As the Gremory family and Rias's peerage stepped through the portal into the Game Field—a realm suspended within the protected folds of the Dimensional Gap—tension buzzed in the air like static before a storm. This was it. The day of the Rating Game. Every step forward echoed with anticipation, nerves, and tightly-held strategy.
And behind them?
Came the real storm.
Hespera strolled casually after the group, hands in her pockets, that trademark smirk tugging at her lips with a raspberry-flavored lolipop in her mouth. As she passed through the veil, her form shimmered—once, twice—and then vanished entirely from perception. She didn't teleport. She simply ceased to be noticed.
A subtle ripple of black and silver shimmered around her skin before folding inward—her Nihility Aura activating like the slow inhale of a sleeping god. It didn't hide her with magic. It erased her presence from the senses altogether. Sight. Sound. Spiritual detection. She was a walking blind spot in the world's awareness.
'I'll let them play a little first,' she mused, watching her Rias strut confidently toward her battle. 'Then I'll entertain myself. Hehe~'
Behind her, the Hesperides simply exchanged a look, already used to their mother's particular brand of chaotic foreplay.
Aigle sighed softly. "She's going to cause a scene."
Erytheia grinned. "She is the scene."
Khrysothemis just shook her head and muttered, "Here we go again."
Even Ophis, calmly sipping her tea through a newly-formed cup portal, offered the faintest of blinks and murmured in a deadpan whisper:
"…She's having fun."
And when Hespera was having fun… the universe usually screamed.
The moment the Gremory group stepped through the veil into the Game Field—a vast, shifting landscape suspended within the protected pocket of the Dimensional Gap—the tension in the air thickened instantly.
Awaiting them on the far side stood Riser Phenex, his peerage arranged behind him like a glittering court, and his parents seated comfortably in ornate chairs conjured from flame-kissed gold. Their presence was ostentatious, loud, and thoroughly smug.
And of course, the moment Riser laid eyes on Rias, he opened his mouth.
"Ah~ my lovely bride-to-be," he drawled with a wink, his voice oozing arrogance. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten cold feet. But worry not—there'll be plenty of time for me to warm you up later~"
Rias's jaw clenched. Her peerage bristled.
But above them all—far above the arena's suspended battlegrounds—Hespera's eye twitched.
She had conjured a floating throne for herself and her family—sleek, jagged, and lined with silver obsidian and chaotic energy that shimmered like a half-dream. The Hesperides lounged casually around her, Ophis stirring tea without comment, and Hespera herself sat reclined with one leg draped lazily over the armrest, fingers tapping against the side of her throne.
Her aura remained hidden—for now—but her disdain was palpable.
"Tch. Peacocking, chest-thumping, hormone-driven poultry," she muttered, voice like silk over a blade. "Of course he had to be a dick. A perverted one at that."
Erytheia snorted with laughter.
"Should I roast him, Mother?" Aigle asked sweetly, cracking her knuckles.
"Not yet," Hespera murmured, resting her cheek against her fist. "Let the chicks play their little war game."
But her eyes never left Riser.
Because if there was one thing Hespera despised more than men in general—it was arrogant, cheating, self-entitled flame-birds who thought women were prizes.(Poor Zeus~)
She cracked a faint smile. Razor-thin.
"And speaking of perverted cheaters," she whispered absently. "I think I will go see about a Greek god king about his cheating habits."
And below, completely unaware of the daughter of Chaos lounging above and plotting his public demise, Riser winked again. "I can't wait for you to be mine, Rias."
Hespera's smile grew.
Poor bastard.
The smile that curled on Hespera's lips wasn't just amusement—it was a promise. A delicate, silent death sentence dressed in raspberry sugar and amusement.
Poor bastard indeed.
The throne of obsidian and cosmic shimmer pulsed faintly, reflecting the dim glow of the Dimensional Gap around it. Her fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, syncing to the silent countdown only she seemed to be aware of. The threads of fate were already beginning to tug. Riser just didn't know it yet.
From her left, Khrysothemis sat with crossed legs, eyes tracking the battlefield with calm precision. "He truly thinks he's already won."
"He thinks women are conquests," Hespera replied flatly. "And this game? Just his way of playing god."
"Well," Aigle said, stretching luxuriously. "I suppose we're overdue to remind the world what gods really look like."
Ophis sipped her tea and set the cup down with a soft clink. "Do not break the Field before the final move. This is an official match. Be respectful."
"Of course, Mother," Hespera said sweetly. "I'll wait until his pride is properly cooked before I season it."
Erytheia, perched sideways on a throne of shadow-lotus petals, grinned wide. "So we are roasting the bird."
"Eventually," Hespera drawled, her eyes glowing faintly beneath her lashes. "But first… let's see if the little Lil Redhead can pluck him herself."
On the battlefield, Rias's peerage was taking their positions. Her strategy had been carefully laid out, her team loyal, ready, burning with conviction. But even the most perfect plan could falter when pride and pressure collided.
Hespera would let them have this moment.
The mortal struggle. The test of growth.
But the second that fool tried anything outside the rules? The second he dared to lay a hand on Rias? Or speak another lewd, possessive word?
She'd remind everyone—devil, angel, god, and mortal—that Hespera Eveningstar didn't watch chaos.
She was chaos.
And Riser Phenex?
Would burn for it.
The Gremorys in the stands exchanged glances as Rias's magic flared into action on the field. Sirzechs sat calmly, though his father beside him noticed the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"She's still here, isn't she?" Zeoticus whispered.
Sirzechs chuckled softly. "Oh yes."
His mother just chuckled.
And above, hidden from all awareness, Hespera bit down gently on her lollipop, cracking it with a crunch of finality.
"Showtime."
The atmosphere shifted the moment the bell tolled across the suspended battlefield.
A deep, resonant chime echoed through the vast Game Field—a reality-spliced arena stitched into the folds of the Dimensional Gap, its terrain shifting seamlessly from crystalline cliffs to floating platforms, dense forests, and scorched battle plains. A place where laws bent to the will of magic and bloodshed was glorified by the noble houses.
The Rating Game had begun.
From the announcer's platform, a projection of Grayfia Lucifuge—ever elegant, ever composed—flickered into the sky.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Underworld, of Heaven, of all realms tuning in across dimensional planes," her voice rang clear and dignified, "today's Rating Game is a special engagement between the noble House of Gremory and the House of Phenex. The stakes: the annulment of an arranged marriage."
Cheers erupted from distant viewing realms, enchanted screens rippling in various citadels, temples, and noble households. Everyone was watching.
"Representing the House of Gremory," Grayfia continued, "we have the heiress herself—Rias Gremory—and her chosen peerage."
A surge of scarlet magic lit up one side of the field as Rias stepped forward, eyes blazing with purpose. Behind her, Kiba readied his blade, Akeno's lightning crackled at her fingertips, Koneko crouched low like a stalking cat, and Gasper hovered nervously behind magical barriers.
"Representing the House of Phenex…" Grayfia turned, and there it was.
A burst of golden flame erupted across the field.
Riser Phenex emerged like a gilded peacock at a royal parade—arms spread, wings flaming brilliantly behind him, ego nearly tangible. His peerage fanned out behind him, all gorgeous, all dangerously capable.
"And now," Grayfia said, eyes narrowing slightly, "the Rating Game... begins."
The moment her words faded, the terrain exploded into movement.
The battlefield began to shift—elevated platforms forming out of raw space, trees twisting into cover, lava pools emerging in corners of the arena. Magic wards flared to life, segmenting zones, defining the field of war.
Rias turned to her team, her voice calm but sharp. "You know the plan. Stick to formation Delta-3. Koneko—frontline. Kiba, flank right. Akeno, use thundercloud cover. Gasper, stay close and shield."
They all nodded. No hesitation.
Across the field, Riser pointed lazily at the Gremory formation.
"Girls, warm up. Let's clip their wings before dinner."
Two of his peerage shot into the air, flames trailing behind them.
Boom.
The first clash ignited.
Kiba met one of the Phenex knights mid-air, blades sparking. Koneko launched herself like a missile, cracking the earth with a punch aimed straight at one of Riser's frontliners. Akeno raised her arms and sent a pillar of lightning crashing down from above.
And watching, far above in her invisible throne?
Hespera leaned back, legs crossed, her lollipop gone.
"Well… it's not total amateur hour," she mused.
"She's holding back," Erytheia noted.
Aigle smirked. "Not for long. Look."
Down below, Riser smirked and vanished in a burst of flame—appearing right behind Rias.
"You should surrender now, darling~"
Rias turned.
And before she could respond—
A spark of magenta shimmered in the air.
Riser blinked. "What the—"
Then he froze.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
And from high above, Hespera finally dropped her aura like a velvet guillotine.
All magic in the field shuddered.
All eyes turned upward.
As her floating throne slowly came into view—glimmering with voidlight, chaos blossoms blooming from the edges—and the entire stadium fell silent.
Even the announcers.
Because standing atop that throne, her coat rippling in a wind that didn't exist, was a being no one could sense seconds ago.
Now?
They couldn't not feel her.
Hespera Eveningstar had entered the Game.
Riser's body shook as the pressure of her gaze alone pinned him in place.
Rias, wide-eyed, whispered under her breath: "She's not… interfering already, is she?"
Hespera smiled faintly.
"No, no," she said sweetly, voice magically amplified through the air. "This is your game, little devils. I'm just… spectating."
Her smile sharpened.
"For now."
The smirk that curved Hespera's lips was slow, predatory, and far too amused.
She leaned forward on her obsidian throne, resting her chin on the back of her hand while her fingers curled delicately—like a cat watching a mouse realize it had walked into a lion's den.
The air around her shimmered faintly as if the very fabric of the Game Field flinched in anticipation.
Riser, momentarily stunned by her silence—and perhaps caught off guard by how absurdly beautiful she was—cleared his throat and straightened his posture. His anger melted into something slick and smirking.
"Well… I wasn't expecting a goddess to fall out of the sky, but I wouldn't be Riser Phenex if I didn't recognize perfection when I saw it."
His eyes roamed, hungry and confident. "Tell me, mystery woman—would you care to take Rias's place? As my queen? I'd be happy to entertain the idea if you behave~"
From the throne above, a beat passed.
Then—
Hespera chuckled.
Soft.
Sweet.
Deadly.
"Oh~ how adorable," she cooed, her voice like silk dipped in venom. "The fire chicken thinks he's charming."
Riser blinked. "Excuse me—?"
"Shhh." She pressed a finger to her lips, and the entire battlefield fell quiet as her aura flickered.
Just once.
A pulse—black and silver, chaos-touched and divine—that wrapped around Riser's throat and cut his voice off mid-sentence like a leash yanking back a barking mutt.
He gasped, clutching at his throat. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe properly—not without permission.
Hespera's eyes gleamed like twin stars.
"I'd rather be dragged into the void, swallowed by a dying star, and forced to listen to a thousand years of the God of Reincarnation's complaining about my father than ever be yours," she said pleasantly. "You're not even impressive enough to be my prey."
She leaned back, draping her arm across the throne's armrest with lazy grace.
"And now that we understand each other, little flame," she purred, "sit. Stay. Play quietly."
Riser collapsed to one knee, choking on pride and suppressed rage, his voice gone, his flames flickering erratically under her unseen grip.
From beside Hespera, Aigle yawned.
Khrysothemis stirred her tea calmly.
Erytheia giggled. "She's angry~"
Ophis simply sipped from her cup and muttered in a flat tone, "He won't survive the night if he keeps talking."
And below, Rias?
She was smiling.
Brightly.
Hespera reclined once more, her expression cooling into something poised and effortless, like a queen indulging a game far beneath her station. One leg crossed over the other, fingers lazily drumming against the throne's obsidian armrest, she cast her gaze downward toward the still-stunned arena below.
Riser was still kneeling, clutching his throat, his ego shredded and dignity bleeding out into the metaphorical dirt.
Hespera didn't spare him another glance.
Instead, her attention shifted—cool, commanding, and utterly unconcerned—to the silver-haired woman standing at the official's podium.
"Grayfia," Hespera said, her voice like honey spiked with steel. "Continue the game."
Grayfia, ever the professional, gave a single nod, unfazed by the chaos that had just unfolded. Her crimson eyes flicked from the battered pride of Riser Phenex to the composed radiance of Hespera seated high above.
"As you wish, Lady Eveningstar."
She raised a hand, her magic weaving through the field in threads of icy precision.
"The Rating Game between the Gremory and Phenex households… resumes now."
The announcement echoed through the battlefield, rippling across the suspended terrain. The game was back on.
But everyone knew—
This wasn't just about marriage anymore.
This was about survival.
And Riser?
He finally understood something crucial.
The most dangerous woman in the arena… wasn't even playing.