That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”Azazel-san!”

Tobio Ikuse rushed forward the moment Azazel materialized in the Grigori headquarters teleportation circle. Right beside him stood Suzaku Himejima. The young clan head looked pale and exhausted; she had begged Tobio for this impossible favor because she simply had no other choice.

Standing a few paces away, leaning casually against a pillar, was Vali Lucifer. While he tried to look entirely disinterested, he actually cared quite a bit about Tobio, and he had personally pressured Azazel into taking this meeting.

Azazel stepped off the magical circle, his face looking ten years older. He let out a long, ragged breath.

”Well, I managed to get him to agree not to personally hunt down your family. Furthermore, I ensured he holds no lingering intent to direct his rage at us over the Akeno situation. She is his Queen, his lover, and...” Azazel paused, rubbing his temples as a headache pulsed behind his eyes. ”...and his raw strength has already reached the Satan-Class threshold.”

”...” Tobio and Suzaku froze in absolute shock.

”Is he really that powerful?” Vali scoffed, pushing off the pillar. A familiar, dangerous smirk crept onto his face. The Lucifer blood boiling in his veins demanded he prove himself against the strongest. ”Sounds like an exaggeration. I should just go and test him myself—”

SLAP!

”...”

A stunned silence fell over the room. Vali stood frozen, his head knocked to the side, a bright red handprint blooming across his cheek.

”Azazel...?” Vali muttered, completely bewildered.

Azazel glared at the White Dragon Emperor, his eyes burning with an intense, uncharacteristic fury.

”If you hadn’t forced me into this, I wouldn’t have had to hand over decades of my most precious research, YOU STUPID BASTARD! DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I CARE ABOUT THIS PATHETIC HUMAN CLAN, VALI?!”

Azazel’s voice boomed through the hall. When he thought of the absolute humiliation he had just endured—sitting at a table, sweating bullets while negotiating with a teenage Devil and the legendary Monkey King—seeing Vali take the situation so lightly made his temper violently snap.

”DO YOU THINK THAT WAS AN EASY NEGOTIATION?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I JUST TRADED TO ENSURE YOU WOULDN’T GET YOURSELF KILLED, YOU SHITTY BRAT?!”

Vali gritted his teeth, his pride stinging far more than his cheek. ”If you didn’t want to help, you should have just said so! I can handle this Devil on my own!”

”Good! Go handle it on your own! I don’t give a damn about this clan anyway!” Azazel fired back, throwing his hands up in the air.

In truth, Azazel’s primary objective during the negotiation wasn’t protecting the Himejima. It was making sure Finn wouldn’t instantly murder Vali the moment the battle-crazed teenager inevitably challenged him. Azazel knew Finn wouldn’t just kill Vali; Finn would systematically dismantle and toy with him, crushing his spirit in a way that was infinitely worse than death. As long as Vali stayed alive, Azazel considered the mission a success.

Vali ground his teeth, turning on his heel. ”Let’s go, Tobio. I’ll handle this arrogant Devil myself and teach him a lesson!”

Yet, Suzaku didn’t want to leave. She looked desperately at Tobio. Tobio sighed, grabbing Vali’s shoulder to stop him. ”Wait, Vali. Let’s at least hear the Governor-General’s full report.”

”You...!” Vali glared at Tobio in annoyance, then shot a venomous glare at Suzaku.

If it wasn’t for this woman...

Did Vali care about the Himejima Clan? Absolutely not. If it burned to the ground, Vali would gladly roast marshmallows over the flames. He knew exactly what kind of vile things the clan had done to Baraqiel’s daughter. But Tobio was his comrade, and this normally rational friend had turned into a complete idiot over a woman.

”Governor... what exactly is the price for his mercy?” Suzaku asked softly, her posture incredibly timid and submissive.

Azazel ignored her pitiful demeanor. Suzaku was a breathtakingly beautiful woman, but Azazel had lived for millennia and romanced countless legendary beauties. He was entirely immune to her charms, especially knowing the blood on her clan’s hands.

”He operates like a ruthless businessman, so I’ll give it to you straight,” Azazel said coldly. ”First, he demands the execution of every single elder and clan member responsible for the assassination attempt on Akeno and her mother. All of them. No exceptions.”

”I...” Suzaku gasped, her chest tightening painfully.

Azazel didn’t care about her reaction. He held up a second finger. ”Second, you are to surrender all ancient techniques, magical secrets, and the entirety of the Himejima Clan’s accumulated wealth directly to his corporate holding company. Once the transfer is complete, your clan has exactly one week to completely vacate your ancestral estate.”

”W-Wait a moment—” Suzaku pleaded.

”Third and finally,” Azazel interrupted, holding up a third finger. ”You are to hand over the Vermilion Bird—the legendary beast Suzaku—to him. He decided he wants a new pet.”

The final demand left even Tobio speechless. Azazel merely figured that since Finn had been hanging around the Chinese Pantheon, he suddenly wanted a divine beast as a familiar, much like the ancient Eastern Immortals.

”.....” Suzaku stood completely paralyzed.

Azazel stretched his arms high above his head, popping his shoulders. ”That’s the deal. If you agree to it, then just tell me and I will tell him. If you refuse, there is no need to talk. And don’t even think about trying to negotiate; it’s useless. Naturally, if you want to try to fight him, you are free to commit suicide. We are done here.”

Azazel turned and walked away. Frankly, delivering that brutal reality check felt incredibly satisfying.

”Well... looking at it objectively, that isn’t a terrible deal,” Vali rubbed his chin. In the brutal world of the supernatural, trading wealth and a few corrupt elders for the survival of the bloodline was a bargain.

But Suzaku could only lower her head, a bitter, broken smile forming on her lips as she realized her clan was practically extinct.

”Suzaku...” Tobio whispered, entirely unsure of how to comfort her.

Finn hadn’t bothered to wait around for their answer. He held all the cards. Frankly, he had very little genuine interest in the Himejima Clan. Despite their arrogant posturing, they were a mid-tier human faction at best. Even their treasured Guardian Beast, the Vermilion Bird, was nothing more than an exotic pet to him.

Instead of dwelling on human trivialities, Finn had an important meeting to attend. If it hadn’t been for his powerful political backer, manipulating the geopolitical board today wouldn’t have been nearly as effortless.

Stepping through a highly secure, localized teleportation circle, Finn arrived deep within the Underworld.

”Welcome back, Finn-sama.”

A neat row of breathtakingly beautiful Devil maids bowed deeply as he stepped off the magical dais. They welcomed him with the utmost respect.

”Where is the King?” Finn asked.

Despite their highly professional, immaculate maid uniforms, the demonic tailoring did very little to hide the generous curves and plunging cleavages on display. As High-Class Devils, they naturally exuded a subtle, intoxicating pheromone designed to tempt and seduce.

”Please, follow me,” the head maid said, rising gracefully. She adjusted her silver-rimmed glasses and offered a flawless smile. ”Let me guide you. The Great King has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. He is very pleased to see you.”

”I’ve missed him as well,” Finn replied smoothly.

He didn’t actually miss his boss in a sentimental way, but courtesy dictated the pleasantry.

”I am certain he will be delighted to hear that,” she purred softly.

Their exchange sounded perfectly professional, but in the Underworld, strength dictated attraction. Finn possessed overwhelming power, wealth, status, and incredibly rugged good looks. It would be an anomaly if he wasn’t relentlessly pursued. Yet, to the profound jealousy of the estate’s staff, Finn remained fiercely loyal to only one woman.

The head maid led him down a labyrinth of opulent, dimly lit corridors until they reached the Grand Library. The towering shelves were packed with ancient grimoires containing the absolute, uncensored history of Devilkind—secrets strictly forbidden to the public.

Sitting in a high-backed leather armchair was a middle-aged man with neat black hair and remarkably peaceful violet eyes. He was dressed in immaculate nobleman’s attire. While he didn’t exude the suffocating, world-breaking aura of combat monsters like Indra or Sun Wukong, he radiated a terrifyingly absolute, unshakable political dignity.

”Finn. I see you have grown even stronger,” the man smiled warmly.

This was Zekram Bael. The First Generation Bael. The Great King of all Devils, and the true, absolute shadow-ruler of the Underworld.

”Grandfather,” Finn greeted him, bowing his head respectfully.

They weren’t directly related by blood, but in the ruthless, shifting sands of Devil politics, Finn’s bond with Zekram was arguably closer—and vastly more reliable—than Zekram’s relationship with his own biological family.