A painful silence dominated the room, the air thick with tension. The heat in their eyes, a mixture of desire and madness, showed no sign of fading. The only sounds were the faint scuffing of fingertips and the rhythmic click of tiles being moved across the table. In a room where everyone watched in wordless anticipation, a high-ranking Fallen Angel stared intensely at the tile he had just drawn, forgetting even to wipe the sweat trickling down his forehead.
The tile in the man's hand was not what he wanted. The round was entering its final stage, the true climax of the match. Normally, he wouldn't want to take such a risk by discarding a potentially dangerous tile, but he was already in tenpai. He was the dealer, his "wait" for the winning tile was solid, and his hand was beautifully arranged. Had he not called any tiles, he would have declared a riichi without hesitation. He didn't want to break this hand, and he was hungry to rake in more points.
However, could he really afford to discard this tile so easily? He cast a quick glance at the three faces opposite him, checking their discard piles and called tiles. One opponent already had this tile in their discard pile, so they weren't a threat. Another, a mid-ranking Fallen Angel, tended to go for high-scoring hands based on his previous playstyle. Calculating the odds, the man decided his tile wasn't what that opponent was waiting for. Even if he hit a "ron," the damage wouldn't be catastrophic.
Finally, his gaze moved to the last player: a low-ranking Fallen Angel with the appearance of a young girl. Based on her stoic play so far, she clearly wasn't a novice, but her style was unremarkable and lacked intensity. While she hadn't accumulated many points, she had won a few modest hands and rarely "fed" the other players, keeping her in second place. She had declared riichi a moment ago, but showed no other sign of a strong hand. Her expression remained flat; she likely had a mediocre hand just like before.
His pride as a high-ranking official told him to focus on crushing the other two first, assuming he could easily squeeze the life out of this mediocre low-ranker later. By doing so, he could maintain his lead with a gap so large she could never bridge it. He was in total control.
While the girl in riichi should have been a high-alert target, the man reasoned that given her playstyle, her "wait" couldn't be anything significant. Licking his lips at the thought of bleeding the low-ranker dry in the remaining rounds, the man discarded the tile into the center.
"Ron."
The word was spoken with sharp clarity, and the man's thoughts ground to a halt. He looked up in shock to see the other high-ranking Fallen Angels at the table equally stunned. With a feminine, high-pitched voice, the low-ranking girl revealed her hand. She brushed back her golden twin-tails with one hand, a blissful expression on her face.
The man realized too late that his analysis was wrong; he had fed her exactly what she needed. Irritation flared in his chest—he had been so close to winning—but the fact remained that he had let greed blind him to a dangerous tile. He cursed his own arrogance, realizing he had let his lead go to his head. He would just have to take back what she stole in the next round.
However, his thoughts were cut short by the girl's voluptuous, predatory smirk—a stark contrast to her youthful appearance.
"I was waiting for this, you know. The exact moment you'd look down on a low-ranker like me and feed me the win."
"…What?"
"You never even considered me a threat, did you? You didn't notice I was studying your every habit and playstyle the entire time. I was just waiting quietly for you to crush the other two for me. Waiting for the moment you let your guard down."
"You… you talk big for a low-ranking brat who managed one lucky hit."
"Sorry. I guess I just wasn't raised with much manners."
Even under his sharp, intimidating glare, her giggle didn't waver. Under normal circumstances, a low-ranking Fallen Angel would never dream of picking a fight with a high-ranker. Usually, they were so weak they might faint from a single angry look. But today, she was different. She was riding an incredible high, and her common sense had checked out long ago.
This girl was Mittelt. Pushed to her limit by colleagues who looked down on her, exhausted by the endless "superiority" speeches from the higher-ups, and finally pushed over the edge by the Governor General's "no-holds-barred" festival declaration, her stress and excitement meters had shattered. She had literally broken through the social "wall" she was supposed to respect. Mittelt was playing mahjong with the reckless intensity of a happy drunk.
Right now, she was exactly like a rowdy drunk who had lost all inhibitions. She would probably fall into a pit of despair later, thinking, Oh god, I picked a fight with a high-ranking official, I'm dead, but for now, she was adding a fresh, glorious chapter to her personal history of bad decisions.
"Hahaha! Don't you ever underestimate the low-rankers again!"
Following her loud laughter, a wave of gasps erupted from the crowd as she flipped her tiles. It wasn't just a winning hand; it was a sequence of tiles arranged with artistic perfection, scoring far higher than her previous mediocre plays. The man stood speechless at the beauty of it, realizing she hadn't just been playing defensively—she had been sharpening her fangs to devour him. He sank to his knees in despair, paying the price for his arrogance.
Her colleagues watched in terror, wondering how she had suddenly "awakened," while her superior burned with a mixture of jealousy and a sudden, desperate urge to actually learn how to play mahjong. Across the venue, similar upsets were happening, as low-rankers everywhere used the tournament to vent their frustrations.
***
"It's getting pretty wild down there. Plenty of upsets to keep things interesting."
"You lot really never do anything halfway, do you?"
"It's a festival! You're losing out if you don't enjoy it."
From a terrace overlooking the venue, Azazel watched the mahjong tournament with a satisfied grin. It was a distraction meant to keep the Fallen Angels from interfering with the chaos in the Underworld, but it had turned into a full-scale riot of fun involving even the cadres. It started as a whim born of momentum, but it was working better than expected. High, middle, and low-rankers were all mixed together, laughing and crying over a serious game.
A natural smile touched Azazel's lips. He had spent his days as Governor General running himself ragged to protect his friends after losing so many in the Great War. He had used his hobbies as an escape while constantly calculating how to achieve a peace that would ensure no more comrades had to die. He thought he was doing okay, but looking at this scene, he realized he hadn't felt this genuinely peaceful in a long time.
"You know, Mephisto... I thought I was doing a good job supporting this organization as Governor General. But I think this is what I actually wanted to see."
"…Azazel."
"If this could become the norm, I feel like I could really put my back into it. I think I finally see what I should be aiming for."
Azazel leaned back against the wall, taking in the roaring energy of the hall one more time. His wine-red eyes narrowed as he thought about the future. He had always struggled with the difficulty of instilling his ideas into the stubborn, individualistic Fallen Angels. There were still those like Kokabiel who opposed peace from the start. Discrimination existed even within their own ranks, let alone against other races. He couldn't deny that he had grown tired of trying to talk them around, which was why he had buried himself in his research and hobbies.
But this sight solidified his resolve. He realized that finding a catalyst wasn't that hard. The path he wanted to take was the right one. Even if he had to burn his life out to achieve it, this was the future he wanted.
"You need to find a way to live where you can laugh like an idiot and be proud to say, 'This is my path'."
The words he had spoken to the boy who became his student six months ago came back to him. He realized with a self-mocking smile that he hadn't quite reached that level of pride in his own way of life yet. As a teacher, he couldn't afford to look pathetic in front of his student.
His student was a boy who hated conflict and was naturally timid. Yet, for the sake of a dream, he was charging straight ahead, even if it meant clashing with others. If the teacher didn't prove the truth of his own words by example, they wouldn't carry any weight.
"When that kid first called me 'Professor,' I didn't think I was the type. But it's not so bad."
"I always thought you were perfect for it. You've always been good at looking after others, haven't you?"
"Not as good as you. And unlike you, Mephisto, I've never raised a brat before."
Given his position as Governor General, Azazel rarely even met children. He didn't need to teach combat, and Sahariel handled the technical training, so his relationships were strictly superior-to-subordinate. Furthermore, human Sacred Gear possessors usually feared Fallen Angels too much to build a rapport. Azazel had never found someone interesting enough to want to mentor personally.
He had tutored Lavinia, who possessed a Longinus, at Mephisto's request, but they hadn't been this close. They had both maintained the "wall" of belonging to different organizations. Kanata was the first person to simply blow right through those race and organizational barriers.
Kanata didn't treat him as the Governor General; he treated him as Azazel the individual. They could talk about anime, games, and daily life without any hesitation. Kanata took it for granted because of his knowledge of "canon" Azazel, but for the Azazel of this timeline, who hadn't raised Vali yet and lacked a clear goal for peace, it was transformative.
In the original timeline, Azazel's proactive stance on peace was driven by various factors: raising Vali like a son, Shemhaza having a child with a human woman, and Baraqiel's daughter Akeno becoming a Devil. His "I don't care about status" attitude was a conscious statement to those around him.
The current Azazel still had the "wall" of a leader. But the boy had bowed his head to an outsider like Azazel just to save a friend, effectively erasing that wall. He showed through sheer, absurd action that if the sentiment is shared, race and organization don't matter.
Kanata's meddling was influencing not just the Devils, but the Fallen Angels too.
"…I guess I should thank Kanata for his screw-ups. If it weren't for him, I might have realized this a lot later."
"I doubt he had any intention of doing that, though."
"Hahaha! No doubt!"
Azazel laughed heartily at Mephisto's dry observation. If he thanked Kanata directly, the boy would probably just look confused and say, "I didn't mean to do that at all. By the way, why are you holding a mahjong tournament?" It was hilarious how the person responsible for such a massive shift was the most oblivious to it.
He has zero talent for combat, but he's a genius at dragging people into his pace, Azazel thought. Azazel himself was famous for disrupting people's rhythm to get what he wanted, but Kanata did it unconsciously. It was a talent for agitation—though Kanata would probably hate being told that.
"Ugh… my stomach… between the Emperor's speech and Tannin's acting, I'm laughing so hard it hurts…"
"You'll have to make sure not to laugh the next time you see Tannin. He'll definitely kill you."
"…Yeah, he'd actually try to murder me. I'll be careful."
For once, Azazel took Mephisto's warning seriously. If he mocked Tannin's "pathetic dragon" act, even that remarkably patient dragon would snap. No one, not even the prank-loving Azazel, wanted to touch the "Reverse Scale" of a former Dragon King.
"Anyway, Mephisto. The Fallen Angels are fine, but what about the situation you were worried about? You sent familiars to Kuoh Town as soon as you heard the plan from Kanata, right?"
"Yeah. It's going exactly as expected. I don't feel great about it, but after watching those Old Devils from a third-party perspective for so long, I can guess their thought patterns. There is nothing more troublesome than an incompetent ally. Zeukram Bael is going to have a hard time."
"I've got subordinates who don't listen, so I can't really laugh at that... but yeah, the Devil side is a mess."
Thanks to his familiars, Mephisto had noticed the anomaly in Kuoh Town immediately. As a master of magic, it was easy for him to set up a surveillance network without being detected.
"Let me ask you something, Mephisto. If you saw this coming, why didn't you nip the threat to Cleria Belial in the bud? You could have told Ajuka Beelzebub to handle the Bael Faction before they contacted the Church."
"I could have. But I didn't. There's more benefit for us if they spiral out of control."
"…Sometimes you really scare me."
Azazel grimaced at Mephisto's cold, narrowing eyes and gentle smile. He understood the logic, of course. He knew his friend had both a kind side for Kanata and a calculating side befitting a Devil leader.
"It's important to leave proof that the Old Devils targeted Cleria Belial," Mephisto explained. "And to show them using a hostage to threaten the Emperor instead of showing sincerity. The Emperor's strike has two goals: an apology for the corruption and forcing them to leave Cleria alone. But we need to ensure they never target her again."
"Right. You mentioned the strike alone wouldn't be enough?"
"They might stop for now, but the fact that the couple caused a 'scandal' remains. So, as compensation for threatening the Emperor with a hostage... they will use their precious authority to cover up the scandal itself."
"Wow…" Azazel was genuinely impressed. This Devil was planning to squeeze the Old Devils for every drop they were worth.
"And it's for Kanata and Lavinia's future, too."
"True, this isn't a bad chance for them to get some real combat experience. But this priest, Touji Shidou, is a Holy Sword user, right? He has comrades too. Do they have a chance of winning?"
"Well… how should I put it? For starters, here is a copy of the medical records from the hospital Touji Shidou has been frequenting."
Mephisto, having investigated everyone who might become an enemy, had discovered the results of Kanata's unconscious "war of attrition" against the Church's forces. Azazel looked at the documents and immediately covered his mouth.
"…Hey, Mephisto. This Shidou guy... shouldn't he be in a hospital bed? How many times can a man's stomach get ulcers in such a short period?"
"He has endured this for months. He is essentially standing on sheer faith and willpower alone."
"Seriously? Is he a saint?"
The records detailed a saga of stomach pain. Touji had only made it this far through priestley pride, the support of his family, chugging holy water, and a mysterious fantasy food called "Gel-Gel." The physical and mental damage he had accumulated was staggering.
Azazel wasn't sure if he should call this "Kanata's help." The boy had no idea about the disaster at the church and genuinely worried for Shidou. Yet, like a perfectly timed support strike, he was unconsciously siccing the "Magical Girl (Destruction)" on the man. It was a moment where a ten-thousand-year-old Devil felt a shiver of dread toward a twelve-year-old boy.
Normally, it would be a miracle for Masaomi Yaegaki, who only had equal sword skills, to beat a Holy Sword user like Shidou. The gap in experience was too wide. Even with Shidou's doubts, he wouldn't hesitate to swing his blade when the time came.
"…So that hopeless gap has been filled by chronic stomach pain and mental attacks. Truly a miracle."
"A miracle that would shock even God."
The two ancient beings shared a distant look, wondering what the word "miracle" even meant anymore.
"But Mephisto, there's a chance the Church might get desperate like the Devils did."
"She's a hostage, so they won't kill her until the Devil side is settled. And knowing Kanata, he'll work with Masaomi and Cleria's peerage to save her from the shadows. That's the script: they save Cleria Belial from the Church. The Old Devils won't be able to complain because it's only natural for them to save her."
Diehauser would be furious that the administration tried to use Cleria as a hostage. The administration, thinking they had the upper hand, would get cocky—only to be hit with the news of her rescue. It would be a total reversal. They would have provoked the Emperor for nothing, only to earn his absolute wrath.
To appease that rage, simply leaving Cleria alone wouldn't be enough. The Bael house and the Satans would be forced to cooperate to calm the Emperor down. The Old Devils would have to bow to the Satans, use their power to erase the scandal in Kuoh Town, and guarantee Cleria's freedom. In exchange, the Emperor might lower his sword. The Devils who targeted her would inevitably fall from power.
"And if Kana and the others get into real trouble, I'll be moving from the shadows anyway. Hahaha."
"You really are a doting guardian… Well, I've made my own preparations for that 'worst-case scenario' too."
Azazel sighed. Kanata and the others were likely in a panic right now, completely unaware that their guardians were smiling and watching them grow from behind the scenes. Kanata thought Mephisto was the "kindest" one, but Azazel just wanted to tell the kids, "You're being fooled."
"Anyway. If the Church is moving, I'm heading to Kuoh Town myself."
"I appreciate it, but are you sure? You're the host of the tournament."
"It's just a break. We're planning to run this for three days and nights straight, so a little breather is fine."
"Even with the Underworld in chaos, you guys really are something..."
This time, it was Mephisto's turn to be impressed by the Fallen Angels' dedication to partying.
***
Azazel cut the communication and looked out at the mahjong hall one last time. He turned away from the cheering crowd and began to walk. After a few steps, he scratched his black hair and glanced toward the entrance of the terrace.
"So, Shemhaza. I'm heading out for a bit. I'll leave you in charge of the fort."
"…You're always like this. You didn't tell me anything about this incident either. You could stand to let me share the burden a little more."
"You're already carrying enough. I can only do what I want because you're here."
Azazel grinned at the response. Shemhaza stepped out from the doorway, his complicated expression plain on his face. However, he didn't try to stop his leader. He had suspected there was a reason behind Azazel's sudden festival, but he had chosen not to pry.
He knew that if Azazel was moving, he had a good reason. The man could be a nuisance when he got carried away, but as the leader of Grigori, he would never betray his comrades. Shemhaza believed in him.
"I'll tell you everything when I get back. Until then, the Underworld is in your hands."
"Leave it to me. Safe travels."
Shemhaza watched Azazel wave and head for the exit. He sighed. He had actually come to get Azazel because the other cadres were shouting, "Where is he?! I'm going to take the top spot today!" But if he was in charge now, he had a job to do.
Kokabiel and Armaros were particularly loud today, both claiming they were the best. Usually, they'd drag Barakiel, Penemue, or Tamiel into their games. Sahariel usually managed to slip away. Shemhaza often skipped out due to work, but there was another reason the others didn't actively invite him to play.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped."
The beautiful Vice-Governor allowed a small, elegant smile to play on his lips as he walked toward the rowdy hall.
"It has been a while since I played mahjong. But if Azazel is absent… I suppose I have no choice but to participate."
Later, a legend would spread among the Fallen Angels of the "Vice-Governor's Great Mahjong Massacre," but that is a story for another time.