The Underworld did not wake up slowly today. There was no groggy morning haze, no gradual rise of activity. It woke up with the electric, hair-raising crackle of a world that smelled blood, scandal, and history in the making.
High above the Gremory territory, the sky had been torn open to accommodate a marvel of demonic engineering. A colossal artificial island floated on pillars of compressed demonic power, ringed by layered barrier fields and obsidian stands that seated thousands. Massive magic circles, etched with the intricate, glowing crest of the Beelzebub family, spun lazily in the air like camera lenses, projecting high-definition feeds to every crystal screen, scrying pool, and holographic display in the Devil realm.
This was the Rating Game arena.
But today's match wasn't just a game to decide a marriage. It was a spectacle. It was a political statement. It was a story being written in real-time.
In the highest tier of the stadium, the VIP platform radiated an atmospheric pressure that made lesser devils struggle to breathe. Four figures sat in regal thrones, their very presence bending the ambient mana around them.
Sirzechs Lucifer sat with a deceptive gentleness, his crimson hair catching the light, though his eyes held the sharpness of a supernova waiting to burst. To his right, Ajuka Beelzebub adjusted his glasses, green eyes scanning data streams invisible to everyone else, formulas cascading through his mind. Falbium Asmodeus looked as though he were half-asleep, yet the gravity around him felt as heavy as a collapsing mountain. And then there was Serafall Leviathan, dressed in enough frills to rival a magical girl anime protagonist, practically vibrating in her seat like a child at a rock concert.
Behind them sat the heavyweights of the 72 Pillars: Lord Gremory, Lord Phenex, and the imposing Zekeram Bael, whose aura carried the dusty, suffocating weight of ancient tradition and arrogance.
In the original timeline—the one Ren Ming remembered from a life lived through a screen—this event had been significant. It was the debut of the Red Dragon Emperor, the struggle of a desperate peerage against an invincible regenerating monster.
But in this timeline? With Ren Ming in the equation? The entire supernatural world was holding its breath.
Rumors of the "Human Cultivator" had spread like a plague. Whispers of a man who killed a God with a single punch, who ignored the laws of magic, who treated the Rating Game like a sidequest. Through Ajuka's broadcasting network, eyes from beyond the Underworld were watching.
The silver halls of Heaven. The technologically advanced shadowed rooms of Grigori. The harsh, icy peaks of Asgard.
In Kyoto, the Nine-Tailed Fox Yasaka watched with intrigued golden eyes. And somewhere in the sun-drenched plains of Takamagahara, Amaterasu sat straight-backed, her gaze burning with the intensity of a solar flare.
Ren could feel that specific gaze—a faint, dry warmth on the back of his neck, like standing in noon sunlight.
"You're nervous," Rias murmured quietly at his side.
Ren stood at the entrance of the VIP tunnel, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his modern trench coat. He huffed a small, easy laugh, shaking his head.
"Not nervous," he corrected, his voice carrying that distinct, relaxed American cadence. "Just... expectant. Important people are watching. Gotta make sure the show is worth the ticket price, right?"
He glanced behind him. Rias and her peerage stood in their custom battle uniforms. Ten days ago, they were high-potential devils with messy foundations, leaking power like cracked pipes.
Now?
They were terrifying.
Rias, Akeno, Asia, Koneko, Issei, and Kiba. Each of them held a condensed Soul Palace within their spiritual sea. It wasn't fully formed—only about 60% solid—but it hummed with a terrifying stability. The Myriad Origin Scripture cycled through their bodies, turning them into closed-loop reactors.
In DxD terms, they had vaulted firmly into the High Ultimate Class. But in terms of presence, they felt like ancient boulders amidst a stream of water—immovable, dense, and profound.
They were no longer just talented kids. They were cultivators. They were Ren's disciples.
Ren rolled his shoulders, the motion loose and casual. "Alright, team. Showtime."
Grayfia Lucifuge, the strongest Queen, stood at the door to the box. Her maid uniform was immaculate, her silver hair braided into a severe coronet. She was the picture of stoic perfection, but as her eyes slid from Rias's peerage to Ren, there was a microscopic pause. A glitch in her composure.
"Rias-sama. Ren-sama," she said, inclining her head. "Everyone is seated. Please."
Ren flashed a grin that was all casual charm, completely ignoring the tension in the air. "Morning, Grayfia. Hope the coffee in the VIP section is decent. I didn't have time to grab a cup on the way out."
"It is... satisfactory," she replied, blinking once.
They stepped into the light.
Every head in the VIP box turned.
Rias led the formation. Her posture was regal, but the aura around her had changed fundamentally. The famous Power of Destruction usually leaked from her in erratic sparks of crimson. Now? It was compressed, silent, and terrifyingly dense—like a star forced into the shape of a girl.
Behind her, Kiba moved with a fluid, predatory grace. Every step he took felt like a deliberate cut in reality. Sword Intent—specifically the heavy, crushing nature of Heavy Earth Severing—hung around him invisibly. He didn't just look sharp; he looked like he could sever the concept of distance itself.
Koneko's small frame didn't radiate wild Touki anymore. Instead, the white-gold energy coiled around her skin like a second layer of muscle, dense enough to warp the light.
Akeno was a storm contained in a bottle. The wild, sadistic crackle of her lightning had been tamed into a refined circuit, Holy and Demonic energies flowing in a perfect, non-conflicting loop.
And Asia... sweet, gentle Asia walked with a quiet, terrifying glow. The Twilight Healing power didn't just float; it saturated the air around her, smelling of antiseptic and ancient incense. She walked like a mobile sanctuary.
Issei brought up the rear, the Boosted Gear on his left arm humming in a low, throbbing resonance with his Soul Palace. The Dragon Recycle Drive spun slowly in the background of his aura, gathering waste energy and refining it back into fuel.
They didn't flare their power to show off. They didn't need to. The sheer weight of their existence made the air in the VIP box feel heavy.
Sirzechs' eyes widened, a rare look of genuine shock cracking his mask. "Rias..."
Lord Phenex's polite smile froze, turning brittle. "Ho... so this is the result of your little 'training camp'?"
Zekeram Bael's eyes narrowed into slits. The pressure of his King-class demonic power rolled out to test them—a heavy, suffocating wave.
It washed over Rias and her peerage and broke harmlessly, like a wave hitting a cliff face. They didn't even flinch.
Suddenly, a blur of pink and frills launched itself across the room.
"Ren-chan!" Serafall squealed, practically teleporting into his personal space. "You made it! And you brought my cute Rias-chan! Cute! So cute!"
Ren laughed, not stepping back, comfortable in the face of a Satan. "Yo, Serafall. Looking dangerous today. That outfit is louder than the crowd."
She twirled, sparkles seemingly manifesting out of thin air. "Ehehe~ Of course! It's a live broadcast! All four Maous, the Elders... it's basically a concert! I have to look my best for the fans☆"
Ren's gaze drifted past the twirling Magical Girl Leviathan to the three most powerful men in the Underworld. He lifted a hand in a lazy wave.
"How's it going, fellas?" Ren said, his tone as casual as if he were greeting neighbors at a barbecue. "Thanks for squeezing us into the schedule."
Sirzechs' smile returned, warmer this time. "It is we who should thank you, Ren-kun. You brought my sister back stronger than I could have imagined."
Ajuka pushed his glowing glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Stronger is... an understatement," he murmured, looking at the data streaming through his lenses. "The Kankara Formula is returning error messages. It refuses to model the internal energy cycle of your students. It violates standard entropy." He looked at Ren with the hunger of a scientist seeing a new element. "You continue to be an anomaly."
Falbium Asmodeus yawned, but for a split second, his sleepy eyes sharpened into the gaze of a warlord. The air thickened with the crushing density of a Super Devil.
"The man from the Iron Forest," Falbium rumbled, his voice vibrating in Ren's chest. "You make things tiring."
"I get that a lot," Ren shrugged, unbothered.
Serafall pouted, poking Ren's arm. "But you still like Onee-san Satan the best, right? Right? Ren-chan?"
Ren looked down at her, his expression softening into a teasing smirk. "Well, you're definitely the most colorful. I'd call that a win in my book."
Serafall beamed.
Grayfia cleared her throat, the sound cutting through the chatter like a knife. "Ren-sama. Rias-sama. Before the match commences, there is a matter of the audience."
"Hit me," Ren said.
Ajuka waved a hand. A massive holographic display materialized, split into dozens of screens.
"Allied factions," Ajuka explained. "Heaven, Grigori, Asgard, the Youkai... they all requested a direct feed. But we also have... uninvited guests." His eyes grew cold. "Old Satan Faction remnants. They are watching."
"Of course they are," Ren snorted. "Roaches love the spotlight."
"And..." Serafall pointed to a specific screen.
A serene Japanese hall. A woman with robes marked by the sun, her presence radiating through the screen itself. Amaterasu.
Ren felt the warmth on his neck increase. He smirked. "Glad she could make it."
Rias swallowed hard. "The Chief God of Shinto..."
"Just another spectator," Ren said, clapping a hand on Rias's shoulder. "Curious to see what 'cultivation' can do."
He turned to his students. Six pairs of eyes locked onto him. The playfulness vanished from Ren's face, replaced by a calm, absolute authority—the face of a Patriarch instructing his sect.
"Show them," Ren said, his voice steady. "Show the Underworld, the gods, and the idiots hiding in the shadows what it means to walk the Dao. Show them the power of cultivation."
Issei grinned, a feral edge to it. "Yes, Sensei."
Kiba's hand rested on his sword hilt. "We will demonstrate the path you opened for us."
"I'll punch them properly," Koneko deadpanned, her tail flicking.
"I-I will support everyone!" Asia said, gripping her staff, her eyes filled with a new resolve.
Akeno licked her lips. "Ara, ara... I'll give them a storm they'll never forget."
Rias met his gaze last. Her eyes were burning blue fire. "And I will end this farce. And walk forward."
Ren grinned. "That's the spirit." He checked his bare wrist as if looking at a watch. "Also... side bet."
"Eh?" Issei blinked.
Ren's smile turned sharp, predatory. "Three minutes."
The group froze.
"Three... minutes?" Asia squeaked.
"To wipe out the entire Phenex peerage?" Kiba raised an eyebrow. "That is... bold."
"Sounds fun," Koneko murmured.
"Ara... tight schedule," Akeno giggled.
Rias took a deep breath. She felt the Soul Palace spinning within her, the Myriad Origin loop humming, the Throne of Ruin waiting to be unleashed.
"Three minutes," she repeated. A confident, dangerous smile spread across her face. "Everyone. Let's aim for two."
"Osu!" Issei roared.
...
The Phenex waiting room was the epitome of luxury—velvet couches, a crystal bar, a fireplace roaring with blue magical flames. But the mood was anything but comfortable.
Riser Phenex sat on the plush sofa, elbows on knees, fingers steepled. He was handsome, wealthy, and immortal. He was the third son of a Great Pillar.
But his hands were trembling. Just slightly.
His mind kept replaying the scene from the Occult Research Club ten days ago.
A man in a cheap coat. A sudden, crushing gravity that flattened his entire peerage like insects. His own flames—his pride—snuffed out with a lazy wave of a hand. And those eyes... Ren Ming's eyes, looking at him not with hate, but with the casual indifference of a human looking at a noisemaker.
"Onii-sama," a soft voice broke his spiraling thoughts.
Ravel Phenex stood by the bar. Her blonde drill curls were perfect, her dress immaculate, but her face was pale. She was the brains of the operation, the observer.
"He is here," she said quietly.
Riser's jaw tightened. "Of course he is. Parading his 'students' around."
Yubelluna, the Bomb Queen, bit her lip. "Riser-sama... I saw them on the monitor. Their auras... they feel different. Heavier."
"It's been ten days!" Isabela, the masked Rook, snapped, though her voice wavered. "What can you do in ten days? We have the advantage of experience and regeneration."
"I'm not sure..." Ni, one of the Pawns, whispered. "Remember how he looked at us?"
A collective shudder went through the room.
Ravel bit her lip. She remembered it differently. She remembered the pressure sliding around her, sparing her, while crushing the others. She remembered Ren's gaze passing over her—intelligent, assessing, but not cruel.
"Onii-sama," Ravel warned. "We cannot play with them."
Riser stood up. The flames flared around him, orange and defiant. He forced the mask of the arrogant noble back onto his face.
"I know," Riser growled. "But I am Riser Phenex. I cannot lose to Rias Gremory. Not here. Not in front of the Maous. Not in front of him."
He looked at his shaking hand and clenched it into a fist.
"We will crush them. Immortality is absolute. Regeneration is absolute. No amount of tricks can change the fundamental laws of the world." He grinned, a manic edge to it. "Let's show them the nightmare of the undying!"
...
The arena materialized in a flash of digital particles.
The battlefield was a pseudo-city—a replica of a European town with stone streets, canals, and a central plaza.
Riser's peerage teleported in with a theatrical explosion of fire. Riser stood center stage, arms spread wide, basking in the cheers.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he bellowed, his voice amplified by magic. "Prepare to witness the eternal splendor of House Phenex!"
On the other side, Rias's peerage appeared.
Silence.
No fireworks. No speeches.
Just six figures standing in a loose formation. But the air around them shimmered with heat-haze. The ground beneath their feet cracked slightly, unable to bear the sheer density of their existence.
In the VIP box, Ajuka leaned forward. "Look at the energy readings. They aren't projecting power outwards. They are cycling it inwards. A perfect closed loop."
Grayfia's voice rang out like a bell.
"The Rating Game between House Gremory and House Phenex will now begin!"
A flare shot into the sky.
Rias looked across the battlefield at Riser. She raised two fingers.
"Go."
The world exploded.
"BOOST!"
The roar of the Red Dragon Emperor shattered the sound barrier.
But it wasn't the usual chaotic explosion of green light. The energy from the Boosted Gear slammed into Issei's Soul Palace, fed into the Myriad Origin cycle, and locked into place.
Issei didn't run. He vanished.
He reappeared in the center of Riser's forward line—Karlamine and Siris, the Knights.
"Hey," Issei said.
Before they could raise their swords, Issei spun. It wasn't a technique. It was brute, overwhelming torque.
Dragon Recycle Drive: Impact.
He backhanded Siris.
It looked like a car crash. The sound was a wet, sickening crunch of armor and bone. The Knight was launched backward with so much force she punched a tunnel through three separate buildings.
"Siris—Retired!"
Karlamine screamed, swinging her flaming sword.
Kiba was there.
He didn't swing his sword fast. He swung it with Intent.
Sword Intent: Heavy Earth Severing.
The air screamed. Kiba's blade met Karlamine's.
CRACK.
Karlamine's sword didn't just break; it disintegrated. The force of Kiba's swing carried through, hitting the ground. The street split open, a fissure tearing down the center of the map. Karlamine fell to her knees, her eyes rolled back, crushed by the spiritual pressure of the blade before it even touched her skin.
"Karlamine—Retired!"
"What is happening?!" Yubelluna shrieked from the air. "Open fire! Blow them apart!"
She and the Bishops launched a torrential volley of explosive magic. The sky turned orange with fire and destruction.
Beneath the bombardment, Akeno looked up. Her eyes flashed with yellow light.
"How rude," she cooed.
She raised a hand. Myriad Origin Lightning: Heavenbreaker Circuit.
A ring of lightning, perfect and geometrical, expanded above Rias's team. The bombardment hit the ring—and stopped.
The energy didn't detonate. It was caught. The circuit spun, the Myriad Origin Scripture devouring the hostile mana, stripping it of Riser's will, and converting it into raw fuel.
"Return to sender~" Akeno giggled.
The ring pulsed. A beam of condensed, hyper-pressurized lightning—mixed with the stolen energy of the Phenex bishops—blasted upward.
It swallowed Yubelluna's formation whole.
"Yubelluna—Retired! Mihae—Retired! Burent—Retired!"
Total chaos.
In the backlines, Asia Argento slammed the butt of her staff into the cobblestones.
Twilight Saturation: Reliquary.
A pale, twilight mist exploded outwards, covering the entire city block in seconds. It was beautiful, serene—and for the Phenex peerage, it was a nightmare.
The mist severed their connection to the ambient mana. It marked Rias's team as "Authorized Users" and Riser's team as "Trespassers."
Every breath Riser's pawns took felt heavy. Their regeneration slowed. Their mana didn't recharge.
Koneko walked through the mist like a ghost. Two Pawns charged her.
She didn't dodge. She stepped into them.
Art: Immutable Core.
She punched the first Pawn in the gut. The shockwave blew out the windows of every building on the street. The Pawn folded in half like wet cardboard.
"Ile—Retired!"
She grabbed the second Pawn by the face and slammed him into the pavement. The street cratered.
"Nel—Retired!"
It had been sixty seconds.
Riser stood alone with Ravel and his Rook, Isabela. The rest of his peerage had been wiped off the map.
"Impossible..." Riser stammered, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead. "This is... this is impossible!"
"Riser Phenex!"
Rias Gremory floated down from the sky. The Throne of Ruin manifested behind her—a ghostly, terrifying construct of jagged crimson energy, radiating a power that felt like the end of days.
She landed lightly, twenty meters away.
"Stop hiding," Rias said, her voice cold and imperious. "Face me."
"Kill her!" Riser screamed at Isabela. "Use full power! Burn her to ash!"
Isabela roared, her body becoming a living torch of Phenex fire. She charged, a meteor of destruction.
Rias didn't move. She simply looked at the charging Rook.
"Ruin."
The crimson aura pulsed.
Isabela's fire... died.
It didn't fade. It didn't get blown out. It ceased to exist. The concept of "burning" was erased from the space around Rias.
Isabela's momentum carried her forward, but stripped of her power, she was just a girl in a mask punching a High Ultimate Devil.
Rias caught Isabela's fist with one hand.
Snap.
"Isabela—Retired!"
Riser stumbled back, his legs hitting the edge of the fountain. "You... what are you...?"
Rias walked forward. "I am the woman who is taking her future back."
Riser screamed, his pride finally breaking into pure, animalistic fear. "I AM IMMORTAL! I AM A PHENEX!"
He unleashed everything. A pillar of fire erupted, hot enough to melt the stone city into slag. It engulfed Rias completely.
"See?!" Riser laughed hysterically. "You can't—"
The fire swirled. And then, it turned red.
Rias stood in the center of the inferno, untouched. The Myriad Origin Scripture was visible now, glowing runes spinning around her skin, eating the Phenex fire and feeding it into her Soul Palace.
"My King awakens," Rias intoned, the words echoing with the weight of a spell that warped reality.
Throne of Ruin: Starfall.
Above Riser, the sky turned black. Crimson stars appeared—dozens of them. They weren't balls of fire. They were condensed spheres of Power of Destruction, refined to the point where they resembled black holes.
They fell.
Riser tried to regenerate.
The first star hit his shoulder. His arm vanished.
The regeneration factor tried to kick in, but the Ruin energy was eating the concept of the healing. It was attacking the structural integrity of his demonic formula.
"ARGH!" Riser shrieked.
The second star hit his leg. Gone.
The third hit his wing. Erased.
He was being dismantled, piece by piece, by a power that denied his right to recover.
Rias stood over him, a sphere of pure, black-red destruction hovering in her palm.
"Checkmate," she whispered.
She dropped the sphere.
It didn't explode. It imploded.
A dome of silence expanded, erasing Riser, Ravel, the fountain, and the ground beneath him.
"RISER PHENEX—RETIRED!"
"WINNER: HOUSE GREMORY!"