Tap. Tap.
The sound of small-heeled footsteps echoed as the Bael heir walked toward his "father's" office.
Honestly, even calling him that in his mind was already a compliment.
"Lord" Bael was nothing more than a disposable tool of Zekram Bael, the ancestor of their clan.
But well, now he was heading there to ask for a "small" favor.
At last, he arrived.
He raised his small hand.
—knock—knock—knock—
After a few seconds—
—Enter.
A cold voice came from inside the office.
Never losing his smile (Alastor's advice), he stepped into the luxurious room.
—Good morning, Father.
He spoke confidently.
—What do you need?
Lord Bael replied without looking up from his papers.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Aikren spoke casually:
—I need a district.
—Huh?
Lord Bael looked genuinely confused.
You didn't see a child asking to own an entire district every day.
—No.
An expected answer.
—Hmm, really? Even if I said it could benefit our ancestor?
The young demon spoke in a melodic tone.
That instantly caught his attention.
Even though Aikren was a child, he was still the genius of his clan. And above all, for a dog like Lord Bael, the most important thing was pleasing his master.
—I'm planning to start a business. Something beneficial for our clan.
—I'm certain it will succeed, and it could please our beloved ancestor.
Lord Bael stared at him for a long moment.
The young demon's eyes radiated nothing but confidence.
—And besides, my birthday is coming soon, and I'll be presented to all of Hell. Wouldn't it be gratifying to see your heir succeed and receive praise at his debut?
Finally, he broke.
—Fine. But only one street. We must maintain our image.
Disgusting.
That's what Aikren felt.
But he didn't say it.
—I need at least six streets.
—Two.
—Four.
—Three.
—Perfect! Three it is!
The deal was sealed.
Aikren signed the documents and instantly felt his power grow slightly.
His smile widened.
He teleported immediately.
As a dimensional demon, within his territory he was completely invincible, and teleporting there was second nature.
When he arrived, he felt a twinge of disgust.
A slum.
Poor, powerless demons.
It was expected—they would never give him important streets.
Still, these streets weren't far from the city center.
And in the end, they were only three streets.
And above all…
A dimensional demon could reshape his world however he pleased.
And that was exactly what he was going to do.
First, a stage appeared out of nowhere.
—Greetings, people of the slums!
The resident demons were startled to see a stage appear out of thin air and approached out of curiosity.
They were even more surprised when they saw their future ruler—the Bael heir.
—Are you tired of the miserable situation you're living in?!
The demons hesitated… then nodded.
—Well, I have good news for you.
—From today onward, I have been appointed the owner of this territory.
Shock and doubt spread.
It was natural—he was still a child.
Aikren ignored it and continued.
—I am pleased to announce that from now on these three streets will be known as…
With amplified voice and drums materializing out of nowhere, he made a dramatic pause.
—The Streets of Debauchery!
His staff—a black-and-red rod with a floating bat at the top—struck the ground.
Reality twisted.
The tents and ruined houses vanished, replaced by towering skyscrapers.
Five-star hotels emerged, complete with pools, gyms, and every luxury imaginable.
The few remaining shops disappeared, replaced by buildings such as:
Brothels, porn studios, fashion hubs filled with extravagant outfits from every era in history, and finally, a television studio.
Everything glowed with neon lights and an overwhelming excess of pleasure.
—Don't worry about your image or holding back!
Thanks to the new maous, demons behaved like humans, suppressing their instincts elsewhere.
—Here, you can unleash every single one of your demonic instincts!
—Welcome to the District of Debauchery!
More and more demons gathered, drawn by the sudden appearance of luxury buildings across three streets.
—Be demons.
With a sadistic smile, Aikren vanished.
High above, in the tallest building of the Streets of Debauchery, Aikren summoned three figures.
Vox
Velvette
Valentino
Three Overlords whose souls belonged to him.
They were uneasy standing before their "master," yet also excited.
This new world held countless new and stronger demons.
Owning stronger souls meant they themselves would grow stronger.
—I need you to send your demons to control these three streets.
A mountain of treasure and precious gems materialized before them.
—This is your starting capital.
Demons from DxD could materialize matter, but it wouldn't last forever.
Aikren, however, could make it permanent.
—Sell it. Vox, get at least five channels and spread your influence.
—Velvette, control the Devil Net—or at least make sure you're socially dominant.
—Valentino, make these sex-starved demons drown in tits and asses.
After giving the orders, he disappeared.
The Overlords summoned hundreds of demons whose souls they owned—slaves bound to their will—and began taking control of the Streets of Debauchery.
One week later.
Aikren watched as his soul count steadily increased.
On television, a show called "So I Fucked Your Sister, So What?" was airing.
The initial capital multiplied rapidly.
On the Devil Net, promotions spread about a place where demons could freely indulge their instincts.
Slowly, the "Vees," as they came to be known, took control of the city.
Even without money, you could sell time—working a few hours a day.
What they didn't realize was that they were becoming addicted.
Eventually, they sold their souls for a laughable price, just to sleep with a beautiful demon once.
—Heh heh heh…
Aikren laughed silently as he observed his project through his power.
Little by little, he would normalize the "obsolete" custom of demanding souls as payment.
Seriously—what kind of demon gets paid with money?
Are you stupid? You possess what weak souls desire most, and you still ask for money despite your clear advantage?
—Lord Aikren, your father requests your presence in his office.
A servant spoke from outside the room.
—I'll be there shortly.
Aikren calmly went to negotiate with his dear father.
—knock—knock—knock—
He was invited in almost immediately.
—Aikren, I see your project is bearing fruit.
Lord Bael spoke with his usual cold gaze.
—Yes, it's going well.
—Aikren, trading in souls is no joke.
Aikren merely looked at him, his perpetual smile unwavering.
—The current maous strongly reject your methods.
—And your "businesses" are—
—I'll stop you right there, Father.
Aikren had no intention of enduring him any longer.
—Please, Father. We are demons. Everything I'm doing is simply our nature.
Raising his hand, Aikren spoke again:
—How about this… as a gesture of goodwill, I'll gift you one hundred complete souls.
Lord Bael was stunned.
One hundred complete souls.
That meant total ownership.
The soul's owner could do absolutely nothing—
They could be dissected, tortured, reshaped for eternity.
And now he had one hundred.
To Aikren, it meant nothing.
At this rate, he would recover that "investment" in days.
And with time, corrupted beings would fall endlessly into his grasp.
One hundred souls?
Sixty to seventy million humans die every year.
Even assuming only half go to Hell—which was generous—
And considering exorcists only kill about 4% in a good year—
Millions of complete souls were available.
One hundred was nothing.
His father finally accepted the disposable souls.
Aikren pondered his next move.
His business was booming, and no one in Hell could stop him.
Not while they stepped into his territory.
He wouldn't control his father's mind—yet.
Public opinion still mattered.
Until they were eating from the palm of his hand, he wouldn't do anything too excessive.
For now, he would simply wait and watch as the city slowly sank into debauchery.
And all he had to say was—
—Be demons.
TO BE CONTINUED