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Without a doubt, a true king remains calm, rational, and composed in every situation.
And Ramusas had always upheld this principle.
Even if the Current Demon Lord faction launched a direct assault against his capital right this second, he would first deploy his subordinates to handle the enemy while he himself remained safely in the throne room, observing the developnts.
He would never act rashly unless the enemy leader personally entered the fray or his forces were about to crumble.
After all, while personally charging into battle could earn loyalty and inspire admiration, it could also create opportunities for his enemies to exploit and strike him down.
Until now, confrontations between the Old and Current Demon Lord factions had always remained small-scale probes and skirmishes—never a truly decisive, large-scale clash.
Yet today clearly felt different.
Five seconds ago, Ramusas sensed powerful spatial fluctuations in the air above his city.
He was about to send soone to investigate, but just four seconds later, an incomprehensibly fierce blade of energy had already cleaved his palace in two.
And by the fifth second, the culprit was standing right before him.
"You are...?" Ramusas stared at the youth in front of him with narrowed eyes.
Shattered throne fragnts lay scattered at his feet, still smoldering from that devastating strike. Even now, the terrifying power of that attack lingered in Ramusas' mind.
Without question, this power far exceeded anything even a Demon Lord-level entity could casually achieve. Ramusas himself—the leader of the Old Demon Lord faction—could never deliver an attack like that.
Yet this young man standing before him appeared extraordinarily young.
Was he perhaps so prodigious, young devil talent from outside the Northern Territories?
It seed plausible.
Yet, no matter how noble or pure-blooded a devil might be, their appearance would always hold certain clear markers: unique hair colors or horns that reflected their heritage.
Lucifer and Beelzebub of the Four Great Satans, for example, were undeniably handso and humanlike, yet their distinctive appearances marked them clearly as devils.
But this boy was utterly human in appearance—short black hair, a face and body clear of any devilish marks, with no horns or markings.
It was as if he were an ordinary human being.
Wait a mont... a human?
Ramusas' eyes suddenly narrowed further, his glasses shifting slightly upwards as he furrowed his brows.
"Could it be that you're—"
"Bokue Keikain," the boy said, calmly stepping forward. "We t yesterday, through Lucia."
Bokue moved another step forward—not specifically to pressure Ramusas, but because another group had just arrived through the massive opening above.
Rias, Mio, Kuroka, Akeno, Koneko, and the rest of his entourage touched down gently behind him, their presence adding further weight to the tense standoff.
"You..." Ramusas murmured, pupils narrowing slightly in recognition. Especially upon seeing that vivid red hair—a nearly exact replica of his niece Mio's.
"Now I see," he growled softly. "So you're from the Gremory family, of the 72 Pillars."
His voice deepened further, becoming dangerous. "Yet this is the Northern Territory—not Gremory land. Everyone here bears the mark of exile, having been cast away by the rest of the underworld. As noble devils, isn't it breaking your precious rules to interfere here?"
"Is that so?" Bokue interjected calmly before Rias could speak. "And yet, here we are right now. What exactly can you do about it? You should already know exactly why we're here."
Ramusas fell silent.
Indeed, reality wasn't so cheap fantasy novel that rigidly followed rules.
True enough, the Northern Territory was designated a land of exile, outside the usual jurisdiction of the 72 Pillars. But that didn't an the noble houses of the underworld couldn't intervene—rely that they didn't care enough to.
It was mostly empty, barren land. Blistering sumrs and freezing winters made it inhospitable; no valuable resources, no bustling trade routes, and no fertile farmlands existed here. Why waste ti and effort governing this wasteland when each Pillar had their own prosperous territory?
Yet just because they didn't bother to intervene, didn't an they lacked the power to.
And now, Bokue stood right here—directly interfering. If Ramusas wanted him to leave, he had only two choices: either submit and concede, agreeing to their terms, or use brute force to remove him... provided Ramusas could even do that.
Just as the stalemate seed to reach its peak tension, a familiar female voice suddenly echoed through the damaged throne room.
"Lord Ramusas! And...!"
Bokue turned calmly at the familiar sound.
Descending hurriedly into the throne hall through the gaping hole above was none other than Lucia—the silver-haired maid they'd t yesterday at the hotel.
Lucia, having noticed the devastating attack, had rushed here imdiately. She was visibly stunned to find both sides in a tense standoff—especially upon spotting her younger sister among the intruders.
"Maria?? What the hell are you doing??" Lucia imdiately began to scold her younger sister.
Yet, much to Lucia's surprise, Maria—who usually cowered obediently—spoke up boldly, interrupting her elder sister's stern words.
"Sister, tell . Where is Lady Sapphire now?"
"Huh? Lady Sapphire is—"
Lucia hesitated briefly, montarily considering saying this wasn't the ti. But as her eyes briefly flickered toward the black-haired young man beside her sister, she found herself speaking without realizing it.
"Lady Sapphire is currently not in the city."
"Not here?" Maria imdiately frowned. "Then where did she go?"
Before Lucia could answer, Ramusas finally spoke again after a mont's heavy silence.
"Sapphire left several days ago," he stated bluntly. "She couldn't accept my decision and thus chose to leave."
"Couldn't accept? You an—"
Maria instantly realized the implications.
Ramusas remained silent, clearly confirming Maria's suspicion through his taciturnity.
Bokue shook his head disapprovingly. "See? Even your own sister couldn't stomach your plan."
"I... I have no choice," Ramusas growled grimly. "As the leader of the Old Demon Lord faction, it is my duty to lead us to victory. For that goal, I must be willing to pay any price."
At that mont, Rias stepped forward confidently, arms folded beneath her ample chest as she lifted her chin slightly, eting Ramusas' stare head-on.
"Lord Ramusas, while the Gremory household normally would never interfere with Northern Territory politics, the fact remains that Mio is my blood relative—my cousin. I cannot possibly turn a blind eye and watch idly as you, her own uncle, plot against her."
"... Everything I do is for the sake of the Old Demon Lords," Ramusas insisted stubbornly, clinging to his resolve.
But before he could finish, an earth-shaking impact interrupted him.
CRASH—!
Bokue suddenly stood directly before the throne. Before anyone even registered his movent, he kicked Ramusas squarely in the chest, driving the older devil straight back through his throne with such incredible force that cracks rippled outwards across its base.
"I'm sick of hearing that," Bokue said icily, looking down upon Ramusas with disdain. "There are two simple ways to resolve a conflict—either solve the problem itself, or remove the person creating it."
He tilted his head slightly, giving Ramusas a cold, cutting glare.
"And from where I'm standing, you're clearly the problem."
All this nonsense about doing everything for his faction—what a joke.
If he really cared, wouldn't he just surrender and rge into the Current Demon Lord faction to end the pointless war? But no, he had to put on this righteous act about sacrificing his niece, just because he couldn't let go of his precious leadership position.
Pretending it's for so higher ideal, when it was clearly just selfish ambition.
What utter hypocrisy.
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