The Prince of Sloth [DxD]

A certain Castle – somewhere in the Belphegor Domain, Underworld

"Alright then Sairaorg, come with me. I will show you around the Belphegor castle. You'll love it!"

The boy in question glanced at his mother for permission who nodded lightly, "Go on…"

Upon receiving a nod in return, he followed after Seir along with Élise and the maid from the Baels accompanying them.

Seir and Élise then gave Sairaorg and the maid from the House of Bael a brief tour of the Belphegor Castle. Obviously, not all the places, specifically not important places that even he doesn't have access to for now because of his young age, but a few locations that are worth seeing. The gardens, the fountains, the lakes, the tapestry, the painting, the Library, the armory, the training arena, the roof, and a few other places until finally he led the young Bael to his personal quarters.

"Well… this is where all the Magic happens… and by magic, I mean absolutely nothing…" said Seir with a shrug as he showed his room to Sairaorg.

Sairaorg glanced around the room, noticing the large collection of books. Curious, he asked, "Do you like books?"

"I guess?" Seir replied with a shrug, not entirely sure if he could say he genuinely liked books all that much. After all, his primary purpose for reading these books was to master reading the Demon tongue and, along the way, gather information about the Underworld.

Sairaorg suddenly realized that having so many books in the room probably meant Seir could actually read them. "Wait… can you already read all these?" he asked.

"Yes, I can read them," Seir replied with a small grin, adding jokingly, "Why else would I keep so many books in my room if I couldn't even read them?"

"R-right…" Sairaorg nodded, coming to the realization that Seir must be able to read; it wouldn't make sense for him to have so many books in his room otherwise.

"What about you? Can you read the Demon Tongue?" asked Seir curiously.

Sairaorg shifted uncomfortably in response to Seir's question, which was all the confirmation Seir needed to conclude that Sairaorg probably wasn't able to read fluently yet.

As expected, Sairaorg, being an honest child, shook his head and replied, "No... not yet."

This wasn't surprising, as children of Sairaorg's age were usually still in the early stages of learning to read.

Given how intricate and complex the Demon Tongue is, it's no surprise that a four-year-old child wouldn't be able to read it fluently yet. Even for Seir, who possessed the soul and comprehension ability of an adult, it took nearly two and half years of dedicated effort to master reading and writing the language and achieve some degree of fluency. Expecting the same from a typical four-year-old would be unreasonable.

Seir shrugged. "It's not like I'm any good at it either," he said, downplaying his own skills a bit.

Hearing Seir, Sairaorg's lips twitched, and he murmured, "I see…" Something within told him that Seir wasn't being honest so he didn't buy Seir's words.

Seir–who was unaware of Sairaorg's doubts–decided not to linger on the language and move to another topic. But it hit him, 'Uh… what should I even talk about with him?'

Having spent the past hour or so showing Sairaorg around the Belphegor Castle, the two of them have gotten somewhat comfortable for some small talk, though Seir himself has no idea how to interact with Sairaorg on a personal level.

'I did not consider it earlier, but, what am I supposed to do with him now that I have already given him a brief tour of the castle?'

When it was time for Sairaorg to go, Sephie would send a message, but until then Seir would have to give company to Sairaorg. But the thought of spending time with Sairaorg also made him wonder, 'Am I supposed to play tag or something with him?'

Seir did not have to face this question until now since there were only adults around him for the past three years, and while they were indeed a bit surprised upon noticing how different of a child he was from an average child in the Underworld, ultimately they did not care too much and just let him be, the supernatural world is as such, but Sairaorg is not the same as Seir; he is truly a child, and he is the first child Seir has met ever since he was reborn into Draconic Deus. Therefore, he has no idea what children of three or four are supposed to do. Okay, maybe he does have some idea, but he does not wish to partake in foolish, childish stuff that normal children of age three or four years do.

'If not the stupid childish stuff, then what else…?'

'It is DxD and both of us are Devils… maybe he would be interested in it…' With such a thought, Seir asked Sairaorg, "Do you play chess?"

Sairaorg shook his head, "I haven't played it…"

"Figures…" Seir sighed. What was he thinking asking a four-year-old whether he plays chess? How could a four-year-old know how to play chess? While Seir can indeed teach Sairaorg chess, he felt that doing so would be a very tedious thing to do so decided against it. Shaking his head, he spoke, "I guess it's tag then… because nothing else comes to my mind…" then paused for a moment as if he realized something and questioned, "You do know how to play tag, right?"

Sairaorg shook his head, "What's a tag?"

Hearing Sairaorg's response, Seir blinked his eyes in surprise, "You don't know how to play tag either?" This time Seir was genuinely surprised, after all, everybody knows how to play tag.

Sairaorg seemed a little embarrassed, and apologized, "I am sorry…"

'Should I teach him how to play tag?' thought Seir. As per Seir's guess, the reason Sairaorg doesn't how to play a game as simple and widely popular as tag is probably due to not having any friends and playmates. The Bael maid watching over from a distance doesn't seem to be the kind of woman who would be interested in playing tag with her master.

Shaking his head, Seir asked Sairaorg, "Tell me something. What do you normally do at home?"

"I…" Sairaorg was about to answer but Seir interrupted him.

"Forget it, I am not interested in knowing what you normally did at your home…" Shaking his head, Seir continued, "I will teach you how to play tag, and we will play tag."

Although learning what Sairaorg normally does at home could have been useful to better understand him and figure out his personality and other things, there is no point in doing that at this time since he is only a child. Besides, if Seir were to consider the fact that Sairaorg was born without any Demonic Power and [Power of Destruction], his life at the Bael Castle shouldn't be all Sunshine and rainbows. It would be depressing to hear all that, and what would he gain by understanding that? It's better to spend that time having some fun instead of hearing a depressing tale.

"Al… alright!" nodded Sairaorg, though he was a little disappointed that Seir had no interest in what he was about to say, since he is quite used to receiving such treatment, he wasn't offended.

"Let's change location…" said Seir as he unfolded his wings and flapped them. "You can fly, right?"

"Yes…" nodded Sairaorg as he too unfolded his pair of bat wings and started flapping them.

For Devils, the ability to fly does not have anything to do with their Demonic Power. After all, wings are simply organs and are not inherently tied to Demonic Power or magic, so it's no surprise that Sairaorg, despite not possessing an ounce of Demonic Power, can still fly.

Though compared to Seir, Sairaorg seemed rather rough and not as graceful about it, which is also natural considering that he is only a child and doesn't have the control a mature mind can have.

"Follow me…" Leaving these words, Seir flew out of the window.

"Coming!" nodded Sairaorg as he hurriedly followed after Seir.

Élise and the maid from the Baels were naturally accompanying the two children.

.

.

"Now listen closely… The rules are fairly simple… One of us will be Denner whose role is to chase the other player. Suppose I am the denner, then I will chase after you until I succeed in touching you with my hand. If I succeed in touching you our roles will be reserved, you will be the denner, and you will have to chase after me and touch me with your hand. If I don't succeed then I will remain denner until I succeed.

Flying is not allowed, that would make the game somewhat boring as it would become three-dimensional which is not interesting enough with just two players. Also, we will stay within this garden, stepping outside will be a foul and that would reverse our roles, attacking the other person, and the use of magic is also forbidden…" After explaining the rules Seir questioned, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I got them…" nodded Sairaorg, and questioned, "But who will be the denner?"

"Since it's your first time playing tag, I don't mind being the first one to be the denner and chase…" said Seir with a smile. This would give Sairaorg an opportunity to better understand what to do when he becomes a denner. Of course, this would also allow Seir to figure out Sairaorg's motor skills, speed, and endurance which will turn out to be useful when it's Sairaorg's turn to be the Denner.

"Okay…" agreed Sairaorg.

"Alright then… let's start. I will count up to 10, you can use that time to distance yourself…" Then he began to stretch his arms and legs while counting, "1… 2… 3…"

As soon as Seir started counting, Sairaorg quickly turned around and started to run away.

"8… 9… 10… Ready or not, I am coming!" After speaking these words, Seir chased after Sairaorg at a speed you'd not expect a three-year-old child to have. Even if he is only three years old at the moment, Seir is quite athletic for his age with good motor skills and agility because of his habit of not sitting still for longer durations, of course, having a Devil's stronger physique helps as well but Sairaorg has a Devil's body as well so not an exclusive advantage, regardless, Sairaorg certainly did not expect Seir to be this fast, he had to run at his top speed to not get caught, but even if he did, he, who is not a very athletic child with not that great motor skills, and definitely less intelligence than Seir was easily touched in less than a minute.

"That was a bummer, I did not expect to be caught this easily and this fast…" muttered Sairaorg with a pout. He was disappointed that he couldn't even hold on for a minute!

"Sometimes life doesn't go as per expectations…" said Seir as he patted Sairaorg on the shoulder.

Sairaorg was stunned, and questioned, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Nothing… I was just speaking to myself…" smiled Seir and changed the topic, "In any case, it's your turn now… Start counting until ten…"

"Yes, I know…" nodded Sairaorg and began the counting. "1… 2… 3… 4…"

As soon as Sairaorg began counting, Seir grinned and distanced himself from the young Bael. Of course, he did not distance himself too much as that would ruin all the fun. A game is more enjoyable when the competition between two competing sides is or at least appears to be near equal. Too much of a gap in strength can often make things boring.

During the first round when he was the Denner, Seir was able to get a general understanding of Sairaorg's speed.

The young Bael's speed is inferior to his. It is surprising considering the powerful hunk he would grow up to be within the next fifteen years, but the current him is only a four-year-old child with nothing special about him except for his status as the heir to the House of Bael.

"7… 8… 9… 10… Ready or not, I am coming!" Once Sairaorg completed the counting up to ten, he chased after Seir.

"Come!" muttered Seir with a grin. The current him, who has been a very active child from the moment he was born, can quite easily outdo Sairaorg in terms of speed, and because he has the mind of an adult, this tag game is going to be owned by him, and it's not even going to be close.

.

.

Thirty Minutes Later

"Haah… So? Tired already?" asked Seir as he looked at Sairaorg collapsed on the garden's grass.

"Haah… Haah… I… I… Haah… You…" Sairaorg tried to respond but the panting between breaths made it somewhat difficult for him to speak. He was tired, sweaty, and disheveled. As for catching Seir? Although Sairaorg came close several times, he failed by a hair's breadth.

"Alright, let's take a time out…" said Seir and instructed his maid, "Élise, please bring some refreshments for us…"

"As you wish, Lord Seir," nodded Élise, she then created a communication magic circle and requested one of the maids in the kitchen for some fresh Blue juice for both Seir and Sairaorg.

While Élise was preparing refreshments, Seir approached Sairaorg and sat down beside him.

Looking at Seir, who was clearly not as tired, breathless, and sweaty as him, Sairaorg could not help but ask, "How… Haah… how are you… Haah… not tired?"

"It's because I train…" responded Seir with a boisterous smirk. What he does cannot be considered actual training in his own books, but it might as well be training for the current Sairaorg, who probably does not do much physical activity.

"Train?" muttered Sairaorg in confusion.

"You don't know what 'training' means?" asked Seir in surprise. Sairaorg's reaction told him that he probably did not know what 'training' meant.

"Don't look at me like that… I know what 'training' means… I am not that dumb!" said Sairaorg trying to defend himself. In fact, he felt rather offended at Seir for thinking that he is too dumb, and added, "It's just that I have never heard or seen anyone train…"

"Oh…" muttered Seir as if understanding the meaning behind Sairaorg's surprise.

Training is an activity quite foreign to the people of the Underworld. Devils in particular are lazy and prideful beings, to them training is a waste of time as it doesn't make much sense. To Devils, racial talent makes more sense. As such, they believe that a low class will remain low class no matter how much he trains and a High Class will remain a High Class no matter how much he trains.

Not only the status, but also the strength of a Devil is determined at the time of their birth, and rarely anyone ever goes against the norm.

'It's a pity that most Devil do not understand what they are missing by not training,' thought Seir while shaking his head.

At this time Élise approached Seir and Sairaorg while carrying a tray in her hands, and presented a glass of Blue juice to both the children, "Lord Seir… Lord Sairaorg… here, please have these refreshments, it will help you recover your energy."

"Thank you, Élise," nodded Seir as he took the glass handed to him by Élise and took a sip of the Blue juice.

Sairaorg did the same, "Thank you…" Though he was a little shy.

'Was orange named orange after the color orange because it is orange in color, or was the color orange named orange because it is the color that the fruit orange has?'

Perhaps it would have been better if the color orange remained geoluhread and the fruit remained narange as it was originally. But then again that wouldn't have changed anything about Blue. Yes, analogous to the fruit Orange in the human realm, blue is a fruit quite popular within the underworld, especially among the nobility.

'Meh… who cares.' Shaking his head, Seir decided not to think about pointless things and focus on enjoying the refreshing taste of the Blue Juice.

After passing the refreshments, Élise bowed and retreated back; leaving Seir and Sairaorg alone.

Both Seir and Sairaorg were sitting quietly as they drank the Blue Juice.

Suddenly, Sairaorg questioned, "Can you use it?"

"Use what?" asked Seir appearing to be a little confused.

"The Demonic Power," responded Sairaorg and questioned again, "Are you able to use your Demonic Power…?"

Understanding what Sairaorg was trying to ask, Seir responded truthfully, "Yes, I can use it," he could have gotten a bit overboard and told Sairaorg that he has been able to use his Demonic Power for as long as he can remember, but upon thinking it over he decided against it. 'Let's not rub salt over his wound… the boy is probably going through tough times.'

"I see…" mumbled Sairaorg as his grip on the glass tightened. It was obvious that he was a little envious of Seir, but can anyone blame him? For someone who doesn't possess an ounce of Demonic Power to meet someone younger than him already capable of using that Demonic Power… In such a situation, if he isn't supposed to feel envious, then what else is he supposed to feel? After all, he too longs to be able to use Demonic Power… but… sometimes fate can be fickle.

An uncomfortable silence appeared between the two and Seir did not know how to break this silence. Seir wasn't going to ask the same question from Sairaorg knowing full well that he is incapable of using his Demonic Power since he didn't have any Demonic Power from the moment he was born, which is something he probably knows already so, asking that question would be adding insult to the injury, and Seir did not want to do that.

'What to do?' But if not that, then what? Just as he was starting to wonder what are his options, Sephie and Misla arrived at the garden walking side by side and their arrival shifted Sairaorg and Seir's attention.

"Mother…" spoke Seir as he got up and ran toward her with Sairaorg doing the same.

"What were the two of you doing here?" asked Sephie upon noticing the dirt and sweat on Seir and Sairaorg's clothes.

"We were playing tag…" answered Seir.

"Oh…" muttered Sephie, and questioned, "Did you two have fun?"

"I guess?" responded Seir a little unsure as he glanced at Sairaorg from the corner of his eyes.

Feeling Seir's gaze, Sairaorg nodded, "It was fun…" and added, "Though I failed to catch you."

"In that case, you should work harder the next time you two play tag, I am sure you will catch him," encouraged Misla with a smile. She was happy to see her son have some fun and probably make a friend.

"I will…" nodded Sairaorg, and this made Seir chuckle. Sairaorg frowned, "What's so funny?" A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he asked, "Do you think I can't catch you?"

"Quite the opposite," Seir said, shaking his head. "I believe you're the only one who can keep up with me, Sairaorg."

Sairaorg furrowed his brow, looking confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why don't you figure that out for yourself?" Seir said with a sly grin.

"Humph! I don't need to figure it out... I already know," Sairaorg said with a snort.

"Oh? Is that so? Then pray, do tell—what did I mean?" Seir chuckled.

"That..." Sairaorg was left speechless, unsure of how to respond since he didn't actually know what Seir meant.

"Knew it... You don't know, do you?" Seir teased.

"Whatever. I'll figure it out sooner or later," Sairaorg grumbled, glaring at him.

Sephie and Misla smiled at their sons' interaction. After a short silence, Sephie spoke to Seir, "It's almost time for Sairaorg to return home with his mother…"

Hearing Sephie's words, Sairaorg questioned his mother, "Are we going back?"

Misla nodded, "Yes, we must return."

"Okay…" mumbled Sairaorg a little disappointed.

Misla smiled and patted Sairaorg's head, "Don't worry… you would have more chances of meeting with your friend."

"Really?" asked Sairaorg.

Misla nodded, "Yes…"

.

.

As Misla, Sairaorg, and the maid from the House of Bael stepped onto the Teleportation Magic Circle, Seir cheerfully waved, saying, "Goodbye, Sairaorg! See you at the Championship finals!"

Sairaorg hesitated, fumbling with his words. "Well… uh…"

Seir tilted his head in confusion and asked, "You'll be there, right?"

"I… I… uh… I…" Sairaorg stammered, unable to confirm.

Noticing her son's hesitation, Misla smiled warmly and reassured Seir, "Yes, Sairaorg will be there." Internally, she resolved, 'I will make sure of it!'

Seir beamed. "Great!" He then turned to Sairaorg. "Then see you next time."

Encouraged by his mother's brief nod, Sairaorg looked at Seir and said with determination, "Yes, next time we meet, I will catch you."

Seir did not give a response to that, he only smiled.

On the other side, as the glow of the Teleportation Magic Circle intensified, Misla spoke to Sephie, "Well then, Sephie… I await for the day the Belphegor visit the Ba'al."

Sephie responded with a hesitant look, "Well, as I said, I will try to do what I can… but please don't expect much. It's Great King we are talking about, and this is an internal matter of the House of Bael, outsiders like me don't have much say in it," She took a small pause and added, "To be honest, I still recommend turning to Venelana and the Gremorys… and getting the Agares involved while you are at it. Although it is risky, I still think that things might turn out better for your case if Venelana, Lucifer, and Archduke get involved."

Misla hesitated for a moment before nodding, "Alright, I will get in touch with her…" She bowed lightly and then disappeared from the Magic Circle along with Sairaorg and the maid accompanying them.

.

.

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

As the golden light of the Teleportation Magic Circle disappeared, Misla, Sairaorg, and the maid following them stepped out of the magic circle only for them to suddenly come to a stop as they saw the man standing before them, and he stared at Misla in silence making the Great Queen nervous.

Noticing the coldness in the man's violet eyes, the smile on Misla's face faltered, "Vi… Lord Vizel…"

Sairaorg nervously bowed, "Father…"

Vizel gave Sairaorg a look of contempt, "Do not call me father. You are nothing but a defective, and I refuse to acknowledge a failure one such as you as my son."

Sairaorg's expression became downcasted.

Misla tried to argue back, "Lord Vizel, how… how can I say that to your own son!?"

However she was shut down by Vizel, "He is no son of mine!"

Tears cascaded down Sairaorg's cheeks, but Vizel paid him no attention, and instructed the maid, "Escort the boy to his room."

"As you wish, my lord," nodded the maid with a bow as she grabbed Sairaorg's hand and escorted him back to his room. The boy being led away cast a worried glance back at his mother, fear etched across his face at what she might endure. Unable to do anything to help, he clenched his fists tightly in frustration and anger.

Once Sairaorg and the maid had left the hall, Vizel turned his attention to Misla, "Have I not made myself clear that the boy will not step out of his room?"

Misla tried to explain, "But Lord Vizel… Sairaorg is a child, he needs to mak–!"

Vizel continued, "All he needs to do is stay out of people's eyes in order to not embarrass the Bael. If the other Pillars and the rest of the Underworld were to hear that the son of Great King Bael is a defect with no Demonic Power and [Power of Destruction], they would laugh at us… they would mock me…! The Gremorys have already made a mockery of the Baels, and on top of them, I have to deal with that defective brat you birthed! Don't make my already complicated life any more difficult, there are certain things that even I don't want to have to do, so don't push me into doing them."

"L… Lord Vizel… Sairaorg… please, just a little—just a small chance. Let him have friends… I am sure he will come around," Misla pleaded desperately, her voice trembling.

Hearing her plea, Vizel burst into mocking laughter. "Hahaha! Let him have friends, you say? He doesn't deserve friends. He doesn't need friends. And who would even want to befriend a defect like that?"

Misla shook her head desperately, her voice trembling as she tried to reason with him. "No… no, that's not true. Everyone deserves friends, no matter how they are born. Just because Sairaorg wasn't born with Demonic Power or the [Power of Destruction] doesn't mean he doesn't deserve companionship."

A faint, tender smile graced her lips as she recalled the adorable white-haired boy Sairaorg had met earlier. "In fact, Sairaorg… he made a friend today. Yes, he made a friend, and… and…" Her voice faltered as she tried to hold back tears.

But Vizel interrupted her coldly, "I see… it was the Belphegors, wasn't it? I'll speak with their current head. I'm certain even someone like her wouldn't want her little brother associating with a defect."

Misla's face twisted in horror as she frantically shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No… no… he just made a friend, and they even promised to watch the Championship finals together. Please… please don't take that away from him! Please… He is just a child!"

Vizel remained silent, his expression unchanging as he stared at her with cold, unfeeling eyes.

"L… Lord Vizel… Do whatever you want to me… but… please don't treat Sairaorg like that… he… he is our—" Misla's desperate plea was cut short. Vizel, his face twisted with fury, didn't even let her finish. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and struck her.

Cha! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the hall. Misla staggered, clutching the hem of her dress as a red mark began to form on her cheek.

Breathing heavily, Vizel, in a cold and unyielding voice spat, "That defect is not my son."

With those venomous words, Vizel turned sharply on his heel and strode away, leaving Misla behind. She crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her face as she held her cheek, the sting of both the slap and his words cutting deeply into her heart.

.

.

.

Author's Note:

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

Be sure to drop your power stones, comments as well as reviews.

If you like the story so far, don't forget to add it to your library to not miss out on the updates.