POV: Meruem
How to get more power?
That was the first question Meruem asked himself after realizing he had transmigrated into a world of magic, myths, and beings whose strength bordered on the absurd. In a world where a single individual could erase armies or reduce entire nations to ash, concepts once considered universal human rights existed only at the discretion of whoever stood at the top of the power hierarchy.
Rights such as the right to live, freedom of speech, freedom from torture or slavery, liberty, and all other ideals founded upon the mutual understanding that collective authority outweighed individual strength became nonesensical here.
They relied on an assumption that power was distributed evenly enough to enforce restraint, an assumption that collapsed entirely in a world where a lone individual could dominate an entire nation without meeting meaningful resistance.
In such a world, the only reasonable course of action for anyone who desired autonomy or even the possibility of a peaceful life was to pursue power relentlessly. Everything else would follow naturally from that foundation.
Safety, freedom, choice, all of it depended on how untouchable you could make yourself.
The real question, then, was how?
There was, of course, the conventional approach of training relentlessly, the slow and steady accumulation of strength through endless repetition and discipline. He had seen examples of this path already, such as Saiaorg Bael, whose entire existence revolved around training, and pushing his limits further with every waking hour.
While Meruem found such dedication admirable, he had no desire to spend the majority of his existence trapped in an endless cycle of exertion. He refused to turn his life into another ledger of effort and restraint, another promise that fulfillment would come later after just a little more sacrifice.
He knew exactly where that path led, because he had already walked it once in his previous life and found the view at its end empty.
If this world is generous enough to give him another beginning, then he will answer it by living fully, by reaching for beauty, passion, and wonder wherever they appear, and by refusing to shrink his desires into something safe and manageable.
This time he wanted a life that felt expansive, vivid, and unquestionably his own.
So the question remained how he could grow stronger without dedicating nearly all his time to training like a madman?
One option he considered was extracting a Sacred Gear from its human host and using it for himself. Thanks to his meta knowledge, he knew roughly where most Longinus level Sacred Gears were located, and approaching their wielders would not pose much difficulty.
The true obstacle lay in the extraction itself. If removing a Sacred Gear were that easy, then gods, devils, or other powerful beings would have accomplished it countless times already. The fact that Sacred Gears had existed for thousands of years without widespread extraction led to an unavoidable conclusion, namely that the process was extraordinarily difficult.
The only faction he knew for certain that had successfully developed a method to extract sacred gears was the fallen angels, and they had achieved this only after dedicating centuries to studying the legacy of their creator and unraveling the mechanisms behind sacred gears themselves.
Unfortunately, the Fallen Angels were enemies of devils, leaving them with no incentive whatsoever to share such hard earned research. That left Meruem with two possible avenues if he wished to obtain the method from them.
The first option was to negotiate directly with Azazel, perhaps offering information regarding the locations of Longinus-level sacred gear wielders, something Azazel would undoubtedly find intriguing given his obsession with sacred gears.
The problem was determining whether such information would actually be valuable enough for Azazel to part with the method of extraction.
Considering that, in canon, Azazel had dispatched agents like Raynare to kill sacred gear wielders before their powers even awakened, as he did with Issei, it was reasonable to assume the fallen angels possessed a method of detecting sacred gears.
Otherwise, the entire Raynare plotline would make little sense. Raynare knew Issei possessed a sacred gear, and the most logical explanation was that the fallen angels could detect their presence.
However, they clearly lacked the ability to identify the specific type of sacred gear, or at least not consistently. Raynare knew Issei had a sacred gear, but she did not know it was the Boosted Gear. If the fallen angels could both locate sacred gears and identify their types, they would have already recruited or eliminated every Longinus wielder in existence.
But still, Meruem judged it unlikely that Azazel would consider information about a few Longinus wielders valuable enough to trade for the extraction method.
The second option was theft, namely stealing the Sacred Gear extraction method directly from the Fallen Angels. Storming the fallen angel realm was an idea so absurd it bordered on suicidal delusion, which left only one realistic approach, relying entirely on his meta knowledge of canon events.
Canon events would begin two years from now, when Rias turned eighteen. At that time, the Fallen Angels would kill Issei, and Raynare would later attempt to extract Twilight Healing from Asia using the Sacred Gear extraction method.
In that moment, Meruem could potentially seize the technique. However, this plan relied too heavily on his foreknowledge and required waiting years for canon to unfold as expected, leaving far too much to chance.
Worse still, it would make him dependent on power that was not truly his own. If someone rendered his Sacred Gear obsolete, as Rizevim could with his Sacred Gear Canceller, then all that borrowed strength would vanish instantly, leaving him utterly vulnerable.
For that reason alone, using Sacred Gears as his primary path to power was unacceptable. Power earned would always triumph over power that was merely given.
Instead, Meruem turned his attention to a far less obvious method of increasing strength, one rooted in the fundamental nature of devils themselves, the ability to make contracts.
In canon, the mechanics of devil contracts were rarely explained in detail beyond the basic premise of devils being summoned to fulfill human wishes in exchange for something of value.
Meruem had researched the subject extensively to understand how it might be exploited to his advantage. The most obvious question was what devils actually gained from making contracts with humans.
In ancient times, the answer was simple. Devils demanded human souls, firstborn children, virgins, or sacrifices of various kinds.
Souls in particular were extremely valuable, as they could be consumed to increase a devil's power. However, such practices had been outlawed ever since the rise of the new Satans roughly five centuries ago.
Even so, many devils still continued to make contracts with humans, and for newly reincarnated devils in particular, it remained one of the most reliable ways to increase both power and social standing.
Why is that?
The reason lay in the very nature of devils themselves. Devils were beings aligned with darkness and evil, and they could draw power from such concepts. Humans who summoned devils did so through intense and overwhelming desires, often tied to greed, lust, or one of the seven deadly sins, since an exceptionally high threshold of desire was required to summon a devil in the first place.
By entering into contracts with such humans, devils gained small amounts of energy from these intense emotions, much like gods gained faith energy from worshippers. This energy, drawn especially from the seven deadly sins, gradually increased a devil's demonic energy reserves, with the amount gained varying based on the quality and intensity of the contract.
The increase was not that significant, because if it were, every devil would simply spend their existence making contracts and quickly ascend to absurd levels of power, which clearly was not the case.
However, even with the limitations of what he had considered so far, the thought of devil contracts still sparked an idea in Meruem's mind about how he could systematically increase his power.
The more he examined the mechanic behind the deal with humans, the more he realized that most of his kind were wasting an opportunity that had been placed in their hands since the beginning of their race.
Many devils treated contracts as simple transactions where a wish was granted and a price was taken, very few stopped to consider the emotional and spiritual byproducts created during those agreements and how such forces could be cultivated over time instead of taken in a single moment and then forgotten.
He understood that when a human summoned a devil, it was almost never a rational, calm, or rational act, since the ritual itself demanded extreme desire. That desire could take the form of desperation, greed, lust, envy, ambition, or some other intense emotional drive.
Those emotions were actual sources of energy that devils could harvest, in the same way that gods or the lords of darkness drew strength from faith and devotion, which meant that every contractor was like a small well of power that most devils drank from only once before walking away.
The flaw in that old method was obvious to him because a single surge of emotional energy faded quickly, and even if the payment included a soul or lifespan the long term benefit in terms of raw demonic power was limited.
Meruem began to think about how gods had solved a similar problem long ago, since they did not rely on single moments of prayer or rare miracles alone, and instead built entire religions that encouraged constant worship, repeated rituals, and daily reinforcement of belief.
This ensured that faith flowed toward them continuously in small amounts that accumulated into vast reserves over time, and once he saw that pattern he realized that devils had the same potential through desire instead of faith.
Humans were creatures of endless longing, always chasing wealth, beauty, success, recognition, pleasure, revenge, comfort, or escape, and these longings rarely disappeared after a single wish was granted, because achieving one goal often created new cravings or deeper obsessions.
This endless cycle of desire meant that a properly managed human could be used to produce demonic energy for years without ever realizing they were doing so.
From that understanding the idea of the Cult of the Dark Prince was born in his mind, a hidden organization that would serve as a structured environment where human desire could be encouraged, intensified, and sustained, while appearing to its members as an exclusive network that offered opportunities, connections, and assistance in achieving their personal ambitions.
People were far more willing to bind themselves to something that seemed beneficial and prestigious than to openly worship a devil - though there are no shortage of people who would worship devil for the sake of it, the allure of the dark and the forbidding has a strange draw to humans.
Every person who joined would form a personal contract with him, tailored carefully so that the price and the reward felt acceptable. Whether that meant a portion of their lifespan, a claim on their soul after death, relinquishing certain intangible qualities such as empathy, guilt, or regret, or even surrendering potential they had yet to realize.
During the sealing of that contract he would place upon them the Mark of the Dark Prince, a sigil that was invisible from non-members that acted as a conduit between their emotional state and a demonic artifact under his control.
However that was not enough, it needed to be more efficient. The gods for example created specific rituals, traditions or prayer which their followers perform as a sign of faith which then generates more faith energy.
He needed something like that, but suited to desire instead of faith.
As he refined the idea in his thoughts, he concluded that the Seven Deadly Sins provided the most stable foundation for such a system because they represented fundamental human drives that could be sustained over an entire lifetime and had theological meaning.
So he designed his cult around the principle that every member would be contractually required to devote themselves to one sin or several as a central pillar of their lifestyle, ensuring that their days were filled with repeated emotional highs tied to obsession, indulgence, and excess.
The specific sin did not matter in terms of the type of energy produced, since all intense desire refined down into the same demonic power once processed correctly. What truly mattered was the regularity and intensity of indulgence, a tradition if you will - the constant reaching for more wealth, more pleasure, more recognition, more comfort, more victory, more consumption, or more emotional gratification in whatever form their chosen sin took.
The mark was the true foundation of his system, since it served as the invisible mechanism that turned human excess into harvestable fuel. Each sigil was engraved on the body of a cult member while remaining invisible to the non-members, absorbing the emotional overflow whenever the person surrendered to their obsession.
Whether they were chasing fame with desperate pride, hoarding wealth with restless greed, pursuing endless pleasure through lust, stewing in envy toward those above them, feeding their anger in cycles of wrath, drowning themselves in indulgence through gluttony, or retreating into comfort and avoidance through sloth.
The mark would draw in the emotional resonance at the height of those experiences and send it across the spiritual link into the artifact he had hidden in a sealed pocket dimension, where the chaotic human impulses would be condensed and refined into stable demonic energy that he could later absorb.
The system would only function if indulgence was treated as obligation and done with intent, so the contracts binding his followers included clear requirements that they actively seek opportunities to indulge their chosen sin and maintain a lifestyle that encouraged repeated emotional peaks.
Through the structure of the cult he would subtly guide them into environments that supported those habits, surrounding the greedy with opportunities for profit, the proud with stages to perform on, the lustful with circles of temptation, and so on, so that their very social world became a machine designed to keep their desires inflamed.
The members would believe they were simply pursuing their dreams with the support of a powerful patron and an influential network, never fully grasping that every triumph, every craving, and every moment of excess was quietly feeding a distant artifact that existed solely to increase the power of the being they worshipped.
Inside the cult structure the members would be encouraged to make deals with one another, exchange favors, create rivalries, compete for recognition, and chase ever higher goals, which would keep their emotions active and their desires sharp, while all of it quietly fed the mark upon their bodies and flowed into his artifact, which then converts this intense feeling into demonic energy.
In this way Meruem believed he had found a path that mirrored the strength of the gods while remaining true to the nature of devils. Where gods cultivated faith he would cultivate desire, and where they built temples he would build a hidden network of ambition and indulgence, all of it flowing quietly and endlessly toward the Dark Prince at the center.
…
He stepped out of the teleportation circle and immediately took in the city that stretched before him. Towering skyscrapers rose like monoliths toward the clouds, their glass and steel facades reflecting the winter sun in a thousand shards of light.
Streets teemed with life, cars and taxis weaving through traffic, honking horns, the constant murmur of conversation and footsteps mixing with the distant wail of sirens and the hum of the subway below.
New York City's chaos was simultaneously mesmerizing and alive, a living organism of steel and human desire, and Meruem found the sight exhilarating in its vibrancy.
He moved deliberately toward one of the tallest skyscrapers, its glass façade glinting like a polished jewel against the skyline, and entered its revolving doors. Inside, the lobby immediately struck him with a sense of extravagance so pronounced that it could only belong to the upper echelon of wealth and influence.
The floor gleamed with polished marble inlaid with gold filigree, crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, and the scent of expensive incense and fresh flowers filled the air.
Plush armchairs and gold-trimmed sofas were arranged in perfect symmetry, while well-dressed concierges and bellhops moved calmly, ensuring that every arriving guest was attended. The space radiated such great luxury that it might have been mistaken for the reception hall of a palace rather than a building in a modern city.
Unlike the majority of visitors, Meruem bypassed the reception entirely. He walked directly to the bank of elevators and pressed the button for the fortieth floor. The elevator doors closed smoothly and he observed the digital panel as the floors passed.
Within moments, the cabin reached his destination and the doors opened with the same quiet smoothness. He swiped his golden card, and the door unlocked, revealing the world beyond.
Inside was a decadent display of wealth and indulgence that could only be described as extravagantly hedonistic.
The large main room was lined with rich crimson curtains, its ceiling glittering with crystal chandeliers, while multiple gambling tables scattered across the floor displayed roulette wheels, card tables, and dice games attended by individuals in a frenzy of risk and delight.
A balcony wrapped around the upper walls, and a sweeping grand staircase to the left added a theatrical flair to the already overwhelming display of opulence.
The room pulsed with life. Men in finely tailored black tuxedos and suits mingled with women in gowns of every imaginable color, each garment daring and revealing, clinging to the body in a manner that left little to the imagination.
Some guests indulged in high-quality narcotics, others in forbidden acts of lust, voyeurism, and decadence, while the air was filled with laughter, the shuffle of cards, the clink of champagne glasses, and the occasional sharp exclamation of excitement from a gambling table.
Nothing in the church of the Dark Prince was forbidden if one could afford the price. It was the sort of place moralists would condemn as a den of devils where every earthly desire was fed without limit.
Among the crowd were celebrities, musicians, artists, politicians, millionaires, lawyers, and other members of the global elite, all drawn by the promise of indulgence, exclusive connections, and the fulfillment of the most taboo whims.
Here, one could buy insider information, high-end opportunities, or satisfy any twisted and forbidden fantasy, no matter how socially or legally unacceptable.
The guests were so absorbed in their own pursuits that almost no one paid attention to him, and a subtle spell woven around his presence ensured that even those who glanced his way would fail to truly recognize him.
He ascended another elevator to the floor above, which was an even greater display of decadence. While the previous floor retained at least a semblance of decorum - guests dressed, even if revealing - this floor embraced indulgence without reservation.
Clothing was nonexistent, inhibitions entirely discarded, and the participants openly engaged in every carnal and sensual desire imaginable. The higher floors were surreal in their extravagance, a realm where societal limitations, taboos, and norms dissolved entirely under the weight of hedonistic freedom.
By the time he reached the forty-ninth floor, the scene shifted dramatically. The room here was spacious and exquisitely decorated with tasteful art, elegant furniture, and soft lighting.
The guests were elegantly attired in evening wear, holding crystal glasses of wine or champagne, their manners impeccable. Their attention was fixated on a single figure in the center of the room, a woman dancing, whose presence seemed to command both reverence and desire.
She moved with an almost ethereal grace, her dance hypnotic in its beauty. Her figure was slender and elegant, her skin pale against the backdrop of her long, straight black hair that fell past her shoulders.
She wore a deep black gown with a plunging neckline and fitted bodice, accented with gold embroidery and ornamental designs that shimmered faintly beneath the soft, ambient lighting.
As she danced beneath the moonlit dome, her movements were deliberate at first, turning in measured circles, the trailing fabric of her gown slicing the air into ribbons of shadow and light.
As the rhythm quickened, her motions grew more expansive. Her hips swayed in graceful, precise arcs, her arms extended and curved like the branches of an old tree, and her eyes remained closed, fully immersed in the artistry of her performance.
The assembly of elites watched, enraptured, the tension of desire, admiration, and awe tangible in every glance. Her dance, simultaneously sensuous and commanding, possessed a timeless quality to her motion, something reminiscent of old tales of fae courts and enchanted gatherings, and the kind of presence that could charm kings and heroes alike without effort.
Gradually, the rhythm slowed. Her final spin brought her to a breathless pause at the foot of the dais, chest rising and falling in effort. She bowed deeply, and in unison, the audience rose to their feet, applauding with admiration and devotion.
Her eyes then swept over the crowd, and upon meeting his gaze, they widened slightly in recognition. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, then calmly withdrew to the elevator leading to the highest floor of the building.
The topmost floor was an office-like chamber of absolute elegance, its furnishings a rich tapestry of gold and crimson, every surface polished and refined as if he had stepped into a royal palace.
The room was initially empty, but moments later a magic circle spread across the center of the floor, and from it emerged the same woman who had danced below.
"Beloved master, this lowly servant is deeply honored that you have chosen to grace her with your presence," the woman said as she lowered herself fully to the ground, her knees pressed to the polished floor and her forehead touching the surface in a posture of complete submission.
"You don't have to go through this every time you see me, Meredith," Meruem said, letting a faint amused sigh escape, his tone carrying a trace of weariness.
"It's only proper, beloved master," she replied, still kneeling, her voice rising and falling in the peculiar cadence she had cultivated over time. "This lowly servant is wholly unworthy to behold the brilliance of thy radiance, and it would be sacrilege to offer anything less than my utmost devotion and acknowledgment!"
"Well, your master commands you to stand and meet his eyes," Meruem said, a trace of exasperation slipping into his otherwise calm voice as he waited for her to comply.
Meruem studied her carefully as she obeyed, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Meredith Ordinton, the high priestess of the Cult of the Dark Prince.
When he had recruited her from the Golden Dawn, she had been a talented magician specializing in sealing and security magic, fields often overlooked in favor of more flamboyant branches of magic, despite their critical importance.
Her work had mostly involved examining and securing magical artifacts, an assignment that kept her away from the battlefield and the spotlight, and despite her considerable skill she had long felt overlooked, especially when compared to her friend and rival Le Fay, whose broader magical talents had earned admiration and popularity within their organization.
Meredith's growing inferiority complex had made her increasingly vulnerable to resentment, and when Meruem revealed the truth of her lineage, that she had been born the illegitimate child of a royal family and cast aside into an orphanage where her heritage was hidden from her, the knowledge had deepened her bitterness and sense of injustice.
It had been simple to recruit her after that, since the promise of recognition, greatness, and the chance to prove her worth to a world she believed had underestimated her had resonated deeply within her heart.
"This lowly servant was unprepared for the great honor of thy visit this day," Meredith said, still using the peculiar archaic manner of speech she had adopted since devoting herself to him.
"Am I intruding?" Meruem asked with mild curiosity.
"Of course not!" she exclaimed, voice rising in fervor. "Nothing in all the worlds gives this lowly servant greater joy than to be graced by thy presence, beloved master. Only had I known of thy coming, I would have arranged a reception worthy of thy brilliance, a testament befitting thy majesty and the radiance thou bestowest upon thy humble servant."
That, Meruem reflected silently, was precisely why he never informed her in advance and limited their interactions to what was strictly necessary in her role as high priestess.
She was highly competent and invaluable to the growth of his organization, yet her devotion bordered on religious fanaticism of the highest degree, and she regarded him as the absolute center of her existence, shaping her speech, actions, and even private life around her worship of him.
At times it grew uncomfortable, especially knowing she maintained a private shrine filled with his photographs that she reportedly spent hours gazing upon in silent adoration.
He chose to ignore the intensity of her words for the sake of his own sanity and moved directly to the reason for his visit.
"There was something you wished to tell me?" he asked, recalling the message she had sent.
"This lowly servant humbly requests a small period of absence to attend to an important matter and seek thy blessing in doing so," she said, her tone turning hesitant.
He raised an eyebrow. Ever since her recruitment as his high priestess over a year ago, she had never asked for leave, and he had often been forced to insist that she rest, as she devoted every waking moment to managing his ever-expanding secret organization.
"May I ask the reason?" he said with interest.
"All that I am belongs to thee, great master," she replied, her voice gaining a solemn intensity. "This servant exists solely to serve thy will, and thou may ask, no, thou may command of her anything that pleases thee, for the highest honor this lowly one can ever receive is to carry out the desires of her radiant lord."
Meruem did not respond to that declaration, since he had heard variations of it countless times and knew that arguing against it would be pointless.
"Regarding the cause of this request," she continued, "it pertains to the expansion of thy sacred organization."
"In what way?"
"As thou art aware, beloved master," she said calmly, "the inner council has discussed the necessity of spreading thy teachings to Asia, a continent rich in population and filled with souls seeking opportunity and meaning, making it fertile ground for the spreading of thy great message. Our missionaries have seen limited success in Thailand and modest progress in Japan thus far, yet much of the continent remains untapped, a vast reservoir of souls yearning for guidance under thy radiant leadership."
Asia also held a vast number of elites eager for influence and exclusivity, which made expansion there strategically sound given the cult's footholds in Europe, the Americas, and Africa.
He inclined his head slightly, listening. "And what, precisely, does this have to do with your request for leave?"
"This lowly servant wishes to journey to India and extend thy gospel there," she said softly, her eyes lowered in respect. "Its population grows rapidly and many seek better prospects in life, making it ideal for recruitment, yet every missionary we have sent has been denied entry or prevented from spreading thy gospel. With thy blessing, this unworthy servant would go herself and negotiate with the relevant authorities so that thy message may take root in that land."
"I don't recall granting approval for expansion into India," Meruem said evenly, meeting her gaze. "Remind me of the rules I set for the inner council regarding new territories."
She hesitated under his stare. "We are to consult thee and receive thy explicit approval before sending missionaries into any new country," she answered quietly.
"Then why were missionaries sent to India without my blessing?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Meredith's eyes widened in shock at the implication she may have offended him. Without hesitation, she sank to the floor, forehead pressed to the marble in immediate submission.
He sighed inwardly at her actions.
"Most merciful master," she cried, voice trembling yet urgent, "forgive this lowly servant for acting above her station, for presuming upon thy wisdom and guidance. This humble servant has erred grievously, having forgotten the sacred duty to seek thy counsel, and shall accept any chastisement thou deemest just and fitting, O radiant one, sovereign of all that is seen and unseen!"
"Stand up, Meredith," he said with a tired sigh. "I'm not going to punish you without hearing your reasons. I trust you enough to believe you didn't act out of malice."
"Oh master, radiant lord of my life," she burst out as she rose again, her voice trembling with emotion. "This unworthy servant is overwhelmed beyond measure by thy boundless grace and faith in her, for even after she has erred thou lookest upon her with trust instead of wrath, and such mercy is more than this small heart can bear.
"To be seen, to be believed in, to be granted even a fragment of thy confidence is a treasure greater than kingdoms, and this servant swears upon her very soul that she shall strive without rest to prove worthy of the trust thou hast so generously bestowed, dedicating every breath and every thought to thy glory, so that thy name may shine ever brighter through her humble efforts."
Meruem pinched the bridge of his nose. "The reason, Meredith. Why did you do it?"
"Forgive this lowly servant, beloved master, for being carried away by her own zeal," Meredith said, her hands trembling slightly as she wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. "This humble servant only sought to surprise her beloved master by extending his faith farther than had been expected, to demonstrate that her devotion is without equal among all who serve thee, and that no servant could possibly revere thee more than she."
Meruem had expected as much, since Meredith's fanatic devotion was constantly tangled with her deep seated inferiority complex, which drove her to compete in her own mind with the other members of the inner circle by pushing herself further and further, always trying to prove that her loyalty and usefulness surpassed everyone else's.
"That makes sense, I suppose," he said calmly, watching her carefully. "You still ignored my orders and acted on your own authority, and that deserves punishment. Don't you agree?"
"Oh, yes, beloved master," she said, her voice betraying a disturbing, almost gleeful delight. "This lowly servant deserves chastisement to learn the lesson of her overreach. Shall she then disrobe so that thy hands may administer proper correction, beloved master, that the lesson be seared into her very being?"
Meruem observed her with detached curiosity. Meredith Ordinton was a masochist, and he had long suspected that her occasional minor mistakes might be deliberate, purely to be reprimanded by him, during which she would moan or plead in ways that made the entire situation uncomfortable.
Whether this stemmed from unresolved daddy issues or simply from the eccentricities of her personal fetishes, he did not concern himself deeply with the reasoning, as it was of little consequence to the management of his cult.
"No, you don't need to remove anything, Meredith," he said flatly, noticing the flicker of disappointment that crossed her face. "And there will be no physical punishment. The fault is partly mine as well, since I didn't clearly tell you that certain countries are off limits for now."
"This lowly servant is moved to tears by the mercy of her beloved master," she said, actual tears glimmering in her eyes. "May this humble servant correctly assume that India is among the lands presently forbidden to our endeavors?"
"Yes," he confirmed. "I'd rather avoid drawing the attention of the Hindu pantheon for the time being."
He had no interest in provoking beings like Shiva, the Trimurti, Indra, or the many other extremely powerful gods rooted in that region, and stepping too boldly into their sphere of influence would create unnecessary complications.
"Understood, beloved master," she said quickly, nodding with renewed seriousness. "Then would it please thee if this lowly servant redirected her efforts to China instead?"
"That shouldn't create major problems as long as you maintain a low profile," he replied. "Our organization must remain hidden and only approach those who already feel constrained by conventional laws or morality, since those individuals are the most receptive to our offers. All recruitment there must be handled discreetly."
"Excellent, this humble servant shall depart for China instead and carry out thy will with the utmost care," she answered without hesitation.
"Is there anything else you need to report?" he asked.
"This lowly servant is proud to announce that the outer circle of thy organization has now grown to twenty thousand members," she explained, her voice precise, each word weighted with meticulous pride. "Most members hail from North America and Africa, and it is the resolution of the inner circle that we shall more than double this number by the end of the year."
It had only been a year and a half since he founded the cult, yet its growth had been rapid, a reflection of how many people were willing to compromise their morals in pursuit of power, fame, or influence. The organization was structured into several ranks and circles.
The lowest level was known as the First Degree, consisting of new recruits and individuals who had little to offer beyond their belief and desire, most of them ordinary people drawn in by their personalities and attraction to the allure of darkness.
The Second Degree was made up largely of wealthy politicians, business leaders, celebrities, actors, and other influential figures who were willing to do a great deal to advance their careers and who could contribute significant resources and connections to the cult.
Above them were the Horror Bishops, who served as missionaries, preachers, and leaders during gatherings, holding the authority to recruit new members and, with his blessing, engrave the Mark of the Dark Prince.
The highest formal rank within the organization was that of Priest or Priestess, individuals allowed to communicate with him directly and who functioned in a role similar to that of a pope within a religion.
Finally, there was the Inner Circle, which was a select group of individuals personally recruited by Meruem himself. All members of the Inner Circle were aware of the supernatural aspects of the cult and often included magicians, warriors, or other supernatural beings who had aligned themselves with Meruem for their own purposes.
"Well done," he said, even though he already knew the exact number of members through the connection he maintained with each of them via their marks.
She smiled, a delicate, pleased expression that seemed to light her entire face. "Master, if it pleases thee, I- this lowly servant has a request, and she humbly begs permission to voice it, if I may be so bold," Meredith said hesitantly, her voice trembling ever so slightly, and for the first time she used the pronoun "I," a small sign of the personal courage she summoned to ask.
"What request?" Meruem asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly at the shift in her manner.
"It concerns becoming a member of thy peerage," she said, her voice growing even quieter, the words leaving her lips with visible nervousness.
"Go on," he said, giving a small nod for her to continue.
"If it's not too presumptuous, may I be told when I might finally be worthy enough to be reincarnated into thy peerage?" she asked, lowering her gaze to the floor as though afraid of overstepping.
"You have always been worthy," Meruem said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Meredith, your talent is such that any king would consider himself fortunate to have you as part of his peerage. Your worth has never been the issue that kept me from reincarnating you."
"T-then what is it?" she asked, voice trembling, small tears beginning to gather in her eyes. "Is there some deficiency I must correct to merit it?"
"None at all," he reassured her, his voice calm and deliberate. "You're perfect as you are, my dear. I suppose I should explain my reasoning. You are aware that devils aren't well regarded by most supernatural entities, are you not?"
"Yes, beloved lord," she replied at once.
"We devils can't move freely through the human world without drawing attention," he continued. "Much of the world falls under the influence of different pantheons, with Heaven being the most hostile toward us, and because of our reputation most gods are reluctant to allow devils into territories they oversee. Entry usually requires negotiations, agreements, or very careful maneuvering, and that restriction can create serious limitations."
"Does that mean you–?" she began, voice hesitant.
"Yes," he said, finishing the thought for her. "It means I can't personally travel everywhere I might wish to recruit or manage affairs without alerting local powers, which is why I needed a representative I could trust completely to act in my place."
That, of course, was only half the truth. While devils were indeed unpopular among the supernatural, Meruem had ways of moving unnoticed wherever he pleased. She did not need to know that.
What mattered was that she understood how important her role was.
"Y-you trust me this much, great master?" she whispered, voice breaking with emotion, tears spilling freely now. "How unworthy I feel of such faith! How delighted I am, my heart trembling with joy and awe, that the one whom I revere above all would place such faith in me, seeing me capable of fulfilling duties beyond what any mortal might imagine possible!"
"Of course I trust you, Meredith," he said. "I chose you as my high priestess because I have absolute confidence in your loyalty and ability. That is precisely why you have remained human until now, since if you became a devil your movements would be far more restricted and you would lose the flexibility required to travel where the Church of the Dark Prince needs you most."
Her expression transformed immediately, tears glistening in her eyes as a radiant smile broke across her face. She looked as though his words had filled the very center of her being with light and purpose. She seemed moments away from rising to her feet and singing hosanna in adoration, overwhelmed by the affirmation that she was valued, recognized, and indispensable to the one she worshiped above all.
"Thank you, beloved master," she said, voice choked with emotion yet resolute, "this honor means the world to this lowly servant, for there is no greater joy than to be deemed worthy by thy divine grace."
"Of course," he said, his expression unchanging. "But you're correct, a reward is warranted for your unwavering service."
"Oh, please, master!" she exclaimed, a note of alarm mingled with awe in her voice. "It's sufficient that I may serve thee. No greater honor exists than the ability to be of use in any manner thou requires, and I seek no other reward than this privilege, O radiant one!"
"This is something I have considered for some time," he continued. "Six months from now, on the sixth of July 2006, I will hold a ritual in which all of my faithful will take part. It'll be a grand ceremony, and on that day I will reincarnate you into my peerage."
Her eyes widened, her entire being trembling with elation. "This is extraordinary!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with delight. "It will be the first assembly of all members of the Church of the Dark Prince! We must begin preparations at once, plan every detail with the utmost care! To be reincarnated on such a momentous occasion is an honor beyond imagining, only rivaled by the privilege of serving thee!"
"We will go over the details at the next inner circle meeting," he said calmly.
Meredith, however, was already lost in her thoughts, speaking rapidly about logistics, locations, security, rituals, invitations, and contingency plans, her mind racing with ideas as she began organizing the event in her head. Meruem watched her with quiet amusement, certain that she would devote herself fully to the task and deliver results that exceeded expectations, since nothing motivated her more than the chance to prove her worth in service to him.
…
POV: Andrameleth Beleth
"Are you sure going to Grach Urieus is the right decision, my love?" his wife Morena asked again, which had to be at least the fifth time she had brought it up.
"Considering the fact that his daughter is my wife," Andrameleth replied dryly while adjusting the clasp of his cloak, his tone patient yet faintly amused, "I'd say he is one of the few people I can reasonably expect to support me. It is, after all, firmly in his own interest to do so."
"Even still, I worry for your safety," Morena said, her brows knitting together as she stepped closer to him, lowering her voice as if the very walls might overhear. "Of all my sister wives, I trust Jahibath the least, she always carried herself like someone who never truly left her birth family behind, and I have never shaken the feeling that her loyalties remain divided. She watches too much, speaks too little, and ambition burns in her more fiercely than she lets anyone see."
He had to resist the urge to smile at that, because the irony was almost too rich. Morena herself was ambitious beyond reason, and while she seemed convinced he remained unaware of the quiet webs she spun in his court, of the favors traded, the alliances nudged into place, and the subtle ways she had maneuvered the first three queens into positions where they leaned on her guidance.
She was mistaken in that belief, as he saw clearly every scheme she spun
He simply did not interfere because her ambitions were tied to the prosperity of House Beleth, and every gain she secured for herself strengthened his throne as well, which made her schemes predictable and therefore safe enough to tolerate.
"She is my wife," he said evenly, meeting Morena's gaze. "She has done nothing that warrants mistrust. More importantly, we require the backing of her family. House Urieus is our second strongest vassal, and with our largest and third largest bannermen already conspiring against us in secret, securing the loyalty of our second greatest allies is no longer optional."
"I understand the logic behind it," Morena replied, biting her lip as unease lingered in her eyes. "Still, I can't rid myself of this sense of foreboding. Jahibath has always been bitter over her inability to bear you a child, and that bitterness has left her feeling insecure in her position as queen."
"And she can secure that position by ensuring her father stands with us when rebellion inevitably breaks out among our more avaricious vassals," Andrameleth answered calmly. "You worry too much, my love. Time is not a luxury I possess, and you know this well. At the very least, I must leave Meruem a stable foundation and a reliable ally when he ascends to power, and I can feel that moment drawing ever closer."
Morena did not look convinced, though he knew better than to expect otherwise. A woman's heart was shaped by worry and fear, while a king could not afford such indulgences.
He needed to act, and every day he delayed allowed Zekram more opportunity to turn his own vassals against him.
Over the past weeks, Andrameleth had been meeting discreetly with those vassals whose loyalty he trusted, securing their promises to answer his son's call when the crown passed to Meruem and to stand against the greedy bastards who would surely attempt to usurp him.
He glanced at the handful of retainers who accompanied him as bodyguards while they stood within the teleportation circle. Every meeting had to be conducted in absolute secrecy, as even the faintest hint of his movements reaching Zekram's ears could provoke a premature and violent response.
That necessity was the reason he had brought only a small escort, knowing full well that spies and double agents infested his court, ready to sell any scrap of information regarding the king's actions to the highest bidder.
Had he mobilized a larger force, it would have drawn immediate attention and prompted dangerous questions, questions that would invite scrutiny and accelerate events beyond his control.
The world twisted, light folding in on itself, and the next moment they stood in a windowless stone chamber lit by softly glowing crystals set into the walls, containing only a single reinforced door, precisely as he had requested of Grach.
He had insisted upon a secluded room where no eyes could witness the king's presence, nor even suspect that such a meeting had taken place.
Grach Urieus awaited him inside, flanked by three guards. He was a tall and slender man with broad shoulders, appearing to be in his early thirties despite being older than Andrameleth himself. His head was shaved clean, though a thick golden side-whisker framed his face, and his green eyes glinted sharply beneath the chamber's light.
Grach bowed deeply from the waist. "I'm at your disposal, Your Majesty," he said in a firm, controlled voice as he straightened and met the king's gaze without flinching.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, Lord Grach," Andrameleth replied, his tone calm and cordial.
"I serve at the pleasure of my king," Grach answered without hesitation.
"A trait I have always admired," Andrameleth said. "My father often spoke of House Urieus as our most loyal vassals, and he considered you the finest your house had produced, both in strength and in steadfastness."
"His late majesty was generous with his praise," Grach replied. "I merely fulfill my duty."
"And duty calls upon you once again," Andrameleth said. "Will you raise your sword in defense of the crown against those who would tear it down from within?"
"Give the word, and I will purge any who stand in your way, Your Majesty," Grach answered without hesitation.
The king nodded, appearing satisfied, and began outlining what he had uncovered about the quiet maneuverings of Houses Acteus and Ormenus, about the alliances forming in shadow and the resources being shifted in preparation for open defiance. He spoke carefully, watching Grach's reactions, weighing each flicker of expression.
He understood that declarations of loyalty, no matter how eloquent, were openings for negotiation rather than guarantees.
Support had a price, and influence had to be matched with reward, so as the conversation turned from accusations to possibilities, they began the slow, careful dance of bargaining, each probing the limits of what the other would concede in exchange for armed backing when the storm finally broke.
"It's good to see that you have not lost your touch, Andrameleth," a commanding voice suddenly said, sending a chill racing down his spine.
Andrameleth's head turned slowly, his senses straining, because he had been certain the chamber held only Grach and his guards when he arrived.
Yet there, seated as though he had always belonged there, was a middle aged man with neatly kept black hair and calm violet eyes, dressed in the elegant attire of a high noble.
Beside him stood a striking young woman with long black hair and the same distinctive violet eyes, her posture poised and confident. He recognized her at once as Dimora Bael, younger sister of the current head of House Bael and ranked ninth among the top ten in the Rating Games.
A heavy realization settled in his chest as he looked at the man on the throne-like seat. He realized how gravely he had miscalculated, as though fate itself had aligned against him.
Zekram Bael, his most dangerous enemy, was here.
"Why so serious, Andrameleth?" Zekram Bael asked lightly.
"You sold me out as well, Grach?" Andrameleth said, disappointment lacing his voice. "Your own son-in-law?"
Grach did not look away. "It was a difficult choice, if that offers any comfort, Your Majesty," he said evenly. "My duty to my king stood on one side, and the long term prosperity of my house stood on the other. I chose my house, as I believe you would have done in my place. I have never forgiven you for denying my daughter the security of a son."
"What did you threaten him with?" Andrameleth asked, turning back to Zekram.
"Because he would never betray you otherwise?" Zekram mocked. "Your faith in your vassals is as misguided as your faith in your ability to conceal your movements, and it only proves how little you understand me. I require no threats to accomplish my will."
"What else can be expected of House Beleth, great ancestor?" Dimora said softly, her tone almost pitying. "They have always had more pride than sense."
"What do you want?" Andrameleth asked, keeping his voice level despite the tightening in his chest.
"You know what I want," Zekram replied. "I have long found it insulting that your ancestors resisted every attempt at cooperation."
"You mean submission?" Andrameleth shot back.
"Would that truly have been so terrible?" Zekram asked, spreading his hands slightly. "I am Zekram Bael, the first and mightiest of the ancient Demon Kings, and everything that endures in the Underworld does so beneath the shadow of my will."
"We do not bow," Andrameleth said, repeating the words his father had taught him, and his father before him.
"Ah, yes, your favorite mantra," Zekram said with a soft laugh. "Was it always your idea that if you repeat that sentence enough times it might become true? Yet reality is not so kind, Andrameleth."
Andrameleth glanced at his guards, who stood ready despite knowing their efforts would be futile against a being as ancient as Zekram, especially with Dimora Bael, an ultimate class devil, standing beside him.
"You know, I originally intended to let you suffer a slower end," Zekram said conversationally, as though discussing a minor change in schedule. "I arranged the assassination of that hot headed brother of yours because he showed far too much promise for my liking. I quietly encouraged dissent among your vassals so that rebellion would bloom from within your own lands.
"The plan was to bring you to the brink of despair; you would be stripped of allies, forced to watch your authority crumble piece by piece, and when you stood at your lowest point I would appear before you and repeat the same offer I once gave your ancestor, kneel or die. It would have been a fitting echo across the ages, yet recent developments have forced my hand and altered the order of events."
The admission about his brother's murder brought no shock, only a grim confirmation of what Andrameleth had long suspected.
"Will you not yield at last, Andrameleth?" Dimora asked, stepping forward slightly, her expression almost pleading. "I'd rather not spill the blood of a fellow Pillar, and there is a path that spares everyone unnecessary loss. I will marry Meruem, you will pass the crown to him peacefully, and you may spend the rest of your days in comfort without the burden of rule. You have my word that I will treat Meruem well and ensure he lacks for nothing."
He looked at her and felt only cold disdain at the thought of his son reduced to a figurehead shaped by Bael interests.
"The answer remains the same one you received all those millennia ago," Andrameleth said, ignoring her offer.
"Ah, the folly of youth," Zekram said fondly. "As always, you believe that dying heroically amounts to some grand achievement. I won't waste time lecturing you on the value of self-preservation, as it is clearly a lost cause by now. Still, you have my gratitude for the gem you have produced."
"Meruem," Andrameleth said, dread tightening around his chest. "That's why you altered your plan of letting us slowly bleed out… You want my son!"
"He's simply marvelous," Zekram said. "Those rings of power of his are simply …extraordinary. You have no idea of the sheer potential they possess, nor does your son himself have any understanding of the ways they could be wielded."
"What do you intend to do to my son?" Andrameleth asked, fear tightening his chest.
"I told you from the start," Zekram replied, his voice taking on a deeper resonance that seemed to fill the room. "Nothing exists in the Underworld without my permission, no power rises that I have not allowed to grow, and no will stands that does not ultimately answer to mine. I am the foundation beneath every throne, the shadow behind every crown, and the boundary that defines how far any devil may rise before I decide their height is sufficient. The Underworld is my domain by right of strength and age, and any force that moves freely beyond my control is a challenge to that order which I won't tolerate."
"What are you saying?" Andrameleth whispered.
"The freedom of your son is an insult to me," Zekram said. "I'd have him in chains."
"You are mad!" Andramelth spat. "This is your vision for the Underworld?... A realm where no will exists except your own?"
"Hear me, boy," Zekram said. "There is room on the stage for one beast and one alone. All others are destined for a night that is eternal and without name. One by one they will step down into the darkness before the footlamps. Devils that dance, devils that don't."
"You underestimate my son," Andramelth shouted. "He is the light that will illuminate all, even you will not bend him to your will!"
Knowing full well that he stood no chance of survival, Andrameleth Beleth gathered every ounce of his power and launched himself toward Zekram, driven by fury, pride, and the desperate desire to wipe the calm amusement from that ancient face even for a single moment.
He knew he would die here, yet he was king of House Beleth, and kings of his line died standing with defiance in their hearts. His only true regret was leaving Meruem with too few reliable allies, yet even as he charged he placed his faith in his son's strength and will, believing that Meruem would carve his own path through the darkness that was already closing in around him.
AN: How making contracts between devils and humans works is not really explained in canon, or at least not in a satisfactory way. So I used my headcanon to explain how it works and how it might be exploited. And yeah, Meruem created a cult as an energy source, which is quite dark when you think about it.
I have also always found it hard to believe that House Bael did not use a King piece to increase the strength of their own clan members, or why they have no one in the top ten ranks of the Rating Games. Granted, not everyone in the top ten has been revealed in canon, but still, for a house as dominant as Bael, you would expect them to have more presence. So my answer to that is Dimora. A King piece was given to her, and she used it to reach the top ten ranks.
Advanced chapters are available on my Patreon, so if you want to read ahead or support me so I can focus more on writing, check out my Patreon: patreon.com/abeltargaryen?
comments and feedbacks (or criticism) are appreciated.