Something was wrong with the air at Kuoh Academy after school.
Kyoya Hibari stood in the third-floor corridor of the main building, one arm braced against the window frame, gray-blue eyes scanning the campus below. He had just finished his last patrol of the day — the second-year hallways were orderly, two late arrivals in the first-year wing had been logged, and someone eating in the third-year stairwell had already been dealt with by a lower-ranking member.
Everything was normal.
But the air was not.
Since his transformation into a devil, calling his sense of smell merely "sharp" would have been an understatement. Every person carried a scent signature — the salt content of their sweat, the heat of their body temperature, the density of their hormones, even their emotions had a smell. Fear was sour. Excitement was sharp. Exhaustion was damp. He had already memorized the baseline scent of every one of Kuoh Academy's fourteen hundred-plus students and staff.
And right now —
Seventeen scents that did not belong to this school.
Not human scents.
All of them coming from the direction of the old school building.
Hibari's eyes narrowed slightly. Seventeen. Not one or two. Seventeen. And one of them was particularly acrid — a scorching, flame-like smell, arrogant enough that you could almost make out its shape just from the odor.
He turned and walked down the stairs.
The door to the old school building was open.
That alone was wrong. The Occult Research Club's door was normally shut, its heavy wood blocking out the outside world, and the people inside didn't appreciate being disturbed. But now it stood wide open, and unfamiliar footprints — many, many unfamiliar footprints — marked the dark red carpet in the hallway.
Hibari walked down the corridor toward the interior.
He heard voices.
Many voices. The breathing and heartbeats of at least a dozen people, the rustle of fabric. And a man's voice — lazy, amused, like someone teasing a bird locked in a cage.
"— So, Rias, don't you think it's about time you accepted this? The engagement was settled between our families long ago. You've been hiding out in the human world long enough. Isn't that a little selfish?"
"I've said it many times already, Riser. I will not marry you."
"Yeah, yeah, you always say that. But the outcome doesn't change just because you say 'no.' The union between the Phoenix family and the Gremory family is for the future of pureblooded devils —"
"That's your family's future. Not mine."
"Same thing. Once you marry into my family, you'll be one of us."
Laughter. Light, dismissive laughter that treated the other person's refusal as nothing worth acknowledging.
Hibari pushed open the club room door.
There were more people inside than he had expected.
Rias sat on the sofa, expression cold, emerald eyes burning with suppressed fury. Behind her stood Akeno, Kiba, and Koneko — all three of them coiled tight, ready to fight at any moment. Issei stood beside Rias, his fists clenched white, his face caught between wanting to charge forward and being held back by reason. Asia had retreated behind Issei, her habitual gesture of reaching for her cross stopping halfway — she no longer had one.
On the other side of the room —
A blond man leaned against the wall. Red suit, open collar, golden eyes carrying an arrogance that seemed to be his birthright. His posture was so casual it crossed into contempt, as though nothing in this room was worth taking seriously.
Riser Phoenix.
Flanking him, fifteen women were scattered throughout the room. Some leaned against the walls, some sat on the windowsills, some stood behind Riser like a guard detail. Fifteen women, all of them female, ranging from girls to adults, dressed differently but sharing the same aura — the presence of fighters.
Hibari swept the room with a single glance from the doorway.
Fifteen female peerage members. All of them.
He heard Issei muttering quietly behind him: "Fifteen of them… all girls… all gorgeous… a harem… an actual harem…"
Hibari paid no attention to Issei's murmuring.
His focus was on the blond man. Not because he was a threat — but because of his scent.
Scorching.
Phoenix.
The Phoenix family — one of the pureblood noble houses of the devil world. A bloodline carrying the flames of the immortal phoenix, capable of infinite bodily regeneration. Hibari didn't know where this knowledge came from, but since his transformation, certain foundational facts about devil society seemed to have been carved into his instincts along with the Rook piece.
"…Another peerage member?"
Riser's gaze landed on Hibari. Those golden eyes looked him up and down, then settled into an expression of indifference.
"Rias, your peerage really is quite the variety pack. One pervert —" he glanced at Issei, "— one nun —" a glance at Asia, "— and now another one shows up… hm?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Disciplinary Committee? From a human school?"
He laughed.
That laugh changed the temperature of the room. Not colder — hotter. Faint flames flickered into existence around Riser, as though his emotions were manifesting as a physical phenomenon.
"Oh, Rias. Your peerage really is… how do I put this?"
He pushed off the wall and stood straight, hands in his pockets, tilting his head to look at Hibari.
"Not much to write home about."
The air in the room went solid.
Rias's brow furrowed. Kiba's hand had already moved toward his side. Lightning flickered at Akeno's fingertips. Koneko's fists tightened. Issei's Boosted Gear flashed red on his left hand.
But they were all watching Hibari.
Because they already knew what this person was like.
Hibari stood in the doorway.
He said nothing. He didn't even change his expression. Those gray-blue eyes regarded Riser Phoenix the way one might regard an object making noise.
"Hey, did you hear me?" Riser tilted his head, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "I said you —"
Hibari moved.
The speed was overwhelming.
Fast enough that Riser had no time to react. Fast enough that Rias had no time to shout "stop." Fast enough that Issei only caught a dark blur.
Tonfa.
Hibari's right tonfa drove straight at Riser's face. No windup, no warning, no wasted words. The distance between stillness and attack was zero — his body had already completed the strike the instant he decided to make it.
The Rook's power layered on top of his natural speed. If this blow landed clean, it would have been enough to shatter a concrete wall.
The tonfa touched Riser's cheek.
Just touched it.
One millimeter of contact. The sound of metal meeting skin.
And then —
*Clang.*
A blade intercepted the second strike.
No. Not just one blade.
Three people.
Simultaneously.
The first came from the front.
A woman in a qipao. Deep blue, high-slit, revealing long legs. Black hair tied back with a ribbon. Her eyes were a cold gray, expression blank — not the natural blankness of Koneko, but the kind forged through hundreds of battles, every emotion deliberately switched off.
Both hands gripped a Chinese dao, crossed to block Hibari's tonfa.
Shuriya. Riser Phoenix's Rook.
Rook against Rook.
The sound of metal collision rang through the room. Hibari felt it — she was not weak. The Rook piece's enhancement had brought her arm strength to the level where she could take this blow head-on.
But only just barely "take it."
Her feet slid back half a step across the carpet.
The second came from the left.
A female knight in light armor, wielding a greatsword, eyes sharp as a hawk's. Her attack angle was textbook-precise — a forty-five-degree diagonal slash, exploiting the moment Hibari's tonfa was occupied by Shuriya to strike the opening on his left.
Karlamine. Riser's Knight.
Hibari's left tonfa swept sideways, intercepting the greatsword before it reached him. The sound of metal on metal rang out almost simultaneously — right hand against Shuriya, left hand against Karlamine.
The third came from the right.
Another female knight — Siris. Karlamine's partner. Her weapon was a heavy two-handed greatsword; slower than Karlamine but with far greater force. Her attack wasn't a diagonal slash but a straight drop — a vertical cleave from overhead, using gravity to accelerate.
Hibari leaned back.
The greatsword swept past three centimeters from the tip of his nose. The pressure of its passage cut a thin line across his cheek, and a fine thread of blood rose to the surface.
He stepped back, creating distance.
The three women faced him simultaneously, forming a triangular encirclement. Shuriya at the front, Karlamine on the left, Siris on the right. Their positioning had been honed through real combat — each covering the others' blind spots, no gaps.
Hibari looked at them.
Then —
He smiled.
Not a gentle smile. A slight upward curl at the corner of his mouth, carrying the intent to fight — the expression of someone who had finally found an opponent worth hitting.
"All three at once."
He said.
The fight erupted inside the Occult Research Club room.
The furniture was destroyed by the third exchange. Rias's tea set was reduced to powder by the fifth. The curtains were shredded by sword pressure on the eighth. The carpet was stamped with dozens of impact craters by the twelfth.
Shuriya's twin daos were fast. Her attack frequency was the highest of the three — four to five consecutive slashes per second, at angles that were difficult to read, every cut aimed at joints and vital points. Her style had something in common with Hibari's: no interest in spectacle, only efficiency. Shortest distance, fewest movements, maximum damage.
But her problem was strength. Rook against Rook, her arm strength fell short of Hibari's. Every direct collision pushed her back half a step. In high-speed combat, that half-step gap was lethal.
Karlamine filled that gap. Her greatsword was a mid-range threat — the blade nearly twice the length of Shuriya's daos, with a wider attack arc. Her coordination with Shuriya was fluid: Shuriya applied frontal pressure while Karlamine cut in from the side. The two of them moved like they had rehearsed it a thousand times.
Siris was the finisher. Every swing of her two-handed sword carried devastating force. She wasn't chasing hit rate — she was chasing "even if you dodge, the pressure wave will still hurt you." She was the closing act of the triangle: Shuriya and Karlamine drove the enemy into position, and Siris brought the sword down.
The three of them working together could theoretically handle most mid-to-high-tier devils.
But Kyoya Hibari was not "most."
Exchange fifteen. Hibari found the dead zone in Shuriya's crossed-blade defense — a 0.3-second gap at the crossing point. His tonfa drove through the gap and struck her shoulder. Shuriya slid back three steps, and for the first time her expression shifted.
Exchange twenty-two. Karlamine's diagonal slash was blocked by Hibari's left tonfa, and his right tonfa countered simultaneously, grazing across her waist armor. Sparks of metal friction burst in the air. A dent appeared in Karlamine's waist plate.
Exchange twenty-eight. Siris's overhead cleave dropped, and Hibari sidestepped — but instead of retreating, he stepped forward, entering the dead zone inside the greatsword's reach. In the instant Siris couldn't pull the blade back, his tonfa slammed into her forearm guard. The force sent Siris spinning half a rotation.
Exchange thirty.
Thirty exchanges. One against three. Not losing ground.
Not just holding his own — he was pressing the attack.
Hibari's fighting style hadn't changed. Same as when he'd fought stray devils in the forest, every exchange was data collection. But this data was far more interesting than stray devils.
After exchange twenty-five, Shuriya's daos began shifting their angles — she was adapting to Hibari's attack patterns. After exchange twenty-seven, Karlamine and Siris swapped positions — Karlamine moved right, Siris moved left, reversing their attack directions.
They were adapting to him too.
The corner of Hibari's mouth rose another degree.
Interesting.
He accelerated.
Starting from exchange thirty-one, his speed climbed an entire tier. For the previous thirty exchanges, he had been operating at seventy percent. Now —
Ninety.
The sound of his tonfas cutting through the air shifted from a crisp metallic ring to a deep, resonant hum. The speed was fast enough that the air couldn't get out of the way in time, compressed into white shockwaves.
Shuriya's daos blocked the first strike, but her feet carved two furrows into the floor. Karlamine's greatsword was caught by a tonfa sweep along the blade, leaving her arms numb from the impact. Siris's two-handed sword was deflected in a direct block and nearly flew from her grip.
Exchange thirty-five.
Hibari's tonfas simultaneously pinned Shuriya's daos and Karlamine's greatsword — one tonfa wedged between both weapons, using the angle to suppress two opponents at once. His freed right hand —
Drove toward Siris.
Siris's eyes went wide. She raised the greatsword to defend, but the angle was already wrong —
**"Enough."**
A hand.
A slender hand in a silver glove, closing gently around Hibari's tonfa.
Hibari's attack stopped.
Not because he chose to stop. His tonfa had been fixed in midair by a force that admitted no argument.
He turned his head.
A silver-haired woman stood beside him. He had no idea when she had appeared — his hearing had caught no approaching footsteps, his sense of smell had detected no one drawing near. She seemed to have condensed directly out of the air.
A maid's uniform. Flawless. Silver hair braided and hanging down her back. Ice-blue eyes carrying no emotion whatsoever, like two mirrors.
Her hand held Hibari's tonfa. The grip was not forceful — yet no matter how much strength he applied, the tonfa would not move a single millimeter.
This was not a difference in strength.
This was a difference in dimension.
"I am Grayfia Lucifuge." Her voice was as calm as a frozen lake. "Queen of the current Maou Lucifer."
She released his tonfa.
"Please stand down."
Not a request. A command. An unequivocal command wrapped in the clothing of courtesy.
Hibari looked at her.
Three seconds.
Then he withdrew his tonfas.
Not because of her title. Not because of her strength. Because his instincts told him: the level of power this woman in front of him possessed did not exist in the same world as his current capabilities.
Fighting her now would mean death.
Meaningless death fell outside the bounds of his aesthetic.
He tucked his tonfas back into his sleeves and stepped back.
The room was a wreck.
Furniture shattered, curtains torn, carpet upturned, several fist-sized dents in the walls. Rias surveyed her club room, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly — she had spent a long time decorating this place in the European style she preferred.
Riser leaned against the wall, golden eyes carrying a complicated light. There was a red mark on his cheek — left by Hibari's first strike. That blow had genuinely made contact with his face. Though the Phoenix family's regenerative ability had repaired the wound within seconds, the fact that the strike had landed at all —
"Heh." Riser touched his cheek. "Interesting. Rias, this Rook of yours —"
"Has nothing to do with you." Hibari's voice came from the doorway. He had already turned to leave.
"Hey, I'm not done —"
Hibari ignored him.
The sound of footsteps faded down the corridor.
Riser's expression shifted for just a moment. Not anger — something more like bewilderment at being dismissed. He was the eldest son of the Phoenix family. From the day he was born, no one had ever treated him this way.
"…What is that person?"
"The Disciplinary Committee Chairman." Rias's answer was brief and tired.
"I'm not asking about his title. A reincarnated devil with a Rook piece, going thirty-five exchanges against three of my peerage members without losing ground? And he looked like —" Riser's eyes narrowed. "He looked like he was still holding back."
Rias didn't answer.
Because she didn't know the answer either.
Grayfia stood in the center of the room, her silver hair swaying faintly in the lingering dust. Her gaze swept across the wreckage, then settled on Rias.
"Lady Rias."
"…Grayfia."
"I came today on behalf of Lord Gremory and the Phoenix family, to convey the final decision."
Her voice carried no inflection.
"If you continue to refuse the engagement, both parties have agreed that the outcome of a Rating Game will serve as the final ruling."
A Rating Game.
A formal contest between devils. Based on the rules of chess, a King leads their peerage in battle within a sealed arena. In devil society, the result of a Rating Game carries the force of law.
"Which means —" Rias's voice dropped.
"Yes. You will lead your peerage against Lord Riser and his peerage in a formal Rating Game. If you win, the engagement is annulled. If you lose —"
"She's mine." Riser's voice drifted in from behind, carrying that light, careless smile. "Simple as that."
Rias's fist tightened against her knee.
Issei watched Rias's expression and felt something ignite in his chest.
"President —"
"Ten days." Grayfia said. "The match will take place in ten days."
She turned.
"One more thing —" She paused at the doorway. Those ice-blue eyes looked toward the end of the corridor, where the dark figure had already disappeared around the corner.
"That Rook piece."
Her tone shifted for the first time — by the smallest possible margin. Not concern, not admiration. Something closer to… confirmation.
"He's interesting."
Then she was gone. Without even using a transportation circle. Simply gone.
Riser and his peerage were preparing to leave as well.
A transportation circle lit up on the club room floor, a red magic formation spinning into existence. The fifteen female peerage members stepped into it one by one, vanishing in the light.
But one person stopped.
"Brother."
Riser turned.
A blond girl stood beside the transportation circle. She was nearly a full head shorter than Riser, dressed in the Phoenix family's formal attire — a white dress with gold trim. Her large, bright blue eyes and delicate features made her look like a porcelain doll, but porcelain dolls didn't make expressions like this.
Ravel Phoenix. Riser's younger sister. The Phoenix family's daughter. Riser's Bishop piece.
She wasn't looking at Riser.
She was looking at the doorway.
Or more precisely — she was looking in the direction Hibari had left.
"Ravel. Let's go."
"…Yes."
She turned and stepped into the transportation circle. But before the light swallowed her, she looked back one last time.
Something flickered in those blue eyes. Not fear. Not hostility.
The first layer — he was genuinely striking. Black hair, gray-blue eyes, cold features. Like a figure stepped out of a classical painting, but sharper, more dangerous. She had never encountered this type at any of the Phoenix family's balls.
The second layer — his combat ability. A reincarnated devil with a Rook piece, holding his own barehanded against Shuriya, Karlamine, and Siris for thirty-five exchanges. Shuriya was her brother's Rook, one of the strongest fighters in his peerage. This man's capabilities had already exceeded anything the label "Rook piece" could explain.
The third layer — his character. Facing Riser Phoenix, he had shown nothing but contempt. Facing Grayfia Lucifuge, he had shown no fear. He had stood down not out of obedience, but because he had judged for himself that "this isn't worth fighting right now." This person's logic wasn't "submit to whoever is stronger" — it was "I act only by my own standards."
Ravel Phoenix was the Phoenix family's prodigy. Exceptional intellect, raised from childhood as the family's strategic mind. She had encountered countless powerful figures in devil society — the proud, the servile, the ambitious, the complacent.
But she had never encountered someone like this.
A person who treated every rule the world operated by as "something that has nothing to do with me."
The light blazed. The transportation circle activated.
Ravel disappeared in a blaze of gold.
But in her mind, those gray-blue eyes lingered for a long time.
Only Rias's peerage remained in the club room.
Silence stretched for a long moment.
Issei was the first to speak. "President… can we win a Rating Game?"
Rias didn't answer.
Akeno moved to her side and began gathering the shattered pieces of the tea set. "Ten days. Not a lot, but not nothing."
Kiba crouched down to pick up a fragment of the broken vase. His expression was grave. "Riser Phoenix's peerage has fifteen members. Full strength. And we —"
He counted the people in the room.
Rias. Akeno. Himself. Koneko. Issei. Asia.
Six people.
"Six against sixteen." Kiba's voice was steady, but there was something bitter underneath the steadiness.
"Seven." Koneko spoke suddenly.
Everyone looked at her.
Koneko, expression unchanged, pointed toward the doorway — the direction Kyoya Hibari had left.
"…If you count him."
Rias shook her head.
"He won't come." Her voice was quiet. "You all saw it. He doesn't answer to anyone. He won't even acknowledge being part of my peerage, let alone fight a match he doesn't care about just because of my engagement."
"But President —" Issei's fist tightened. "He was the same way before — said he didn't care, but when the Fallen Angels showed up —"
"That was because the Fallen Angels were contaminating his town." Rias cut him off. "Not for me. Not for you. For his own rules."
She stood and looked out the window.
The courtyard of the old school building was empty. Hibari had already gone, somewhere unknown.
"A Rating Game is a contest between peerages. The rule is — the King leads their own pieces into battle."
There was exhaustion in her voice, but no despair.
"He doesn't consider himself one of my pieces. So he won't come."
Silence.
Then Akeno laughed softly.
"President."
"Mm?"
"Have you considered —" Akeno's smile carried something layered beneath it. "Maybe it's not 'he won't come.' Maybe it's that we need to find the right way to invite him."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell him 'fight for my sake,' and he won't come. Tell him 'you're my piece so you have to fight,' and he definitely won't come."
Akeno dropped the broken teacup into the trash and dusted off her hands.
"But if you told him —"
Her eyes gleamed.
"'The Phoenix family said you have nothing to offer. Do you want to prove them wrong?'"
The room was quiet for three seconds.
Then Issei said quietly: "…That might actually work on Hibari."
Rias looked at Akeno.
And then — against all expectation — she smiled.
"Akeno."
"Yes?"
"You understand him better than I do."
"No." Akeno shook her head, and there was light in her smile. "I just understand — the language of wild things — a little better than you do."