Sin Rouge's meeting room hummed with soft neon glow, the familiar buzz of machinery and low voices creating a rare sense of calm. Malerion listened to Quill outline new upgrades while Donnie reported on information flows. Everything was smooth, organized, predictable.
And then Malerion felt it.
A ripple.
Silky. Clean. Refined.
It slid across his senses like a perfectly tuned note one that did not belong anywhere near the Lust Ring slums. It was too aristocratic, too heavy with inherited authority. Not Overlord. Not sinner. Not Hellborn.
Royal bloodline.
Inside him, Alastor's voice sharpened.
"Do you feel that?"
Malerion didn't answer. His focus narrowed as the aura grew stronger with every passing second. Layered resonance.
Bloodline magic. Young. Unstable. Curious. But unmistakably powerful.
A Goetia.
And not an ancient one this aura lacked the crushing timelessness of Paimon or the Elders. No, this was a young noble. Newly matured. Newly unleashed into the world.
Malerion's fingers tightened slightly against the table.
Something that powerful wandering the slums could only mean trouble or curiosity.
Before he could voice the thought, the meeting room door slammed open so violently the hinges screamed. Rafe stumbled inside, panting, sweating, shaking like he'd outrun a demon prince.
Rafe never shook.
"M–Malerion boss sir " he gasped, pointing behind him. "We've got a— a problem. Someone's on our territory. Someone I've never seen. Tall—masked— cloaked like a noble—walked through our wards like they didn't exist—"
Malerion raised a hand.
I already felt him.
Silence rippled across the room.
"You WHAT?" Donnie whispered.
Malerion nodded calmly. His aura reached us before his feet did. Refined.
Structured. Bloodline-woven.
He is young, but unmistakably Goetia.
Quill sucked in a sharp breath. Skit swore under his breath. Even Dreg, normally unflappable, clenched his jaw.
Rafe blinked. "But why here?
Why would a Goetia come to the slums?"
Malerion thought for a moment and felt the faint echo of the aura's pull, like a curious eye sliding across the district.
He felt something, Malerion murmured. Our territory is too stable. Too quiet.
Too safe for a place like this.
A young Goetia capable of sensing magical disturbances would feel that difference immediately.
Alastor's whisper slid like a blade through his mind.
"Your cultivation changed the air around this block. He noticed."
That explained it.
He didn't come for us, Malerion concluded. He came because the slums felt… strange.
Donnie's face paled. "Strange enough for a Goetia to investigate is never good."
Quill pushed his goggles up, voice shaky. "Okay so what's the plan? We can't fight. We can't run. We definitely can't piss off a noble
I haven't been able to build a weapon that could do anything to them.
And you can't count on angel steel. You really have to had good connections in the circle of pride to get it.
Malerion's mind sharpened.
"We stay calm. Stay united. Do not display fear. Do not display hostility.
And above all do not reveal anything about resonance."
Dreg nodded. "If he's young, he may not even realize what exactly he's sensing."
"Exactly," Malerion said. "We keep him occupied, steer him away, and send him back to wherever he came from."
The group collectively steadied themselves.
Then they stepped outside.
Malerion immediately felt the aura close now, brushing against him like a velvet glove. Curious. Intrigued.
Not probing for secrets just observing everything like a child examining insects.
And then they saw him.
A tall figure in midnight-blue silk, elegant and perfectly composed. Black feathers fell like hair down his back. A white porcelain mask with silver markings covered his face. He walked with hands clasped behind him, studying broken neon signs, cracked tiles, and graffiti with the fascination of an art critic.
His presence bent the air subtly.
Not with aggression just natural authority.
A young Goetia.
He turned toward them the moment they approached, head tilting with birdlike sharpness. His voice was bright, musical, utterly out of place in the slums.
"Oh! Finally, someone who isn't screaming or running away." He stepped toward Malerion with absolute confidence. "Are you the one in charge? You certainly walk like it."
Malerion didn't reply immediately. He let the boy speak.
The stranger placed a hand over his chest elegantly.
"Prince Vaethelion of House Corvus. But do call me Vael. I'm finally allowed to travel freely officially an adult, you know and I thought, why not explore the lower rings?" He gestured around him with surprising enthusiasm. "This place is wonderfully chaotic. So much noise, so much life. I can't believe my family never let me visit before."
Behind Malerion, Skit fainted.
Vael leaned in, mask reflecting neon light. "And this district there's something odd about it. The air feels… organized. Balanced. So bizarre for slums! I simply had to investigate."
Quill silently mouthed oh no.
Vael clapped his hands suddenly, delighted.
"Would you show me around?"
Rafe quietly made the sign of the cross behind Malerion.
Dreg looked ready to retire permanently.
Liza appeared and disappeared from existence twice.
Donnie prayed to no god in particular.
Malerion stared at the prince.
This wasn't an enemy.
This wasn't a spy.
This wasn't a political trap.
This was a bored, powerful, curious noble who followed an aura anomaly straight into their territory and now wanted a tour.
And turning him away could easily become an international incident.
Alastor whispered coldly inside him:
"Play along. Carefully. One wrong word and we die."
Malerion exhaled.
"Well then," he said slowly, "welcome to Sin Rouge territory."
Vael brightened like a lamp.
"Splendid! I knew you'd be reasonable im a Vaethelion of House Corvus
And with that, Malerion's peaceful day officially ended.