The silence that befell the Rating Game arena was heavier than gravity.
It wasn't just quiet; it was the utter, suffocating vacuum of disbelief. For a heartbeat, the thousands of devils in the stands, the dignitaries in the VIP boxes, and the entities watching from across the dimensional gap simply forgot how to breathe.
Then, the reality of the scoreboard shattered the stillness.
Winner: Rias Gremory. Time: 00:02:58.
The roar that followed threatened to crack the artificial sky.
It was a chaotic symphony of emotions. Some devils screamed in sheer, unadulterated delight at the upset. Others, those who had bet their fortunes on the "inevitable" victory of the House of Phenex, howled in outrage. But most just screamed, their minds unable to process the anomaly they had just witnessed.
"Impossible!"
"In ten days?! You're telling me that was ten days of training?!"
"Riser-sama didn't even get to regenerate! He was vaporized! How?!"
In the VIP suite, the atmosphere was suffocating. Lord Phenex had shot to his feet, his face drained of all color, his trembling hands gripping the railing.
"Riser!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He moved to vault over the edge, only to freeze as a gloved hand raised politely but firmly.
"Please remain calm, Lord Phenex," Grayfia Lucifuge said. Her voice was cool, professional, and utterly brooked no argument. "The Rating Game system has safely retired your son and his peerage. They are currently being treated by the medical staff. Their lives are not in danger."
Only then did Lord Gremory exhale, his shoulders slumping as he closed his eyes. "Rias…"
Beside him, Venelana Gremory lowered her fan. Her eyes, usually so composed, shimmered with a fierce, terrifying pride. A slow smile spread across her face—the smile of a Bael who had just watched absolute power crush a nuisance.
In the corner of the room, Zekram Bael sat motionless. His ancient fingers drummed once, a singular, heavy beat against the armrest of his chair.
"Ten days," the Great King murmured softly. "To take a spoiled, inexperienced King and turn her into… that."
His gaze didn't linger on Rias. It slid across the arena, searching, until it found the empty space where a certain teacher should have been.
"Interesting."
The shockwave of the result traveled further than the Underworld.
In Takamagahara, the Sun Goddess Amaterasu sat before a viewing pool. Her lips curled upward, a fraction of a smile that could light up a universe.
"…He told me," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of ancient sunlight. "He said he would change the flavor of this world. It seems Ren-dono intends to keep that promise."
In the pristine halls of Heaven, Gabriel clasped her hands over her heart, her beautiful eyes wet with tears of relief. "Ara… Rias-san… everyone… you worked so hard."
Beside her, Michael's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in deep calculation. He was gauging the implications of a power that could accelerate growth this drastically. It disrupted the balance, yet… it was magnificent.
In the darkly lit headquarters of Grigori, Azazel leaned back, blowing a perfect ring of smoke toward the ceiling. He let out a low, appreciative whistle.
"Man," the Governor General chuckled, shaking his head. "That wasn't an upgrade. That was a rewrite of the source code."
On the scorched battlefield, the smoke from Rias's final attack was still clearing.
The Gremory peerage stood in the center of the plaza. They were breathing a little harder than usual, sweat glistening on their skin, but they weren't exhausted. They looked… energized.
"Did we… do it?" Issei panted, staring at the empty spot where Riser had been standing moments ago.
"You did well," Rias said. She turned to her servants, and for the first time in months, her smile wasn't the strained, desperate mask of a trapped heiress. It was clear, radiant, and deeply satisfied. "All of you. You were magnificent."
Koneko's tail flicked behind her, dusting off some debris. "…Felt a bit one-sided," she muttered, though her ears twitched in pleasure.
Akeno giggled, the sound dark and sweet. "Ara ara… it was a good warm-up. I barely got to stretch my legs."
Asia sagged, bracing her hands on her knees. "I-I was so nervous… I thought I was going to mess up the formation…"
"You were perfect, Asia," Kiba assured her, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension. He glanced up at the timer. "It seems Ren-sensei's bet was… accurate."
00:02:58. They had dismantled a high-ranking, immortal peerage in less time than it took to cook instant noodles.
Suddenly, a small communication talisman in Rias' pocket warmed against her hip.
Ren's voice echoed in their minds, lazy, pleased, and utterly devoid of stress.
'Good job, ducklings.'
The familiar nickname made them all relax instinctively.
'Now, stay put. I'm going to go make some people nervous.'
Before Rias could ask what he meant, the atmosphere in the arena changed.
There was no magical circle. There was no flare of demonic power. Space didn't tear open; it simply folded, obediently stepping aside.
One moment, the air above the center of the arena was empty. The next, Ren Ming was there.
He floated casually, hands buried deep in his pockets, his trench coat fluttering slightly in the residual heat of Riser's flames. He looked completely out of place amidst the destruction—a modern, western guy with a relaxed posture that suggested he was waiting for a bus rather than standing before the assembled might of the Underworld.
He just… was.
Thousands of eyes snapped to him instantly. The noise in the arena hiccupped and died.
Ren looked around slowly. He took in the stands, the VIP boxes, the projection circles. His senses expanded, brushing against the hidden presences at the edge of the void—the coiled malice of the Old Satan remnants, the intense gazes of the Khaos Brigade, the prickle of gods watching from distinct dimensions.
He smiled. It was a charming smile, easygoing and bright.
"Well," he said. His voice wasn't shouting, yet it was amplified without any visible device, carrying clearly to every corner of the dimension. "That was fun."
The word fun hit the Underworld like a slap.
Fun.
For an event that had just overturned decades of common sense regarding demonic growth and bloodline limits.
Ren unclasped his hands and spread his arms wide.
"Ten days," he said, his tone conversational. "From semi-talented kids who were leaking power like broken faucets… to this." He nodded down at Rias' group. "To a team that can solve what was supposed to be an impossible marriage problem in under three minutes."
He tipped his head, his dark eyes gleaming.
"This," he announced, "is Cultivation."
The word meant nothing to most of the Underworld. It was a foreign term, alien and strange. But the way Ren said it—with such absolute reverence and weight—made it feel like a royal title.
"In my world," Ren continued, pacing on the air as if it were solid ground, "defying the heavens isn't some mystical, one-in-a-million miracle. It's just… what we do. You work. You bleed. You polish your Soul and your body until the universal rules bend around you. You turn your own waste into power and slap destiny upside the head when it starts getting annoying."
The devils in the stands shifted uneasily.
Ajuka Beelzebub, watching from a private screen, leaned forward, his eyes burning with scientific curiosity. He calls it cultivation… turning waste into power… a closed loop system?
Ren's gaze softened as it fell back on Rias and the others. The arrogance vanished, replaced by genuine pride.
"I'm proud of you guys," he said simply. No flair. No drama. Just the truth. "Rias. Akeno. Asia. Koneko. Issei. Kiba. You crushed it."
On the field, six hearts jolted at once.
Rias' cheeks colored, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with magic. She held his gaze, standing taller.
Akeno's lips parted in a soft, startled smile.
Asia's eyes instantly filled with happy tears.
Koneko ducked her head, pulling her hood up to hide her red ears.
Issei clenched his fists, trying not to yell out of sheer excitement. "He praised us!"
Kiba smiled quietly, shoulders easing.
Ren wasn't done.
"And," he added, his grin turning a little more crooked, a little more mischievous, "as a man, I'd like to proudly declare something while everyone is staring."
The Underworld, already on edge, leaned in. What new revelation was this? A declaration of war? A political alliance?
"In case it wasn't clear yet," Ren said, his voice ringing out, "Rias, Akeno, Asia, and Koneko are my girlfriends. They were the stars of the show today."
He said it calmly. Loudly. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, as undeniable as the sun rising in the east.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic.
Rias' face went nuclear. "R-Ren!" she hissed, hands flying to her burning cheeks.
Akeno burst into delighted laughter, clutching her stomach. "Ara, ara! Saying it in front of the whole Underworld… how bold, Ren-kun!"
Asia made a tiny squeaking noise that could probably be heard in Heaven.
Koneko's tail puffed out to maximum volume. "…Idiot," she muttered, but her lips betrayed the faintest, shyest upward curve.
In the VIP box, Venelana Gremory covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking. "Oh my. He certainly doesn't lack confidence."
Sirzechs' smile twitched in a complex geometric pattern. "Well. That is… direct."
Sona Sitri, watching from the stands, pinched the bridge of her nose so hard she nearly broke her glasses. "Unbelievable… absolutely shameless."
Across the realms, reactions rippled. Azazel barked out a loud, raucous laugh. Yasaka, the leader of Kyoto, watched with twitching tails. "He really does like things lively," she murmured.
Ren let the chaos wash over him, looking pleased with himself.
Then came the pushback.
"Enough!"
A voice barked from the VIP section. One of the elder devils stood up—an old Pillar patriarch with a heavy aura and a face carved by centuries of entitlement.
"Human!" the elder snapped, projecting his voice with magic. "Or whatever you are. You have interfered with a sacred Rating Game. You make declarations as if you are one of us. Who are you to involve yourself so deeply with the fate of noble houses? You are an outsider!"
Others murmured agreement. The shock was wearing off, replaced by indignation. Tradition was the bedrock of devil society, and this man was trampling all over it.
Zekram Bael did not speak; he watched. Lord Phenex glared openly. Even some neutral Elders looked uneasy.
Ren looked up at them. His expression was mildly curious, like he'd accidentally stepped on a bug.
"Right," he said. "Introductions."
He raised one hand.
"For you, it's been a lot of rumors, right?" he said lightly. "The 'Human Singularity,' the 'Iron Forest Freak,' the 'Problem Child of Asgard'. That's cute and all."
His eyes sharpened. The playful American charm evaporated, replaced by something ancient and cold.
"But since you're asking seriously…"
The air changed.
He didn't shout. He didn't summon a giant avatar of destruction. He simply… peeled back the restraint.
BOOM.
It wasn't a sound. It was a sensation of the world groaning under a sudden, massive weight.
Behind Ren, invisible to mortal eyes but blazing like a supernova in the senses of every supernatural being present, Nine Fate Palaces unfolded in his soul-space.
They were towering, crystalline structures, stacked with impossible density. Each one was crowned by a star, blazing with the light of the Grand Dao. Nine stars. Nine Palaces. The clear, undeniable signature of an Enlightened Being who had pushed the Star Plucking realm to Eternal Prestige, and then climbed into the realm of the Ancient Saint.
The Saint Kingdom bloomed.
It wasn't a literal kingdom visible in the sky. It was an imposition of will upon reality. It was an aura that pressed gently, then not-so-gently, on every mind present. It was a domain where Ren's will was law, and the laws of physics were merely suggestions.
To the average devil, it felt like their instincts were being forced to their knees.
To High-Class devils, it felt like standing naked in a hurricane that could erase their existence if it got bored.
To Ultimate-Class devils, it felt like being pushed back to childhood, when the world was incomprehensibly big and adults could solve problems with a single word.
To the Super Devils and Chief Gods… it was a wake-up call.
Sirzechs Lucifer's pupils shrank to pinpricks. His Power of Destruction surged reflexively, a defensive mechanism triggered by a superior predator, only to curl in on itself. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the screaming of his instincts.
This… this isn't just raw power… Sirzechs realized, his knuckles white. It's order. It's authority.
Ajuka's calculations blanked out. "This isn't measurable…" he whispered, staring at the readings that were going off the charts. "His internal structure… it's a full… Domain… a Kingdom… all anchored by nine… My Satan."
Falbium Asmodeus, usually the laziest of the Satans, was wide awake, sweat beading on his brow. "…If he fought seriously," he muttered, "we wouldn't have a world left to govern."
In the Dimensional Gap, Ophis and Great Red glanced sideways. The feeling wasn't equal to Infinity, nor to the Dream, but it was speaking the same language.
On the field, Rias and her peerage were the only ones not crushed by the aura. To them, the Saint Kingdom felt warm. It felt like sinking into a hot spring that had been waiting for them. It recognized them as his.
The elder devil who had stood to challenge him buckled. His knees hit the floor of the VIP box with a heavy thump. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, gasping for air as if the atmosphere had turned to lead.
"You… what are you…?" he choked out.
Ren held the Saint Kingdom for exactly three heartbeats.
Then, he reeled it back in.
The pressure vanished instantly. The Underworld gasped collectively, lungs remembering how to work.
"Well," Ren said, a faint, polite smile returning to his face as if nothing had happened. "I have to make a good first impression, right?"
He hooked a thumb toward his chest.
"I'm Ren Ming," he said. "A cultivator. Ancient Ming bloodline holder. Teacher of Rias Gremory's peerage. And just a guy who wants to enjoy his life."
He smiled, but there was steel in it now.
"If you're still not convinced I have the right to be involved," he went on, his voice dropping an octave, "you're free to try me. Bring your best. Bring your families. Bring your backers. Bring the whole damn Brigade if you want."
His eyes turned cold in a way that made even battle-hardened gods flinch. It was the gaze of a man who had walked through rivers of blood and come out clean on the other side.
"And then, I'll erase you," he said simply. "Body, soul, and whatever ridiculous 'authority' you think you have."
Silence.
For a moment, the Underworld was so quiet you could hear the crackle of residual magic on the battlefield. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the ones who secretly hated him, who gritted their teeth at the idea of some outsider hogging their world's spotlight… did not stand.
Because every instinct they had screamed that if they did, they would die.
Ren rolled his shoulders, tension flicking off him like dust.
"Anyway," he said, his tone flipping back to casual American breeziness. "That's the heavy stuff. Let's lighten the mood a bit."
He clapped his hands once.
"I'll be setting up a base in Kuoh," he announced, sounding like he was talking about opening a corner café rather than a sect of monster-monks. "It'll expand over time. Once things are ready, I'll be welcoming anyone who wants to change their life. If you're tired of being weak, tired of dead ends, tired of being stuck in someone else's little game… come knock."
The crowd rippled.
Sona, somewhere in the stands, looked like she'd just been handed both her dream and a massive migraine.
"Of course," Ren continued, his grin turning playful, "lovely, beautiful women are especially welcome for personal guidance."
That hit like a slapstick mallet, shattering the tension.
"REN!" Rias shrieked, face flaming again.
Akeno burst into helpless laughter, doubling over. "Ara ara! He doesn't hold back at all!"
In the VIP box, Venelana choked, half laughing, half offended. "W-What is that man saying in front of the entire Underworld?"
Sirzechs sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes, I wonder if letting him near Rias was a mistake."
Serafall, on the other hand, sparkled. "Eeeh~! Ren-chan is going to open a harem— I mean, school! In Kuoh! So exciting!"
Ren looked down at his students.
"Alright," he called out. "You guys heard me. We've got a lot more work to do later."
Issei flinched instinctively. "H-Here it comes… hell training part two…"
"But for now," Ren added, his smile turning warm and genuine, "we party."
Issei blinked. "…Eh?"
"You crushed it. You earned a night to breathe. Eat good food. Laugh. Let it sink in." His gaze softened, sweeping over each of them. "Tomorrow, we start the grind again. But tonight? Enjoy being the ones who defied fate."
It echoed his words on the Kuoh campus the day before. Live as you are now. Choose what makes you happy.
Rias met his eyes, her heart full.
"…Yes," she said quietly. "Let's."
...
The teleportation light had barely faded when the celebration surged in.
The private hall behind the arena filled in waves: young devils buzzing with excitement, elders murmuring in corners, servants weaving through with drinks. Magic circles still flickered in the air, projecting highlights of the match on distant walls—Riser's defeat playing on a loop to gasps and exclamations.
Ren stood a little off to the side, hands in his pockets, letting the tide wash around him. He watched Rias being swept up by a crowd of admirers.
"Rias-sama!"
"Gremory heiress, that was incredible!"
"So splendid—!"
Her peerage was dragged along with her. Issei was already being accosted by a group of young devils demanding to know how it felt to stomp a regeneration specialist.
Ren watched for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Good. Let them have this.
"Ren Ming-sama."
The air shifted politely. Grayfia appeared at his shoulder with that perfect maid composure, though her silver eyes were softer than usual.
"The Gremory family wishes to greet you properly," she said. "If you would?"
"Sure." Ren rolled a shoulder. "Lead the way, Head Maid."
She inclined her head and cut a path through the crowd, which parted almost unconsciously around her. Ren followed at an easy pace.
The Gremory contingent was gathered near a balcony overlooking the arena: Zeoticus and Venelana, Sirzechs, Serafall bouncing on her heels, and Sona standing a bit apart with Tsubaki. Zekram Bael hovered at a respectful distance, speaking quietly with other elders.
As Ren approached, Zeoticus straightened, smoothing his coat with slightly nervous hands.
"Ren Ming-kun," the current head of the Gremory clan greeted, his voice warm but laced with awe. "I… do not believe simple words of thanks are enough."
Ren waved him off lightly. "Relax. You don't owe me some formal speech. I just don't like seeing good girls pushed into bad futures."
Venelana's eyes sharpened. Up close, her beauty was formidable—poise honed by centuries, a smile balanced between graceful and dangerous.
"You say that as if it were simple," she murmured. "What you did today was anything but."
Ren met her gaze and smiled, small but steady.
"For you two," he said, "there's only one thing you really needed to hear, right?"
Zeoticus blinked. "Oh?"
"You never have to worry about your daughter's future again."
The words landed with a weight that cut through the noise of the party. Ren didn't raise his voice, but somehow everyone in the circle heard it.
"It'll be brighter than the heavens," he went on calmly. "Whether she wants to run a peerage, build a school, or retire early and bully me on some beach, I'll make sure the path in front of her is wide open. No chains. No 'inevitable' arrangements. Just her choices."
Venelana's fingers tightened on her fan. For one heartbeat, something raw flickered in her eyes—relief, sharp and painful.
"…You say that so easily," she whispered.
"Because I mean it." Ren shrugged. "And because anyone who tries to get in the way of that…" His smile didn't change, but his eyes cooled, reflecting the abyssal depth of the Void. "Well. You've seen a preview."
Sirzechs let out a low breath, then laughed quietly. "You certainly know how to make an impression," he said. "On the Underworld, and on parents."
Ren turned to him, relaxed again. "Hey, I did say I wanted to get along," he said. "You're a good big brother. Makes my life easier."
Sirzechs' lips quirked. "I could say the same. My little sister seems happier than I have ever seen her."
"Then we're on the same wavelength." Ren extended a hand casually. "Let's just keep it that way."
Sirzechs clasped it. Power brushed power for a heartbeat—crimson Destruction meeting that quiet, unfathomable Saint Kingdom—and then parted.
Serafall chose that moment to swoop in, sparkles practically visible around her.
"Ren-cha—ah, Ren-kun!" she sang, eyes shining. "That declaration out there was super-duper flashy★! You totally stole the show!"
Ren glanced at her outfit—today's magical-girl-adjacent ensemble—and huffed a soft laugh.
"Careful, Serafall," he said. "If you keep sparkling like that, people are going to forget who the Maou is and just think you're an idol who got lost on the way to a concert."
"Eeeeh?!" Serafall put a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I am an idol! Of justice and love!"
"I don't doubt it." His tone turned a shade warmer, teasing. "Still, thanks for the support from the VIP. A beautiful woman cheering always boosts performance."
Serafall actually froze for half a second. Then her face went pink.
"T-that kind of line, you can't just say it so casually, you know?!" she flailed, glancing at Sona. "So-tan, he's dangerous!"
Sona massaged her forehead. "Please don't drag me into your pace, Serafall-nee-sama," she said, then looked at Ren, eyes clear behind her glasses. "Ren Ming. Congratulations on your victory. It was… convincing."
"Hey, I suppose this is our first time meeting, right?" He faintly smiled. "Nice to finally talk when things are less chaotic. You did good keeping Kuoh stable while I dragged your friend into my training camp."
Sona's lips twitched. "If the result is that level of growth, I suppose I have no complaints," she admitted. "However, I will be watching how you 'open enrollment' in Kuoh. As Student Council President, I have a duty to worry."
"Of course." Ren's smile went crooked. "You worry, I cause trouble, we'll find a nice balance."
Her eyes narrowed in wary amusement. "…That is not reassuring."
"Wasn't meant to be."
A ripple in the air behind them; the scent of old blood and ancient authority.
Zekram Bael had stepped closer, his presence a heavy, dignified mountain.
"Ren Ming," he said, voice low. "You speak boldly for someone who has only just arrived in our world."
The nearby young devils quieted, sensing a different kind of tension.
Ren turned.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
In Ren's inner sight—the vision granted by the Immortal Soul Bone and his cultivation—the world shifted. He didn't just see an old devil; he saw the causality.
Threads of karma and intent stretched out from Zekram like a spiderweb—decades of plans, alliances, compromises, the rigid architecture of the Great King Faction. Most threads looped back to the same point: a dark knot spreading like rot through the Underworld's future. Every time the old devil tried to adjust them, they snapped back to that same single road.
Dead end.
Ren smiled, slow and unbothered.
"Bael," he greeted. He didn't bow. He didn't avert his gaze. He just stood there like a man in his own living room. "You've been busy."
Zekram's eyes cooled a fraction. "Our society requires careful guidance. Sudden disruptions are not always welcome."
"Yeah." Ren nodded mildly. "Stability is nice. Too bad it usually turns into stagnation when old men refuse to move their feet."
A few nearby nobles inhaled sharply.
"Ren…" Rias hissed under her breath from nearby, sensing the spike in tension.
He lifted a hand slightly, cutting her off without looking away from Zekram.
"Listen," he said, tone still casual, like he was discussing the weather. "I'm only going to say this once, so I'll be clear."
The Saint Kingdom didn't flare. It didn't need to.
A single, thin thread of killing intent extended from Ren. It was invisible to everyone else, but to Zekram, it felt like the cold edge of a guillotine blade had been laid gently against the back of his neck.
"Don't be troublesome," Ren said quietly. "Don't push Rias. Don't push her peerage. Don't start games that drag them into your faction nonsense."
He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded.
"We don't need things to get crazy, right?"
The way he said crazy made even Serafall's smile falter.
For Zekram alone, the world went momentarily monochrome. Behind Ren's relaxed posture, he felt it—a corridor of absolute darkness stretching out from his current choices. Every scheme, every attempt to manipulate the Gremory heiress or this alien cultivator, led to the same point: an ending where there was no Bael to sit on any throne.
An aura of death, quiet, inevitable, and terrifyingly patient, pressed against his soul.
Zekram's throat worked once.
"…Of course," he said finally, forcing his voice to remain steady, though his old heart hammered against his ribs. "The Underworld has no need for… unnecessary chaos."
Ren's smile returned, easy and bright, as if nothing ominous had been said at all. The pressure vanished instantly.
"Good talk," Ren said, clapping Zekram on the shoulder lightly—a gesture that made the observers gasp. "Then let's enjoy the party while it's still just noisy and not apocalyptic."