[10] Legacy of Three

I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror, frowning at the purplish bruise blooming along my jawline. Ariel's uppercut had been more precise than I'd given her credit for. Four hits out of five—impressive, but not enough to claim her prize. Still, this mark wouldn't do for meeting my parents.

"Young Master, your clothes have been prepared." Ariel's voice came from the bedroom, perfectly composed as if our training session had never happened.

I emerged from the bathroom wearing only loose pants, my torso bare. "We have a problem."

She stood by my bed, hands folded primly before her, back in her maid uniform. Her eyes flickered to my jaw, and I caught the ghost of satisfaction in them before she masked it.

"A regrettable injury," she said, not sounding regretful at all. "Shall I prepare a cold compress?"

"Won't work fast enough." I crossed the room toward her. "We need something more... direct."

Her posture stiffened slightly. "Young Master?"

I stopped inches from her, close enough to catch the subtle scent of cinnamon that always clung to her skin—a side effect of her fire magic. "Essence Drain would heal this immediately."

Her crimson eyes widened. "That would be highly inappropriate."

"More inappropriate than me explaining to Father how I got this bruise?" I raised an eyebrow. "Besides, you almost won it earlier. Consider this a... consolation prize."

"A consolation—" Her words cut off as I raised my hand to her face, thumb brushing across her cheek.

"Just enough to heal the bruise," I said, voice dropping lower. "Unless you'd rather I went to Mother looking like I lost a bar fight."

She swallowed, her perfect composure slipping. "If you insist, Young Master."

"I do."

I stepped closer, eliminating the remaining space between us. Her breathing quickened, those crimson eyes darkening with something beyond professional concern. I tilted her chin up with one finger.

"This might feel... intense," I warned, though we both knew that was the point.

I leaned down, brushing my lips against the smooth skin of her neck. The effect was immediate—a sharp inhale from Ariel, her body tensing against mine. I activated Void Sight, feeling the familiar surge as the three concentric circles manifested in my eyes.

Then I bit down gently, and everything changed.

Power rushed into me like a river breaking through a dam. Not just magical energy, but essence—the fundamental building blocks of Ariel's power. Her fire affinity blazed through my veins, hot and intoxicating. I felt the bruise healing instantly as if it had never been damaged.

But I didn't stop.

"Mmm..." Ariel's soft moan vibrated against my lips. Her hands clutched at my bare shoulders, nails digging in. "Young M-Master..."

I drew more essence, feeling it flow from her body into mine. The connection deepened, creating a circuit of energy that amplified the sensation for both of us. Her fire magic mingled with my shadows, creating something new and volatile.

"Ahh!" Her head fell back, exposing more of her neck. "P-please..."

I couldn't tell if she was begging me to stop or continue. I chose the latter, one hand sliding up her back to support her as her knees weakened.

"Just a bit more," I murmured against her skin.

"Mmmph..." Her breathing turned ragged, eyelids fluttering. "S-so... intense..."

I finally pulled away, satisfied with both the healing and the effect I'd had on her. Ariel swayed slightly, eyes glazed over, lips parted. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and her normally perfect hair had come slightly undone.

"Are you alright?" I asked, steadying her with a hand on her waist.

"Y-yes..." she breathed, the word slurring slightly. "Just... need a moment..."

She looked utterly undone—a stark contrast to her usual composed self. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, uniform slightly disheveled where I'd gripped her.

"That was more than... expected..." she managed, blinking slowly as if trying to clear her vision.

I smirked, feeling the last traces of her essence settling into my magical pathways. "Consider it practice for when you actually win our wager."

She shivered visibly at the implication. "The clothes..." she whispered, gesturing vaguely toward the bed. "You should dress... meeting..."

"Right." I turned away, giving her time to collect herself. "Noon with Mother."

Behind me, I heard her steady her breathing through sheer force of will. By the time I'd pulled on the formal shirt and jacket laid out for me, she'd managed to fix her hair and straighten her uniform. Only the lingering flush on her cheeks and the slight dilation of her pupils betrayed what had happened.

"Shall I escort you to Lady Selene's study?" she asked, voice nearly back to normal.

"Lead the way."

As she walked ahead of me down the corridor, I noticed the slight unsteadiness in her usually perfect gait. Interesting. Essence Drain affected her more profoundly than I'd anticipated. Something to remember for future... experiments.

Mother's study smelled of old books and fresh flowers—an incongruous combination that somehow worked. She sat behind her desk, silver hair catching the light from the tall windows. Father stood beside her, his posture rigid as always.

"Right on time," Mother noted with a smile. "How was training?"

"Productive," I replied, glad the evidence had been erased from my jaw. "Ariel's getting better."

Father's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your magical reserves seem... different."

Shit. I'd forgotten about his sensitivity to magical signatures. 

"Tried a new shadow technique. Might have altered my signature temporarily."

He didn't look convinced but didn't press the issue. "The Evil Pieces have arrived."

Mother gestured to a small ornate box on her desk. "Ajuka Beelzebub delivered them personally."

That caught my attention. "The Satan himself? Not just a courier?"

"He and your father have... history," Mother said carefully.

Father's jaw tightened. "Open it."

I approached the desk and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in black velvet, lay sixteen chess pieces carved from what looked like obsidian. They gleamed with an inner light, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

"They're not active yet," Father explained. "We need to visit the monument in Ajuka's territory to complete the ritual."

I picked up the Queen piece, feeling its weight—heavier than it looked. "When do we leave?"

"Now." Father checked his watch. "The car is waiting."

Mother rose from her desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is a significant milestone, Dante. The Pieces will bind to your essence, becoming extensions of your will."

"Your peerage will define your future standing," Father added. "Choose wisely."

"I always do." I set the Queen piece back in its place and closed the box.

Mother kissed my cheek. "Go with your father. I'll see you both when you return."

As we left her study, I caught Father studying me with an unreadable expression. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.

Father's car was a classic Rolls-Royce Phantom—black, naturally, with the Valac crest subtly incorporated into the interior. As we pulled away from the estate, he remained silent, staring out at the passing Underworld landscape.

"You're not usually this quiet," I observed after several minutes.

He glanced at me. "I'm remembering my own journey to receive my Pieces."

"Except you didn't get any," I pointed out. "They weren't invented yet."

"No." A rare smile touched his lips. "Ajuka created them after the war. Part of rebuilding devil society."

"You knew him well?"

Father's gaze turned distant. "We were best friends once. Ajuka, Sirzechs, and I."

This was unexpected. Father rarely discussed his past, particularly anything involving Sirzechs Lucifer.

"Hard to imagine," I said carefully.

"We were young. Talented. Arrogant." He drummed his fingers on his knee. "Before they became Satans, before I became head of House Valac, we were simply three devils with exceptional abilities."

The car wound through a mountain pass, the purple sky of the Underworld casting long shadows across the road.

"What happened?" I asked, though I knew the general outline.

"Life." Father's voice hardened. "Politics. The Civil War."

"And Grayfia Lucifuge," I added, testing his reaction.

His eyes flashed. "You've heard rumors."

"Enough to piece together the basics. You had feelings for her, she chose Sirzechs."

Father was silent for so long I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried none of the bitterness I expected.

"It wasn't that simple." He gazed out at the passing landscape. "We were in the midst of war. The Old Satan Faction threatened everything—our families, our future, the very structure of devil society. Sirzechs, Ajuka, and I fought side by side."

"You were allies."

"More than that. We were the vanguard— some of the most powerful young devils of our generation. Ajuka with his genius, Sirzechs with his destruction, and I with my shadows." A hint of pride crept into his voice. "We turned the tide of numerous battles."

"And Grayfia?"

"She was from the Old Satan Faction initially. The strongest female devil of her generation. When she defected to our side, it changed everything." He paused. "She and I worked closely together on several operations. I misinterpreted our connection."

This was more candid than Father had ever been about his past. I remained silent, letting him continue.

"When she chose Sirzechs, it wasn't just personal rejection. It altered political alignments." His fingers tightened on his knee. "After the war, when they selected the new Satans, Sirzechs and Ajuka were obvious choices. I was... overlooked."

The bitterness finally bled through. "Not because my power was that much less, but because my alliances were weaker. Without backing, House Valac remained just another of the 72 Pillars while Sirzechs ascended to Lucifer."

"That's why you've been trying to rebuild our influence," I said, understanding dawning. "It's not just about house pride."

"It's about correcting an injustice." He turned to me, his purple eyes intense. "The Valacs should stand at the very least equal to any devil house. Your generation has the opportunity to restore what was lost."

The car slowed as we approached an immense structure—a towering monument of black stone and glowing magical circuits that pulsed with blue-green energy. Ajuka's territory.

"We're here," Father said, his moment of candor passing. "Remember who you are when you touch the monument. You're not just receiving Evil Pieces—you're taking your first step toward redefining House Valac's future."

The car stopped. I clutched the box containing my Pieces, feeling their weight—both physical and symbolic. "I won't disappoint you."

"I know." For just a moment, his formal facade cracked, revealing something almost like affection. "You never have."

The monument towered above us—a massive obelisk covered in intricate magical formulas that shifted and rearranged themselves continuously. Ajuka's genius made manifest in stone and magic.

"Place your hand on the central panel," Father instructed. "The monument will read your magical signature and register you as a King."

I approached the base of the obelisk, where a flat panel glowed with pulsing blue light. The box of Evil Pieces felt warm in my other hand, as if responding to the monument's energy.

"What exactly happens during the ritual?" I asked.

"The Pieces bond to you," Father explained. "They become attuned to your specific magical signature, allowing you to use them to create your peerage."

I nodded, placed my hand against the cool surface of the panel. Immediately, magic surged up my arm—not painful, but intense, like plunging into an electrical current. The formulas on the obelisk accelerated their movements, flowing toward my hand like water drawn to a drain.

The box in my other hand grew hot, then burst open. The fifteen chess pieces rose into the air, orbiting around me in a perfect circle. They glowed brighter, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

Then something unexpected happened.

Five of the pieces—one Queen, one Rook, two Knights, and one bishop—broke from their orbit, flaring with blinding light. When the light faded, they had changed. No longer pure obsidian, they now contained swirling patterns of purple energy that matched my magical signature.

The remaining pieces returned to normal, settling back into the box. The five transformed pieces hovered before me for a moment longer before joining them.

The connection to the monument faded. I removed my hand, turning to Father in confusion.

"What just happened?"

Father stared at the five altered pieces, genuine shock on his normally composed face. "Mutation pieces. Five of them."

"Is that... unusual?"

"Unprecedented." He stepped closer, examining the transformed Pieces. "Most Kings are lucky to receive one mutation piece in their lifetime. Five at once..." 

"What does it mean?"

"It means your potential exceeds even my expectations." For the first time in memory, Father looked truly impressed. "Mutation pieces allow for the reincarnation of beings that would normally be too powerful for standard Evil Pieces. That many of them..."

He trailed off, lost in calculation.

"So my peerage could potentially be much stronger than average," I concluded.

"If you select the right individuals, you could assemble a peerage to rival Sirzechs himself." 

I closed the box, feeling the connection to the pieces resonating within me—fifteen extensions of my will, five of them extraordinarily powerful. The implications were staggering.

"We should return home," Father said, already moving toward the car. "Your mother will want to hear this development."