Gremory Castle, Underworld.

A girl with crimson red hair gazed out of a large window with a solemn look on her face. She stared at the vast and beautiful night sky, filled with shining stars.

‘To think an artificial sky this vast could be replicated like this…’

After her dinner with Chekhov, Rias had used a teleportation formation to travel to the main territory of the Gremory family — located in the Underworld. This world was a well known, large sub-dimension that has many times more land mass than Earth.

The night sky appeared normal, but it had not always been that way. The Four Great Satans, one of whom was Rias’ brother, had cast a joint spell that replicated the entire sky of Earth. It corresponded with day and night cycles, and it even had an artificial moon.

Rias sighed as she gazed at the magnificent lights from the grand castles and towering spires within the Gremory Clan’s main territory. Her eyes, which were a pristine blue-green color, took in the expansive view which extended to the distance where lush, rolling hills could be seen.

‘Facing the hard and cold truth, I’m just a mediocre aristocrat. Some might call me a useless intermediate-stage Devil who piggybacks off my family’s fame and fortune.’

Tears welled up in Rias’ eyes as she reached out and gently touched the windowsill. In the reflection of the window, subconscious images of Kiba and Koneko appeared.

‘To light a candle instead of cursing in the darkness; I can’t place too much attachment on bygones. Whatever’s done cannot be changed.’

A voice from behind her, filled with concern, spoke in a mellow tone, “Rias, you’ve been very quiet and reserved these past few days.”

Rias turned around and glanced at Akeno’s bare figure sitting on the edge of a bed. Her large breasts were exposed, and her knees were tightly squeezed and uplifted as she was changing into her pink underwear.

‘Tsk.’

Ignoring her, Rias walked across the room with a blank and lifeless expression, her steps slow and heavy. She picked up a glass of ice-cold water, the condensation on the outside of the glass contrasting with her warm hands. Taking a deep breath, she drank the water slowly, her eyes staring off into the distance.

As the water flowed down her throat, Rias felt a sensation of revitalization. A small spark of determination ignited within her soul, giving her eyes a new glimmer of hope.

Turning towards a large, gleaming mirror, her elegant white dress adorned with intricate golden embroidery came into view. Rias approached her reflection; her steps were measured and controlled, her hands were clasped firmly behind her back, and her gaze was cold and determined.

‘Hmph, I can’t continue as my old self, living in the shadow of my brother. Either I become an extraordinary figure or embrace death—such is the law of the world. Risks are needed to accomplish great feats.’

After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Rias turned to Akeno with a soft, reassuring smile.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me, focus on your task at hand. Remember that our plans cannot be compromised,” she said in a calm, yet firm tone.

Akeno’s face quickly filled with loyalty, “Okay, Rias, you can count on me!”

Knock—knock—knock.

A dull, persistent knocking sound echoed through the room, interrupting the conversation.

“Lady Rias, the Bael Clan’s young master has arrived and is waiting in the main lounge,” a sweet, melodic voice of a housemaid came from the other side of the door.

Rias responded, “Thank you, please inform him that I will be there shortly.”

Reaching into the wardrobe, she hastily retrieved a Japanese-style dress and presented it to Akeno. It was smooth and silky, with a harmonious blend of pink, white, and silver threading that exuded elegance and sophistication.

“We’ll depart shortly,” Rias sternly spoke as she handed Akeno the dress. “I’d like you to hurry up and put this on.”

Akeno hurriedly wore the dress and followed Rias out with a smile.

A grand corridor, stretching hundreds of meters wide, came into sight. The walls and ceiling were adorned with decorative frescoes, depicting abstract patterns and breathtaking landscapes. As the girls descended a spiraling staircase, the sound of their footsteps echoed off the towering, vaulted ceiling.

“Have you made up your mind about Issei?” Akeno asked.

Rias had a frown on her face as she replied, “He’s not exactly the ideal candidate, but with time and guidance, his personality can be shaped to something that is acceptable. Rebuilding my peerage is a priority, so he’ll have to do for now.”

“So,” Akeno placed a finger on her cheek with a curious stare, “does that mean I should recruit him?”

In response, Rias thoughtfully wove her fingers together. “Actually, assigning this task to Chekhov would be a wise choice. It’s a straightforward and easy job that will help establish his loyalty towards me.”

“Rias, you’re so smart,” Akeno spoke in admiration.

After a couple minutes, the girls reached an open lobby where they were greeted with a lavish display of plush chairs and elegant tables.

A handsome young man, who appeared to be in his early twenties, sat by a wide window that offered a breathtaking view of the artificial white moon.

The young man was tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and a defined musculature. His black hair was neatly styled, and fell to the sides in a sleek, orderly manner. A black t-shirt, composed of a glossy material that shone in the moonlight, fit snugly against his chest and arms. It sharply highlighted the contours of his muscles.

“Cousin Rias!” he displayed a radiant grin and let out a boisterous laugh. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other.”

By the young man's formidable Demonic Aura, it was easy to tell that he was an experienced fighter. His name was Sairaorg Bael — proclaimed as a peerless genius, if not the strongest among the young generation of Devils.

“It certainly has,” Rias replied with a smile. “I’m very glad to see you too.”

She gracefully took a seat across from him, and Akeno followed suit with poise, their gowns shimmering radiantly in the moonlight.

Observing Akeno’s refined manners, the young man also greeted her, “And you must be Miss Akeno — looking beautiful as always.”

She smiled and showed respect by cupping her fists, saying, “You’re very polite, Mr. Sairaorg.”

“I’d say the same to you,” Sairaorg replied with a chuckle. “It’s not a lie that I think both your dresses are amazing.”

Light laughter spread across the table. As the sounds died down, Rias exclaimed, “Cousin Sairaorg, I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

“Hey, I’m happy to help out any family member, especially after some unfortunate events. So, tell me what’s up, what do you need?” Sairaorg asked sincerely.

Rias’ expression fell slightly at the mention of the recent events, “Things have been challenging for us lately, so I was hoping we could catch up and maybe just talk for a while.”

“No problem,” Sairaorg exclaimed with a sense of pride, “I know just what will cheer you up—”

They prattled about old times, with both Rias and Sairaorg bouncing back fond memories of her youth. As the conversation progressed, the group’s speech became more casual toward each other, and they touched on the subject of Demonic Power.

“—so, you want to get stronger?” Sairaorg asked with a curious smile while flexing his fingers.

Rias leaned on the table with her chin in her hand, her gaze directed towards the window.

She replied, “Yeah, I need to work on my hand-to-hand combat skills. They’re not as strong as I want them to be.”

Akeno excitedly suggested, “Why don’t you two have a sparring match to practice?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rias lightly sighed, “there’s no use when my cousin is just going to end up winning in a single move.”

“I disagree,” Sairaorg said, standing up. “I think it’ll give me a good idea of your abilities and where you need to improve. Plus, you can come at me with everything you’ve got.”

“Really, Mr. Battle Maniac?” Rias looked into his eyes with a playful smile, “If you insist, there’s an Artificial Terrain Generator out back that’s 1000 kilometers in length.”

“Alrighty then,” Sairaorg stood up by the window as his muscles rippled in the moonlight, “let’s get going.”

“Huh, now?” Rias questioned in surprise.

“Yeah, when else is the best time to train for us Devils but in the middle of the night?” Sairaorg chuckled.

“I see your point,” Rias agreed, “I don’t mind.”

“Sounds good,” Sairaorg said, as he walked past Akeno and turned to her. “Miss Akeno, would you like to come and watch? Maybe you can pick up some tips.”

Akeno hesitated, rubbing her arm awkwardly. “I actually have some things to take care of back in Japan. So, I’ll have to pass.”

“No problem,” Sairaorg replied. “Looks like it’ll be just you and me then, Rias.”

Rias also stood up, smiling and gesturing to Sairaorg. “After you, cousin.”

Akeno bid them farewell with a cheerful wave as they walked out of the room. Sairaorg looked at the girls with a sense of warmth and contentment, but failed to notice the cunning glint in Rias’s eyes.

With the two of them gone, Akeno was left alone in the large and empty lounge. She stood up, tilting her head and resting her cheek in her hand.

“Oh me, oh my, looks like all things happened as Rias predicted,” she giggled, swaying her body. “Amazing, you surely know well how to handle a man.”

She then leisurely strolled in the opposite direction that Rias had gone.

“But I have other things to attend to now. It’s time for me to have my own fun,” Akeno’s smile turned into a sinister grin.

. . . . .

Gremory Headquarters, Japan.

A blonde-haired girl was lying on the cold, hard brick floor in a dark and isolated cell. The only light came from a candle on an empty wooden shelf. The cell was enclosed on three sides by solid bricks, with the fourth side having a reinforced sliding glass screen.

Rattle, rattle.

The girl’s ankle chain made a metallic noise as she moved in her sleep. Her face was sweaty and her black and white frilly dress was dirty and soiled.

All of a sudden, wrinkles appeared around her nose as she scowled in disgust. Her blue eyes then lifted wide open.

Cough, cough!

She sat upright and clutched her stomach in pain. The scraps that she had been served for dinner had started to take a toll on her health.

She glared and spoke in a hoarse voice, “Ugh, gross, I’m never eating the slop here. I’d rather just starve myself to death,” but her words were cut off by her retching and gagging.

She slowly moved to the edge of the cell, trying to vomit, but after ten minutes passed, she could not. All she felt was a gnawing and searing pain from her intestinal area.

With her cold and thin fingers, she clawed at her metallic collar in a fit of frustration and annoyance.

‘This stupid collar is sealing all my powers! I could totally break out of here if I had even a morsel of my former strength.’

Inwardly snorting with a look of displeasure, Mittelt remembered the face of a peculiar black-haired young man. She had met him once before; the young man’s Slavic facial features and powerful Sacred Gear made him stand out in her mind like a beacon in the night sky.

‘That human b*stard was with the Devils all along…’

With a frown, Mittelt frustratedly rubbed her temples. Things weren’t adding up — Chekhov was seemingly an ignorant and naïve teenager in her eyes.

‘Haahh! Why would Raynare lie to us then!?’

Squeak!

The sudden movement of the sliding glass door pulled Mittelt out of her thoughts. She quickly turned around to see a pink-clad figure entering her cell, holding a long, metallic rod that was nearly a meter in length, with a sharp and jagged point on one end.

Mittelt’s eyes filled with intense fury as she recognized the person in front of her as the one responsible for her current predicament. She wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and tear Akeno apart, but she was too weak to even crawl.

She questioned in a hesitant voice, “What do you want with me…?”

Akeno snickered, a sadistic look on her face with a devilish smile.

Slam!

She kicked Mittelt, slamming her into the hardened brick wall behind her.

Mittelt crumpled to the ground with her back leaning against the wall, clutching her injured ribs with her delicate hands. She rolled her head slightly upward, staring face-first into Akeno’s sinister, creepy grin.

Images of the past flashed through Mittelt’s head, where she was ruthlessly whipping and slicing up the clergy members that Raynare had imprisoned. She snickered in her mind; one might have believed for this to be karma, but Mittelt thought differently. Ever since Mittelt had been cast out of Heaven, she had long been prepared to die herself.

“Hmph!” Mittelt snorted, “If you’re going to be like that, just kill me now or I’ll make you wholly regret it.”

With a tinge of madness, she fiercely started choking out small amounts of blood, “When I see the light of day, I’ll make sure to—”

Akeno’s pink sandal crushed down on her throat, interrupting her speech and momentarily stopping her airflow.

“Ack!” Mittelt desperately tried to shove Akeno’s foot off her neck.

Akeno crossed her arms and scoffed, “Don’t think you’ll be able to get out of this easily. Death will be a blessing for you.”

After almost a minute, Akeno loosened her foot. Mittelt instantly started gasping for air like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Be a submissive little girl if you want me to leave your corpse unscathed,” Akeno’s frisky voice sounded.

As Mittelt regained control of herself, her expression transformed into one of cold, fierce anger. She remained silent, knowing that speaking would only make things worse. Even so, she didn’t want to show an ounce of submissiveness.

‘Sapphic sl*t! Totally the worst types to deal with — they deserve to be genocided and exterminated. If I could, I swear I would slowly flay her skin and rip out each of her organs one by one.’

Akeno prodded Mittelt’s chest with the sharp tip of the metal rod, hoping to urge a response.

“Your pathetic little friends have abandoned you, and multiple arrest warrants have been placed on them. Not to mention that Grigori has stripped your title and rights,” Akeno coldly commented.

Seeing Mittelt’s silent and unresponsive attitude, Akeno’s eyebrows furrowed, and she was dissatisfied. Images of her mother’s death and her hatred for Fallen Angels further fueled her vexation.

“Hmph, truly clueless,” Akeno snorted. She stepped forward, licking her lips.

“You have no idea what this night will bring,” Akeno snickered as she reached out to trace her fingers across Mittelt’s chin.

For almost half an hour, numerous blood-curdling screams echoed throughout the cell. Even so, not a single yelp had made it past the soundproof glass screen.

As the screams eventually came to a halt, Akeno could be seen creepily smiling with Mittelt’s blood stained all around her hands, face, and neck. A pungent and repulsive odor of innards and blood filled the air, but Akeno didn’t seem to mind.

Slurp.

Akeno raised a finger and licked a small amount of blood off her hands while staring at the girl in front of her. Mittelt was still conscious; her body was shivering, and her clothes were almost completely torn as she was lying in a leakage of her own blood.

“Oh me, oh my,” Akeno said in a playful expression. She skillfully spun her metal rod, shaking off bits of dried blood on its tip. “Looks like you’re close to your limit. But don’t worry, when you recover, there’ll be plenty more of where that came from.”

Mittelt laid on the ground with bleak and lifeless eyes as Akeno opened the glass door and left. Her thoughts were jumbled up at the moment, unable to form a single sentence in her head.

A high-pitched ringing noise started blaring through Mittelt’s eardrums. She couldn’t tell if it was from the outside world or her imagination due to the constant pain.

She raised her palms and clutched the sides of her head while shaking it vigorously.

‘F*ck! It hurts, it hurts so much…’

Mittelt couldn’t seem to calm down no matter what she did. She eventually curled herself into a ball. Her teeth were chattering, and she laid motionless with the intent to starve herself to death.

Time slowly and painfully passed by. The room began to give off a rotting, sharp, and metallic odor of dried blood. There was no sunlight, so Mittelt couldn’t tell how long it had been; in her perception it had felt like days or weeks.

Eventually, the sliding glass door opened, and a shadow entered her vision. Mittelt didn’t have enough energy nor the will to look up. But by the outline of the figure, she could tell it was too tall to be Akeno.

Her first guess was that a security guard had come to check-in on her. In the past, she had seen a few guards patrolling the dungeons to check if the Demonic Formations were being maintained properly.

The figure walked a few steps, and then crouched down in front of her. Within her vision, Mittelt could discern a pair of tough, brown leather boots and light, almost pale ankles.

Many of the guards were of eastern European descent, so the skin color didn’t surprise her. However, this behavior was quite unusual, sparking a sudden curiosity within her.

Looking upward, Mittelt’s face was momentarily filled with shock. ‘Him again!?’

Mittelt didn’t have the energy to think much, but the young man’s caramel eyes easily stood out. With a little bit of focus, she could also pick up on his powerful Sacred Gear aura. Beyond a doubt, she could tell that it was Chekhov.

‘Hmph! Why are you here—to mock me? You should be glad that I didn’t sever your throat the first time we met.’

As Mittelt emotionlessly stared upward, it seemed that Chekhov really wasn’t there to mock her. He was closely observing her while his eyes were wide open and slightly teary — he seemed very remorseful and sad.

Mittelt was too deprived and nervous to enunciate a single sound. Hence, they both stood still silently, neither of them saying a word.

It felt like a minute had gone by when Chekhov set his bag down to the side and started rummaging through it. Mittelt warily watched onward, sweat trickling down her cheek as the horrors from Akeno plagued her mind.

‘What’s he going to take out? …Does he have a torture device in there?!?’

In a state of trepidation, Mittelt noticed that Chekhov took out a large, transparent container. With a single glance, Mittelt could discern that the contents inside seemed to be tiny, white cylinders wrapped with a green coating.

‘…Are those sushi rolls?’

With a gentle touch, Chekhov lifted the lid of the container and placed it in front of Mittelt. The crisp and enticing aroma of fresh cucumber and nutty rice wafted through the room and captivated her senses.

Mittelt had gone without food for a while and the meals she had been given had left her feeling ill. Even the simplest sushi roll would have been a feast for her, let alone Chekhov’s expertly prepared dish.

Despite her ravenous hunger, she kept her composure. She looked back at Chekhov with a skeptical and hostile glare, making it clear that she would not accept food from someone as insignificant as him.

Noticing Mittelt’s hostile gaze, Chekhov’s expression became uncertain. Ostensibly, it seemed as if he wanted to speak to her but was afraid of making the girl uncomfortable.

Slowly, Chekhov backed away, his eyes filled with pity as he looked at Mittelt. Eventually, he left the room without a word, and the confrontation ended without any verbal exchange.

‘Hmph! What’s his deal! Isn’t he supposed to be on the Devils’ side? Why would he be so nice to me?’

Mittelt scowled and then inwardly snorted. Even though Chekhov had left, she was not willing to touch the food. But her hunger was growing stronger and stronger by the moment.

Drip, drip.

It wasn’t long before her saliva started dripping from her mouth, out of her control.

‘Don’t be so naïve! What if the sushi is poisoned!?’ Mittelt hesitantly shook her head while laying on the ground.

‘Then again… I’d rather die than be forced through Akeno’s unspeakable acts once again.’

As time passed, Mittelt’s cravings became impossible to resist. She slowly inched forward and picked up a piece of sushi, examining it closely.

Its outer layer was a shiny, dark green seaweed wrap, tightly bound around the filling inside. The filling consisted of plump, white rice and a slice of raw fish, which appeared to be a pinkish-orange color and had a glossy sheen on the surface.

With a sudden burst of emotion, Mittelt devoured the sushi with ravenous hunger. The flavors overwhelmed her senses; the fish was moist and had a delicate sweetness, while the rice was expertly seasoned and had a pleasant chewiness.

As she ate, tears flowed down her face, a mixture of pleasure and gratitude. Her body was filled with a sense of ecstasy and satisfaction.

However, she was also crying with tears of regret. She was once again left alone in the cell, lamenting in her boredom. Refusing to talk to Chekhov, she feared that he would never come back after witnessing her rude and unsightly behavior.

Out of all the Devils and humans in the Gremory Household, Chekhov was the only one who she didn’t have a hatred for.

‘I may not want to admit it, but Mr. Chekhov… you are an alright person.’