"Next match: Katerea of the House of Leviathan versus Rainer of the House of Bune!"
Applause echoed through the grand Colosseum of Lucifade. A dark-skinned demoness with glasses and a smug smirk leaped down from the high balconies, the seats reserved for the descendants of the Four Great Satans and the Six Great Houses.
From the lower seats, the heir of the House of Bune, one of the 72 Pillars, descended to the arena floor with far less confidence.
What followed was not a match, but a beating. It was supposed to be a "friendly competition to foster a healthy spirit among the young generation of demons," but it was a farce.
Katerea, who was superior in both raw power and skill, used her opponent to wipe the floor.
The poor boy from House Bune barely even tried to fight back, terrified of accidentally angering a descendant of one of the great rulers.
'It's just like the tournaments between the righteous sects,' I thought with a wry smile. 'Everyone goes easy on the elders' disciples, afraid of their masters' wrath.'
I glanced over at my mother, who was watching the one-sided fight with a bored expression. My "brother," on the other hand, was glued to the scene, his eyes shining with excitement.
It had been several hours since we used a curious local version of spatial travel called "teleportation" to arrive in Lucifade, the capital of Hell.
It was an unsubtle name, but it got the point across. After a brief tour of the city with my mother, we had come here, to the Colosseum, to "enjoy" the matches.
In the past few days, I had managed to piece together a clearer picture of this world. This race of "wrong" demons had been in a near-constant state of war with two other factions: God's angels and the Fallen Angels.
All three groups were part of a single, overarching "Biblical Mythology," all born from the will of a single, powerful being.
It was strange to me that a being capable of creating an entire mythology could not, or would not, destroy the factions that broke away from him.
But the result of this eternal war was clear. The demon race was on the brink of collapse.
Almost the entire first generation of demons, beings who could live for tens of thousands of years, were dead.
Forty of the original seventy-two Pillar families were gone. And most importantly, the Four Great Satans, the very foundation of Hell's power, were dead.
The only reason the demons hadn't been wiped out was because the other two factions were in a similar state of crisis, and no other powers dared to interfere.
Still, I wasn't ready to abandon my contingency plan to flee this realm and convince my mother to come with me.
Things could change. New rulers would soon take the empty thrones, and from the rumors I'd heard, they were not the peaceful type.
Suddenly, my heart clenched. An anomaly had entered my perception. A presence so heavy, so overwhelmingly powerful, it dwarfed everyone else I had met in this world.
I slowly turned my head, trying not to draw attention, and watched the approaching threat with a cold, detached calm.
"Grayfia, it's good to see you," a voice said. A handsome, crimson-haired demon with bright blue eyes was smiling warmly at us. His curious gaze flickered between me and Euclis. "Are these the brothers you told me about?"
I quickly pasted a polite smile on my face and lowered my eyes, careful not to make direct eye contact.
My mother, who had been bored a moment before, turned and broke into a genuine, happy smile. A cold, dark feeling began to rise within me.
"Hello, Sirzechs," she said. "Allow me to introduce my younger brothers, Euclis Lucifuge and Inflis Lucifuge. Brothers, this is the heir of one of the great Pillar houses, Sirzechs Gremory."
"It is a pleasure to meet my sister's friend," I said, placing a hand over my heart and giving a slight bow. My blond "brother" did the same, but only after a sharp glance from our mother.
"The pleasure is all mine," Sirzechs said, his smile widening. "I'm happy to finally meet the brothers Grayfia has bragged so much about."
"Sirzechs!" my mother exclaimed, her cheeks flushing.
"Am I wrong, Grayfia?" he chuckled, looking at her with an expression of pure adoration. "You spoke of them with such pride and joy."
How dare he…
The sharp crack of a whip against my back. The sting of pain forcing a cry from my lips. I had been about to throw my sword away in a fit of rage, unable to channel my qi through it properly.
You must consume your anger, not let it consume you,my mother's voice, cold and firm.Begin again.
Yes, Mother.
The anger vanished, replaced by a surge of clarity and strength. The cold darkness within me receded.
"I don't want to talk about it," my mother mumbled, flustered.
"Alright, alright," Sirzechs said good-naturedly. "By the way, aren't your brothers only eight years old?"
"Yes," she replied, anticipating his next question. "Father thought attending the gathering would be a good experience for them."
Sirzechs's smile faded. He shook his head slowly, a sad look in his eyes as he glanced down at the arena.
"I don't know about that," he murmured. The raw power radiating from him was immense; he could probably kill everyone in this Colosseum without breaking a sweat. His very presence felt like a shadow of destruction.
"By the way, Sirzechs," my mother said, changing the subject, "how is your children's choir?"
The sad look vanished from Sirzechs's face, replaced by an infectious, boyish grin. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "We've just started learning some New Year's songs that are very popular with humans. We're getting quite good at them!"
I blinked. A children's choir? Did that mean… was it a euphemism for torturing children and drawing power from their screams?
"Sister," I asked, turning to her, "what children's choir are you talking about?"
"Oh, it was Sirzechs's idea," she explained. "He's loved music since he was a child, but he got bored of playing alone. So, he started teaching the children of his household's servants how to sing and play instruments. Over time, it grew into his 'children's choir.'"
I nodded thoughtfully. So, not torture. I turned my attention back to the crimson-haired demon.
"Heir of House Gremory," I began, my tone serious and analytical, "have you studied sound-based magic? Are you teaching it to your future servants, thereby preparing a personal combat unit that will be your foundation when you become the head of your House?"
Sirzechs choked, breaking into a fit of coughing. My mother covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Why was that funny?
"No, Inflis," Sirzechs said, once he'd recovered. "We just learn new songs and melodies."
"I see," I said, undeterred. "So, in this way, you are instilling in them the discipline and obedience they will need to serve you as their future master?"