Too Slow, Too Stable

"This way," Yuuto called, leading a group of temporary refuges toward a Ministry of Internal Affairs member. "I know it was a surprise, but the Satans know what they are doing. It shouldn't be long. You'll be home before you know it."

The Gremory Knight tried to give the group a reassuring smile.

He failed.

Even the mask he had worn for years wouldn't appear.

There was some grumbling from the civilians, but nobody made much of a fuss as Yuuto left them to get sorted.

He had it easier than most. Everyone knew his face thanks to their victory in the Youth Devil Tournament. Yuuto had no problem using his fame to try and keep the peace among the confusion.

...Fame he only had because of Issei using the Crimson World Wall on him.

Yuuto Kiba didn't let his mind wander as he moved on to another group of refugees milling about and looking confused.

This was why he volunteered to help when news of Eren's attack arrived.

Sitting around just... he couldn't do it.

He couldn't keep thinking of brown eyes looking blankly up at him, demanding answers on why Yuuto hadn't been fast enough.

Demanding to know why Issei Hyoudou had died alone?

To know what weighed so heavy on Eren's scale that this was what he chose?

Was it revenge? Revolution? Freedom?

Yuuto didn't have answers to those questions, even as they tormented him.

He might never have them.

So, Yuuto joined this relief effort.

He wasn't the only one.

Yuuto passed Akeno threatening a belligerent couple, Rias explaining the situation from atop a podium to a crowd of hundreds of devils, and Sona in a whispered conversation with Seekvaira and her father, Lord Agares. 

The Agares family was the source of most of the information Yuuto knew about the situation. Apparently, it was a coordinated ambush based in Agreas once Eren made his move.

Both the Gremory and Sitri Peerages came and went, receiving instructions and dispatch on where to head to help manage the confusion.

Part of it was actual altruism, and part of it was a sense of duty, but Yuuto knew most of his friends were like him, trying to keep themselves busy.

...It had been Asia's idea. 

When she heard of the influx of refugees from the floating city, the Bishop tore herself from Issei's... body. 

No matter what anyone said, Asia had been determined to help where she could.

Even now, guarded by a zealous Xenovia, the former nun was doing her best to aid those who had gotten hurt in the initial confusion.

Yuuto steered clear of that area.

He couldn't look at Issei's lovers, eyes still red from tears and faces drawn.

Not without seeing his friend's happy face when he talked about them. 

Not without remembering that only a few months ago, he would have killed them just for being affiliated with the church.

Was this what Eren had meant?

Just kids born in a situation they couldn't control, raised in an environment that shaped them and loosed on the world with all the biases and beliefs instilled in them by their environment.

Yuuto could never forgive the church. The hypocrisy, the lies, the manipulation, the death it caused in the name of a 'greater good.'

But he could now understand its members. Whether it was the exorcists looking to protect what they thought was right and good... or simple members who just wanted to help people. Most were no different than him, some were 'better' than him, and yet the world would pit them against each other just because of race, religion, benefits, or location. 

They'd fight and kill and die just because minute differences grew into unforgivable grudges over years.

And when you did get that satisfaction, that revenge, you gave the other side reason to hate you, to seek vengeance on you in turn, and the cycle would repeat.

Despite knowing that now, after months of retrospection, Yuuto would still do it all again.

Yuuto's vengeance had been clean. There were terrible people, unambiguously evil monsters who shouldn't continue to live. Perpetrators of atrocities that he managed to kill and achieve his vengeance.

He hadn't paid anything for it.

If he had, would he have continued? Sought more targets? Or would someone have declared their own vendetta against him, leading to another and another?

If all Yuuto Kiba knew of Eren Yeager was that he killed his friend, would he have dedicated his life to revenge on him?

Yuuto saw that familiar anger and hatred in Xenovia's eyes. He heard it in her voice. Without her desire to stay with Asia, she might have already joined the army attacking Eren.

Yuuto couldn't even blame her.

He'd been there, in that mental place before.

Yuuto was once more Xenovia's Senpai now, in a way he never wanted to be.

Before the day was done, thousands would probably join her to take revenge on the man who attacked their home. And then Eren's friends and comrades would get revenge, too.

Over and over again.

Until only one person was left alive.

Yet, letting things happen and letting yourself be the victim only invites more tragedy. Yuuto had been a victim before. Someone without sin yet had still been used, exploited, and thrown away.

Pacifism only worked if everyone and everything was pacifist as well.

So what was the answer?

Was this all life was? Was this constant battle, this unending war for survival, supremacy, and revenge all that was out there? 

Was this what drove a man to run away from it all? To ask the woman he loved if they could run away together?

Had Eren stared down a future full of hatred, death, and pain and looked for any way out, only to find nothing?

Yuuto simply didn't know.

That was a theme for today.

Not knowing. 

Wondering why. 

Demanding answers from a cold, cruel world that wouldn't give any just because you asked.

Right now, nobody here knew the current situation in Agreas.

Communication spells had been cut off within the first ten minutes.

For all they knew, Eren had already killed everyone and was on his way...

Yuuto shook his head again, focusing back on the task at hand.

His mind had been trailing a dark path, as it had since Issei's death. 

So he did what he did before and threw himself back into the work at hand.

Ackerman-sensei would be fine.

Eren would never hurt her.

... A small part of his mind whispered that not too long ago, Yuuto would have sworn Eren wouldn't hurt Issei either.

The pang of recent loss hit him again, and Yuuto's steps faltered momentarily, but he carried on.

The status of an army filled with Ultimate class devils was beyond the Knight. He was a Low class devil with the power of a High class. It was above his pay grade without Issei's transferred Boosts, even without considering Eren's recent power-ups.

Right now, all Yuuto could do is help direct the refugees toward the staff that would take down names, addresses, and help them get settled.

...No matter how much his soul cried out to conjure Purgatorio and launch himself at Eren in a revenge-driven quest for answers.

"It's Darkness Knight Fang!" 

Yuuto's footsteps stalled as 'he' was called out. 

Two children, a boy and a girl, ran up to him, faces lit with excitement, their parents following behind them with looks of apology.

"Darkness Knight," the girl, probably six or seven, stared up at Yuuto with wide eyes. "We saw the tournament. You were so cooool. The best!"

"Oppai Dragon is the best," the boy argued, but his eyes still looked up at Yuuto with wonder. "Darkness Knight was a bad guy. He's only here 'cause of Oppai Dragon!"

"Well, he's good now," the girl argued back, digging into her pockets to try and find something. "So he's the coolest. Here! Can I have an autograph?"

"Not now, dear," the mother chastised, grabbing her daughter and pulling her away from the Knight with a strained smile. "Sorry about them. They're big fans of the show."

Yuuto had guessed as much by their use of his character's name and the Oppai Dragon action figure in the boy's hand.

"It's... It's not a problem." Yuuto managed the slightest smile, taking out a small pen and signing the... trading card?

(The Gremory merchandise must have grown after the season 1 finale. Yuuto hadn't seen it yet. They had been planning on all watching it together later today.)

He had no issue with the children's obliviousness to the situation, but... How would they feel when they learned there was no more Oppai Dragon in the world?

"Come on," the father said, picking up the son. "We'll get out of your way."

Yuuto maintained a smile as he pointed toward the nearest clerical station.

"Oppai Dragon will be here soon, right," the young devil called before they got far. "He'll beat up the bad guys and save the day, right?"

The parents paused.

Yuuto realized why. They wanted reassurance. Or maybe just information.

They had no idea that a man, Yuuto's Senpai, who had destroyed his original world and hated devil society, now wielded Boosted Gear and held the power of the Infinite Dragon God.

The most they knew was that an army of giants had appeared from nowhere and were approaching their home.

These devils had nothing to do with the Pillars, Rating Games, or terrorist organizations. To them, High class devils and their Peerages were nothing more than a mix of politicians, celebrities, and the army. Figures you saw on TV but never interacted with.

Like most of the thousands gathered here, they were just Low or Midclass devils who suddenly saw a tide of oncoming giants and found themselves teleported without preparation. While only a few had been hurt in the confusion, the fear and anxiety of the unknown still ran rampant.

That was what Yuuto was here to stop.

"Of course he will," the Knight lied. "Those bad guys won't know what hit them once Oppai Dragon arrives."

While his words seemed to reassure the children, whose faces lit up, the parents looked more concerned than before.

Yuuto feared they had seen through him, but he didn't know what else to say.

He didn't know what was going to happen.

He didn't know why what had already happened did.

He didn't even know if they could survive the next few days now that Eren had Ophis' power.

How could they beat the power of the Infinite Dragon God?

Every second that passed, Yuuto Kiba feared that the ground around the devil capital would begin to rumble.

But it was not from the ground that the first signal came.

Rather, it was a murmur of the crowd looking up that heralded the change in situation.

It took Yuuto a few seconds to realize what was happening, and a commotion swelled in the crowd. He wasn't the only one looking around for the cause, but thankfully the girl in her mother's arms was excited enough to direct his attention.

"Look," she pointed up at the sky with a wide smile.

Yuuto snapped his attention out toward the horizon.

It was kilometres away, and if it weren't for devils' senses nobody would have seen it, let alone make out the details even though it was a clear sky.

Still, as someone with an Evil Piece enhancing his senses, Yuuto could see more than most in the swirl of mist and the shadow that started to emerge from the vortex in the sky.

Cheers rose from the crowd.

"It's Agreas!"

Someone shouted the island's name and more of the crowd agreed, chanting and cheering.

They recognized their home even if they couldn't make out the details. Some had lived on it for centuries and knew its profile like the back of their hand.

Yuuto felt none of the crowd's joy as Eren's primary target emerged from the mists of Dimension Lost.

Only fear.

********

The Great King, the true leader of devilkind, Zekram Bael, watched the oncoming tide of white Titans from high atop Agreas' towers.

He was unimpressed.

Not in the devils that flew out to meet the giants burning his Underworld to the ground.

Not in the army's layout of traps and ambushes.

Not even in the attack itself, as it was appropriately large and destructive to warrant this level of response.

No, what sorely disappointed the old demon was the fear.

The panic.

The rush the New Satans had to stop what was, ultimately, just another assault on the Underworld by a human.

The Underworld had survived worse. Devils had survived worse.

Overestimating an opponent was just as dangerous as underestimating them.

They were so intoxicated by peace that they were quick to forget the chaos and death of the Civil War. Compared to that, what was one army of giants?

Then again, they were still young.

And Zekram Bael was old. 

So very old.

He was one of the original 72 demons Lilith had birthed. He had been there for the Underworld's founding and the other Pillars' birth. 

He had watched the sky light up in His Light, a tide of death that outshone the sun and claimed the lives of his siblings and servants. 

He had been a leader in the greatest war this world had ever seen. His legions had pilled bodies as high as mountains.

Zekram had fought against the Heavenly Duo when their feud spilled over onto the battlefield of the Great War.

He had killed Seraphs and Cadres.

He had outlived the original Asmodeus, Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Lucifer.

Zekram Bael had watched God die.

He was very, very old.

He was old enough to show his age rather than being eternally young like most of his kind purported to be. Not even the devils' minor shapeshifting ability was enough to hide his advanced age.

He could have stopped the decay or delayed it, of course. Zekram could have sealed himself away like Gremory and the very few of his Peers who survived. It would have delayed his aging.

But Zekram Bael could not allow himself to do something so negligent.

Not when the Underworld needed the Great King.

That was why he was here, after all.

To make sure the Underworld survived. Not this battle, as it was just another of countless he had witnessed, but the aftermath.

The Malabranche.

Zekram Bael had been there when the Original Satans had concocted the idea of Sacred Gears of their own, a mockery of His tools. Only they lacked His ability to Create and tried to make up for it with power and violence.

The result, the twelve Evil Claws, had been nothing short of a failure.

A failure Zekram Bael had taken every precaution to keep buried in the centuries following the Satans' death and his ascent to the head of the Underworld.

There was simply no good that could come from weapons like that being out in the world. If they could have been used for the good of the Underworld, Zekram would have used them. 

But they couldn't. 

They were just tools of wanton destruction. Rabid beasts that couldn't be put down and thus needed to be put away.

For millennia, Zekram had succeeded, keeping them secreted away in the deepest space below Lucifaad.

Then, those fools had partially unsealed Barbariccia and Scarmiglione to help them attain a fraction of the original Satan's power.

In doing so, they had proved the New Satans right in their fight against the descendants of the original four.

Zekram Bael did believe that the current Satans were good for the Underworld. They were figureheads, certainly, but there was no denying their actual power and ability.

Both Adjuka and Zekram's descendant were not only powerful deterrents against the rest of the world, but Adjuka's Evil Pieces had no doubt saved their race.

The Great King was looking at the proof right now.

Of the devils fighting this tide of... Titans? (Were that they were called? How unoriginal.) Either way, over four-fifths of the attackers were reincarnated devils while his people did the necessary work here on Agreas.

It wasn't that Zekram Bael looked down on reincarnated devils. They were a necessity for the survival of his race and could even be stronger than most Pillars. He even liked quite a few.

Already, plans were percolating in his mind to push for a few to become Satans. 

The Red Dragon Emperor, in particular, had potential. A few more years to ensure he matured a bit, and once he passed the test to become High class Zekram could start helping him make his way up in the world.

If Zekram had his way, Issei Hyoudou would join Sairaorg as a new generation of Satans.

Magdaran would become the heir again, as the Underworld would always need a Great King with the Power of Destruction, while Zekram let Sairaorg enact the policies to fold the Extra houses back into the fold.

Of the current devils Pillars, less than ten had children in this generation, and only half even had heirs. They needed new blood, and while the exile might have served a purpose at one point, it was about time to fold them back in.

And if the Crimson Wall became a Satan, not only would it provide the Underworld a great defender, but it would also go a long way to assuage the reincarnated devils that outnumbered the pureblood ones.

They'd have 'representation' with Issei Hyoudou, who Zekram's sources told him was as politically savvy as a walnut. Having someone they could get behind would help stabilize the Underworld further.

Zekram did not need an 'uprising,' no matter how doomed, while the world settled into a new status quo from the Peace Conference.

"So far, nobody has reported any signs, sir," Lord Bael told his ancestor respectfully as he received a report from Lady Paimon.

"Keep them searching," Zekram ordered simply, not taking his eyes off the battlefield.

The Great King didn't honestly think they'd find anything. He'd had agents looking for Zaoroma Nebiros' lab for centuries, ever since those foolish descendants had made off with the Malebranche in the Civil War.

Agreas had also been searched as the source of the crystals that made the weapons in the first place, but no traces had been found since their disappearance.

His great-great-great grandson nodded simply.

The current Lord was a disappointment, but not to the degree that he needed to be disposed of. He had enough power to be Ultimate class and the Power of Destruction, as was required to be Lord, but he lacked will and ambition.

The opposite problem to Zekram's current point of interest.

Sona Sitri might lack power, but that was only compared to the likes of Sairaorg and Rias, both of which were descendants of his, so she couldn't be blamed for not matching them. And she made up for weakness with cunning and ambition.

This little scheme of hers was a perfect example.

Oh yes, Zekram saw through it, just as he had seen through her when she declared her dream. She was much too young to try and pull one over on him.

But playing along cost him nothing.

So he had signed the contract in the letter, guaranteeing the funds and influence the Bael had promised to help her with her school.

In return, he had gained the 'secret' information Serafall was keeping hidden. The location of the Malebranche.

Zekram had honestly smiled when he had read the letter, already guessing that every Lord and Lady who the young heiress could reach had received the same letter.

If the young Sitri was right about the weapons being here, which was unlikely, then he'd regain the lost weapons.

If she was wrong, all he lost was a bit of time and money. Money he had already planned on giving her for her little experiment. And he gained a favour from a girl who now had a considerable fortune and influence.

No matter what, Zekram Bael won.

Because he played the long game.

He wanted Sona Sitri to succeed. Whether or not she used her school as a propaganda center in some sort of cold war didn't matter to him. What mattered was having that ambition, that institution present at all.

The greatest school in the world now at peace was created by devils?

The status alone would be worth it.

Much like having Issei Hyoudou as a Satan would help stabilize the reincarnated devil situation, having Sona Sitri's school would help stabilize the inter-pantheon situation.

She hadn't been wrong that the world was changing, and using that change for her ambition was well played.

The Sitri heiress' problem was that she was reckless.

This little scheme of hers, for example. Not only would it secure her funding and force hesitant or demanding supports to lock themselves into her plan, but it would also provide defenders for Agreas that the Satans wouldn't have recruited, giving their actual recruits more support.

Whether the young Sitri's goal was a selfish power grab or a selfless aid for her sister was irrelevant. She had succeeded in her aims.

Her short-term ones, at least.

Long term, Sona Sitri would be paying for this little trick for centuries to come.

If the Malebranche were found, every devil who received a letter would feel entitled to one. And since Zekram wouldn't allow anyone to get one, they would turn their ire on Sona, who had alerted others instead of just themselves.

Even worse if the Malebranche weren't found.

All their efforts and money for a red herring? The Lords and Ladies wouldn't just be mad. They'd be suspicious.

Everything Sona Sitri did from here on out would be scrutinized and monitored. And she had given them the perfect excuse. They were now part owners in her school. It made perfect sense for them to keep track of their investment.

A well-laid but short-sighted plan.

Thankfully for her, Zekram Bael had no intention of seeing such potential squandered.

No matter the outcome, she'd need to be punished to appease the other letter recipients. And who better than the Great King?

He'd take her under his wing as a 'punishment,' which would protect her from more nefarious individuals. All the funds and influence she gained from this stunt would still go toward her school, but he'd make sure they were used correctly.

It was a shame Sona Sitri was the only heir of the Sitri family. Otherwise, he might have pushed for an engagement with Madragan, but having her as an apprentice might be better in the long run.

She couldn't become the next Great King, but Zekram still had a few millennia in him. Enough for a few more generations of decedents. He hadn't rushed for a true successor and wouldn't start now.

Besides, having an apprentice would make training any potential successor easier and more stable.

Because that was what it was all about.

Stability.

To the Shadow of the Devils, who had seen his creators and God die, who had watched empires rise and fall, who had instated new Satans and would do so again, nothing was more important than ensuring the Underworld continued as it did.

From devils' birth to the end of time, the Pillars needed to stand tall.

Only then could the Underworld survive.

Zekram Bael watched the army of the Underworld and the wall of white giants disappear into a haze of mist with only a raised brow.

Dimension Lost? How nostalgic.

But what now?

When no next stage of the attack appeared, Zekram was about to turn his attention to the Satans' ongoing battle when, once more, his descendant interrupted his thoughts.

"Ancestor," Lord Bael said hurriedly. He should control himself better. "We found something."

Despite himself, Zekram felt a touch of surprise at the news.

"Something?"

"Lord Sallos," his descendant answered quickly but succinctly, knowing his gaff. Generalities such as 'something' had no business in any report. "He discovered a fresh passageway through the crystal. A tunnel made of the same white material as the giants. Despite your orders, he investigated. His son alerted me. Lord Sallos is dead." 

No great loss. High class only due to his rank, and his heir had the clan trait, so it wasn't lost.

Hopefully, watching his father die would give the young man some semblance of self-control. And teach him to follow orders.

"Show me," Zekram ordered simply, not even bothering to tell the man not to spread the information around to the dozens of other searchers.

If he didn't know that much, he shouldn't be Lord.

Had Sona Sitri been telling the truth after all?

The outcome would be the same. Zekram would simply frame the apprenticeship as a reward instead. It would increase her value, though. She had gone behind her sister's back to give this information to him.

It didn't take long for both Ultimate class devils to reach the mines of crystal used to create the Evil Pieces and Brave Saint cards and had been the building block of the Malebranche so long ago.

It required a bit more navigating the twisted depths of the floating city before the pair were in front of a tunnel markedly different from all others due to the smooth white material that made it up.

It was easy to guess which was the right one by the body of Lord Sallos impaled on spikes, blood and viscera coating the walls from his sudden and violent death.

Zekram Bael barely paid any attention to the shaken young man, only a few centuries old, who stared vacantly at his father's corpse.

Losing a Lord was only noteworthy if their house was without heirs or their bloodline dissipated, so the old devil simply destroyed the body and the spikes with the Power of Destruction.

The tunnel reacted.

More white spikes were jutting from it to try to kill the new intruders, but they were similarly destroyed.

Just because Zekram Bael was not a Super Devil like his Satan descendant did not mean he was one iota less able to use the Power of Destruction.

He was the originator of the power, after all.

The pair proceeded unhindered through a corridor scoured by black and red power.

The only point at which Zekram paused was when he felt the atmosphere shift.

He wasn't as talented as Adjuka but had been around the block before. He knew the sensation when passing into a smaller dimension. 

A two-dimensional seal organically grown into the crystal, from the same crystal? Was that how Zaomara hid the lab? Quite ingenious.

Still, that would explain how a sage had found it when others failed. Their attunement to the physical world was much greater than most sensory types.

More and more, it looked like Sona Sitri's information was right on the money.

If Zekram regained all twelve Malebranche, he wouldn't forget who it was due to.

Punish failure and reward success.

A fundamental principle that too many failed to implement correctly.

The final barrier before the lab, a thick enchanted door, had been torn from its hinges and lay discarded to the side, and the two devils entered without issue.

As soon as they passed it, they felt the power.

It was a pressure, a familiar one to Zekram, that pressed down on them. It was something hard to quantify or qualify.

Not Demonic power, but just an aura of malevolence and death that seemed to permeate the room like a miasma.

The origin of the sensations wasn't difficult to identify either.

Twelve stone statues lined the room, each depicting a different amalgamation creation that was both a weapon and a living being yet resembled neither.

At the foot of each statue was a plaque with a name in curved, stylized lettering. All twelve were here, from Calcabrina to Draghignazzo and Farfarello.

Yet even amongst the pressure they all exuded, one stood out even from the rest.

At the center of the room was a stone statue whose aura was even deadlier than the others and whose plaque was placed over its head rather than at its feet.

'Malacoda must never be awakened.'

A simple but poignant warning.

One that the thin human sitting with his back to the center statue had clearly ignored.

"Eren Yeager."

Zekram recognized the human by the odd markings around his eyes and was unsurprised to find him here.

The young man looked at the old devil with a blank, almost unseeing gaze.

The Great King felt a smile tug at his lips and let it form.

He had nothing personal against the boy, but to see him like this was just too fitting for an enemy who attacked the Underworld.

Zekram would have to tell this story later.

It would be a nice consolation prize.

"Ancestor?" Lord Bael asked, cautiously eyeing the human who had conjured an army not too long ago.

"You do not need to concern yourself with him," Zekram told his descendant. "He's no longer a threat."

"Sir?"

A blast of black and red destroyed the central stone statue, sending debris raining onto the human.

Eren didn't flinch or move.

"They're fake," Zekram said simply. "Imitations of the aura but with no depth or power."

A bit disappointing.

Zekram had never once worried that a human would be able to unseal and wield one of the Evil Claws. No matter the power, they simply wouldn't work for a human, but the Great King had hoped to reclaim them.

Instead, all he found was one of Zaomara's decoys.

"Was there a trap?" His descendant asked, still keeping an eye on the human.

"No," the Great King denied, approaching the sitting boy and peering down at those empty eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Eyes he had seen on most of his enemies.

"He simply realized his folly. All his efforts, sacrifices, and plans were for nothing. He traded his future and his subordinates' lives for this opportunity. For power that was never meant to be his. And got nothing out of it. An all too common experience for humans due to their lifespan. This is what being short-sighted leads to. Despair."

The boy finally moved when Zekram stood over him.

Eren tilted his head to meet the eyes of the Great King looking down on him.

"I know the answer," the empty voice spoke. "But I need to hear it."

Zekram raised a brow, amused.

"If I kill you, what happens to the Underworld?"

"Do you think you can?" Zekram asked, genuinely curious. 

It wasn't the first time some enemy or foe had tried to get rid of him in their final moments. It was actually quite common for one such as him. More people hated his guts than almost anyone in history and would trade all they had, lives included, to end his life.

Most of those people were dead.

Eren Yeager would be no different.

The second he made a move of any sort, Zekram would atomize his body.

Eren didn't answer, looking up at the old devil with blank, empty grey eyes.

"The answer is simple," the old devil sighed, already moving past this amusing distraction.

He somewhat regretted destroying the status of Malacoda. It would still have made a novel addition to his collection, even if it was fake. Now, he had an incomplete set.

"Without the Pillars, there is no Underworld. Without the Great King, there are no Pillars. Thus, there will always be a Great King. Without one, there is no Underworld."

Zekram was not so foolish to think himself irreplaceable. He just hadn't found a successor to truely rule the Underworld yet. 

Certainly, the current Lord Bael held the official rank of Great King but so had a handful before him.

None of the Lords of the family had been worthy of the true power of the Underworld.

"I... see..." the young man said slowly.

Then, with shaking limbs as if every movement hurt him, Eren Yeager raised his hand.

Showing his sliced palm to the Great King.

Zekram Bael raised a brow at the bloody hand. 

Then he felt the pocket dimension the lab was located in collapse instantly. As these things tended to do, the pocket dimension's contents struggled to fit into real space.

Without the tunnel the boy had dug, the two Ultimate class devils might have been seriously injured as what was essentially a two-dimensional space tried to occupy a filled 3D one.

Thanks to the tunnel of white material, though, everything was crammed into the empty air of the tunnel as if someone had crumbled it all like a piece of paper into a ball.

And that paper was destroyed by the Power of Destruction.

The human hadn't moved in the slightest, still holding up his bleeding hand as everything around him was reduced to atoms.

Zekram had intended for his power to kill the boy as well as the remains of the lab.

He was shocked when his magic crashed into the boy and dissipated against his flesh like water breaking on a dam.

A body prepared by the Holy Grail's blessing, reinforced by Senjutsu, and stuffed so full of the Infinite's power that even moving was difficult could hold up to almost anything.

Even the most devastating power a devil could wield by the origin of the Power of Destruction.

The sixth sense of a devil that had survived millennia and the Great War tingled, and Zekram immediately made a judgment call.

He fled.

Or tried to.

Even though he used all his power, leaving his descendant and Agreas behind, Zekram Bael could not activate his magic... 

No. He could activate it. 

Zekram was experienced enough to recognize what went wrong.

Teleportation couldn't happen while already being displaced.

Agreas was being teleported.

The floating island reentered real space in the Underworld, and the Lords and Ladies who searched it wondered about the sudden shift.

A few were spooked and tried to leave.

They failed to escape.

Zekram Bael met the dead grey eyes of a human boy.

Deep in the bowels of Agreas, high in the sky outside the Underworld's capital, right beside the Great King of the Underworld, lighting crackled across a bloody palm.