The Prince of Sloth [DxD]

Bael Castle, Ba'al – the Capital City of Great King Bael Domain, Underworld

"Lady Misla," a butler approached the Great Queen carrying a basket. He held it up and said, "This basket was delivered earlier. It's addressed to Lord Sairaorg."

"Hm? Something for Sairaorg?" Misla murmured, surprised. She examined the basket's contents: 'Fruits? Flowers? Books? A letter? And what are these black boxes?' Reading the 'Get well soon– Sairaorg' on the envelope of the letter, Misla couldn't help but question the butler, "Who is the sender, Reginald?"

"It's from the House of Belphegor," the butler named Reginald replied.

"F… from the House of Belphegor?" Misla's surprise deepened.

Reginald nodded. "Yes, my Lady. The butler of the former Head of the Belphegor Household delivered it to me, saying it was prepared by their young Lord, Seirios, and should be given to Lord Sairaorg."

"From that child?" Misla murmured. She hadn't expected that boy to have prepared something like this. Without hesitation, she took the basket from the butler's hands and hurried toward Sairaorg's room.

Of course, her butler Reginald followed behind her.

Arriving before the door of Sairaorg's room, she angrily dismissed the two guards 'watching' over the door of her son's room, then knocked on the door gently, calling out, "Sai, come here. Look, there's a parcel for you."

However, there was no response from inside, "..."

Misla let out a soft sigh before opening the door and stepping inside. "Sai…"

Reginald stood steadfast outside the door, maintaining a vigilant watch.

The room was dimly lit, with only a single blue, candle-like light flickering faintly. As a devil, the darkness posed no challenge to Misla's vision, and she easily spotted her son standing by the window, gazing at the night sky.

She placed the basket gently on a nearby table before making her way toward him. "Sai…"

Her voice garnered no response until she rested her hands on his shoulders, calling out to him again with a concerned expression. "Sai…"

"Hm? Mother?" Sairaorg said, startled as he realized Misla was standing behind him.

"What were you doing?" Misla asked gently.

"I... I was just staring at the sky," Sairaorg replied hesitantly, lowering his gaze. He added softly, "It's so vast… unlike this room of mine that feels like it ends before it even begins."

Misla's heart ached in sorrow at his words.

"A-anyway, what brings you here, Mother?" Sairaorg quickly changed the topic.

Misla offered a gentle smile and said, "A parcel arrived for you."

"A parcel? For me?" Sairaorg asked, pointing to himself in surprise. "Who would send me something?"

"It's from the friend you made a few days ago," Misla explained, her smile widening slightly. "The child from the Belphegor household."

"From Seir?" Sairaorg murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief as he lowered his head. "I broke our promise… why would he send a parcel for me?"

Misla gave him a gentle look and said, "Hmm… I'm not certain. Perhaps reading the letter that the child sent will help you understand."

"What does the letter say?" Sairaorg asked hesitantly.

Misla shook her head. "I haven't opened it," she replied. "It's addressed to you." She added with a soft smile, "But the envelope says, 'Get well soon – Sairaorg.' Perhaps that child sent this because he was concerned about your health."

Misla walked back to the basket and retrieved the letter, holding it up for Sairaorg to see. "Look… this is it," she said gently.

Sairaorg sighed and looked away. "But I can't read…" he admitted, glancing at the envelope with frustration.

It was no surprise—after all, he was only a little over four years old, and reading was still beyond him.

Misla smiled warmly and offered, "Then… shall I read it for you?"

"Please…" Sairaorg nodded eagerly, his curiosity piqued by what Seir might have written in the letter.

"Well then… let's see," Misla murmured as she moved around the room, lighting more candles and brightening the space. Satisfied with the soft glow, she sat down on the bed and patted her lap, beckoning to Sairaorg. "Come here, Sai."

Sairaorg nodded and walked over, settling himself on her lap.

With Sairaorg sitting on her lap, Misla gently unfolded the letter from its envelope, smoothing it out before beginning to read it aloud to him.

Dear Sairaorg,

No, perhaps I should first greet Lady Misla, since it's obviously her who is reading this letter for you, given that you can't read yet. A pity, Sairaorg, that you're not as smart as me.

Anyway, Lady Misla, I hope you're in good health...

"Ara? The child seems to have anticipated that I would be reading this for you," Misla murmured, a little miffed that Seir was indirectly teasing her son.

Sairaorg frowned, clearly irritated. "This guy…"

Misla looked at him and asked, "Shall I continue reading?"

Sairaorg nodded, "Yes, please do, mother…"

"Alright…" Misla nodded and resumed reading.

I heard from Lord Bael that you're not in good health, which is why you couldn't join me at Agreas to watch the finals. Do you know what I thought when I heard that? I felt disappointed in you. Honestly, that excuse was pretty weak. Saying you were "unwell" just didn't cut it. You could've come up with something better... Heck, you could've just been honest and said you were scared to lose again in the second game of Tag. I wouldn't have minded that much, but the fact that you were "unwell" really disappointed me. It seems like you just don't have what it takes to compete against me if you're going to use that kind of excuse because you're scared.

By this point, Sairaorg was beginning to grow furious. "All he's doing is mocking me..." he muttered.

Misla wasn't pleased either and said, "Let's stop reading... that child turned out to be quite different from what I expected."

But Sairaorg shook his head. "No... please, continue reading, mother. I want to see how much more he's going to mock me."

Misla was surprised by Sairaorg's response. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to continue reading the letter.

But, putting your weakness aside, the finals were still enjoyable. It's just a shame my elder sister didn't win the Championship — that was a letdown.

I really wanted Roygun to win, and she wanted it too. She was so close, almost there, but in the end, Lord Diehauser Belial got lucky and ended up winning. That made me realize that sometimes things just don't go the way we want them to, and we have to accept it.

'Hm? Acceptance of a situation that's out of our control? Is he trying to say…' Misla's expression turned into a frown as she began to understand what the child was implying. Curious, she continued reading.

Regarding the matter of acceptance, I recently had to come to terms with an unbelievable reality…

Did you know there's a human named Vasco Strada working in the Church who is incredibly strong?

From the documents I've read about him, he was just an ordinary human—he had no special powers like Demonic Power, traits like [Crack], [Hole], or [Power of Destruction] that we Devils possess, or even Sacred Gears that some lucky humans are born with. In short, he was just an average man with an average body… but somehow, he became so strong that I'm sure he could even go up against someone as powerful as one of the Four Great Maous.

I can't help but wonder who is stronger… Lord Asmodeus or this old man, Vasco Strada.

"Mother... is there really such a strong human who could even be compared to the Four Great Maous?" Sairaorg asked, his expression filled with disbelief.

Misla nodded gravely. "Yes, there is. I've never met him personally, but I've read about him in some documents." She paused and added, "The records describe his exploits from his younger days during World War II in the human realm."

She continued, "You know, everyone in the House of Bael is advised to avoid confronting this human, Vasco Strada, whenever possible. Even Lord Vizel would prefer to stay clear of him."

"Even... father?" Sairaorg exclaimed in shock.

To him, his father was the epitome of power—everyone around him feared him. The idea that there was a human capable of making his father afraid was almost unfathomable.

Misla nodded solemnly. "Yes."

Sairaorg gulped in shock.

While Sairaorg was shocked, Misla thought to herself, 'To think that child would mention such an existence in the letter... and he specifically pointed out that Vasco Strada had no Demonic Power, special traits, or Sacred Gear. He was just an ordinary human and all he had was his body. This situation... it's so similar to Sairaorg's. Is that child trying to encourage Sai by telling him that there are people out there who have become unbelievably strong even without being born special?'

Misla felt a surge of emotion as she realized what Seir might be trying to do... and she continued reading.

Huh? Now that I think about it, why did I tell you about Vasco Strada? Hmm, I'm not sure why I brought up Vasco Strada... it's not like someone like you, who makes excuses about being 'unwell,' would have any interest in him. I guess I just wanted to laugh at you. It's pretty funny. On the one hand, there's this ordinary human who became so strong with just his body that no Devil would dare face him... and on the other hand, there's you, who got cold feet after losing just once to me. There's no way a loser and a coward who can't even get past the first defeat in life could ever be as great as Vasco Strada...

Misla suppressed a laugh as she read this part. She could tell what Seir was trying to do, and instead of being upset, she was actually starting to feel a bit amused.

Sairaorg, however, was seething with anger. "He's really starting to get on my nerves..."

Misla smiled gently, her voice calm as she continued reading.

Anyway, let's stop talking about Vasco Strada since knowing about him is a waste of time for a loser like you, and move on to you being 'unwell.'

So, I spoke to one of the [Knights] in my elder sister's peerage, and she said she's never felt 'unwell' in her life. She stays healthy because she does regular exercise. Based on her suggestion, I had my maid arrange some books from the Human Realm on how to exercise... but knowing you probably can't even read, my maid also found some video cassettes for you. Though I doubt any of this will help if you're just a useless coward and a wimp.

In any case, I'm still waiting for our second game of tag. The current score is 1-0 in my favor, and I'm looking forward to beating your sorry ass a second and a third time. Get 'well' so I can step on your face after I defeat you and assert my dominance over a coward like you.

See you later, loser...!

Also, good day to you, Lady Misla. I hope you stay healthy and never fall ill, unlike a certain loser we both know.

Sincerely,

Seirios Vandegor Belphegor

After finishing the letter, Misla glanced at the basket filled with books, cassettes, fruits, and flowers, a smile tugging at her lips. 'I see... the books are for physical training, and the video cassettes are because Sai can't read. How thoughtful of that child...'

Unlike Misla, Sairaorg, seething with anger, gritted his teeth and growled, "That's it... I'm done with him." He clenched his fist tightly and continued, "Seir thinks he can assert his dominance over me? I'll make sure the opposite happens. I'm the one who's going to kick his ass!" He paused, recalling the name from earlier, and declared with determination, "Vasco Strada, was it? I'll become just like him... and I'll shut Seir's mouth for good."

Surprised by Sairaorg's reaction, Misla smiled and set the letter aside. "Well then... since you've made up your mind, we'll show that child what you're truly made of. Yes, who does he think he is? How dare he look down on my son!"

Sairaorg nodded, his resolve firm. "I'm going to make him eat his words!"

Seeing the determination in her son's eyes, Misla silently thanked Seir. 'I don't know why you did what you did... but thank you, child. I can't express how grateful I am to you for showing a path to my Sai and giving him hope.'

With that thought, Misla turned to Sairaorg with a serious expression. "Alright then... let's start your training using the books and cassettes that the child sent. We'll make sure you can shut him up for good."

Sairaorg nodded, and said, "There is one more thing, Mother… I also want you to teach me how to read and write… There is just no way I am going to swallow being insulted for being unable to read and write… not to mention, I have to return Seir's kindness… too…"

"Oh… then let's do that simultaneously…" agreed Misla happy to help out Sairaorg.

Hence began Sairaorg Bael's training arc.

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A certain Castle – somewhere in the Belphegor Domain, Underworld

On the final day of the week, Élise entered Seir's room carrying a basket. "Lord Seir, this basket was delivered. It's addressed to you, and the sender is Sairaorg Bael."

"Hm? Oh?" Seir muttered, a grin spreading across his face as he set down the book he was reading. "It seems my letter reached him." He couldn't help but recall the slew of trash talk he had written to Sairaorg.

He turned his attention to the basket. Inside were fruits native to the Bael Domain, a few vibrant flowers, and—most interestingly—two letters.

"Two letters… and one is from…" Seir picked them up, examining the envelopes. One bore clumsy handwriting, the name of the sender scrawled as Sairaorg Bael. The other was marked with a much neater, elegant script, and the sender's name read Misla Bael.

"Lady Bael wrote to me as well?" Seir thought in surprise, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a reply from her.

Opening the envelope, Seir decided to first read the letter from Misla.

It was concise, containing only a few heartfelt sentences:

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Dear Seirios Vandegor Belphegor,

I am in good health, thank you for asking, and I hope the same for you.

Your letter to Sairaorg was unexpected, but I must say, it was much needed.

After reading your letter, Sairaorg seems to have developed an admiration for Vasco Strada. He even requested me to read more about the priest to him. Fortunately, there were some documents in the castle archives, so I obliged and read to him the exploits of the strongest priest in the history of the Church. This has led to my son becoming a true 'fan' of the priest. I never imagined a Devil would one day admire a priest from the Church, but such are the wonders of the world we live in.

Additionally, Sairaorg has begun training according to the physical training books and cassettes you arranged. Although there isn't much progress yet, I anticipate significant results in the coming years as he grows.

Lastly, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to you for giving my child the hope and light he desperately needed to emerge from his dark cave.

I truly believe that Lady Sephie is blessed to have such a kind-hearted and wise child.

Thank you, dear Seir, and I humbly ask you to continue supporting Sairaorg as his friend.

Sincerely,

Misla Bael

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Putting down Misla's letter, Seir smiled. 'As expected, Lady Misla was able to grasp my intentions...'

He wasn't surprised. After all, Misla Bael was a centuries-old devil and the first wife of the Great King Bael. If someone of her stature and experience couldn't see through his intent, it would have been truly disappointing.

Shaking his head with a small chuckle, Seir set Misla's letter aside and picked up the one from Sairaorg. As he examined the envelope, a thought crossed his mind: 'There's no way Sairaorg wrote this himself. He must have asked Lady Misla to write it out for him, then copied it character for character...'

The reasoning was simple—Seir himself had taken over two years to learn how to properly read and write, and he had the mind of an adult. For Sairaorg, who was still essentially a child, to have mastered it to the level of communicating through letters in less than a week seemed impossible.

There was no way anyone could convince Seir that Sairaorg had written this letter entirely on his own.

'But the words... those must be his,' Seir thought as he unfolded the letter.

As expected, it was short and written in clumsy, uneven handwriting, but Seir began reading it with a grin of anticipation.

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Dear Seirios,

Thank you for your 'concern' about my well-being.

Just so you know, I wasn't scared. Something else prevented me from coming to Agreas for the Championship finals. I apologize for having broken our promise and not keeping my word. I won't bore you with the details—there's no point—but don't you dare, even for a moment, think that I got scared of you or anything.

I've accepted your challenge. I'll overturn the score from 1-0 to 1-2.

By the way, I did watch the finals, just not from Agreas. I must say, I admire Lady Roygun for coming so close to defeating Emperor Belial. It was a good match. She is truly one of a kind—unlike someone who isn't even half as good as her.

Seir burst into laughter halfway through the letter. "Hahaha! Did he seriously try to taunt me using Roygun, who herself believes that my talent is superior to hers? Well, he's still a kid, so I guess he doesn't know much about trash-talking yet," he chuckled, amused by Sairaorg's clumsy attempt, and read further.

Lastly, I've neither given up on anything nor am I a weak-willed person… I am Sairaorg Bael, and I will crush your arrogance with my own hands.

Look forward to the day when I'll make you taste the dust from my boots!

Sincerely,

Sairaorg Bael

After reading the letter, Seir placed it down on the table with a satisfied expression. 'Well, it seems things did work out as I had hoped.'

Of course, Seir wasn't factoring in the eventuality that Sairaorg and his mother might still be sent to live on the outskirts of the Bael Domain, that would probably still happen as he doesn't have any control over such a thing.

Instead, he was focused on the timing of Sairaorg's training.

Based on the replies from Misla and Sairaorg, it seemed highly likely that the young Bael had begun training his body to become the strongest youth much earlier than he had in the original timeline.

While Seir didn't know exactly how old Sairaorg was when he started training in the canon, he was confident it was much later than his current age.

'He probably started much later, likely after Lady Misla and he were exiled to the outskirts of the Bael domain. Since that hasn't happened yet and he has probably already started training, this must mean he's beginning far earlier than before,' Seir mused.

A thoughtful smile crossed his face. 'I wonder… could this make him even stronger than he was in the canon at the time of his Rating Game against the princess of Gremory Household?'

'Oh well, it doesn't really matter… since the one who is going to be the true strongest is definitely me as I refuse to be anything less than that!'

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Author's Note:

That's it for this Chapter. Enjoy reading it.

Happy new year fellas.

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