15 minutes ago
The stone steps curved downward into darkness, cool air rushing up to greet us. My small flame illuminated just enough of the passage to avoid tripping, casting long shadows that danced along the rough-hewn walls. The staircase was old—centuries at least, judging by the worn depressions in each step.
"How far down does it go?" Millicas whispered, his hand gripping mine tightly.
"Not much further," I assured him, though I had no idea. The passage felt ancient, predating even the main Gremory estate. "Stay close."
The staircase finally leveled out into a narrow corridor. Stone walls gave way to brick, then back to stone again—evidence of repairs and extensions made over different eras. My flame revealed intricate carvings along certain sections, mostly depicting Gremory family crests and various magical symbols.
"Look!" Millicas pointed toward a junction ahead where the corridor split in three directions.
I crouched beside him, studying the floor. "See those marks?" I traced a finger just above the stone, not quite touching the worn paths. "More traffic goes to the right. That's probably the main route."
"So we should go left?" Millicas asked.
I grinned. "Smart kid. The less traveled path usually hides the best secrets."
Plus, whatever power I sensed over there I wanted nothing to do with. Knowing my luck, I'd run into Millicas great great great grandfather showering or something.
We took the left passage, which narrowed further before opening into a small circular chamber. The walls were lined with shelves containing various objects—old scrolls, small trinkets, and what appeared to be ceremonial items. Dust covered everything, suggesting this room hadn't been visited in decades.
"What is this place?" Millicas whispered, his gray eyes wide with wonder.
"Storage room, maybe. Or a collection." I moved my flame closer to examine a particularly ornate box. "Your family's been around for millennia. They've probably accumulated all sorts of treasures."
Millicas approached one of the shelves, reaching toward a small crystal orb.
"Careful," I warned, gently catching his wrist. "Rule one of exploring secret passages: never touch anything without checking for traps first."
His eyes widened. "There are traps?"
"Sometimes. Watch." I extended my senses, allowing my shadow to slip ahead of me across the floor and up the shelves, feeling for magical triggers or mechanical mechanisms. "This room seems clean, but it's good practice."
I released his wrist and he nodded solemnly, taking the lesson to heart. "How do you know so much about secret passages?"
"Let's just say I've explored my fair share of places I wasn't supposed to be."
We examined the room's contents, finding mostly old family mementos—nothing particularly valuable or dangerous. After a few minutes, we continued our exploration, taking the middle passage at the junction.
This corridor stretched longer, gradually widening until it opened into a much larger chamber. Unlike the storage room, this space had clearly been designed for use—a meeting room of some sort, with a large table and chairs carved from dark wood. Faded tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes from what I assumed was Gremory family history.
"Secret meetings," I murmured, running my fingers along the table's edge. "Your ancestors probably used this place for discussions they didn't want others to overhear."
"Like planning battles?" Millicas asked, excitement coloring his voice.
"Or political alliances. Marriage arrangements. Business deals." I shrugged. "The kind of boring stuff adults like to keep private."
Millicas circled the table, studying the chairs. "This one's bigger." He pointed to an ornate chair at the head of the table.
"For the family head," I explained. "Your grandfather would sit there now, or your father during important meetings."
"Will I sit there someday?" he asked, his small hand tracing the carved armrest.
The question carried more weight than he probably realized. As son of Sirzechs Lucifer and Grayfia Lucifuge, Millicas stood at a unique crossroads of power and legacy. Would he follow his father into leadership of the Underworld? Or would he inherit the Gremory headship after Rias?
"Maybe," I said, keeping my tone light. "If that's what you want."
His face scrunched up in thought. "I don't know yet. Father says I should learn everything I can before deciding anything."
"Smart man, your father."
We left the meeting chamber and took the final passage, which sloped gently upward. This corridor featured more elaborate stonework, with magical lights embedded in the ceiling that activated as we approached—still functioning after centuries.
"These are like the lights in our training room," Millicas observed.
"Old magic," I nodded. "Built to last."
The passage ended at a heavy wooden door reinforced with metal bands. No obvious handle or lock mechanism was visible. I studied it for a moment before noticing a small indentation in the center—shaped like the Gremory family crest.
"I think we need a key," I told Millicas. "Or..."
I placed my hand over the indentation and channeled a small amount of energy into it. Nothing happened. As expected—the door would only respond to Gremory blood or magic.
Millicas stepped forward, his expression determined. "Let me try."
I stepped aside, watching as he pressed his small palm against the indentation. A soft red glow emanated from under his hand, and the door clicked, swinging inward silently.
"Blood recognition," I murmured. "Nicely done."
Beyond the door lay a library—not as grand as the main Gremory collection, but impressive nonetheless. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, packed with books, scrolls, and magical tomes. A large desk occupied the center of the room, with comfortable reading chairs arranged nearby.
"Whoa," Millicas breathed. "I didn't know this was here."
"Your family's private collection," I said, examining the nearest shelf. "Books they wanted to keep separate from the main library."
"Why?"
"Rare works. Controversial topics. Family secrets." I pulled out a leather-bound volume, its pages yellowed with age. "Information is power, kid. The most valuable things are often kept hidden."
Millicas wandered through the library, examining titles with curious eyes. I browsed the shelves methodically, seeking anything interesting. Most volumes covered standard topics—magical theory, devil history, political records—but occasionally I spotted something more intriguing.
A slim black book caught my eye, tucked between two larger tomes. No title marked its spine. I pulled it free, feeling a subtle magical resonance as my fingers touched the cover. Opening it revealed handwritten pages in ancient devil script—notes rather than a formal text.
The content focused on void manipulation—specifically, something eerily close to the limitless technique.
"Jackpot," I muttered, tucking the book into my jacket. I'd return it later—probably—but this warranted closer study.
"Dante, look at this," Millicas called from across the room. He stood before a glass case containing what appeared to be a map.
I joined him, examining the display. Not a map—a complex magical diagram. Circles within circles, runes arranged in precise patterns, lines of power connecting various nodes. The glass case bore an inscription: "Original Rating Game Field Design—Ajuka Beelzebub."
"Your uncle Ajuka designed the Rating Games," I explained to Millicas. "This might be his first draft."
"It's so complicated," Millicas said, studying the diagram. His finger traced the patterns through the glass.
"That's Ajuka for you. Brilliant but complex." I scanned the rest of the room, noticing a section of wall that seemed different from the others. "Hey, I think there's another door over here."
We crossed to the far wall where a subtle seam indicated a concealed entrance. No obvious mechanism controlled this one—a more sophisticated design than the blood-locked door.
"How do we open it?" Millicas asked.
I examined the surrounding bookshelves, looking for triggers or clues. "Secret doors usually have—aha." I pointed to a book that protruded slightly further than its neighbors. "Classic design. Pull that one."
Millicas reached for the book, but I stopped him.
"Wait. Too obvious." I crouched, studying the floor before the bookshelf. Sure enough, a subtle difference in the stone indicated a pressure plate. "See that? It's a trap."
"What does it do?" Millicas asked, eyes wide.
"No idea. Could be an alarm, could shoot darts, could drop the floor out from under us." I pointed to the worn marks around the plate's edge. "See those scratches? People have triggered this before."
"So how do we get past it?"
I considered our options. The proper approach would be to find the real mechanism or bypass the door entirely. But…
"...now that Lady Rias has reached adulthood, Riser sees no reason to delay our union further. Riser proposes that we set the date for—"
I paused my thoughts. Riser Phenex—the pompous, third-person-speaking jackass himself—was making some kind of announcement about Rias.
Ah... Rias clearly despised her engagement to the Phenex heir. If someone were to interrupt Riser's speech—say, a child and his chaperone bursting dramatically into the ballroom—it would certainly derail whatever he was planning.
And who could be angry at an adorable seven-year-old having an adventure? Millicas was the perfect shield against consequences. Plus, stopping Riser's presumptuous announcement would earn me points with Rias—potentially valuable if Sona was going to be hostile at Kuoh. Latia would approve of me helping Rias as well. A two-for-one.
Perfect.
"Millicas," I said, crouching down to his level. "How do you feel about making a grand entrance?"
His gray eyes lit up. "Like in the stories? When the hero arrives at the perfect moment?"
"Exactly like that.
Millicas nodded eagerly.
"Alright," I said, "stand back."
Millicas retreated several steps. I positioned myself at the edge of the pressure plate, ready to jump back if necessary.
I stepped squarely onto the pressure plate. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a soft click echoed through the library.
"That wasn't so—"
The floor rumbled. Black powder began pouring from small openings in the ceiling, covering everything in a sooty substance. Not harmful, just messy—designed to mark intruders rather than hurt them. Simultaneously, the concealed door swung open, revealing another passage beyond.
"—bad," I finished, now covered in black powder. Millicas stood equally coated, looking like a tiny chimney sweep.
He burst into giggles. "You're all black!"
"So are you, kid." I brushed some powder from his shoulders, only succeeding in smearing it further. "Your mother's going to kill me."
"Worth it," Millicas declared, still laughing.
"Ready to make out grand entrance?" I asked, offering Millicas my hand.
He nodded firmly, taking my hand.
We burst through the doors with perfect dramatic timing, stumbling into the ballroom coughing and covered in soot.
"I told you that trap was obvious," I said loudly to Millicas, brushing powder from his shoulders. "The pressure plate had marks all around it."
"But you stepped on it too!" Millicas protested, playing his part perfectly.
"Only to show you what not to do," I replied, before turning and freezing as if just realizing we had an audience.
The ballroom had fallen silent, every eye fixed on us. On the dais, Riser stood with his mouth half-open, interrupted mid-sentence. Beside him, Rias looked torn between shock and relief.
I recovered quickly, offering a sheepish smile before executing a formal bow toward the dais.
"Happy birthday, Rias Gremory," I called, making sure my voice carried across the silent ballroom.
Millicas stood frozen beside me. I tapped him gently on the side, prompting him to bow hastily.
"Happy birthday, Aunt Rias," he echoed, his voice smaller but perfectly timed.
The silence stretched for another moment before Sirzechs broke into laughter—warm and genuine. Soon others joined in, the tension dissipating as the absurdity of our appearance overtook the formal atmosphere.
"It appears my son has found the old escape tunnels," Sirzechs announced, still chuckling. "A Gremory tradition, though perhaps not typically demonstrated during formal gatherings."
Grayfia stepped forward, her expression stern but with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Millicas, come here at once."
The boy hurried forward, leaving sooty footprints on the polished floor.
"What were you thinking?" Grayfia asked as Millicas reached her.
"We were exploring," Millicas replied earnestly. "Dante said the best birthday presents are adventures, not things."
All eyes turned to me, and I shrugged slightly. "The kid wanted to see the secret passages. Who was I to deny him?"
"Who indeed," Sirzechs murmured, ruffling his son's sooty hair. "Though perhaps next time, avoid the trap chambers?"
"We found three secret rooms and a hidden library before the explosion," Millicas reported proudly. "And Dante taught me how to spot pressure plates and tripwires!"
"Essential life skills," I added seriously.
My mother appeared beside Grayfia, both silver-haired women fixing me with nearly identical looks of exasperation. The effect was both intimidating and strangely appealing.
"Dante," my mother said. "You've covered the Lucifer heir in soot."
"Technically, the Gremory trap system did that," I corrected, earning deeper frowns from both women.
"You were supposed to be watching him, not encouraging reckless behavior," Grayfia added.
"I was watching him," I protested. "Very closely. The entire time. Right by his side."
"Covered in soot," my mother emphasized.
"Which washes off," I pointed out. "Unlike the valuable experience gained."
Grayfia's lips thinned. "Experience in triggering traps?"
"Experience in recognizing them," I corrected. "He'll know better next time."
"There won't be a next time!" Both women said simultaneously, then glanced at each other in brief solidarity.
Meanwhile, Lord Gremory had smoothly redirected the evening's focus, calling for the dance portion to begin. The orchestra started playing a traditional waltz as Rias and her father took to the dance floor.
I leaned down to Millicas while the women continued their scolding. "Listen carefully," I whispered. "After your grandfather finishes dancing with Rias, ask her for the next dance before the chicken can claim her."
Millicas glanced toward Riser, who stood fuming at the edge of the dance floor, then back to me. "And then what?"
"Halfway through your dance, bring her near where Latia and I will be dancing. We'll swap partners."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because your aunt deserves better and you're going to help me give her a reprieve."
Millicas considered this, then nodded. "Okay."
"Good man."
I straightened up to find my mother watching me suspiciously. "What are you plotting now?"
"Me? Nothing. Just cleaning up." I made a show of brushing more soot from my jacket, succeeding only in creating a small black cloud around me.
After a few more minutes of scolding, which I endured, the women's attention returned to Millicas. Grayfia produced a handkerchief and began cleaning his face with motherly efficiency, while my mother used a subtle cleaning spell to remove the worst of the soot from his clothing.
I slipped away during this process, making my way through the crowd toward where Latia stood with Seekvaira and Sona. All three young women turned as I approached, their reactions varying from Latia's poorly concealed delight to Sona's cold disdain.
"Ladies," I greeted them, fully aware of my disheveled appearance. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"You're covered in soot," Seekvaira observed, adjusting her glasses.
"Am I? Hadn't noticed."
Sona's violet eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "What were you doing in the Gremory passages?"
"Exploring. Teaching. Mentoring young Millicas in the essential art of adventure." I turned to Latia, extending my soot-covered hand. "May I have this dance?"
"In your current state?"
"I thought it added character."
She laughed softly, then traced a quick magical circle in the air. The spell washed over me, removing the soot from my clothing and skin in an instant.
"Better?" she asked.
"Less authentic, but more socially acceptable," I conceded, still holding out my hand. "So, about that dance?"
"I would love to, Dante." She placed her hand in mine.
I led her to the dance floor, aware of Sona's gaze following us. The orchestra had shifted to a slower waltz, and I drew Latia closer, my hand settling at the small of her back.
We danced in comfortable silence for a few moments, finding our rhythm together. Latia followed my lead perfectly, her body moving in harmony with mine.
"Did you plan that entrance?" she asked quietly, her lips close to my ear.
"What entrance?"
"The dramatic interruption just as Riser was about to announce an expedited wedding date."
I spun her gently. "How could I have possibly planned that? We were exploring underground passages."
"Coincidental." Her tone made it clear she didn't believe me for a second. "Like how you coincidentally taught Millicas to ask Rias for a dance?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Been eavesdropping?"
"Observing," she corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there? Both seem invasive."
"And yet," she continued, ignoring my deflection, "both are less invasive than interrupting a formal announcement at a birthday celebration."
I guided us through a turn, bringing us closer to where Millicas now danced with Rias.
"Would you have preferred Riser force Rias into an accelerated wedding timeline?" I asked.
Latia's eyes softened. "No. What you did was... kind. In your own chaotic way."
"Once again, pure coincidence."
"Of course."
As we neared Rias and Millicas, I caught the boy's eye and gave a subtle nod. He grinned, then said something to Rias that made her laugh. A moment later, they danced directly beside us.
"Aunt Rias," Millicas said loudly enough for us to hear, "have you met Dante's friend Latia?"
Rias smiled down at her nephew. "I have, we meet every month."
"She's really nice," Millicas continued. "And smart too. Dante says she's almost as smart as Uncle Ajuka."
"High praise indeed," Rias replied.
"I think you should dance with Dante," Millicas declared with childish directness. "And I can dance with Lady Latia."
Before anyone could object, Millicas had already released Rias and offered his hand to Latia with exaggerated formality. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Latia laughed, playing along perfectly. "I would be honored, young lord."
In the space of a heartbeat, the switch was complete. Millicas now danced with Latia, while Rias found herself in my arms, her surprise evident in her widened blue-green eyes.
"Well played," I murmured to Millicas as he and Latia danced away, leaving Rias and me alone in our section of the floor.
I adjusted my hold on Rias, keeping a barely respectful distance while maintaining the proper dance frame.
"Well hello, Rias Gremory," I whispered, meeting her gaze directly. "Happy birthday."