The magical communication severed, leaving the room in heavy silence.
A faint, calculating smile touched Levi’s lips the moment Rizevim’s presence vanished from the magical frequency.
He raised a hand, snapping his fingers to ignite a fresh array of crimson runes in the air.
This time, the connection bridged straight to Sirzechs.
“Levi,” Sirzechs’s voice filtered through the circle, noticeably softer and more grounded than Rizevim’s theatrical drawl.
“I heard you ventured into human territory recently.
Did something happen?”
Levi saw no reason to dance around the issue.
“I intercepted some intelligence.
Rizevim claims that Heaven’s next major move involves deploying a hidden faction of knights, led by a Holy Sword Wielder, to strike a specific target.
Rizevim is eyeing those holy swords for himself.
I personally scouted the location Heaven intends to attack.
If my assessment is correct, the recent devil assault on the local church—and the priest who conveniently reported it—are all cogs in Rizevim’s machine.”
He paused, letting the weight of the information settle before delivering the killing blow.
“Sirzechs, it’s a trap.”
“He is trying to blindside both Heaven and the Underworld simultaneously.
If this spirals out of control, it will directly ignite a full-scale war between the factions.”
The line went dead quiet.
When Sirzechs finally spoke, his tone was laden with grave authority.
He didn’t bother questioning the reliability of the intelligence.
When dealing with the Old Satan Faction, even a fraction of a percent of risk required absolute vigilance.
But Sirzechs also recognized the sheer danger Levi was putting himself in.
Acting as a double agent for the Underworld was a tightrope walk over an abyss.
Levi had always been ruthless, pragmatic to a fault, and entirely willing to put his own life on the line to secure an advantage.
It was a trait Sirzechs deeply respected, but hated to see used.
Echoing Rizevim’s earlier warning, albeit with genuine brotherly concern, Sirzechs sighed.
“Levi, do not involve yourself in the fallout.
Leave the countermeasures to us.
Keep your head down and ensure your cover remains intact.
If the situation deteriorates, contact me immediately.
No matter the circumstances, I will personally tear through the front lines to extract you.”
“Understood,” Levi replied smoothly.
A few brief tactical exchanges later, Sirzechs cut the connection.
Levi pushed himself up from his chair and approached the window.
In the distance, the dying sun bled across the horizon, pinning the sky to the earth in a haze of orange and violet.
His smile widened, cold and detached.
Some Holy Sword Wielder.
A hidden group of knights.
Two simple communication spells were all it took to set the board.
As for how the ensuing bloodbath would conclude—that was entirely irrelevant to him.
Even if the entire scheme violently derailed, it wouldn’t matter.
Because by the time the dust settled, he would have already seized the infinite magical power of the Third Magic.
Stepping into the Satan-class had fundamentally altered Levi’s perception of his own abilities.
He stood alone in the center of the underground training ground.
Having maintained his Devil Trigger for an extended period, he remained perfectly still, waiting until his magical reserves scraped the absolute bottom.
Only then did he finally release his grip on the transformation.
The suffocating, Satan-class pressure that had saturated the room instantly evaporated.
His physical strength plummeted back to its baseline.
Yet, Levi paid no mind to the sudden weakness.
His focus was entirely consumed by a subtle, deep sensation echoing through his veins.
The moment the Devil Trigger shattered, the demonic power didn’t bleed out into the atmosphere like spent magical energy.
Instead, it snapped violently backward, sinking deep into his flesh and bone as if his own body was devouring it.
“So that’s how it works,” he murmured into the empty room.
He stood in the silence for a long time, piecing the puzzle together.
According to the mechanics of Devil May Cry, the devil transformation wasn’t a spell; it was the purest application of demonic heritage.
The Devil Trigger was simply the act of unchaining that innate demonic power.
The Sin Devil Trigger, however, was the absolute shedding of the human shell—a complete ascension into a true devil.
Theories regarding the transformation varied wildly, but Levi’s perspective had always been razor-sharp.
If viewed from the standpoint of a pure-blooded devil, the Sin Devil Trigger was his true, unadulterated form.
The standard Devil Trigger was merely a state of partial suppression, and his current humanoid appearance was the ultimate facade—a shell designed to tightly bottle up his overwhelming power.
“If I look at it from that angle, the power retracting into my body makes perfect sense.” He examined his hands, flexing his fingers.
“The transformations in Devil May Cry are triggered by stimulating the demonic bloodline.
I am already a pure-blooded devil in this world.
In essence, this power is just excavating the ancient depths of my own genetics.”
The retraction of power wasn’t a flaw; it was a biological inevitability.
This realization answered a lingering question that had quietly frustrated him.
He had never understood why his personal Devil Trigger felt inherently inferior to the apocalyptic heights reached by Dante and Vergil.
Previously, he assumed the transformation was merely a multiplier.
Since Dante and Vergil possessed absurdly high base stats, their multipliers naturally resulted in world-breaking power.
But the truth was far deeper.
Sparda’s legendary might was an obvious factor.
And what of his own lineage?
The original Lucifer was only four generations removed from Levi’s current existence.
Considering the original Lucifer had the sheer power to ally with the other three Satans and wage war against the biblical God, his strength easily rivaled that of a extraordinary.
If Levi could perfectly fuse the dormant, ancestral might of Lucifer with his own cultivated strength…
“Once I secure the infinite magical power, the fatal flaw of my energy consumption will be erased.
My constitution will fully support the sustained drain of the devil transformation,” Levi calculated, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“I will grow stronger on a fundamental level.
If I can master the Sin Devil Trigger on top of that…
activating it should push me right to the threshold of the Dragon God Class.”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath.
In the localized reality of High School DxD, Dragon God Class was the absolute pinnacle.
Reaching it would allow him to walk through this world completely uncontested.
But Levi knew the wider truth.
Even if he stabilized the Sin Devil Trigger today, relying solely on Dragon God Class power to survive the eventual threat of the EXE World was a fool’s errand.
Great Red, the apocalyptic dragon of dreams, had been decapitated by an invader from that world.
Though the original lore only mentioned it in passing without detailing the catastrophic battle, the implication was horrifyingly clear.
Still, the path forward wasn’t entirely obscured.
The image of the fifth-generation Dante flashed through his mind.
In the later stages of his life, Dante had far eclipsed the legendary Sparda.
The ceiling of the devil transformation was dictated entirely by the user’s base strength.
Right now, Levi’s upper limit was restricted because his foundation was simply too weak.
Once his base form surpassed the original Lucifer and naturally reached the extraordinary or Dragon God Class, activating the devil transformation would guarantee his dominance over the EXE World.
Currently, his untransformed state hovered merely around the level of a mid-tier devil.
“Since I’ve realized early on that the transformation relies on excavating bloodline potential, there’s a secondary route to absolute power,” Levi mused, a predatory glint in his eye.
“If the system grants me a heaven-defying bloodline in a future sign-in, I’ll bypass the bottleneck entirely.”
But for now, he had to remain grounded.
“First things first.
I need to secure that infinite magical energy.”
Whether Sirzechs and Rizevim were already moving their chess pieces into a bloody conflict mattered little to Fuyuki City.
The ley lines here remained undisturbed, the night perfectly tranquil.
Inside a quiet, dimly lit room, Sajyou Ayaka sat gracefully by the window, slowly turning the pages of a thick tome.
“It is almost time.”
Her face, bright and breathtakingly beautiful like a blooming flower, bore a serene, perpetual smile.
Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing striking blue eyes, while her pristine, Western-style dress remained entirely unwrinkled.
“I originally intended to wait for them to come knocking, but it seems they lack the initiative to make the first move.”
Ayaka gently closed the book, setting it aside.
Patience was a virtue she was rapidly losing interest in.
Whenever she closed her eyes, the image of that man burned into her mind.
The man who, after enduring a grueling battle to defeat Saint George, stood battered and exhausted—yet still possessed the sheer, magnificent audacity to swing his blade at Solomon.
It was an act of absolute irrationality.
She couldn’t comprehend it.
It was the kind of foolish, beautiful defiance reserved only for the heroes in fairy tales.
And because of that, Sajyou Ayaka desperately wanted to see him fight again.
“I have already reviewed the few skirmishes that took place in this city…
watching the same echoes repeatedly has lost its charm.
It is time to initiate the next act.”
Standing in the shadows of the room, Solomon watched her in absolute silence.
To be perfectly honest, the Grand Caster was well aware that his Master was fundamentally broken.
She was abnormal in every conceivable aspect—a terrifying anomaly wrapped in the guise of an innocent girl.
But what did her madness matter to him?
He was merely here to fulfill his role.
Back at the Einzbern stronghold, Irisviel suddenly froze, her chopsticks clattering against her porcelain bowl.
Her eyes narrowed sharply.
“Someone has breached the perimeter.”
Her gentle, motherly demeanor vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a homunculus bred for the Holy Grail War.
Her pupils dilated slightly, reflecting an unseen light from the distance.
The Einzbern great hakurei barrier had been triggered.
Originally the absolute defense of the Einzbern territory, Levi had claimed it upon taking over the castle.
Instead of dismantling the ancient magecraft, he had tasked Grayfia with completely overhauling and modernizing its structural formula.
Now, the barrier didn’t just detect intruders—it shared a direct visual feed with the command center and possessed automated offensive capabilities.
Levi had already made a mental note to install an identical system across the Lucifer Clan’s territory once he returned to the Underworld.
“Who is it?” Levi asked, his tone calm, though his mind was already racing through the possibilities.
He had a strong suspicion.
Irisviel’s gaze remained distant as she parsed the magical feed.
“It is the Caster you warned us about.
Solomon.
And his Master…”
The old Director actually showed up in person?
Levi’s brow furrowed. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Before he could voice the question, Irisviel finished her sentence.
“It is a young girl.”
Levi blinked.
What?
Solomon’s Master wasn’t Marisbury Animusphere?
Levi stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Irisviel’s shoulder.
“Link the vision to me.”
“Understood.”
The air shimmered, and the visual data captured by the hakurei barrier projected directly into Levi’s retinas.
Standing in the dense forest just beyond the castle grounds was indeed a young girl, positioned casually beside the imposing figure of Solomon.
She had radiant blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and wore a spotless Western-style dress that looked entirely out of place in the wilderness.
As if sensing the magical observation, the girl suddenly tilted her head upward.
Her blue eyes locked perfectly onto the invisible sensor of the barrier, staring directly into Levi’s gaze across the distance.
Then, she smiled.
It was a brilliant, flawless expression, as innocent and terrifying as a blooming carnivorous flower.
Levi’s blood ran cold.
Isn’t that woman…
Sajyou Ayaka?!
She is the Master contracted to the Heroic Spirit Solomon?!
This combination is completely insane!
Levi immediately severed the visual link, tearing his gaze away.
His usual calm facade cracked, his expression darkening into a scowl of genuine alarm.
The rest of the room had already drawn their weapons, the air thick with killing intent as they prepared for an imminent assault.
But the moment they registered the sheer gravity pulling at Levi’s features, the tension shifted entirely to him.
“Lord Levi, what is wrong?” Kuroka asked, her golden eyes narrowing as her twin tails flicked nervously behind her.
Levi took a slow, deep breath, forcing the churning adrenaline in his chest back under control.
“Prepare for combat.
But the strategy changes right now.”
His original blueprint for dealing with Solomon had been a straightforward, overwhelming frontal assault.
He had been waiting for this inevitable clash.
Despite Artoria’s rigid knightly objections to uneven odds, Levi had fully intended to crush the Grand Caster with sheer numbers.
He and Grayfia were meant to lead the main offensive.
If Artoria refused to cooperate, he would have burned a Command Spell without hesitation, forcing her to join Kuroka and the others in systematically dismantling Solomon’s Seventy-Two Demon God Pillars.
As for his ‘contract’ with the King of Knights?
He would humor her honor in trivial matters, but in a life-or-death war, that contract was nothing more than a pacifier to keep her compliant.
The Yamato could sever Rizevim’s absolute magical restrictions; a mere geass contract was paper in comparison.
If the enemy Master had been Marisbury Animusphere, Levi’s overwhelming force would have guaranteed a high probability of victory.
But the reality of the board had just shifted catastrophically.
“I will handle the battle against Solomon alone,” Levi declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Grayfia and Kuroka froze, exchanging bewildered glances.
Both women immediately turned their heads to glare at Artoria.
Did this stubborn knight do something to Lord Levi’s mind?
Artoria, meanwhile, looked visibly relieved.
The rigid tension in her shoulders vanished, and a faint glimmer of approval shone in her emerald eyes.
She despised the concept of ganging up on a single opponent.
“Master,” Artoria stepped forward, her tone respectful but firm.
“The enemy is a Grand-class Heroic Spirit.
To face Solomon, it would be far more logical to allow me to take the vanguard.”
Levi shook his head, his face an unreadable mask.
He swept his gaze over the assembled heavy hitters of his peerage, delivering an order that left the entire room utterly paralyzed.
“You, Grayfia, Kuroka…
Ingvild, if you can manifest your Sacred Gear, you are going too.
All of you have exactly one objective.” Levi’s voice dropped to a deadly, serious whisper.
“Engage the enemy Master.
Do not try to kill her.
Just do whatever it takes to hold her off for as long as you can.
That will be enough.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Grayfia stared at Levi, her stoic composure finally fracturing.
She would never openly question her master’s orders, but the command bordered on the absurd.
He was sending an Ultimate-Class Devil, an SS-class stray, a potential Longinus wielder, and the King of Knights…
just to stall a human girl?
Unless…
“Lord Levi,” Grayfia asked quietly, the temperature in the room dropping.
“Is there something wrong with the enemy Master?”
“Yes,” Levi replied grimly.
The horrifying, reality-warping lore of Sajyou Ayaka flashed rapidly through his mind, and for the first time since arriving in Fuyuki, Levi Lucifer felt the genuine pressure of death.
[Akarin’s Note:
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