Sirzechs gave a subtle, proud smile. "With pleasure, Your Majesty. His effectiveness and commitment throughout the operation were truly unmatched."
The main doors to the Throne Room soon swung open again, and the figure who entered was immediately recognizable and commanding.
It was Sairaorg Bael.
Sairaorg, the young Devil renowned for his monstrous power, iron discipline, and fierce pride, strode into the room, his powerful physique radiating a controlled strength. He was covered in minor, quickly healing scrapes but stood tall and resolute.
Algernon was visibly surprised.
"Sairaorg Bael," Algernon stated, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "I thought you had become Bael House Head."
Sairaorg stopped three paces from the dais and snapped into a rigid, perfect salute.
"Yes, I did, Your Majesty" Sairaorg affirmed, his voice booming with clear conviction. "My coronation was completed two days ago, immediately before the operation commenced."
Algernon remained silent, his gaze fixed intensely on the newly coronated House Head. The faint, light smile that had lingered from his moment with Ingvild vanished completely. His eyes, sharp and calculating, bored into Sairaorg, stripping away the formality.
Algernon's silence stretched, growing heavier in the room. Ingvild, nestled in his lap, shifted slightly, sensing the immense focus.
Finally, Algernon spoke, his voice low, penetrating, and utterly decisive.
"You joined this operation immediately after your coronation. You must be desperate to contribute to the Empire. That means you need military merits for something. And by something, it must be a something you need from me, the Demon Emperor. Am I right?" Algernon paused, his voice dropping further into an accusatory certainty.
"The holder of Regulus Nemea."
The statement detonated in the quiet Throne Room.
The name, Regulus Nemea, was known only to the highest echelons of the supernatural world—it was one of the Longinus, the Thirteen Legendary Sacred Gears, rumored to be hidden and capable of granting the user the strength and defense of the Nemean Lion.
The revelation surprised everyone.
Sirzechs frowned, his gaze snapping to Sairaorg.
Sairaorg's demeanor finally cracked; his confident posture wavered, and his eyes showed genuine astonishment. Sairaorg had never told anyone about it. He had kept this terrifying Sacred Gear a closely guarded secret.
Algernon concluded, his voice unwavering. "Speak your desire, Sairaorg. I do not reward subtlety."
Sairaorg's moment of shock quickly passed, replaced by the indomitable will that defined the Bael House Head. He knew he was caught, but he wouldn't retreat from his purpose. He drew a sharp breath, and his voice, though quieter, resonated with desperate earnestness.
"Your Majesty is correct," Sairaorg admitted, dropping the pretense of purely military duty. "I seek your aid. But what I seek is not for myself, nor for my standing."
Sairaorg's request surprised everyone. He knelt, lowering his proud head before Algernon.
"I ask that you use the same power you used to heal your Knight, Ingvild Leviathan, to heal my mother, Misla Bael, out of her sleeping disease. She has suffered for decades, and the Devil world has no cure."
A collective stir went through the room. Sirzechs watched, his face a complex mixture of respect and sympathy. Valerie, looked on with profound understanding.
Algernon, still resting Ingvild on his lap, still had that light smile on his face.
"Are you sure?" Algernon asked, his tone deceptively casual. "You could ask for anything. Fame - I can make you a Duke, a title for those above everyone and below me. I can grant you command over entire regions. Perhaps my method to become stronger."
Algernon leaned forward slightly, his eyes cold and penetrating. "Let me confirm: You may never get the chance to request anything from me again. The cost of this single wish must be absolute."
Sairaorg remained firm, his kneeling posture unwavering, his commitment absolute.
"Your Majesty," he stated, his voice ringing with the pride of the Lion. "Like I have forged this body of mine from nothing, I can rise in fame and become stronger than anyone else. But my mother, who shielded me from everything and motivated me to become what I am now, is nothing compared to these."
He raised his eyes, fixing Algernon with a look of pure, unadulterated dedication. "The true Bael House is built on duty and honor, not titles. I can offer my house, my power and myself in exchange for my mother's life."
Algernon remained silent for a moment, letting the magnitude of Sairaorg's selfless request settle over the room. He had laid bare the deepest desire of his heart. It was a noble sacrifice, a stark contrast to the greed Algernon usually encountered.
Algernon looked down at Ingvild, nestled in his lap. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Stand up. This negotiation requires my full attention."
Ingvild, understanding the solemnity of the moment, slid off his lap obediently and moved to stand beside Valerie who was glaring daggers at her.
Algernon stood up. He moved slowly down the dais steps, moving toward the kneeling Sairaorg.
As he approached, the very air in the room grew heavy and cold. The casual lightness from his interaction with Ingvild vanished completely, replaced by an oppressive cold atmosphere—the raw, unfiltered presence of Algernon's Law and his terrible power. It pressed down on Sairaorg. The silence was so profound that even Sirzechs unconsciously shifted his posture.
Algernon stopped directly in front of the kneeling Bael. He looked down for a long, measuring moment, scrutinizing the sincerity.
Finally, the crushing tension broke.
Algernon extended his hand toward the kneeling Sairaorg.
"I accept your price, Sairaorg Bael," Algernon stated, his voice a low, final decree. "The Bael House and you are now eternally bound to Athelgard. And your mother, Misla Bael, will awaken."
Sairaorg took a final, deep breath, his strong eyes shining with relief. He reached out and grasped Algernon's hand with the firm, respectful grip.
Algernon, however released the grip.
A heartbeat later, he extended his hand once more—not as a pact, but as acknowledgment.
He pulled Sairaorg Bael up from the floor.
"Rise, Sairaorg Bael," Algernon commanded, his gaze holding genuine respect. "You offered everything—your power, your house, your future—for the sake of your mother. That devotion, that honor… is not a price."
A faint, resolute smile touched Algernon's lips.
"It is the foundation upon which I will build my Empire."
Sairaorg stood tall, the crushing weight of his mother's fate finally lifted from his heart.
Algernon moved toward exit issuing his commands.
"Sairaorg, you will accompany me."
He then glanced over his shoulder, his eyes falling directly on his two newest peerage members.
"Ingvild and Valerie, you too. Follow me"
Ingvild, already standing near the dais, simply gave a quick, determined nod, falling into step behind him. Valerie, who had watched the entire tense interaction with Sairaorg Bael, blinked once to clear her surprise, then hurried after the him.
_______________________________________________________
Algernon and Sairaorg stepped through the teleportation circle materializing in the high-grade medical treatment facility within the Bael ancestral lands.
Lying in the center of the secluded room, on a simple yet elegant bed, was Misla Bael, still deep in the magical slumber. This was where she had remained, shielded and static, throughout Sairaorg's rise.
Sairaorg immediately rushed to his mother's side, his massive frame trembling with anticipation and dread. He could only watch as Algernon approached the bedside.
Algernon looked down at the silent matriarch, then placed one hand lightly over her forehead. Using his Law, he channeled a precise, targeted, and overwhelming surge of life-force and absolute order. He also asked Valerie to use Graal's power to not just counter the magical disease; he eradicated its source entirely and rewrote the underlying physical state of the body.
A brilliant, golden-blue light enveloped Misla Bael for a moment.
When the light receded, she gasped sharply, her eyes snapping open—clear, intelligent, and completely free of the magical exhaustion that had plagued her. She looked around the room, utterly bewildered, before her gaze fixed upon her son.
"Sairaorg... my Lion," she whispered, her voice husky from disuse, yet filled with profound, immediate recognition and love. "You've grown so strong."
Sairaorg, completely overwhelmed, knelt beside the bed, embracing his mother, tears of profound relief and joy finally streaming down his face.
Algernon watched the tender reunion for a brief moment, then turned to leave. As he walked past the kneeling Bael House Head, he paused.
Algernon turned around as he rested his hand on Sairaorg's shoulder. His touch was one of commendation and shared understanding.
"She is the strongest woman I have ever seen," Algernon stated, his voice quiet but intense. "Loving you over herself, she opted to stay with you despite the harsh treatment she received from her husband's family. Showing you not to lose hope despite the entire Underworld judging you for not inheriting the Power of Destruction."
Algernon knelt down beside Sairaorg, lowering his voice further, revealing the final piece of his insight.
"And it was her Vapula family trait you inherited which allows you to tame Regulus Nemea."
Algernon tapped Sairaorg's shoulder lightly. "Never doubt the source of your strength, Sairaorg. Your power is your own, forged by your mother's love and your refusal to quit."
Algernon rose, teleporting Ingvild, Valerie and himself back.
_________________________________________________________
Algernon spent the remainder of the day in a relentless marathon of governance, consolidating the gains from Romania, and finalizing his strategic plan for the Fallen Angels.
Hours blurred into one, and it was deep into the night when he finally settled into his private study. He sat at his imposing desk, surrounded by stacks of diplomatic charters and military documents, reviewing a final charter under the warm glow of a desk lamp.
The door to the study was suddenly pushed open without a knock.
Thinking it must be Rias, Akeno, or one of his peerage members seeking a late-night consultation, he didn't look up.
"I will be finished here in a moment," Algernon stated, his voice slightly weary but carrying its usual commanding edge.
Hearing no reply, Algernon finally looked up, his expression shifting from focused concentration to surprise.
Entering the room was Grayfia Lucifuge, though she was dressed in a manner utterly unlike her usual serious outfits.
She wore a striking outfit that seemed more suited for a secret rendezvous than for official duty.
It was a slinky, form-fitting black garment that resembled a lace-trimmed chemise or nightgown, its delicate silk or chiffon fabric sheer in places. The neckline was off-the-shoulder, emphasizing her collarbones and the black lace trim along the top, which created a deep, alluring cleavage.
The center of the bodice was crisscrossed with ribbon lacing, giving it a corset-like appearance. The long sleeves were sheer and gathered, adding a voluminous but ephemeral look, and the entire silhouette was completed by dark hosiery or tights.
Most notably, a wide-brimmed purple or dark indigo witch's hat sat upon her head, and her renowned silver hair was styled into two thick, low-slung braids, each tied with small blue bows. Grayfia stood there, her light green eyes fixed on Algernon, the unexpected image of seductive power and hidden purpose in his austere study.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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