrong."
He spread his hand slightly, as if presenting an unseen horizon.
"My offer is sthis: freedom," Meruem said. "The freedom to do as you please. Wealth enough that you will never know want. Power enough that no one will dare dictate your path. Prestige enough that the very people who would have ordered you to kneel will instead bow their heads in your presence."
"The devil prowls with honeyed words," the priest said, his voice regaining its firmness despite the tension in his frame. "'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' He offers you wealth, power, and freedom… but these are the very chains he would bind you with. The earth is a fleeting kingdom. 'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal… but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.'
"He offers you a throne built on sand, Leonardo. A kingdom of dust and decay. And in exchange, he asks for the only thing of true, eternal value. Your soul."
It was not difficult for Leonardo to recognize that Meruem was attempting to influence him as well, much like the Church had just done, and the boy's hesitation showed that he was not entirely convinced, which was both expected and understandable.
Meruem had no intention of allowing that hesitation to linger.
So, he chose to take a calculated risk. Reverend Emmanuel had introduced himself as an archbishop, and given his apparent authority and the presence of six exorcists guarding him, it was clear that he held a position of considerable importance, likely one assigned to oversee the city of Bologna itself.
A man of such standing would almost certainly be aware of the darker truths buried within the Church.
Then he would know about that.
The darkness beneath their sanctimony.
"Leonardo," Meruem began slowly, his voice calm and serene. "I feel obligated to inform you that the man speaking to you in the name of God is not the righteous servant he claims to be. Less than two years ago, the Church was exposed for crimes of the most grotesque kind, namely the experimentation upon children. Those children were orphans who had come seeking refuge, trusting the Church to shelter and protect them. They were promised safety, compassion, and care.
"Instead, they were drugged, abused, and used as living tools in an attempt to create an army of obedient slave soldiers for ecclesiastical purposes. The man standing before you, Emmanuel, was among those involved in those experiments upon the defenseless. If he was willing to do such things to children under his care, what assurance do you have that he would not do the same to you?"
"Lies!" cried the priest at once. "Lies, lies! The devil seeks to poison your mind and lead you astray."
"Do you deny the existence of the Holy Sword Project, Reverend?" Meruem asked calmly.
The priest faltered, his reaction sealing his fate. The brief widening of his eyes was enough for Meruem to draw his conclusion, and a faint smile touched his lips as he recognized that his assumption had been correct.
Even if the archbishop had no direct involvement, the truth of the matter was secondary. What mattered was the seed of doubt that had now been planted in Leonardo's mind.
Meruem disliked relying on outright lies when manipulating others, for his pride found little pleasure in deception, yet he was practical enough to use whatever tool proved effective.
Besides, it was only half a lie.
"That was a mistake!" the priest cried desperately. "The Church never condoned such acts!"
Behind him, the exorcists tightened their grips upon their weapons.
Hook, line, and sinker, Meruem thought with a quiet, sadistic satisfaction.
"You wanted to experiment on me?!" Leonardo shouted, fury flashing across his face as he made a sharp gesture with one hand.
The shadows beneath the priest and each of the four exorcists convulsed.
From the floor erupted monstrous forms of darkness, hulking abominations stitched from living shadow, each bearing jaws lined with fangs as long and sharp as butcher's knives. Their bodies rose in a blur of black mass and writhing limbs, striking before their victims could even process what was happening.
One monster lunged upward and tore through an exorcist from waist to shoulder as cleanly as a blade through butter.
Another snapped its jaws around a woman's torso and severed her nearly in half with a wet crunch of bone.
The priest staggered backward only for the shadow beneath his feet to swell into a maw that split him from groin to throat in a spray of blood.
The remaining two exorcists managed half-drawn swings before clawed limbs impaled them through chest and neck, lifting them from the ground like butchered livestock before casting them aside.
The slaughter lasted only seconds and five corpses struck the floor.
Then the monsters knelt beside the fallen bodies, plunged clawed hands into their chests, tore free the still-warm hearts, and began to feast on the fallen corpse of the holy men.
"Why are they eating them?" Meruem asked curiously.
"Exorcists can use holy power," Leonardo replied casually. "I've been experimenting with different kinds of monsters lately. These are the first versions of my copycat monsters. They gain the abilities of defeated enemies by eating their hearts. Right now they can only keep the power for one use, though. My stamina is kind of shit."
What a twisted child, Meruem thought with amusement.
Still, he had expected worse. To be born with the ability to manifest nightmare creatures through mere thought was enough to distort any mind. To possess such power from childhood, before discipline, empathy, or limits had fully formed, made normal development almost impossible.
Children learned morality through consequence. They learned restraint because they could be punished, corrected, overpowered, or denied.
A child who could kill adults with a gesture learned different lessons entirely.
When one's anger was always stronger than authority, when one's desires could be imposed by force, and when fear belonged only to others, the mind naturally drifted toward a sense of superiority. Rules came to seem like inventions for the weak. Social norms became theater performed by lesser beings. Other people became objects, obstacles, entertainment, or prey.
Power granted too early often stunted the soul.
Fortunately, Meruem had no objection to twisted people serving beneath him. Considering the nature of his ultimate ambitions, excessive tenderness was a greater liability than cruelty.
He had already seen it in Valerie, Kuroka, and even Rossweisse to a lesser degree. Ever since they had witnessed how he dealt with rebels, they regarded certain methods of his with unease. They called it needless brutality.
He preferred subordinates less burdened by such sentiments.
"How did you get the information?" Leonardo asked suddenly, meeting his gaze with renewed interest.
"Information?" Meruem repeated, mildly curious.
"I doubt the Church would publicly announce their own failures," Leonardo said, watching him like an eagle studying prey. "How did a devil like you know what happened inside the Church? How did you know Reverend Emmanuel was involved?"
"He wasn't," Meruem said with a smile. "I never laid eyes on the man before today. Never even heard of him."
There was a strange silence at that. Leonardo stared at him in open shock. Then he burst into laughter, he laughed so hard that he bent forward clutching his stomach, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
The boy was deeply warped. He had just learned that he murdered a good priest over a false accusation delivered by a devil, and his response was to laugh like it was the funniest joke ever.
"You have just killed an archbishop of the Church," Meruem said, amused.
"So what?" Leonardo replied with a sneer. "I'm sure that was what you wanted from the start."
"Maybe," Meruem said casually. "Maybe not. In any case, you will be hunted now. An archbishop is the third highest rank in the Church, and you just butchered one in cold blood."
"I'm not scared of anything," Leonardo declared defiantly.
"You should be," Meruem replied calmly. "The Church is the most powerful organization on Earth. There is nowhere you can run that they cannot eventually reach."
"Do you think I'm weak?" Leonardo said. Behind him, seven monstrous shadow beasts rose from the floor, towering forms of fang, claw, and writhing darkness. "If anyone wants to come after me, let them. My demons will feast on their broken flesh."
The ease with which he spoke of murder made it obvious this was no new habit.
There was a danger in being born superior to one's peers.
When a child was stronger than everyone around him, he began to mistake circumstance for destiny. When no one could challenge him, he mistook inexperience for invincibility. He came to believe himself untouchable, eternal, exempt from the ordinary laws governing lesser lives.
Meruem decided to correct that erroneous belief.
Before Leonardo could register any movement, Meruem was already beside him. One moment there was distance between them, and in the next, Meruem's hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
Leonardo's breath caught as his eyes widened in shock, his gaze darting toward the towering shadow creatures he had summoned, only to find that they had vanished without a trace, erased before they had even fully solidified. The realization settled quickly, and he understood exactly who was responsible.
"You're strong," Meruem said casually. "But you're a large shark stuck in a very small pond, surrounded by creatures too weak to teach you perspective. That has given you a grossly inflated understanding of your own strength. I could kill you before you finish a blink, and there are many equal to me, with many more who far surpass me. The Church possesses exorcists at such levels. Alone, I doubt you would survive a week before they found you and executed you for what you did here."
Leonardo did not respond immediately. Instead, he attempted to summon his creatures again, seeking to break free from Meruem's hold. The effort proved futile. Each formation collapsed before it could take shape, dismantled by a presence he could neither see nor resist.
For the first time, genuine fear flickered within his haughty eyes.
"So that's your angle," Leonardo said, forcing a semblance of calm into his voice.
"I can help you become strong enough that you never need fear them," Meruem said. "Your Sacred Gear is far more powerful than you realize. What you have shown so far is little more than scratching the surface of what it can become. I can teach you to master it. I can guide you toward its true potential. I can place in your hands the kind of power that allows a man to slay gods."
"And what would you want in return?" Leonardo asked, his voice steady despite the tension.
Meruem's expression remained composed as he met the boy's gaze.
"What do you think about becoming a devil?"
…
…
…
A week later
Sheol - The royal castle
Tiamat had kept her word.
Meruem smiled faintly as he finished reading Maerach's message. According to the report, the Dragon King had appeared without warning before the Warden of the Pit, manifested herself in full majesty, declared that she had honored her agreement and that this fact was to be conveyed to Meruem at once, and then vanished immediately without granting so much as a moment for reply or clarification.
It was entirely in character for her to do.
Maerach's message itself had been exceedingly long, beginning with a detailed account of his terror at Tiamat's sudden appearance, followed by several paragraphs attempting to describe the overwhelming pressure of her presence, and concluding with repeated demands that Meruem explain precisely what had occurred and why one of the mightiest of Dragon Kings in existence had appeared solely to deliver him a message.
When Meruem informed him that he had simply made a deal with Tiamat, the man had reportedly been struck speechless and broke into tears.
He had praised Meruem's courage, wisdom, greatness, foresight, and what he described as impossible heroism with such emotional sincerity that Meruem found the entire episode faintly disturbing.
Maerach Redmane was ordinarily composed, efficient, and possessed of enviable self-control. Seeing such a man reduced to grateful sobbing had been deeply unsettling.
After the rather awkward exchange, Meruem had informed him that he would visit personally and explain his broader intentions in detail. He had also ordered him to refrain from spreading rumors that the wound of the Pit had already been closed.
"We are ready to depart, my son," Queen Morena said as she approached his throne. "We are waiting for you."
Queen Morena looked stunning. She wore a tight evening gown of deep burgundy, rich in tone and striking in design, with a halter neckline that framed her shoulders and an open back that revealed smooth skin with calculated elegance.
The garment was composed of layered mesh and fine fabric, lavishly adorned with embroidery, beadwork, and gem-like ornamentation that caught the light with every step. Its fitted bodice shaped itself closely to her form, while the lower portion flowed in a subtly sheer cascade that moved with graceful softness. The waist had been sharply contoured, emphasizing an hourglass silhouette that was impossible to ignore.
He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight.
The dress revealed far more skin than the extravagant attire she usually favored, though he had to admit that she understood perfectly how to dress for an occasion.
And this was indeed an occasion.
House Beleth's greatest curse, so the experts of the Underworld had long called it.
They claimed the wound in the Eye of the Pit would become the slow death of House Beleth unless they swallowed their pride and offered portions of the territory to rival Pillar Houses in exchange for aid in clearing it.
It was widely believed that unless the Satans personally intervened, House Beleth had no meaningful chance of surviving Tiamat's curse.
The mediocre often declared anything beyond their own abilities to be impossible. Such was the common mentality of lesser devils.
And now the day had come when that very curse had been lifted, and Beleth had no need to kneel, bargain, or beg before those who styled themselves his equals.
As befitted such an event, though the news had not yet spread beyond controlled circles, Meruem had summoned the members of House Beleth so that they might witness with their own eyes the end of the affliction that had burdened their bloodline for generations.
Their expressions when he told them had been priceless.
They had been unable to imagine how he could have accomplished such a feat. The idea that he had personally approached the strongest of the Dragon Kings, negotiated with her, and somehow persuaded her to withdraw her wrath had seemed absurd to them.
Negotiating with a dragon was akin to persuading a waterfall to rise upward rather than descend.
Their faces had been masks of disbelief and incredulity, which Meruem considered somewhat unfair given the accomplishments they had already witnessed from him.
Compared to several other things he had done, making a deal with Tiamat had been a relatively straightforward matter.
Still, he had no desire to dispel the mystique surrounding it. Let them think him greater than they understood, that would only serve him.
"Very well," he said, rising from his throne and walking toward his mother. He offered her his hand. "Then, Mother, shall we?"
"Gladly, my king," she replied as she took his arm, pressing herself against it so that her ample chest rested deliberately against him. She smiled with visible satisfaction. "If I may ask one thing, could we walk slowly?"
"Something on your mind?" he asked, indulging the request. The throne room was large enough that a full conversation could be had before reaching the great doors.
"Must there be?" she asked playfully. "Perhaps I simply wish to spend a little longer beside my son."
"Perhaps," he said calmly. "But you can do that anytime you want. I always have time for my mother."
"That doesn't seem to be the case nowadays," she said softly.
"So there is something on your mind," he said with amusement.
"It is only that things have been moving quickly," she replied, hesitating slightly. "Too quickly for my liking. So much has happened in such a short span of time that I find myself wondering if any of it is real, or if I am simply dreaming."
"That's the effect I was going for," Meruem said softly. "I imagine all lords of hell share your feelings."
"But I am your mother," she said, her voice faltering with emotion. "I shouldn't be learning about my son's true capabilities at the same time as strangers. When I saw you fly toward the Demoness of Ruin, I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. I wept for you as though I were watching you walk toward your own death. I was terrified, Meruem. Satan below, Meruem, I truly believed I was going to lose you forever."
Meruem did not interrupt her. In some measure, he understood where her feelings came from. He had always enjoyed keeping others uncertain, never revealing the full extent of himself, preserving an atmosphere of mystery and unpredictability.
He did not know whether this instinct came from vanity, from caution, or from some fear that if people fully understood him they would cease to be fascinated by him. Whatever the cause, he enjoyed it.
Yet that same secrecy clearly burdened those who cared for him.
"I have been feeling like a failure," she continued. "It's said that no one knows a son better than his mother, yet that is plainly untrue in my case. I have received congratulations from many, some even teasing that I was clever to conceal your strength so well. I laughed with them, because what else could I do? In truth, I knew no more of my son than the strangers offering me praise. When you flew to face Dimora, I had already abandoned hope of seeing you return alive. I thought to myself, there goes your son, your jewel, dying pointlessly while you remain here powerless and useless. That was all I could think."
"But I did not die," he said calmly.
"That's not the point," she replied, her voice rising slightly.
"Then what's the point, Mother?" he asked, turning his gaze toward her. "What is it that troubles you?"
She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself. "Meruem, do you not trust me?" she asked, her voice trembling faintly.
"Of course I do," he answered softly.
And he meant it. He trusted his mother to a significant degree, perhaps more so than any other person in this world. He knew she would never willingly betray him, and he had not forgotten the efforts she had made to secure his pardon.
"Then why must I learn of your capabilities alongside strangers?" she asked, holding back a storm of emotion. "I lived under the same roof as you every day for the last two years, and during all that time I had no idea what your true power might be. Such things are hidden only when one wishes them hidden."
"I see," Meruem said evenly. "So this is about me not telling you how powerful I had become."
"No," she replied. "This is about you not trusting me. Why did you feel the need to hide it from me, your own mother? I didn't require every detail of how you gained such power so quickly. That's your secret to keep, and I would not demand it of you. But couldn't you have, at least, told me before you chose to fight Dimora Bael? I believed you were going to die."
"It seems you didn't have enough faith, Mother," he said, attempting humor.
The conversation had turned in a direction he had not anticipated, and he found little comfort in navigating such emotional ground.
"This is not the time for jokes, Meruem," she said, frowning.
What exactly was he meant to say?
It was not as though he had hidden things out of malice. At the beginning, he had not known how much he could trust anyone, including her. He had been reborn in Hell as a devil for Satan's sake, in a world that had once existed only as fiction in his memory. Under such circumstances, caution had seemed the only sensible path.
He had kept his cards close, revealed little, and guarded every advantage, lest some careless mistake expose a weakness that another might exploit.
"I guess," he said at last, stopping just short of the great doors, "I didn't think it was that much of a big deal."
"You are my son," she said, meeting his eyes. "Everything about you is a big deal to me, especially your safety. I just..." She exhaled deeply. "I only wish things could return to how they once were. Before all of this. Before your exile. You used to trust me. You used to depend on me."
"I still trust you," he said softly. "That hasn't changed, nor will it. Yet I'm not the same person I was two years ago. I can't remain your little boy forever. I must grow, and become the king I was meant to be."
She looked at him in silence for several moments, studying him with the quiet instinct of a mother who sensed more than words revealed.
"I suppose that's true," she said at last. "How ironic. I once resented my own mother for being so overbearing, and now I'm becoming just like her. I-I …I only want you to know that if you ever need someone to speak with, to vent to, or even to sit beside in silence, I will always be there for you."
"I know, Mother," he said, smiling softly. "Now we must do something about that frown. It doesn't belong on a face so lovely. Especially one dressed so beautifully."
"Do you like it?" she asked, her smile slowly returning. "I wore it especially for you."
He raised an eyebrow slightly at the emphasis, though he chose not to comment upon it.
"You look breathtaking," Meruem said smoothly as they walked out of the throne room together.
"Welcome to Scarhold, Your Majesty!"
Maerach bowed deeply before him, holding his sword in both hands in a formal gesture of offering and respect.
"Arise, Maerach," Meruem said casually, stepping forward and embracing the man as soon as he rose. "It's good to see you again."
"The feeling is mutual, Your Majesty," Maerach replied softly, a warm smile forming across his face. "It hasn't been long since our last meeting, yet it feels as though an age has passed with all that has occurred in that time."
Maerach then turned and offered a respectful bow to the rest of the Beleth household, all of whom had arrived in full regalia, dressed in their finest attire. His sister Herodias and Athaliah stood out in particular, each presenting herself with striking elegance.
Herodias wore a delicate silver headpiece resting across her forehead, signifying her status as a princess, along with an elegant statement necklace and finely crafted arm jewelry. Her dark blue fitted dress was richly adorned with layered chains, beads, and jewels that cascaded over the bodice in intricate patterns, catching the light with every subtle movement.
Athaliah wore a darker, more daring ensemble, a midriff-baring outfit with a structured upper piece that wrapped around her chest and neck. Like her sister, she was heavily adorned with jewelry that draped across her bodice and shoulders in complex ornamental layers.
Her arms were covered in matching decorative pieces and bracelets, all embedded with dangling embellishments that shimmered as she moved. Around her hips rested a belt-like arrangement of intricate ornaments that connected seamlessly into the flowing skirt beneath.
Meruem found himself briefly wondering whether his mother and sister were engaged in some silent competition over who could carry the greatest amount of jewelry while revealing the most skin, though the thought quickly passed as he reminded himself that such displays were entirely in line with the nature of devils.
Vanity was woven deeply into their culture, and occasions such as this were opportunities to display wealth, beauty, and status without restraint. Such extravagant ornamentation had become the established fashion trend among nobility.
He himself was dressed no less impressively, clad in an elaborate white and gold ensemble, the long flowing robe adorned with intricate gold trim and ornate patterns, with red and green gem-like accents embedded throughout the chest and fabric.
His brothers wore garments of similar design, each distinguished by their chosen colors. Belathriel was dressed in blue and silver, while Hermon wore a combination of lilac and rose tones that set him apart.
As Maerach completed his greetings with the royal family, Meruem's attention shifted briefly to Belathriel, noting the subtle tension in his posture. The second prince appeared unusually nervous in Maerach's presence, and Meruem found himself wondering whether the man was Belathriel's hero.
"Prince Belathriel," Maerach said with a respectful bow. "Tales of your brilliant campaign have reached even us here. It's an honor to have you grace this place with your presence."
"The honor is mine," Belathriel replied smoothly, accepting the praise with practiced composure. "I grew up hearing stories of your exploits, Lord Maerach. Your words mean a lot."
Maerach continued speaking with Belathriel for a short while, and then with Hermon as well, before finally turning his attention back to Meruem. The exchange had been brief enough to remain within the bounds of etiquette, ensuring that the king was not kept waiting unnecessarily.
"Your Majesty," Maerach said, focusing on him. "I have assembled every soldier stationed here, as you commanded."
Meruem's gaze shifted outward toward the gathered formation. Thousands of soldiers stood assembled across the vast expanse of Scarhold.
At once, as if moved by a single will, they dropped to one knee in perfect unison. The sound of armored bodies striking the ground echoed across the chamber like a single thunderclap, reverberating through stone and steel in a unified impact that spoke of discipline forged over centuries.
"At ease soldiers," Meruem said smiling. They rose at once, disciplined as a single body, though none dared lift their gaze fully to him.
And thus spoke Meruem.
"It was one thousand years ago that this portal first opened," he said. "My great-grandfather, in his arrogance, trespassed where no mortal was meant to tread. And for that hubris, the world was torn. From that wound came horrors without number. Beasts of fang and venom. Creatures of madness and fire. Legions that knew neither mercy nor fatigue and our realm burned.
"And so my grandfather decreed that an order be founded - drawn from the bravest, the strongest, the most steadfast among us. Men and women who would abandon comfort, family, and peace to stand eternal watch at the mouth of ruin."
His gaze swept across them.
"That order stands before me now. For close to a millennia you have held this line. Here you have bled side by side. Eaten beside one another in smoke and ash. Laughed in the shadow of death. Buried brothers and sisters with your own hands. You have screamed in agony, rejoiced in survival, cursed the darkness, hated the enemy, endured wounds of flesh and spirit alike. And above all else…you protected. You protected those who would never know your names. You protected children yet unborn. You protected fields you would never till, cities you would never see, and futures you would never claim for yourselves."
"Well. Today, I bring glorious news. Your vigil is over. The wrath of Tiamat has come to pass, and the war for which you were forged is no more. History will perhaps not remember each of your names. But know this: while others ruled in comfort, it was you who held the world together."
The first signs of emotion broke through the formation.
Some soldiers stood rigid, unable to process what they had just heard. Others lowered their heads as trembling spread through their bodies. Then came the tears, silent at first, then openly, as decades of exhaustion, duty, and restraint finally found release.
"So hear me now, guardians of the Pit," Meruem said, his voice rising. "Lay down the burden of a thousand years and return to your homes. Embrace the families who thought they had lost you. And when they ask who saved the realm. Tell them it was the phantom legion."
A wave of sound broke across the ranks.Cries of disbelief gave way to laughter, to shouting, to weeping. Soldiers embraced one another openly, some falling to their knees in relief, others gripping their comrades as though afraid they might wake from a dream.
Armor clattered as discipline gave way to joy, and the air filled with voices calling out, thanking, praising, celebrating. Some spoke of returning home, others of loved ones long thought lost, and many simply laughed, overwhelmed by the sudden freedom that had been denied to them for so long.
Gradually, as the initial surge of emotion settled, Maerach stepped forward once more to address them. His voice carried the steady authority of a commander who had stood among them for years.
He spoke of their shared hardships, of the honor it had been to stand beside warriors of such resolve, of the unbreakable bonds forged in battle and hardship. He praised their endurance, their loyalty, and their unwavering commitment to a cause greater than themselves, reminding them that their legacy would endure in the world they had preserved.
When he had finished, he turned back toward Meruem.
"And it would not have been possible without our great king," Maerach said clearly. "It was he who went to Tiamat herself and wrested salvation from the jaws of the Dragon King. Long live the king."
"Long live the king."
"Long live the king."
"Long live the king."
The chant spread rapidly, voices rising together in unison until the earth trembled with the force of it. The soldiers struck their chests, raised their weapons, and shouted with unrestrained fervor, their voices echoing against the stone as they repeated the cry again and again, their loyalty and gratitude resounding throughout Scarhold.
…
…
…
"Well you've won yourself an eternally loyal legion of warriors," Hermon said with a faint smile once the soldiers had been dismissed.
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Maerach added, still smiling. "Your speech was well delivered."
"It felt appropriate for the occasion," Meruem said calmly. "These people have spent their lives risking everything to protect my kingdom. They deserved recognition for their sacrifice and acknowledgment for their service."
"And they will not forget it," Maerach replied. "Soldiers are accustomed to receiving nothing from their lords, not even gratitude for a task completed well. At best, a handful of high-class devils receive acknowledgment, while the thousands of low and middle class soldiers receive nothing despite risking their lives without hesitation. For their king to descend personally, address them directly, and speak to them as you did, Sire, is the highest honor they could ever receive."
The Underworld was deeply hierarchical, a society in which the weak were expected to serve the strong without expecting anything in return.
Nobles, being overwhelmingly more powerful than their subordinates, had little need to seek approval or loyalty through gestures of goodwill, unlike human rulers who relied upon the support of their people to maintain legitimacy.
Power itself was often considered sufficient justification.
For Meruem, offering recognition cost nothing. It was a calculated investment rather than an act of sentiment. He would need soldiers for the wars to come.
It was always preferable when men marched willingly toward death and thanked you for the privilege.
They moved together toward the portal that led to the Eye of the Pit, and one by one, his family and his peerage followed him through, with Maerach accompanying them as well.
The time had come to advance into the next stage of his plan.
Rossweisse, Kuroka, and Valerie stood just behind the royal family in accordance with proper decorum, each dressed suitably for the occasion, though their attire remained more restrained when compared to the extravagant display of his mother and sisters.
Meruem's attention shifted briefly to the newest addition to his peerage. Leonardo stood observing the vast pocket dimension with a lazy curiosity, his gaze sweeping across the unnatural expanse with interest.
Recruiting Leonardo had not been part of his original plan. He had assumed it would require an excessive number of Evil Pieces to reincarnate someone who wielded the Annihilation Maker. The Boosted Gear had required eight Pawn Pieces, and it was considered a mid-ranking Longinus. The Annihilation Maker, by comparison, stood among the strongest, if not the strongest of all Longinus, and Meruem had no intention of exhausting his entire set of pieces on a single individual.
However, the [King Piece] he had taken from Dimora Bael had changed everything.
The [King Piece] possessed a unique property, allowing it to amplify the power of its user by a factor ranging anywhere from tenfold to one hundredfold, depending on compatibility and capacity.
In theory, it could elevate a High-Class devil to the realm of Ultimate-Class if used to its fullest extent. It would have been an obvious choice for Meruem to use it on himself to increase his own strength exponentially.
There were, however, two critical limitations that prevented him from doing so. The first being the inherent instability and risk associated with its use, since if the King Piece was applied to a being already too powerful or to one possessing an unstable or highly unique ability, an overload phenomenon could occur that would result in catastrophic backlash, potentially endangering or outright destroying the user.
All known successful users of the King Piece, including Roygun Belphegor, Bedeze Abaddon, and Dimora Bael himself, had only ever been at the peak of High-Class when they used it, and through its amplification they had breached into Ultimate-Class, whereas there existed no verified case of an already Ultimate-Class devil successfully using it to become more powerful.
Had they already been ultimate-class when attempting it, they would likely have exploded. There was no such thing as a flawless path to greater power, especially one granted by tools. Every shortcut extracted payment somewhere.
If such a method were safe at every level, then Zekram Bael would have already used it upon himself to reach the level of a Satan-class. At the very least, he would have distributed it among other Ultimate-Class members of House Bael to secure unrivaled dominance.
The fact that he had not done so was evidence enough of the danger involved.
The second reason was more personal. Meruem had no desire to become dependent on external sources of strength. It was also the same reason he rejected the idea of relying upon Sacred Gears despite their immense potential.
Any power derived from a tool inherently remained conditional upon possession of that tool, and anything that could be taken could eventually be lost, leaving its wielder stripped of the very foundation of their strength.
Meruem rejected such fragility. He intended to build power that was entirely his own, something that could not be taken from him under any circumstance.
Instead, he chose to explore the King Piece's potential in a different manner. His initial thought had been to give it to a member of his peerage or perhaps to his brother Belathriel, though he ultimately discarded that idea.
The true value of the King Piece lay in its ability to amplify power on a fundamental level, increasing output and capacity simultaneously. This property extended beyond simple augmentation and opened the possibility of altering other systems entirely.
Evil Pieces, by design, were bound to the power of their king. The number of pieces required to reincarnate an individual depended on the difference between the king's capacity and the strength of the target.
A weaker king would require multiple pieces to reincarnate a powerful individual, while someone like Meruem could achieve the same result with far fewer.
However, Mutation Pieces existed as an anomaly within this system. A Mutation Piece could replace multiple standard pieces, allowing a single piece to accomplish what would normally require several. They functioned as an exception to the established rules, an irregularity that defied consistent explanation.
Even Ajuka Beelzebub, the creator of the Evil Piece system, had never publicly clarified the origin of Mutation Pieces. Numerous research groups and guilds had attempted to study their occurrence, searching for patterns or conditions that would explain their formation, yet none had succeeded.
Some scholars believed Ajuka remained silent because he wished the knowledge concealed.
That was just nonsense. Ajuka likely did not care enough to explain, and most researchers lacked the tools required to discover the answer themselves.
So he had an idea. What would happen if the amplification function of the King Piece were directed into the Evil Pieces themselves?
Would their properties improve? Would their reincarnation thresholds expand? Would they become something new?
Meruem had tested a theory. By applying the amplification property of the King Piece directly to his Pawn Pieces. The result was interesting.
Each Pawn Piece transformed into a Mutation Piece, their capacity enhanced beyond their original limitations.
The King Piece could effectively generate Mutation Pieces at will. Dimora Bael had delivered him a marvelous gift. Or perhaps the gift had truly come from Zekram Bael.
Either way, he would repay House Bael generously by one day reducing them all to obedient slaves.
With this newfound advantage, he had converted all unused pieces into Mutation Pieces, drastically expanding the range of individuals he could reincarnate. This was the moment Leonardo became indispensable.
The Annihilation Maker could create virtually any kind of monster through nothing more than the user's imagination. Those monsters could be given independent traits and specialized abilities, as demonstrated when Leonardo created creatures that devoured hearts and temporarily inherited the abilities of those they consumed.
In Meruem's judgment, it was among the most absurdly overpowered Sacred Gears in existence, perhaps superior even to the True Longinus depending on application.
Leonardo would allow him to clear the first circle of the Eye of the Pit without sacrificing a single soldier. The second and third circles contained stranger and more esoteric threats that could be addressed later. The first circle, however, would become the foundation of his agricultural supremacy.
"Leonardo," Meruem said, motioning the boy forward and gesturing toward the vast lands of the first circle. "Do you see these pests infesting my kingdom?"
"Yeah," Leonardo replied calmly.
"I don't want to," Meruem said.
AN: The devil in Christianity is a tempter, someone who corrupts the good and makes the bad even worse. A silver tongue and charm are his weapons, and I hope I was able to convey that through Meruem's interaction with Leonardo.
Speaking of Leonardo, I feel like he is criminally underrated in fanfiction. I rarely see him given the spotlight. Like many members of the Hero Faction, he is fairly devoid of personality in canon, so I had to create one for him. I hope you like my interpretation of the character.
I also feel like the issue with Zekram has gone on long enough, or at least the first part of the conflict has, so we'll be closing it out next chapter and seeing whether Meruem's plan succeeds. After that, we can move on to more exciting things.
Advanced chapters are available on my Patreon, so if you want to read ahead or support me so I can focus more on writing, check out my Patreon: https://patreon.com/abeltargaryen?