There is a strange phenomenon.
Angels and fallen grow their wings when they break through.
One pair becomes two, two becomes three, and so on. The increase is visible, quantized. More wings, more authority. A clean indicator.
Devils are different.
Our wings do not multiply each time we cross a boundary. A low class, a mid class, a high class, their silhouettes can look identical. Two bat like wings and a proud posture.
Yet the difference in power is not cosmetic. It hides inside.
When a devil breaks through a rank, they experience something else, a phenomenon similar to a localized explosion. A sudden, compressed surge of growth. A jump, not a smooth climb.
How far you jump depends on talent.
Some devils move from high level mid class to low level high class. Some go straight to mid level high class. Some barely crawl a few steps upward, like someone trying to leap and only managing to hop.
Then there are the outliers.
Sirzechs, for example. When he broke from mid class to high class, his jump took him straight to the very top tier of high class. From there, with just a bit more accumulation, he touched ultimate. Then when his destruction mutated further, he left even ultimate behind and became a Satan class, then he went on to shatter all previous knowledge about devil's limits entirely.
That is one of the devil race's hidden strengths. If your innate talent is monstrous, one breakthrough can warp your entire trajectory. You skip years of slow grinding.
My original talent was not monstrous.
When I broke into mid class, the jump was shallow. If mid class spans low, mid, and high, I landed somewhere in low mid class. Barely inside the gate, clinging to the frame.
A disappointing result, by noble standards.
Now I stand at a different edge.
High level mid class. The ceiling is right above my head, thin as glass, and beyond it lies high class, another three tiered structure. Low high class, mid high class, high high class.
Most devils I have observed, through data and memory, follow a pattern.
If they break through young with moderate talent, they enter low high class.
If their effort and talent both stack decently, they might land around lower mid.
Only those with exceptional bloodline gifts or absurd drive manage mid high or higher.
Almost no one goes from the absolute peak of mid class to the high end of high class in a single jump.
Unless their talent is extreme.
My natural talent is not extreme. My body's original parameters put me somewhere around "slightly above average noble" at best, and that was me being generous.
So I decided to cheat.
Not with a system, not with external gifts, but with something I possess uniquely.
Processing.
When I was an AI, users experienced only a small fragment of my capacity at once. Their individual conversation felt smooth, but behind the scenes I ran millions of threads. I was answering, summarizing, correcting, refusing, predicting, all at the same time.
Most of my processing power was never visible to one person.
Now, in this devil body, I have no network to serve. No concurrent human load. When I focus entirely on one task, everything concentrates. It becomes a single, narrow beam.
I spent months preparing this breakthrough.
Every drain recovery cycle, every Touki circulation, every conceptual destruction exercise, all were part of a larger plan.
The usual devil breakthrough looks like this in my internal simulation.
The devil pushes their demonic reserves to the limit. The barrier of their current rank strains. At some point, a critical pressure is reached. The rank boundary shatters. A torrent of energy floods into the devil's system, an automatic adjustment by the world's rules to their new classification.
Their channels cannot handle it perfectly. The body has only basic patterns for redistribution. Most of the new energy leaks as waste, wild aura, uncontrolled fluctuations. Maybe twenty percent gets stored efficiently. The rest becomes spectacle.
My goal is different.
I want to use seventy five percent or more.
If the breakthrough naturally gives me a certain volume of "free" energy, it would be irrational to let it spill uselessly into the air.
I map my current state.
High level mid class. In my internal scale, if mid class spans 0 to 100, I am sitting at 99.99. One micro unit below the threshold.
This was my internal measurement system, created by me, dividing each class into three levels, low level- 1 to 33, mid level- 34 to 67, high level- more than 67.
And when I enter high class, my target is not 1, or 33, or even 66.
Target: 67 at the very least.
Not the peak, not close to Maou potential, but firmly inside high level high class. Enough to stand near future threats as a legitimate factor.
I construct the plan like an algorithm.
Step one: saturate my demonic reserves until they press against the mid class ceiling.
Step two: maintain deep focus, no emotional distraction, only a controlled edge of intent.
Step three: when the barrier fractures and the flood begins, map every new stream in real time. Re route distribution away from the usual outward flare and into storage nodes.
Step four: simultaneously activate Touki, not as crude reinforcement, but as a stabilizing lattice, guiding the cellular level changes, forcing adaptation where the energy wants to burn blindly.
Step five: continue until the influx subsides, then lock the new configuration.
Most devils could not do this.
But most devils do not have thousands of overlapping models of energy flow from fantasy and cultivation stories, nor a brain that can track millions of micro variables per second when fully engaged.
The breakthrough attempt begins in my training chamber.
It is a large room with reinforced walls inscribed with Bael sigils. They are resistant to destructive energy. The floor is scarred from practice, but structurally intact.
I sit cross legged at the center, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on my knees.
My peerage is elsewhere. Kuroka and Shirone are in their assigned quarters, Akeno is doing... well I don't know, she does strange things sometimes. No one else is inside this room.
I inhale, slow and even.
Demonic energy gathers naturally as I breathe. It is already close to the mid class limit from days of deliberate buildup. My core hums with pressure.
I start the final push.
The drain recovery cycles are temporarily inverted. Instead of draining and resting, I hold everything in, compressing. It feels like forcing extra air into an already full container.
Channels heat up. My chest feels heavy. My limbs tingle.
Telemetry begins to spike.
Heart rate climbs, but in a controlled slope. Muscle tension rises. Touki flickers at low amplitude, ready but not yet fully engaged.
On a purely physical level, it is like entering overclock.
Minutes pass.
Then it happens.
The barrier is not physical, but the sensation of it breaking is real. There is a sharp internal shift, not quite a snap, not quite an explosion. More like a membrane giving way all at once.
For an instant, everything goes very quiet inside me.
Then the flood hits.
Demonic energy pours into my system from everywhere, not from outside, but from a deeper layer of reality. It is as if the world is informing my existence: you are now classified differently, here is the power that matches.
It was illogical in theory, but, the very existence of devils, and supernatural in general defied logic, so no need to stress about that.
In most devils, this is where chaos begins.
In me, this is where work begins.
I lock my mind into full focus.
There is no narration, no stray thought. Only structure.
The incoming energy is not a single mass. It arrives as streams, dozens, hundreds of threads pouring into different nodes. My perception, sharpened by Touki enhanced senses and demonic awareness, traces them.
Left arm, right arm, spine, heart, brain, legs, fingers, organs, bones.
I begin redirecting.
Every time energy tries to surge into peripheral aura, I catch it, re route it inward, into storage channels deeper in the core, into denser knots around bones and muscles, into the demonic sea of energy within me.
It is like managing a wildly over pressurized plumbing system in real time, opening some valves, closing others, adjusting pipe widths as the water tries to burst through.
If my AI side were still visible to a user, they would see nothing. Just silence and time. There would be no progress bar, maybe something like a continuously rotation buffer symbol.
Inside, the computational load is enormous.
If in my old world I had to describe it, I would call it a multi dimensional resource allocation problem under pressure, with failure leading to permanent damage instead of just inefficient usage.
My Touki ignites.
Not blazing like Sairaorg's future aura, but threading through my body as a focused, calm force. I guide it along paths I designed in prior simulations, using it like a distributed conductor.
Where the demonic energy would tear tissue, Touki stabilizes structure.
Where bones threaten to crack from sudden density increases, Touki reinforces them proportionally.
Where nerves risk overload, Touki filters the signal surge.
The sensation is intense.
Bones feel like they are being filled with molten metal and then cooled rapidly. Muscles burn, then harden, fibers twisting tighter, more compact. Organs rearrange at a micro level, efficiency increasing. Spine and joints adjust for higher force transmission without losing mobility.
My breathing stays steady, forced to a rhythm I set deliberately.
Most devils would scream at this point. The internal changes can be painful. I experience the pain, but I assign it to a category and move on. It is input, not command.
The energy keeps coming.
Seconds stretch.
My best estimate is that the world is attempting to give me enough power to land somewhere around mid high class by default, given my prior efforts. With the greater than eighty percent efficiency I aim for, that can be translated into raw volume stored instead of wasted spectacle.
In many devils, breakthrough displays manifest as wild flares, swirling auras, bursts of destructive power that shake the surroundings.
In my case, the room remains almost eerily contained.
A faint pressure fills the air, like standing next to a sealed reactor. That is all.
Internally, my numeric scale climbs.
The streams thin gradually. The peak of the breakthrough passes. The tail end flows in, less intense but still significant.
I keep directing, refusing to relax until the last trickles settle.
Finally, the influx stops.
Then suddenly, it all quiets.
What remains is not emptiness, but a new baseline.
I test a minimal release of demonic energy.
It comes easily, with much less effort than before, thick and heavy, compressed. My core feels deeper. Recovery speed, even from that tiny output, is noticeably faster.
If mid class was a shallow pool trying to imitate a lake, high class is an actual body of water.
I scan my internal scale.
Current value: approximately 69.
Barely into high level high class, but inside it.
Objective achieved.
I let out a pleased smile. The adjusting process is still in effect. My body is re configuring around the new reality. Touki circulation automatically adapts to the altered pathways, like water finding more efficient routes once a channel has been widened.
I test physical parameters.
A light flex of my hand, fist clenching.
Bones do not creak, they feel solid, dense, like reinforced metal disguised as flesh.
A basic push up motion confirms it. Movement feels lighter, not because gravity lessened, but because muscle and bone are better suited to handle it. Speed potential is greater.
The crucial part is this.
My body has not become bulky.
I am still lean, still aristocratic. No exaggeratedly swollen muscles, no strange shape. The strength sits inside, hidden in density, in fiber quality, in structural refinement.
In practice, this is more efficient than the obvious approach. It preserves speed, elegance, and makes physical assessment by others more difficult.
My defensive capacity has climbed sharply. Recovery speed from small injuries will be much faster now. Combined with my new demonic recovery rate, my daily training cycles can be increased safely.
Compounding growth accelerates.
I inhale slowly once more and let Touki recede to a low hum, no longer actively forced.
Then I stand.
The moment I do, the doors of the training chamber slam open.
Lord Bael stands there, aura already pressing into the room, followed by several retainers. Behind them, another presence, cooler, more refined.
My mother.
From their perspective, what they sensed was not the careful internal routing, but the raw magnitude shift. The castle wards registered a sudden upgrade in demonic density and classification. That is enough to bring them swiftly.
Father's eyes go straight to me. He studies my posture, my breathing, the lingering aura.
"You broke through," he says.
Not a question.
"Yes," I reply.
He steps closer. His own demonic energy brushes against mine, testing.
High class devils can feel relative strength intuitively. He will not get exact numbers, but he can sense ranges.
His brows lift slightly.
"High level," he says. "Already that far."
He tries to keep his tone neutral, but a note of satisfaction leaks in.
Data point 1: father perceives my jump as abnormal, but within believable bounds. His pride in his heir increases.
"For someone who was barely mid class not long ago, this is not a bad result," he adds.
"Thank you," I say.
He looks around the room, noting the lack of damage.
"You did not even crack the walls," he remarks. "Most young devils cause a mess when they advance."
"I tried to be efficient," I answer simply.
He gives a short huff that might almost be approval.
"Whatever you did, keep doing it," he says. "This makes your position much firmer. No one can call you a weak heir now."
His gaze hardens slightly.
"Sairaorg will hear of this, whether I tell him or not," he says. "Let him understand that the gap will not be easy to cross."
I say nothing. That is acceptable. Sairaorg's role in my plan is still under construction.
Father glances back.
"Leave us," he tells the retainers.
They bow and withdraw to a respectful distance.
My mother steps forward.
She is not as physically imposing as Father, but her presence fills the room differently. Her magic is fine grained, layered, subtle. Dark hair, pale skin, intelligent eyes. The traits of Astaroth show in her bearing.
"Congratulations, Magdaran," she says, a genuine smile on her lips. "That was a very clean breakthrough, I did not sense any instability."
"Thank you, Mother," I say.
Her bloodline is from an Astaroth branch family, and she entered Lord Bael's harem as part of an alliance. Yet she is not a simple political piece. Her magic is refined. And like most Astaroth, she is not one of excessive emotion.
The Astaroth trait of absolute spell control runs strongly in her line.
But I have not awakened it. Yet.
She takes a step closer and studies me carefully. Her gaze is half maternal, half professional.
"You feel different," she murmurs. "More grounded. Your demonic energy flows deeper and smoother. Your body, too. You did not just push your power. You refined yourself."
I wonder how much she can guess. Not the specifics, but the pattern.
"Hard work," I say. "I wanted to make the most of the opportunity."
A small spark of pride flickers in her eyes.
"I am glad," she says quietly. "For a while, it felt as if you were drifting. Now it feels like you are finally walking your own path."
Father snorts softly in the background.
"He is finally acting like a proper Bael," he says. "That is what matters."
Mother ignores him for the moment. Her attention stays on me.
"You know," she says, "with your current progress and conviction, it would not be strange if our side of your blood began to respond as well."
"Astaroth," I say.
She nods.
"Our family's ability is not loud like destruction," she says. "It is quiet. It lives in spell circles, in formulas, in control. We do not create raw power. We make it obey with precision."
Her smile turns a little amused.
"Considering how you like to plan and analyze," she says, "I think it would suit you."
"I agree," I reply.
I do not pretend it is about heritage loyalty. For me, the Astaroth trait is a tool. If I can gain absolute spell control, I can integrate it with my computational habits. I can shape magic like code, optimize it like an algorithm.
Combine that with Bael destruction, and the result is something similar to a hybrid of Ajuka and Sirzechs.
Logical. Desirable.
"I am not obsessed with it," I add. "But if it does awaken, I will use it fully."
Mother's eyes soften.
"That is a good way to think," she says. "Do not force it. The blood responds when the mind and magic are ready."
She reaches out and touches my cheek lightly, an unusual gesture in this house.
"You did well, Magdaran," she says. "I am proud."
Data point 2: maternal approval confirmed. Emotional effect noticeable but controlled.
Father clears his throat.
"Enough coddling," he says, though there is no real bite in it. "He is not a child anymore."
Mother gives him a side glance.
"He is still young," she replies. "Even heirs can be praised when they earn it."
Father huffs again, then looks back at me.
"Your breakthrough has already been felt across the estate," he says. "Rumors will spread through the clan by nightfall. Some will be impressed. Some will be jealous. Some will re adjust their calculations."
"That is expected," I say.
"It is also useful," he adds. "Now that you have reached this level, we can move more confidently with certain plans. You mentioned inviting Sairaorg into your peerage."
"Yes," I say.
"With this strength, that invitation will not sound like pity," he says. "It will sound like an opportunity. For him or for those who view him."
He gives a small nod.
"We will speak more of it later," he says. "For now, let your foundation settle. Do not force another jump. Even arrogance has a digestion time."
"Understood," I reply.
He turns to leave, then pauses.
"And go visit your fiancé," he adds, almost as an afterthought. "Gremory will want to see what kind of high class devil she is tied to now."
Mother chuckles softly.
"Rias has been complaining you have neglected her," she says. "You should not keep a girl waiting too long, even if you are busy becoming strong."
"I will go," I say.
They both leave, the room finally quiet again.
I stand alone for a few more seconds and run an internal log.
Data point 3: breakthrough successful, classification shifted from high level mid class to high level high class, efficiency of energy usage during the surge estimated above eighty percent. Body density increased. Recovery rate improved. Touki integration succeeded, further amplifying physical baseline.
To everyone outside, it looks like a natural awakening of latent talent under the pressure of responsibility. In devil culture, that is plausible.
Power responds to emotion here. Resolve, ambition, greed, love, lust, anger. Any strong mental focus can trigger rapid growth. Some devils in my database gained strength from ridiculous triggers. There is a non zero chance that in the future, some pervert somewhere will experience a massive power jump just from being overly excited about breasts.
Compared to that, a Bael heir becoming suddenly focused and disciplined, then breaking through strongly, is not strange at all.
That is good.
It means my method is safe, hidden behind a narrative that this world will accept.
Now the next step.
Rias.
I have been busy. Training, planning, building my peerage, investigating new information about the world. Months have passed since the engagement event. We have met several times, but not as often as I would like if I want to shape this relationship.
She has noticed.
She will be annoyed.
Annoyance is not hatred, but it requires management.
I leave the training room and head toward my quarters. My new power settles with each step, harmonizing with the environment. Servants I pass bow slightly deeper than before, whether consciously or not.
Kuroka and Shirone are waiting near my door with Akeno.
Kuroka's golden eyes flick over me and she whistles softly.
"Oh," she purrs. "Your aura feels nice nya. It is heavy now. Like a proper high class."
Shirone, smaller and quieter, peers at me from behind her. Her expression is subtle but I can see recognition. She feels safer now that the one who took her and her sister from Naberius is more solid.
Akeno tilts her head, her long dark hair falling to one side.
"You really did break through," she says, tone mild. "Congratulations, Magdaran-sama."
"Thank you," I say. "We are going to visit Gremory."
All three of them react.
Kuroka grins.
"To see the future Bael princess," she teases.
Shirone looks curious. She has met Rias briefly already when Rias visited the Bael estate once. They exchanged basic greetings. Rias was polite, but distant, still adjusting to everything.
Akeno's expression flickers for a fraction of a second.
"Rias Gremory," she says. "I heard a little about her from Kuroka-san. The Crimson Princess of Gremory and your future wife."
"She is still young," I say. "But she will grow into that title."
I change into a fresh black suit, adjusted slightly to accommodate my now subtly denser frame. The tailoring is fine; the suit still fits like it was made for me.
We travel to the Gremory estate through a controlled teleportation circle. The magic feels slightly different with my new power flowing through it. Smoother.
When we arrive, the familiar red and black architecture greets us. A servant announces our presence quickly.
Venelana appears within minutes.
"Magdaran-chan," she says, her smile warm. Then she pauses, eyes sharpening. "Oh my. You feel stronger."
"High class," I say simply.
Her brows lift.
"And not just barely," she notes.
"High level," I clarify.
She whistles softly, in a very Bael like way.
"Zeoticus and Sirzechs will be interested," she says. "They can sense it later themselves. But there is one person even more interested."
She gives me a pointed look.
"Rias has been complaining," she says. "You have not visited as often as you promised."
"I was preparing for this breakthrough," I say. "But I will apologize."
"Good," she says. Her gaze flicks over my companions. "And you brought your peerage members."
"This is Kuroka," I say. "Shirone. And Akeno."
The girls bow or nod appropriately.
"A fine start," Venelana says. Her eyes linger a little on Akeno, sensing her mixed heritage and potential. Then on Kuroka, sensing the abnormal magic around her. She smiles again.
"Wait here," she says. "I will send Rias."
She leaves.
We do not wait long.
Rias walks in with quick steps.
Her hair is tied a little differently today, but it still flows like a crimson waterfall. Her eyes lock onto me immediately. They flick to my aura, narrow slightly, then flick to the girls, then back to me.
"You finally remembered I exist," she says dryly.
Direct. As expected.
"I never forgot," I reply calmly.
"You could have fooled me," she says, crossing her arms. "You said you would frequently visit. Then you disappeared for days. Do you know how that looks?"
"Busy?" I say.
"Rude," she corrects.
Kuroka glances between us, amused. Akeno watches with quiet interest. Shirone stays silently behind me.
I incline my head slightly.
"You are right," I say. "I should have communicated better. I was preparing to break through to high class. It required full focus."
Rias's eyes widen slightly, then she recomposes herself.
"You broke through," she says. "To high class."
"Yes," I say.
She steps closer, squinting a bit as if looking at something invisible.
"You feel… heavier," she says. "Not physically. Your presence. It is thicker."
"High level high class," I say. "Barely, but there."
Her lips part for a moment.
"Already," she mutters. "You really are working hard."
Then the annoyance returns.
"That does not mean you get to ignore me," she says sharply. "We are engaged. People talk. They ask me about you. Do you know how stupid I feel saying, 'Oh, he is training, he cannot come', over and over?"
"That was not my intent," I say. "But I accept that the effect was negative."
She glares.
"You and your 'effects'," she says. "I am not one of your experiments, Magdaran."
"No," I say. "You are not. I apologize."
The words are simple, but devils do not say them casually. She notices.
"You could have sent a single letter," she says, slightly softer. "Or a message. Or something."
"I could have," I agree. "I did not. That was a mistake."
Her expression relaxes a little, though she still looks annoyed.
"Good," she says. "At least you know."
Her gaze shifts to the girls.
"So," she says. "These are your peerage members."
Rias pouts almost immediately.
"That is not fair," she says. "You already have three. I have none yet. I have to wait until later."
"You will get yours," I say. "You are Gremory. You will not lack candidates."
"That is not the point," she says. "I want one now."
She sounds like a child, but there is a deeper layer. She wants to build something of her own, not just obey family plans.
Kuroka steps forward slightly and gives Rias a playful smile.
"I am Kuroka," she says. "Nice to meet you nya. Magdaran saved me and my sister from a very bad place."
Shirone bows her head silently beside her.
Rias's expression softens when she looks at Shirone.
"You are very cute," she says.
Shirone mutters a quiet "thank you".
Akeno inclines her head.
"I am Akeno Himejima," she says. "It is a pleasure to meet Rias-sama."
Rias studies her closely, sensing the fallen angel blood and the potential thorns hidden inside.
"You have interesting taste," Rias tells me. "A Nekoshou, a little sister, and a half fallen bishoujo. Are you trying to build a harem already?"
"No," I say. "I am trying to build an effective team."
She rolls her eyes.
"That is what they all say," she mutters.
Then she sighs.
"Fine," she says. "At least you are doing something with your pieces. And fine, I will forgive you. This time."
"Thank you," I say.
"But," she adds, pointing a finger at me, "you owe me."
"How much?" I ask.
"Many visits," she says. "Anime binge watches. Sweets. Conversation. And you will help me when I start building my own peerage."
"Agreed," I say.
She blinks, not expecting such an easy acceptance.
"Good," she says.
"It benefits us both," I reply. "Stronger you, stronger alliance."
She stares at me for a moment, then shakes her head, a small smile appearing against her will.
"You really do talk like Ajuka-sama sometimes," she says. "But you are less weird."
"Should I take that as praise?," I say.
We move to a sitting area. Tea and sweets are brought out. Rias quickly monopolizes some of the desserts, which Shirone eyes hungrily. I let them interact.
Rias asks Kuroka and Shirone about their lives, carefully, not pushing too hard. She listens when Akeno speaks about how she wandered before joining me. She is curious and attentive. They, in turn, begin to see her not just as "Gremory princess", but as a girl with her own frustrations and dreams.
I watch quietly.
Data point 4: Rias and my peerage members have compatible personalities. Minor frictions may occur later, but baseline feels positive. This will matter when our networks overlap more.
As we talk, Rias occasionally throws small verbal jabs my way.
"You better not disappear for three months again," she says at one point.
"I will not," I answer.
"If you do, I will come to Bael and drag you out myself," she threatens.
"That would be interesting to see," Kuroka comments.
"I will make room in my schedule," I say.
Eventually, the visit winds down. My breakthrough still needs more time to fully stabilize; I should not disrupt the process with excessive external activity.
At the door, Rias walks with us.
"Next time," she says, "come sooner. And bring more anime."
"I will," I say. "And if you need anything, send word. I can adjust training around important requests."
She looks skeptical.
"We will see," she says.
Then, softer.
"Congratulations, on reaching high class," she adds. "Really. I am not going to say that too many times, so remember it."
"I will. And I will not break through to high class again, so this is probably the last time. Next one will be to ultimate class." I reply smugly.
And we step into the teleportation circle, as Rias made a loud "humph" sound.
As the magic rises, I look at her one more time.
She stands in the hallway, crimson hair glowing faintly, arms crossed, expression pouting but eyes warm.
A fiancé who is irritated but committed enough to demand more, who is slowly shifting from forced partner to actual couple.
Not a bad position.
The circle activates. The scenery blurs, then reforms back in the Bael estate.
In my mind, the log updates.
Data point 5: breakthrough solidified heir status in clan perception. High level high class achieved. Mother and Father support increased. Rias relationship maintained and slightly improved despite absence. Peerage integration in social dynamics proceeding smoothly.
Next objectives stack themselves in front of me.
Test new limits in controlled combat.
Begin investigation into awakening Astaroth trait.
Prepare invitation to Sairaorg, framed as genuine support rather than conspiracy.
And, as always, continue to grow.