“Mother, I'm back,” Saiororg spoke softly to the asleep form of his mother. He knew she couldn't hear him, that the woman that was the centre of his world wasn’t really there anymore but even then, it felt therapeutic, soothing to his soul.

Nothing, Saiororg Bael knew what it was to be nothing. He knew what was to have nothing. He knew what it was to lose everything, to see how the world turned uncaring as things that made sense all of his life stopped abruptly.

Saiororg Bael knew what it was to be powerless. He knew what it was to be alone, fighting, hoping for a future he could only dream of, that he never thought was possible to reach.

He had been the first son of the lord of the Bael clan, the direct grandson of the Archdaemon Zekram Bael yet he had been born nothing, he had been born with nothing but scorn and disdain directed at him.

He remembered the first memory he had of his father. It was one he hadn't forgotten, had tried to but had been unable to do so. He remembered how his father had said to his mother he wished Saiororg hadn't been, how he wished Saiororg had never existed.

Saiororg had been the heir of the Bael clan, an heir, a Bael without the power of destruction. The only thing he had inherited had been the inherited power of the Vapula bloodline.

If he had been the second son or even been a member of the Vapula clan like his mother was before marrying his father, things would have been alright but it hadn't been the case.

Saiororg was born a disappointment, Saiororg was born weak, the weakest pure-blood devil of his generation.

A Bael without the power of destruction, a Bael that was weak, a Bael that was nothing but a disappointment wasn't a Bael.

He remembered how much he had hoped when he was younger to wake up with the power of destruction, how much he had dreamt of waking up strong.

Maybe if he had been strong, maybe he would have been worthy as the Bael heir in the eyes of his father.

Maybe if he had been strong, his mother would still be there with him. Maybe if he had been born strong, right like Sirzechs, Rias and his brother had been, maybe he would have been worthy of the love of his father.

That had been what he had been thinking for most of his teenage years. Saiororg didn't like to think about those times.

When Magdaran, his younger brother had been born, Saiororg had been happy. He would be a big brother, the best big brother he had thought naively.

Magdaran had been the fuse that lit up all the problems in Saiororg’s life. He had been what his father had always wanted, a pure-blood heir born with the power of destruction.

The moment it had been proven that Magdaran was different from Saiororg, that it wasn't a failure, Saiororg lost everything, his mother and him lost everything.

He was stripped from the mantle of heir of the Bael clan. He was stripped of every one of his privileges, of every one of his rights!

From a prince to a pauper, from a king to nothing. What had hurt the most in that moment hadn't been the decision of his father even though it had stung.

What hurt the most was the fact that his mother and he had been all alone. His mother, his beloved mother gave everything to stay at his side.

She chose to discard luxury, she chose to discard what she was owed, what she was worthy of for him, for Saiororg.

Saiororg was a devil, a being antithetical to light and divinity yet if there was one divine thing he thought was real, one divine thing he wholeheartedly believed in, it was his mother.

They had been exiled by his father in his wrath, in his cruelty. When they had gone, asked for help from their kin, their families, their families, they were refused.

The Vapula clan closed their doors at their coming, Sirzechs Lucifer nee Gremory, his cousin that he had loved, that he had thought he could count on said to them he could do nothing, the crimson Lucifer said he couldn't help his own kin when he was the closest thing to the Abrahamic god for the devil faction.

He hadn't been so bad at first. It had been his mother and him against the world. It had sucked but this was alright because they were together.

Through the use of devil magic, they were able to construct for themselves a decent home for the two of them. It wasn't the Bael castle, far from it but it had been home.

His mother stayed at his side, her constant love and understanding a fixture of his life. She was there when he was angry. She was the one wiping out his tears after he cried. She was the one to always tell him that he was more than what others thought he was, she was the one to always say that he wasn't a disappointment, that he was a gift, her gift.

With time and her love, Saiororg even was able not to forget but deal so much more easily with losing his birthright, losing contact with those he saw as friends and family.

Saiororg should have known that things were going too well but he had thought that maybe Gehenna would have mercy on him. He should have known better.

One day, he woke up and his mother didn't. He had thought at first that she was only tired, that she was only exhausted and that it had been why she seemed to be endlessly sleeping.

He should have known that something was wrong when she didn't wake up for a week but he hadn't wanted it to be true, he had wanted the new paradise, the new life he had been constructing with his mother to remain untouched.

He tried using his demonic magic, spells taught by his mother to him in case of injuries. It didn't work. He used almost every means he had at his disposal to make her wake up but she still didn't.

This is why even though they had previously refused to help, he went to beg, to kneel at the door of each pillar clan.

At best, they looked at him with pity and said they were unable to help him. At worst, they laughed and mocked him before brutalizing him.

Saiororg had been weak in every sense. He had known and they had too. Even then, he continued. What was pride, what was pain, what was humiliation before the love he had for his mother?

Hopeless, full of despair, he went back to a last visit. He begged again his cousin. He had seen pity and sadness in the eyes of Sirzechs. Sirzechs had refused to help him.

When he had left dejected, he hadn’t known at that moment that his pleas weren't unheard, not answered.

He came back to the Satan Beelzebub standing before his house. The Satan had told him that he wasn’t supposed to be there, that officially, he wasn't, that he only was because Sirzechs, Saiororg’s cousin had begged him to do so.

The sleeping sickness had been the diagnosis of the Demon King. The body of Saiororg’s mom was nothing but an empty shell.

Her soul had left, lost, trapped, imprisoned in the dreamlands, the realm of the lord of Dreams, the realm of Great Red, the realm of Dream of the Endless.

Putting back her soul was something impossible, that couldn't done the Satan had said because of the risks, of the possible consequences that could befall devil-kind due to the possible anger of the Dream Lord.

The only persons who could allow such an incursion, who could allow such follies were ultimate class heirs or lords of the most royals clan of the Ars Goetia like the Bael clan.

The Satan had said in other words that if Saiororg had wanted to have the possibility of saving his mother, he needed to be strong, he needed to take back what had been taken from him. He only had two choices. Do nothing and lose his last ray of light in his life or grow strong enough to save the one that had always been at his side, that had always loved him unconditionally.

There was no true choice other than fighting against fate, than getting stronger. It didn't matter that it was a disappointment. It didn't matter to him that he wasn't born right or strong enough.

If Saiororg Bael wasn't strong enough, he would simply become so, he would become so strong that with his fists, he would decide his fate, that with his own fists, he would fight and win against those that were deemed worthy, that was deemed perfect.

He went through the most dangerous places of the Underworld he could reach to grow stronger. He trained by battling against malevolent spirits, hell beasts and other devils.

In the beginning, he lost, he lost a lot but each loss made him stronger, each loss taught him a lesson, each loss brought him closer to death and it was by threading through the thin needle between life and Death that Saiororg became extraordinary.

He gained, unlocked a power most devils didn't have, couldn't reach even if they wanted to. Saiororg unlocked Touki and with it, his growth exploded.

He fought and fought endlessly. He had promised himself that his hands would be the ones to defy fate.

Through his difficulties, through everything the world threw at him, Saiororg Bael soldiered on. Death was losing. Losing was stopping going forward. Death was hesitating and Saiororg Bael didn't hesitate.

He trained, fought and bled until his fists could crush stones, could crush mountains until they could pierce the Heavens themselves.

When he found himself unable to find opponents that would make him grow stronger, he left the underworld for other more dangerous realms.

He went and learnt for Bodivashta willing to teach him and those who didn't wish to do so, who saw him as lesser, Saiororg proved them the errors of their ways through his fists.

Though his trials, through his trials, he found likely-minded people like him, people who were outcasts, seen as too different, too lesser. Together, they pushed each other to greater heights.

Together, they pushed the supposed impossible limits they were shackled with. They became a family.

Through them, Saiororg realized how little he understood, how little he saw, how little his objectives other than saving his mother were.

Sairorg had wanted to be a part of, at the top of the wretched system that allowed, that made him lose everything. He had been shortsighted but his new family, his friends made him understand something.

The true enemy of Saiororg wasn't his father or the clans of the Ars Goetia in themselves. Saiororg's true enemy all this time had been the wretched system of privilege, of cruelty afforded and supported by the strongest beings of their kind.

Saiororg vowed to destroy this system, to create another one, a better one, one where children wouldn’t have to beg so that their mother could be helped, one where the weakest wouldn't be crushed by the strongest. He vowed to do what Sirzechs Lucifer had been unable to do, truly change devil-kind.

The day Saiororg saw himself ready, he went back to the Bael estate, which had been his home but clearly wasn't anymore.

One of the good things about his banishment was one lesson he learned. Home wasn’t a place. Home wasn't a manor made of things, even God-kings would be jealous of.

Home didn't have to be a place even though it could be. Home was being surrounded by the people who loved you, and cared about you.

When his fists crashed against the raw power of destruction of Magdaran, his brother, Saiororg didn't feel hatred. He didn't feel anger. He just felt content because Saiororg knew he would always win as long as he believed in himself.

He won against his brother, against the power of destruction, his only weapons his fists and his will.

He had seen how angry his father had become, how incensed the older devil had been. Saiororg could understand why. He was the proof that everything his father believed in was false.

The cousins of Saiororg weren't stronger because they were simply born more lucky. They were strong because, unlike his father who thought that stars couldn’t be moved, the members of the Gremory clan were ones who would set themselves happily ablaze for the happiness of their loved ones.

Saiororg had won and became the heir of the Bael clan. He knew and he knew his father knew that the only reason why Saiororg hadn't defied him was because he hadn’t wanted to possibly occur the ire of his grandfather, the Archdaemon Bael.

By winning, Saiororg gained back everything that originally was his. All those that had been laughing, that had seen as lesser, that had ignored him now travelled at his feet.

Saiororg had shown them that he was strong, strong enough to go and win against concepts like inevitability or tradition.

With the reinstatement of his status as heir of the Bael clan, he gained access to the evil pieces that were only afforded to high-class devils.

He ignored the demands, he ignored the begging of those who wished to be a part of his peerage. The Bael clan was the strongest clan of the Ars Goetia. Just being a part of the peerage of the current heir and future lord was something as if not more prestigious than being the head of a minor pure-blood devil clan of the Ars Goetia.

Those devils who had been grovelling weren't worthy enough. Saiororg didn't trust them. They were snakes, only wanting to be at his side now that he had shown himself powerful.

The only ones he could have chosen as the members of his peerage were the members of the new family he had created, those who had been with him at his lowest.

Saiororg almost had everything he wished he could have. There were only two things left. His dream of changing the Underworld and his mother.

Saiororg wasn't yet an ultimate class devil but he could feel that with each day that passed, he came closer and closer to breaching the threshold.

Soon, he’ll be able to save his mother, soon, Saiororg will have everything he ever wished yet he felt unease stir in his heart.

He should be happy, hopeful yet a dark cloud stopped him from doing so.

“A soul for your thoughts?” a regal voice said at his side, at his side when he hadn’t felt anyone coming closer.

Someone that he hadn't been able to sense who was over the defenceless body of his mother!

Instinctually, his body moved, his fists coated in Touki directed to crush against the possible menace.

His fist met skin and for the first time since his childhood, Saiororg Bael’s fist failed him. His eyes widened and shock ran through him when he recognized who he had tried to hurt and had failed to do so.

Zekram Bael, the original Bael, a son of Lucifer and Lilith, one of the last remaining Archdemons and Saiororg grandfather.

The gaze of the Archdaemon was fixed on the prone body of his mother and Saiororg felt dread. He removed his fist from the face of the Archdaemon.

One day, he knew he would be strong enough to crush him but today wasn't this day. Saiororg couldn't act recklessly when his mother was still there. The fact that the Archdemon hadn't decided to retaliate was the only reason Saiororg hadn’t tried to escape no matter how futile his attempt would have been.

“Do you know that I hate most of the things this era?” the patriarch of the Bael clan spoke. “I hate how my creators and most of my siblings are gone. I hate how weak our race has become. I hate how prideful most of you, devils are when y’all are nothing.”

The Archdaemon turned his head to look at Saiororg. His amethyst eyes had faded, being swallowed along with his scleras by pure darkness. “I hate the fact I haven't killed yet your father. He is nothing but a disappointment. He is a failure in almost every aspect except one. Do you know which one child?”

“No honoured grandfather,” Saiororg replied with all the calm he could muster while still looking at the abyss in the eyes of his ancestor.

A dark chuckle escaped from the lips of the old Archdaemon. The words of the Archdaemom felt like a blade in his heart “You, child. You are the only thing he did right.”

What? Saiororg? The greatest thing his father had done, him, the only reason why the Bael Patriarch hadn't killed Saiororg’s father. Saiororg wasn't the smartest but he knew how to recognize an attempt at manipulation. What made him wary was that it came from an Archdaemon.

“Your words go directly to my heart, honoured ancestor but such I'm sure that such an illustrious being like you has reasons to interact with me.”

In other words, cut the bullshit. What are you truly here right now? What can I do so that you can fuck off somewhere else?

A smile bloomed on the handsome face of the Lilim, it wasn’t a pretty or kind one. “Your sperm donor knows what you truly want. He knows the deepest desire of your heart. Do you honestly think that he wouldn't try to ruin everything for you?”

“Ruin everything? I only need the other pages of the readings of the Dreamlands.” Saiororg’s eyes widened in realization and anger erupted in him like a volcano.

Of course! Of course! How could he have been so stupid?! His father more than being a bad father was a petty man.

The devil hadn't hesitated to ban his wide and strip the title of lady of the Bael clan from her because she had chosen to stay at Saiororg’s side. Of course, the devil as his last fuck you would destroy important pages about the dreamlands that would help him save his mother.

“I should have killed you!” Saiororg hissed.

“Yes, you should have,” his grandfather simply agreed.

Saiororg’s gaze turned toward his mother. The anger bled out to be replaced by emptiness. He had been so close, so close to saving her. “Is this why you're here?” Saiororg spoke softly, “To bask in my pain?” he asked the Archdaemon.

“Tried it so many times when I was younger. It gets boring after a while. No, I am not here for that. There’ll be a tournament,” the Archdaemon announced “One where pure-blood devils under five hundred years will fight against each other. The losers will be forcefully conscripted for the coming war.”

Saiororg listened as the Archdaemon continued to prattle about the tournament and how it would be organized. He should have been more attentive, cared more. It could make sure that his Peerage survived the coming war but the devouring emptiness he felt made it impossible to care, to think about anything else than the fact he failed his mother.

“I'm sure you're going to like my following words,” he heard the voice of the Archdaemon say.

“The three champions will be able to ask for any wish, any wish that’ll be granted. Maybe a wish-like means of making a mother come back?”

The head of Saiororg moved so fast in the direction of his grandfather that if he had been human, he would have lopped his head off “Could a wish help me bring my mother back?” the young devil asked. He knew his voice felt too raw, too desperate but he didn't care.

The Archdaemon Bael presented his hand to Saiororg “Who do you think wrote the pages your father destroyed? Fight, win this tournament and I promise you that before we enter into a full-blown war, you'll have your mother back.”

Making a pact with an Archdaemon was foolishness at its worst Saiororg knew but for his mother, the one who gave up everything for him he would sacrifice everything that made Saiororg Bael. Things hadn’t really changed. The only choice Saiororg had left was to be strong, to pave a way with his fists.