Fajar Purnama Highschool DxD Fan Fiction Project - Route 4 Veritas
Get 1000000 0FP0EXP Token to remove widget entirely!
Get 500000 0FP0EXP Token to remove my NFTS advertisements!
Route 1 + 2 Epilogue
Part 1: Convergence in the Void
The Harrowing Interstice was a realm designed to shatter the mortal psyche. It was an endless, apocalyptic expanse of ashen wastelands beneath a sky that bled swirling violet nebulas. The atmospheric pressure was suffocating, heavy with the agonized, psychic wails of forgotten entities and the cosmic dust of dead universes. Yet, as Ren walked deeper into the absolute darkness, his boots crunching against the primordial ash, a deeply unsettling realization washed over him. He did not feel crushed. He did not feel terrified.
He felt entirely at home.
The pitch-black Qi circulating through his synchronized Dantians resonated with the ambient despair of the void. The Interstice was not rejecting him; it was wrapping around him like a heavy, familiar coat. For a mind that had discarded the illusions of mundane paradise in favor of absolute, pragmatic strength, this desolate wasteland was a sanctuary of pure focus.
Ren walked for what felt like hours, or perhaps days—time was a fractured concept here. He was lost in the meditative rhythm of his own internal engine when his universal senses picked up a drastic anomaly.
Footsteps. Heavy, rhythmic, and completely unbothered by the crushing gravity of the void.
Ren stopped, his dark eyes narrowing as a silhouette emerged from the violet mist. The figure was not a multi-dimensional horror or a lost soul. It was a teenage boy. He had an athletic, heavily muscled build that strained against the fabric of his clothes, a bright, fiercely determined expression, and an energetic gait that looked more suited for a morning jog than a trek through a nightmare dimension.
Most jarring of all, however, was his attire. The boy was wearing the exact same black-and-white Kuoh Academy uniform as Ren.
The two stopped a few yards apart, staring at one another in the dead center of the abyss.
“Whoa!” the boy exclaimed, his voice booming with a bright, pure-hearted energy that seemed entirely alien in the Interstice. “No way! You go to Kuoh Academy too? I thought I knew all the strong guys at school, but I’ve never seen you before! I’m Ariel. Ariel Caelum Veritas.”
Ren analyzed the boy. Ariel radiated a simple, overwhelming aura of physical power, reminiscent of a shonen protagonist—a muscle-brained warrior who lived for the thrill of the fight and the grind of the training arc. He was the antithesis of Ren’s cold, tactical pragmatism, yet here he was, surviving the void on sheer physical vitality.
“Ren,” he replied smoothly, uncrossing his arms. “And yes, I am a student at Kuoh. The fact that we have not crossed paths is statistically improbable given our mutual tolerance for this environment. How exactly did you end up in the Harrowing Interstice?”
Ariel laughed, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish, wide grin. “Man, it’s a long story. But hey, you’re here too! How did you pull it off? I mean, Kuoh is weird, but it ain’t ‘walk through a tear in spacetime’ weird for most people.”
“My trajectory was… complicated,” Ren admitted, deciding that sharing intelligence was the most logical first step. As they began to walk side-by-side through the wasteland, Ren laid out his history.
He explained his mundane beginnings as a member of Kuoh’s infamous ‘perverted quartet,’ a life defined by shallow, degenerate desires. He spoke of the turning point: the evening at the park when Raynare struck.
“Issei was killed, and Rias Gremory came to resurrect him,” Ren explained, his voice clinical and detached. “But I was collateral damage. A stray blast from the Fallen Angel blew me deep into the treeline. I was bleeding, crippled, and forced to crawl through the dirt while Issei was granted salvation and inducted into a world of magic. The sheer isolation of that moment—the realization of my own absolute insignificance—planted the seed of this very dimension inside my soul.”
Ren detailed how he completely discarded his harem dreams in the aftermath, realizing that survival required immense sacrifice. He began wearing a blindfold to school, subjecting himself to severe sensory deprivation to force his other senses to compensate.
“Wait, hold on!” Ariel interrupted, his eyes practically turning into stars. “You trained by walking around blindfolded to sense intent and spatial movement? Dude! That is literally Observation Haki!”
Ren blinked, momentarily derailed by the sheer enthusiasm of the comparison. “Observation Haki… from One Piece?”
“Yeah! The Color of Observation!” Ariel beamed. “That’s exactly what it is!”
Ren let out a rare, amused chuckle. To Ren, it was the universal synchronization of Qi to detect kinetic shifts in reality. But to communicate with Ariel, using the anime lexicon was infinitely faster and surprisingly accurate. “Very well. Yes, I awakened my Observation Haki. I utilized it shortly after, when Raynare’s subordinates came to kidnap Asia Argento. I was able to perfectly predict and dodge their light spears, countering with combat knives laced with holy water. Unfortunately, Issei lacked the same spatial awareness and was severely wounded.”
“Classic Issei,” Ariel snorted. “So what happened next?”
“The church raid,” Ren continued. “I attempted to initiate a tactical, stealth-based espionage infiltration to minimize casualties. Issei, predictably, kicked the front doors wide open and alerted the entire compound. Rias and Akeno had not yet arrived, forcing us into a brutal, unequal engagement. I took on the entire human priest faction single-handedly so Issei and Kiba could focus on the Fallen Angels.”
Ren’s tone darkened slightly. “But when the battle ended and the dust settled, they left. They simply forgot I was there, buried in the rubble. That second abandonment was the catalyst. The seed of the Harrowing Interstice fully sprouted within me. I cleared my blocked Dantians and meridians, harmonizing the dark energy of this void with my own internal Qi, completely overhauling my martial arts.”
“So you got a massive zenkai boost and leveled up your base stats,” Ariel nodded sagely, completely tracking the logic.
“Precisely. I then began practicing kinetic density manipulation,” Ren explained. “I learned to harden my skin and muscles to the density of steel to shatter holy swords on impact. Furthermore, I learned to project my internal will onto the physical plane, utilizing raw atmospheric pressure to crush my enemies’ minds and bodies simultaneously.”
Ariel grabbed Ren by the shoulders, shaking him in excitement. “Bro! Armament Haki! And Advanced Conqueror’s Haki! You literally unlocked all three types!”
“It appears so,” Ren confirmed with a smirk. “And it proved highly effective. When Riser Phenex arrived in the clubroom to claim Rias, his Pawn, Mira, viciously beat Issei. I intervened, accepting Riser’s challenge on the spot. Using those techniques, I systematically dismantled his vanguard—several Pawns, a Rook, and a Knight—using nothing but physical strikes and overwhelming willpower.”
Ariel pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Put those arrogant Devil nobles in their place!”
“Unfortunately, Rias remained stubborn,” Ren sighed. “She refused to acknowledge her glaring tactical disadvantages and initiated a ten-day training camp in the mountains. I refused to attend such a flawed operation. Instead, I remained in Kuoh to further my cultivation. I learned to condense my Qi into highly volatile energy spheres and mastered localized gravity manipulation to achieve levitation. It was during this period that I finally figured out how to tear open the gateway to this dimension.”
“Oh, I know this one!” Ariel pointed excitedly. “That’s exactly like Videl learning how to use Ki and fly with Gohan! Just, you know, with way more terrifying void magic!”
Ren chuckled again, finding Ariel’s persistent framing oddly refreshing. “An apt comparison. My mastery over space allowed me to bypass the Rating Game entirely. While Issei and the others fought, I sat in the VIP spectator box alongside the Crimson Satan, Lord Gremory, and Lord Phenex. We drank tea while I mathematically broke down exactly why Rias was destined to lose.”
Ren summarized the brutal finale of the Rating Game: Issei’s unprecedented, degenerate use of ‘Dress Break’ that shocked the Phenex vanguard into submission; his agonizing, one-sided slaughter at the hands of Riser; and Rias’s tearful surrender. He recounted Issei’s desperate sacrifice of his left arm to the Heavenly Dragon, Ddraig, in exchange for raw power.
“Sirzechs wanted a show, so he orchestrated an engagement party to goad Issei into a final duel,” Ren concluded. “I bypassed the Devil security grids by walking through this very Interstice and crashed the wedding. While Issei utilized his sacrificed arm and a holy cross to defeat Riser and claim the President, I sat by the ice sculpture and ate the aristocratic buffet.”
Ren looked out at the endless violet horizon. “Afterward, Rias formally invited me to join the Occult Research Club as an equal. I accepted her invitation. And then, having secured my place in the world, I tore open a portal in the middle of their clubroom and stepped into the void, seeking a true challenge.”
Ariel burst into a booming, wholehearted laugh, wiping a tear from his eye. “That is so cool, man! You’re basically playing the role of Master Xehanort! You sat in the shadows, analyzed the entire chessboard, manipulated the overarching narrative, and then stepped into the darkness while eating the rich guys’ food!”
Ren smirked, acknowledging the Kingdom Hearts reference with a slight nod. “A fair and highly accurate comparison. I suppose I did play the role of the shadowy tactician. But enough about my route, Ariel.”
Ren stopped walking, turning to fully face the muscle-brained warrior who radiated the warmth of a sun inside the coldest dimension in reality. “I have laid out my cards. Now it is your turn. How exactly did a pure-hearted, muscle-obsessed Kuoh student end up walking the Harrowing Interstice?”
Part 2
Ariel’s smirk widened into a bright, unapologetic grin, his entire aura radiating a fierce, uncontainable vitality that seemed to push back the encroaching violet mists of the Harrowing Interstice. He crossed his heavily muscled arms, leaning back slightly.
“Xehanort is cool and all,” Ariel boomed, his voice echoing across the endless ashen plains, “but I’ve always been the guy who plays the role of Luffy, Goku, or maybe even Naruto. I’m the muscle. The brawler. And because of that, my timeline with Issei played out very differently than your shadowy chess match.”
Ren tilted his head, his dark, analytical eyes reflecting the cosmic storms above. “Fascinating. Detail the divergence.”
“Well, for starters, when Raynare ambushed Issei at the park, I wasn’t blown away into the treeline like you were,” Ariel explained, casually rolling his shoulders. “I spend way more time training my physical limits than consuming fiction, so my base footing was already solid. When that Fallen Angel fired her light spear, I braced myself and held my ground. I was right there, standing just a few feet away when Rias Gremory descended from that magic circle to resurrect him. I saw the whole supernatural underworld open up right in front of my face.”
“A critical difference in spatial positioning,” Ren mused. “And Issei’s reaction?”
“Oh, you know Issei. The next morning, he thought the whole thing was a bad, perverted fever dream. But while you were sitting in the back of the class mathematically analyzing the sensory input of the room, I dragged Issei by the collar to the gym. I drilled martial arts into him until he threw up. If monsters were real, I wasn’t going to let my friend stay a weak, squishy target.”
Ariel tapped his temple, a holographic blue interface faintly shimmering in his eyes for a fraction of a second. “But here’s the biggest difference, Ren. I wasn’t abandoned in the rubble, so the seed of the Harrowing Interstice never grew inside me. Instead, the sheer, overwhelming exposure to Rias’s high-tier demonic magic at point-blank range triggered something else. A hyper-virtual and augmented reality system awakened in my brain. The Personal Training Dossier, or PTD.”
Ren’s stoic expression cracked into genuine surprise. “An integrated, multi-versal training system? The computational power required for such a construct is staggering. What did it allow you to do?”
“Anything. Everything,” Ariel laughed, practically vibrating with excitement. “Whenever I went to sleep, or even when I just closed my eyes to meditate, the PTD pulled my consciousness into alternate realities to learn directly from the greatest fighters across the multiverse. I spent months in a hyper-compressed time dilation. I learned brutal, street-level brawling from the Weak Hero universe. I hardened my mind against pure psychological terror by surviving the horrors of the Silent Hill series. I learned how to handle crowds by fighting thousand-man wars like a general in Dynasty Warriors and Samurai Warriors. I mastered firearms and bio-organic survival in the Biohazard simulations.”
Ariel threw a mock punch into the air, the sheer kinetic force creating a visible shockwave in the dense void. “But that wasn’t even the best part. The PTD dropped me onto Rusukaina. I spent two subjective years learning the three types of Haki side-by-side with Luffy, mentored by Silvers Rayleigh himself. And after that, I transitioned to Mount Paozu, where Son Gohan taught me how to harness and project Qi alongside Videl and Goten!”
Ren stood in profound silence, absorbing the sheer scale of the martial knowledge Ariel possessed. He possessed a terrifying intellect, but Ariel was a living, breathing encyclopedia of multiversal combat.
“That is… an incredibly comprehensive curriculum,” Ren finally admitted, thoroughly impressed. “To survive that level of diversified combat stress is a testament to your willpower. Tell me, did you utilize the VR missions from Metal Gear Solid to master tactical espionage and infiltration?”
Ariel blinked, his bright, heroic expression freezing. He slowly rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish, booming laugh escaping his chest. “Uh… man, I completely forgot about that one. Sneaking around just really isn’t my style!”
Ren sighed softly, shaking his head. “Which perfectly explains your approach to the church raid.”
“Exactly!” Ariel grinned. “While you were trying to play solid snake, I literally kicked the front doors of the church off their hinges and went full Dynasty Warriors on the Exorcists. It was absolute chaos. But… because I was so focused on the brawl, I couldn’t protect everyone. The crossfire was too heavy, and Asia was killed.”
Ariel’s smile faded slightly, a shadow of genuine regret crossing his features. “The outcome was the same as your route. Rias resurrected Asia as a Devil. But after that night, I didn’t get left behind. I tagged along with the Occult Research Club specifically to nag Issei. I chewed him out for lagging behind in battle. Rias saw my combat potential and actually invited me into the ORC way earlier than you, specifically to act as Issei’s personal drill instructor.”
“A logical recruitment,” Ren noted. “And how did you handle Riser Phenex’s arrival?”
“When Riser showed up and that Pawn of his, Mira, tried to attack Issei, Issei totally underestimated her,” Ariel said, his fists clenching at the memory. “I stepped in, intercepted her strike, and knocked out all of Riser’s Pawns in about ten seconds flat. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to fight the Rooks or Knights like you did. I’m a chaotic fighter, not a surgical one. Riser’s higher-ups shut me down before I could escalate. But I made sure to scream at Issei afterward. The idiot is strong, but the second a cute girl drops her guard, he drops his, and in a real fight, that gets you killed.”
“So you accompanied them to the mountain training camp,” Ren concluded. “I refused to go. It was a mathematically doomed endeavor under Rias’s stubborn command.”
“Yeah, Rias was desperate, and I don’t have your genius chess brain to plan a flawless counter-strategy,” Ariel shrugged. “So I just did what I do best. I became their absolute worst nightmare. For ten days straight, I forced Kiba, Koneko, and Issei to fight me all at once in a relentless, brutal deathmatch. I hit them with advanced Haki, blasted them with Qi, and beat them into the dirt from sunrise to sunset. I just had Asia sit on the sidelines and constantly heal them the second their bones broke so we could keep going.”
Ren stared at Ariel for a long, quiet moment, an expression of profound, chilling respect settling on his face. “You subjected them to infinite, torturous combat loops with a dedicated healer to forcefully bypass their biological limits. Ariel… you are a demon. You utilized the exact training methodology of Monkey D. Garp.”
“Fists of love, Ren!” Ariel laughed heartily. “And the crazy part? It actually worked! During the Rating Game, Rias wasn’t losing. Because of my hellish training, our vanguard was actually pushing Riser’s peerage back. We were winning!”
“An anomaly,” Ren said, raising an eyebrow. “Then how did Riser force a surrender?”
Ariel groaned, burying his face in his large hands. “Because Issei is a monumental idiot! We had Riser’s Queen, Yubelluna, completely cornered. It was the perfect checkmate. And what does Issei do? Instead of finishing her off, he tries to use his newly awakened Dress Break magic on her to strip her naked! It totally backfired, left him wide open, and Riser exploited the opening to wipe our board.”
Ariel dropped his hands, his eyes blazing with lingering frustration. “Dude, I was sitting in the spectator seats next to Sirzechs and Lord Gremory, and I literally stomped a crater into the VIP floor I was so angry! Rias had to surrender to save his life, just like in your route.”
“A catastrophic tactical blunder brought on by degenerate biological impulses,” Ren summarized dryly. “I assume the subsequent wedding crash proceeded similarly?”
“Yeah. Issei sacrificed his arm, beat Riser with the holy cross, summoned the Griffon, and got the girl,” Ariel smiled, the frustration bleeding away. “He earned his happy ending. But after that, I started digging into my own powers. I wanted to know where the data for the PTD was actually coming from. I meditated, traced the multiversal data stream, and found that the entire system was being routed through this exact dimension.”
Ariel gestured to the sprawling, violet-stained wasteland around them. “That’s how I ended up here. I followed the signal to the source.”
The two young men fell silent, the howling winds of the Harrowing Interstice rushing past them. They were two sides of the exact same coin. One had embraced the absolute darkness of logical, pragmatic survival; the other had embraced the blazing, unyielding light of physical perfection and pure willpower. Both had transcended the mundane world of Kuoh Academy, leaving the harem protagonist to his hard-won peace.
“I find this dimension comforting,” Ren said softly, looking out at the endless horizon of ash. “The absolute silence of the void allows my Qi to flow without restriction. I feel entirely at home.”
Ariel looked in the exact same direction, but his bright eyes narrowed, peering far beyond the veil of the nebulas. “That’s wild, man. Because I don’t feel at home at all. When I look out there…” Ariel pressed a hand over his heart, his muscular frame tensing with anticipation. “…I feel something incredibly powerful calling out to me from the deepest part of this abyss. Something that wants to fight.”
Ren turned to Ariel, a rare, genuine smirk gracing his lips. He synchronized his three Dantians, his pitch-black Qi flaring to life, radiating an aura of terrifying, cold pressure that perfectly matched the Interstice.
Beside him, Ariel grinned fiercely, his own aura erupting in a blinding, golden blaze of Haki and martial Qi, a beacon of absolute heat against the freezing void.
“Well then, Ariel Caelum Veritas,” Ren stated, his coat billowing in the crosswinds of their combined power. “It appears the multiversal data stream has provided us with our next objective. Shall we proceed?”
“Lead the way, tactician,” Ariel laughed, slamming his fists together. “Let’s go show the multiverse what Kuoh Academy is really made of.”
Part 3: The Multiversal Nexus
The descent into the deeper strata of the Harrowing Interstice was a test of absolute biological and spiritual endurance. The ambient environment shifted from an ashen wasteland into a violent, hyper-pressurized storm of multiversal decay. The gravity here was non-linear, pulling at their organs from multiple dimensions simultaneously, while the atmospheric pressure carried the crushing weight of a collapsing star. A standard high-class Devil from the DxD universe would have been atomized within seconds of crossing the threshold.
Ariel marched forward, his body wreathed in a blinding, golden armor of Advanced Armament and Conqueror’s Haki, his muscles expanding to forcefully repel the crushing gravity. Beside him, Ren walked in absolute silence, his pitch-black Qi synchronized perfectly with the void, matching the frequency of the destruction to render himself virtually intangible to its effects.
“The concentration of dark energy is exponentially denser here,” Ren noted, his voice slicing cleanly through the roaring winds of the abyss. He looked up at the swirling cosmic vortexes bleeding through the shattered sky. “Look at the currents, Ariel. They are not random. They are flowing backward.”
Ariel squinted through the violent violet mists, his Observation Haki flaring. “You’re right. It’s like looking at a bunch of massive rivers pouring into a single ocean.”
“A logical inevitability,” Ren analyzed, his eyes tracking the jagged, glowing fissures that began to appear in the fabric of the void around them. “If the Harrowing Interstice is the multiversal cesspool—the ultimate destination for the raw negativity, forgotten grievances, and shattered souls of countless timelines—then it serves as a cosmic nexus. By walking upstream against these primordial currents, we are essentially tracing the exhaust back to its engines. These fissures are the bleeding edges of other realities.”
They had reached a junction in the void, a sprawling, impossible plateau where the sky fractured into countless shards of different realities. Some fissures bled the neon light of cyberpunk dystopias; others radiated the serene, suffocating mana of high-fantasy realms or the sterile cold of cosmic science fiction. The sheer influx of overlapping physics and conflicting universal laws made the plateau a zone of agonizing sensory overload.
Ariel suddenly stopped, his golden aura spiking violently. He turned toward a massive, spiraling rift that pulsed with a heavy, rhythmic heartbeat of pure, unadulterated power.
“There,” Ariel breathed, his bright eyes wide with an instinctual, primal excitement. “Ren, do you feel that? It’s roaring. Whatever is on the other side of that rift… it’s challenging me. It’s calling me specifically.”
Ren turned to analyze the rift, preparing to calculate the optimal entry vector. But as he stepped closer, his analytical mind completely flatlined.
The pitch-black Qi circulating through his three Dantians—the energy born from his brutal realization of abandonment, his ruthless pursuit of survival, and his embrace of the dark—suddenly shifted. It did not react defensively. It did not brace for combat. It softened, expanding with a profound, resonant warmth that Ren had never experienced in his life in Kuoh.
A deeply buried, fragmented memory sparked within his soul. It was a sensation completely divorced from the perverted high schooler he had pretended to be, and even distinct from the cold, pragmatic warrior he had become. It was the feeling of standing side-by-side with equals. It was the memory of a time before the multiversal cosmos had broken him in a forgotten war.
Ren closed his eyes, his breathing hitching. He did not feel the anxiety of stepping into the unknown. He felt the overwhelming, undeniable gravity of returning to a place he had been violently torn from eons ago.
“I feel it too,” Ren whispered, his voice losing its usual clinical detachment, replaced by a quiet, absolute certainty. “I… I am close to home.”
Ariel looked at Ren, sensing the massive shift in his comrade’s spiritual signature. The muscle-brained warrior grinned, giving Ren a firm, grounding clap on the shoulder. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s see what’s on the other side.”
Side by side, the tactician and the brawler stepped through the spiraling tear in reality, leaving the apocalyptic storms of the Harrowing Interstice behind.
The transition was instantaneous and absolute. The suffocating, toxic ash and the wails of forgotten souls vanished, replaced by an atmosphere of pure, sovereign energy. They stepped out onto a grand platform of impossibly pristine white marble, suspended in an endless, breathtaking cosmos where the stars were woven together by hand into constellations of gold and silver light. The architecture of the realm was infinite, defying all conceptual limits of space and time—a domain built not by natural cosmic evolution, but forcefully forged by a singular, supreme will.
The air was heavy, but not with despair. It was heavy with majesty.
Standing at the edge of the grand platform, looking out over the infinite expanse of his self-made reality, was a lone figure. As Ren and Ariel fully materialized in the realm, the figure turned to face them.
He radiated a power that effortlessly dwarfed the Heavenly Dragons and the pantheons of Kuoh. He was a deity who had shattered his mortal limits, conquered the void, and built a sovereign domain from the ashes of a forgotten war. Yet, as he looked upon the tactician who had finally awakened from his healing slumber and the brawler who had fought his way through the multiverse to find him, the absolute force of his aura melted into a profoundly human, nostalgic smile.
Fajar Purnama spread his arms, his voice echoing with the warmth of a brotherhood that time, death, and the multiverse could not erase.
“Welcome back, my comrades,” Fajar said softly. “My dear friends.”
Prologue
Part 1
The air in the boundless, uncharted realm shimmered, thick with a dense, crackling multiversal energy as Fajar stood before his two long-lost brothers. He appeared to them first in his default state—a weathered, forty-year-old sovereign whose eyes held the heavy, dead-cold absolute weight of countless massacres and endless dimensional wandering. But as he looked at Ren and Ariel, the rigid lines of his cosmic mantle softened. Through flawless biological mastery and reality domination, Fajar willed his physical vessel to regress, his features smoothing and shifting until the imposing forty-year-old deity dissolved into the familiar, intense twenty-year-old youth they had known back in the shadows of Zenith Academy. Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Seeing that face—the very same face of the unstoppable vanguard who had bled to shield them during the darkest nights of the underworld hunting season—shattered the final mental barriers holding back their past. The memories did not return gently; they crashed into Ren and Ariel with violent, dizzying force. In agonizing, brilliant flashes, their souls were flooded with the agonizing recollection of the Fiction to Reality syndicate, the desperate rescue operation, the magical crossfire, and the overwhelming darkness of their own deaths when their specialized abilities failed them. Ariel gasped, clutching his head as the sensation of his soul being scattered into the Harrowing Interstice burned through his consciousness, followed instantly by the warmth of Highschool DxD’s reality where Fajar had painstakingly anchored them. Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
“Fajar… mate, is that really you?” Ariel breathed out, the shock in his voice rapidly melting into wild, untethered elation.
Ren let out a breathless laugh, stepping forward and clapping a hand onto Fajar’s shoulder before pulling him into a crushing embrace. “You crazy bastard! Bro, I thought we were completely wiped from existence!” Ariel joined the fray, tackling them both into a chaotic, brotherly hug, slapping Fajar on the back with enough force to echo through the void. For the first time in what felt like eons, the lonely god allowed the impenetrable fortress of his absolute conviction to drop, offering a rare, genuine smile as they traded breathless greetings, slang, and joyous insults, catching up as if the centuries of multiversal tragedy had been nothing but a brief weekend apart.
Eventually, the adrenaline leveled out, and Ren took a step back, his eyes tracing the infinite, breathtaking expanse of the sanctuary around them. He looked at the flawless architecture of the universe Fajar had carved from nothing. “Bro… you actually did it. The grand ambition. You tore open the dimensional portal and bound your soul to an empty realm to achieve true immortality. We have our Walled Garden.” Ren looked back at Fajar, a hopeful, desperate light in his eyes. “Where are the others? The occultists, the engineers… are they resting?” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
The faint smile on Fajar’s face vanished, replaced by the profound, clean sadness that had fueled his initial ascension. The silence that stretched between them was heavier than gravity. Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
“I am the only survivor,” Fajar said, his voice dropping to a quiet, steady absolute. He looked at his brothers, bearing the crushing guilt he had carried since that day. “When the secondary ambushes hit during the extraction, extreme specialization doomed the circle. The martial artists fell to magic, the portal builders lacked the physical endurance to run. They were slaughtered. I survived the gauntlet, cleared the stronghold, and secured the blueprints, but by the time I reached the threshold to become a creator, I was building a paradise for ghosts.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Ariel and Ren froze, the joy draining from their faces as the horrific reality of the hunting season fully set in.
“I have traveled across realities, wandering the cosmos to find anyone I could,” Fajar continued, his tone softening as he looked at the two of them. “Through the Harrowing Interstice, across the void, and through countless fictions. But the only fragments I ever managed to locate and pull back from the abyss… were the souls of the Veritas siblings.”
Ren swallowed hard, processing the immense, lonely burden their vanguard had shouldered for centuries. He looked up at the vast expanse of the realm, then back at his friend. “Then… you really are the god of all of this. You’re the deity of this entire realm.”
Fajar stepped forward, placing a hand on both of their shoulders, the divine authority of his Phase II energy thrumming warmly beneath his grip. Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
“I was,” Fajar corrected, his eyes locking onto theirs with an unshakeable, fierce brotherhood. “But this realm was never meant for a lonely god. It is no longer just me. We are the Walled Garden now. We are the deities.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Part 2
Ren looked around the shimmering marble expanse of the sanctuary, his analytical mind quickly calculating their metaphysical standing. He turned to Fajar, his dark eyes serious. “If we are to be the co-deities of this realm, we should perform the ritual to bind our souls to its core matrix. That way, we guarantee we can never be permanently erased again.”
Fajar offered a calm, reassuring smile, shaking his head gently. “There is no need. Before I even began reconstructing your physical vessels or stabilizing your memories in the DxD reality, I bound your soul sparks directly to the origin point of this domain. You are already immortal anchor-points here. If your physical projection ever falls in another universe, your soul simply snaps back to this sanctuary to be reconstructed automatically.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Ariel let out a booming laugh, throwing his hands behind his head in total satisfaction. “Sweet! Infinite extra lives! No more permanent game overs!”
Ren pushed his hair back, taking a breath as he processed the sheer security of their situation. “And what about the rest of our fallen syndicate? Are you still searching for their soul fragments across the multiverse?”
Fajar looked toward the cosmic horizon, his expression turning thoughtful. “I never stopped searching. But obsessing over a past tragedy twenty-four hours a day is both taxing and deeply unproductive. A deity chained to perpetual grief is nothing more than a prisoner with a larger cage. That is why I spend much of my time traveling across infinite realities—experiencing worlds, testing my limits, and forging lasting bonds.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Fajar waved his hand smoothly through the air, causing the starry tapestry around them to part like silk. A neighboring pocket of reality flared to life, projecting a vibrant, technologically advanced sanctuary thriving right beside Fajar’s infinite domain.
“Look there,” Fajar pointed. “That is our neighboring realm. It belongs to John—Naked Snake—alongside David Oh, whom you knew as Major Zero, and Adamska, or Ocelot. We broke the tragic cycle of their timeline, dismantled the rogue AI, and carved out an eternal, peaceful Mother Base for them right beside my own territory.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Ren’s jaw dropped slightly in sheer, unadulterated awe. “Metal Gear Solid… You actually saved Big Boss, Major Zero, and Ocelot, and built them an eternal Mother Base in an adjacent dimension? Bro, that is incredible!”
“At my current level, however,” Fajar continued, a faint smirk touching his lips, “I don’t always need to step onto the battlefield in my full divine vessel. I enjoy sending autonomous soul fragments and avatars into different realities, allowing them to live, feel, and grow with complete free will while I spectate and guide from above.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Fajar projected two brilliant, shimmering scrying spheres into the center of the hall.
Inside the floating spheres, two distinct Keyblade wielders were moving through the radiant, fairy-tale landscape of Daybreak Town.
Ariel suddenly gasped, stepping forward and pointing aggressively at the projections. “Wait! Hold on a second! Isn’t that… bro, are those your custom player avatars from back when we used to grind Kingdom Hearts Union χ online in our apartment?!”
Ren leaned in close, his sharp eyes examining the twin figures with growing astonishment. “It is. The male avatar aligned with the Ursus Union and the female avatar aligned with Vulpes. You actually gave them real, autonomous life inside an actual Kingdom Hearts reality?!”
Fajar nodded warmly, watching the projections with genuine paternal pride. “Indeed. Meet Raja and Aura.”
Fajar gestured toward the male wielder in the first projection. “Raja serves as ‘The Anvil’ to Aura’s ‘Scalpel.’ He is a soul fragment of mine who operates as an unshakeable, immovable pillar on the front lines. Aligned with Master Aced in Ursus, he completely rejects the rigid, hypocritical dogma of ‘Light vs. Darkness.’ He fights head-on, taking the full force of enemy aggression like a heavenly demon so his allies don’t have to carry tragic burdens alone. His martial arts style is hard, fast, and built to crush crowds single-handedly. His Keyblade is unlocked from static geometry—it dynamically transforms into heavy combat gauntlets, a massive buster-sword, or a gargantuan Masamune nodachi. He inherits my power of destruction and projects a pure, origin-level force of willpower that makes One Piece’s Conqueror’s Haki look like a mere shadow.”
Fajar then shifted his gaze to the second projection, where a cute, stylish girl with expressive, empathetic eyes was laughing alongside Ephemer, Skuld, and Strelitzia.
“And that is Aura,” Fajar said softly. “She is the female counterpart, aligned with Master Ava in Vulpes. Where Raja is the blunt Anvil, Aura is the surgical Scalpel. She is an analytical, sharp tactician on the battlefield, but off it, she is deeply empathetic, warm, and emotionally open. She uses her approachable nature to heal her friends’ emotional scars. Her Keyblade transforms into a sleek combat knife, twin tactical daggers, or a elegant rapier. She excels in high-speed acrobatic CQC, joint locks, parkour, and the ‘Art of Invisibility’ stealth techniques. Her Ki cultivation grants her absolute spatial and emotional sensing—a complete sensory domain similar to Observation Haki. She inherits my power of creation, and because she embraces her vulnerability and warmth without holding back, she possesses the potential to eventually surpass even me.”
Ariel burst into a wholehearted, delighted laugh, slapping his knee. “Dude! You literally turned your old KHUX gacha accounts into living, breathing multiversal legends! That is the single coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Ren smiled, observing the twin avatars with deep philosophical appreciation. The contrast between Raja’s crushing, destructive vanguard style and Aura’s fluid, creative empathy represented the complete, balanced spectrum of Fajar’s multiversal journey. Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Fajar closed his hand, dissolving the scrying spheres back into golden light. He turned his full attention back to his two restored brothers, his expression turning warm and deeply personal.
“Your souls are completely recovered, Ren, Ariel. Your memories are whole, your bodies are forged, and your connection to this sanctuary is absolute,” Fajar said, folding his arms as he looked at them both. “Now that you are back… what do you want to do? Back in the days of the Fiction to Reality community, we all had dreams, worlds we wanted to conquer, and lives we wished to live. The choice is entirely yours.” Fajar Purnama Infinite Realities Biography
Part 3
“I know exactly what I want to do first,” Ariel declared, a massive, feral grin spreading across his face as he slammed a fist into his open palm. “I’m heading straight to the One Piece reality. I want to enlist in the Marines, march right up to Vice Admiral Garp’s battleship, and throw hands with Gol D. Roger in his absolute prime! No devil fruits, just pure, unadulterated brawling.”
Ren pushed his hair back, an analytical gleam in his dark eyes. “Brute force, as always. I have a far more complex destination in mind. I want to drop into the Maw in the World of Warcraft universe. The structural metaphysics behind the Chains of Domination are an architectural marvel. I intend to study their forging process and completely master the language of the First Ones.”
Their grand ambitions hung in the air for a brief, triumphant moment before they both froze. The excitement hitched, replaced by a sudden, heavy realization.
“Wait,” Ariel groaned, his shoulders slumping. “We literally just promised Rias and the rest of the Occult Research Club that we would return to them.”
Fajar let out a warm, resonant laugh, the sound echoing through the boundless sanctuary. “Brothers, you are thinking like mortals bound to a single dimension. That is absolutely not a problem.”
He stepped forward, waving a hand to summon faint, shimmering portals that showed glimpses of countless worlds. “Even if you are stationed in the ORC, you can project yourselves here or travel to any other reality at any time. More than that, you don’t have to keep the multiverse a secret from them. You can introduce the ORC, or any other characters you grow fond of, to the wider omniverse. I’ve already done it myself.”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been recruiting?”
“I have a soft spot for the side characters left behind by their narratives,” Fajar admitted with a fond smile. “I pulled Kiyotsugu and Jirō Shima from Nurarihyon no Mago, and gave Sayori Wakaba from Vampire Knight a place to truly thrive. Looking at how Aura and Raja are progressing in Daybreak Town, it is highly likely they will eventually bring Ephemer, Skuld, and Strelitzia into our realm as well.”
Ariel’s eyes lit up with chaotic inspiration, and he turned to Ren. “Bro… if Fajar is recruiting side characters, we absolutely have to ascend Matsuda and Motohama. We can pull the perverted trio right out of the gag-character tier and turn them into multiversal absolute units!”
“That is a brilliantly terrifying idea,” Ren agreed, a rare, genuinely mischievous smirk breaking across his stoic face. “But what about the time dilation? If we spend years on Garp’s ship or in the Maw, won’t we miss everything in Kuoh Academy?”
“Time is a malleable construct,” Fajar assured them, his divine authority bleeding into his casual tone. “I can synchronize the timelines perfectly. While your main vessels are anchored in Highschool DxD, you can seamlessly visit Aura and Raja, or take a vacation to Mother Base. Speaking of which, I haven’t forgotten that you two are already running deep combat research in simulations, like Ariel’s Personal Training Dimension.”
Ariel cracked his knuckles, the ambient multiversal energy wrapping around his newly forged biological vessel. “Then it’s settled. We aren’t just going back to Kuoh to play the script and live as regular background characters. We are going to crash the Highschool DxD reality. Let the supernatural factions try to comprehend what happens when we throw away the canon power scaling.”
“Complete narrative disruption,” Ren confirmed, his analytical mind already mapping out the shockwaves their true potential would cause in the Underworld.
Ariel turned toward Fajar, his brawler instincts flaring to life. He dropped into a loose, heavy fighting stance, his aura practically begging for a fight. “Before we go back and break their universe, I need to test this new body. Come on, Fajar! A spar, right now. Just like the old days in the syndicate!”
Ren sighed, taking two steps back and shaking his head. “Ariel, are you out of your mind? He is a literal deity who survived the interstice. He will accidentally erase you.”
Fajar chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his casual jacket as he stepped onto the open marble floor. “Don’t worry, Ren. To keep the planet from cracking, I’ll severely restrict my output. Ariel, I’m capping my physics and damage scaling strictly to Mortal Kombat rules. Let’s see if you can still take a hit.”
Part 4
“No way, I’m not accepting restrictions,” Ariel said, shaking his head. “I want to spar right now at your actual level. I need to know why I can’t feel a single drop of qi or energy coming from you.”
Fajar tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. He assumed Ariel, being a massive fan of martial arts anime, would have immediately recognized the nature of his current state.
Ren watched the exchange quietly, his analytical mind already piecing the puzzle together. He deduced that Fajar must have conquered the Dragon Ball universe. To confirm his theory, Ren carefully scanned Fajar’s presence. At first, he felt absolutely nothing—a terrifying, empty void. But as Ren pushed deeper, he finally breached the threshold. An overwhelming, suffocating pressure washed over him, identical to the sheer cosmic weight of Beerus, the God of Destruction, and his angelic guide, Whis.
Ren swallowed hard, immediately stepping back. “You know what? I think I’ll sit this one out and just watch,” he said casually.
Fajar sighed, relenting to Ariel’s demand. “Fine. But at the very least, you have to give me the first strike. Hit me as hard as you possibly can.”
Ariel didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, channeling everything he had into a devastating, haki-infused punch aimed straight at Fajar. Fajar didn’t even shift his stance. He simply raised a hand and caught the fist, the massive kinetic impact dying instantly against his palm.
Fajar smirked. “Wow. Advanced Conqueror’s Haki. Impressive, Ariel, but you still have a very, very, very far way to go.”
Frustrated, Ariel blurred into motion, delivering a relentless barrage of ultra-speed strikes. Fajar effortlessly dodged every single blow. As Ariel threw more and more strikes, it looked entirely as though Fajar was doing nothing at all, his body naturally shifting millimeters out of the way of each fist. Finding an opening, Fajar calmly stepped forward and placed his palm flat against Ariel’s chest. A sudden, precise wave of force sent Ariel skidding backward across the floor, completely defeated.
Ariel sat on the ground, still deeply puzzled. “I don’t get it. I still can’t feel anything from you.”
“You need to sense him carefully,” Ren instructed, walking over to his brother. “First, you will notice that your body is instinctively rejecting the attempt to sense him out of pure, primal survival instinct. Second, you have to consciously tell your body that it is okay to sense him.”
Ariel closed his eyes, focusing on his internal pathways. He felt the biological fail-safe Ren mentioned and forced his mind to bypass it. When he finally connected to Fajar’s frequency, his eyes snapped open in sheer awe.
“Wow… it is so vast,” Ariel breathed. He started laughing, shaking his head at his own oversight. “I can’t believe I forgot about the Gods of Destruction in Dragon Ball. Their energy is so high up the cosmic hierarchy that it cannot be sensed normally by mortals.” He pushed himself off the floor, a fierce, competitive grin returning to his face. “Enjoy the view from the top while you can, Fajar. I’ll catch up to you in no time.”
Part 5
Ariel stretched his arms high above his head, rolling his massive shoulders until they popped with the sound of cracking stone. “Alright, as much as I want to keep testing this new body against a literal multiversal god, it’s time to head back. We promised the Occult Research Club we’d return.”
Ren paused, his mind already calculating the dimensional logistics. He turned to the Lord of Infinite Realities. “Fajar, before we jump blindly, can you synchronize our reality with yours? We need a precise insertion point.”
“I can,” Fajar replied, his voice echoing with calm authority. “In this domain, time and space are entirely malleable. Anything is possible.”
Ren’s dark eyes gleamed with a sudden, tactical inspiration. “If you can place us anywhere in the timeline… how about you drop Ariel and me back to the very beginning? Before Issei is even reincarnated as a Devil.”
Ariel’s eyes lit up with chaotic glee. “Bro, that is brilliant! A complete reset! We get to grind from the absolute start and break the power scaling all over again!”
“That is entirely possible,” Fajar confirmed, amused by their enthusiasm.
“However, there is a massive structural problem with that plan,” Ren countered, rubbing his chin as he analyzed the canon narrative. “I genuinely believe Issei must be reincarnated as a Devil. That event is the absolute foundation of his life, his growth, and the entire ecosystem of Kuoh. But if we are present during Raynare’s ambush at the park, it will be incredibly difficult to hold back. I could easily slip up and accidentally obliterate Raynare before she throws the spear. But honestly, I’m far more worried about you accidentally beating the entire Fallen Angel cadre to death with your bare hands before the plot even starts.”
Ariel scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Come on, I have restraint! I actually enjoy the thrill of a massive handicap. It’s just like doing a Level 1 critical run on Kingdom Hearts with the Kingdom Key. It builds character!”
Fajar chuckled, waving a hand to summon a shimmering, holographic interface in the air between them. “I can easily place a localized restriction on your energy levels, capping your output until the exact moment Issei is resurrected. In fact, I highly recommend that approach, because I actually already tried that exact route myself. I call it Route 0.”
Fajar tapped the projection, flooding Ariel and Ren’s minds with the archived data of his solo run in Kuoh Town.
They watched in absolute, awestruck silence as the memories of Fajar’s “Normal Human” restriction played out. Ariel’s jaw hit the floor as he witnessed Fajar seamlessly dismantling an elite Exorcist and four Fallen Angels using nothing but sheer physical biomechanics, historical martial arts, and a borrowed light-sword. MD
“Bro… you literally beat Freed Sellzen into the stone floor with your bare hands without a drop of magic?” Ariel yelled, completely losing his mind at the sheer legendary status of the feat. “You bypassed a Devil’s mind-alteration magic through sheer neurological density? That is the most unhinged, legendary flex I have ever seen!” MD
Ren was equally captivated, though his focus was on the metaphysical consequences of Fajar’s presence. He watched the projection shift to Fajar’s departure, his eyes widening as he witnessed the cosmic unsealing. “You didn’t even cast a spell when Raynare’s strike team cornered you… the sheer, uncompressed mass of your true existence expanding into the alleyway caused the Fallen Angels’ veins to instantaneously rupture from the invisible gravity.” MD
“It was a flawed experiment,” Fajar admitted, observing the data with a critical eye. “Because my godhood was permanently imprinted onto my soul, my combat instincts constantly overrode my mortal shell, and reality aggressively corrected itself around me. By the time I returned to the Void, the human world’s immune system had retroactively deleted my entire existence from their records and memories, leaving Rias Gremory, Sona Sitri, and the rest of the Underworld completely baffled as to how I bypassed reality itself.” MD+ 1
Ariel let out a low whistle, watching the final memory of Asia Argento feeling a warm, peaceful wind wrap around her heart as she finally managed to say thank you to the ghost who saved her. MD
“Legendary,” Ariel breathed, shaking his head. “Absolute peak fiction. Alright, Fajar. Cap our energy. Put us at Level 1. Let’s go make our own legend.”
Part 6 and Route 3 Epilogue
Fajar leaned against the marble pillar of the sanctuary, a deeply amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Ren, before we lock in this new insertion, I feel obligated to remind you of your own track record. It actually took you three distinct attempts—three full temporal loops—before you finally stabilized and made it to this realm.”
Ren froze, his analytical mind suddenly stalling as a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. “Fajar… please do not pull up the archives.”
“Oh, I am absolutely pulling up the archives,” Fajar chuckled, waving his hand. A massive, shimmering holographic screen materialized above them. “Let’s review your first run. The ‘Hostile Vanguard’ route.”
The projection flared to life, displaying a violently dramatic, heavily saturated sequence of events.
“In your first attempt,” Fajar narrated, thoroughly enjoying himself, “your presence drastically shifted the canon narrative into a relentlessly edgy, hostile melodrama. Right after Issei was resurrected, Rias Gremory cornered you, aggressively warning you not to interfere in devil affairs. You defied her, naturally. After the church raid, you ended up severely hospitalized. Rias visited your hospital bed not to thank you, but to threaten you with absolute hostility, demanding you stay away from her peerage because you stubbornly refused a memory wipe.”
The projection shifted, showing a sullen, brooding Ren chopping vegetables in the background of a lavish mansion.
“Ah, the familiar training camp,” Fajar continued. “You weren’t even invited. But because your oppressive, lonely aura was so pathetic, Issei and Asia begged Rias to let you tag along out of sheer sympathy. You joined them, but you were strictly relegated to menial chores and cooking—which was honestly far more humiliating than just staying home, even though you secretly utilized the heavy labor for your physical conditioning.”
The projection reached its climax. A battle-damaged, furious Ren stood in the Underworld, radiating dark, unstable energy.
“And then came the Riser Phenex rating game,” Fajar said, his smile widening. “You bypassed the canon entirely, forcefully tapping into the raw, unrefined power of the ‘Harrowing Interstice’ to beat Riser to an absolute, bloody pulp. And to top it all off… you executed a flawless Sasuke Uchiha departure.”
The screen showed Ren turning his back on the Occult Research Club under a blood-red moon. Rias, Issei, and the rest of the peerage were crying, apologizing, and begging him to stay. Ren merely scoffed, defeated them all in a swift, tragic skirmish to sever his bonds, and walked into the darkness.
“It was essentially a walking Netorare, or NTR, genre,” Fajar concluded as the projection faded. “Maximum angst, maximum melodrama, zero healthy communication.”
Ren’s face had turned a brilliant, glowing shade of crimson. He covered his face with both hands, groaning in profound, soul-crushing embarrassment. Ariel, meanwhile, had collapsed onto the marble floor. He was clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face as he howled with hysterical, booming laughter.
“The chores! The Sasuke walk!” Ariel gasped for air, pounding his fist against the floor. “Bro, you were an edgy anime protagonist from 2007! I can’t breathe!”
“Shut up!” Ren snapped, peeking through his fingers. He let out a long, ragged sigh, desperately trying to salvage a shred of his dignity. “Fine. What about the second attempt? It couldn’t have been that bad.”
Fajar tapped the air, bringing up a second, much calmer projection. “The second run. The ‘Enlightened Scholar’ route. You were much calmer this time. You finally achieved a sage-like mindset, and the Highschool DxD narrative remained much more realistic and grounded. However…”
The hologram showed a serene-looking Ren sitting on a park bench, violently scribbling in a notebook while muttering furiously to himself.
“It still carried a deeply pathetic, sorrowful vibe,” Fajar noted dryly. “You spent seventy percent of your time internally complaining about why Issei was surrounded by a massive, loving harem while you didn’t get a single girl to look your way. Ultimately, you left Kuoh gracefully as a traveling scholar, promising to return once your multiversal studies were complete. The ORC spent the rest of the timeline deeply regretting that they hadn’t paid more attention to the quiet, brilliant boy in the back of the class.”
Ren dropped his hands, his stoic facade completely shattered by the sheer cringe of his past lives. “That is so incredibly embarrassing. And it is completely unfair! Why doesn’t Ariel have any embarrassing multiversal records to broadcast?!”
“Actually, I completely agree with you,” Fajar laughed, nodding toward Ariel, who was still wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Ariel’s loops were remarkably straightforward. He only took two attempts to ascend, and there was virtually no difference between them. In both timelines, Ariel just completely ignored the plot, abandoned Kuoh Academy entirely, and locked himself in his Personal Training Dimension to punch mountains. Total, unadulterated muscle-brain behavior.”
A sudden spark of realization flashed behind Ariel’s eyes as the archived memories slotted back into his restored soul. He let out a massive sigh of relief, flexing his biceps. “Oh, thank the heavens. I was just a brawler. Pure, simple, and unproblematic. No Sasuke walks for me.”
Before Ren could formulate a bitter retort, a blur of motion darted from behind one of the sanctuary’s massive pillars.
“Aww! If my poor, edgy brother needs some love, his little sister is always here for him!”
A pair of slender arms wrapped tightly around Ren’s neck from behind in a crushing, affectionate hug. Ren and Ariel both spun around, their eyes going wide.
Standing there was a girl radiating bright, cheerful, and utterly chaotic energy. It was Kala Sofia Veritas. She was the embodiment of chaotic good, a multiversal wildcard whose singular, unshakable drive was to ensure everyone’s absolute happiness. She was infamous in their old syndicate for her obsession with “Fixing Tragedies”—hijacking narratives purely to save characters destined to perish, like completely derailing the Suikoden V timeline just to ensure Ferid and Arshtat survived. She completely rejected sad endings.
“Kala!” Ariel roared, sweeping the petite girl into a massive, bone-crushing bear hug.
Ren immediately joined the embrace, his embarrassment evaporating as genuine, emotional tears pricked his eyes. To see his sister here, whole and radiating life, was a miracle he hadn’t dared to hope for. “You’re actually here… we’re all together.”
“Of course she is here,” Fajar smiled, his divine presence warming the hall. “I told you, Ren. I found the entire Veritas bloodline through your temporal anchor.” Fajar gestured toward the grand staircase at the far end of the hall. “Look up.”
Descending the marble steps with a calm, composed, and highly organized demeanor was their brother, Kairos Draco Veritas. He was holding a glowing, ethereal clipboard, checking off multiversal coordinates.
“I heard everything,” Kairos said smoothly, offering his brothers a warm, confident smile. “And I already have the insertion coordinates, timeline synchronization, and dimensional tethers fully prepped for your Highschool DxD drop.”
Ariel and Ren broke their hug with Kala, beaming at their brother.
“Kairos!” Ren called out, profound relief washing over him. “I remember back in the community days… you always said you didn’t want to fight on the front lines. You wanted to sit in the highest realm, watch over everyone, and act as the multiversal administrator.”
Fajar crossed his arms, letting out a genuine sigh of relief. “And let me tell you, I am incredibly glad he took the job. Managing infinite realities requires an absurd amount of paperwork. Having Kairos handle the administrative burdens has taken a massive weight off my shoulders.”
“Someone has to keep you all from breaking the space-time continuum,” Kairos replied, tapping his ethereal clipboard with a smirk.
“Speaking of breaking things,” Kala chimed in, turning her chaotic, sparkling eyes back to Ren. She threw her arms around him again, weaponizing his earlier embarrassment. “Ren, really, if you’re feeling that lonely and want to bathe with your sister every day, you just have to say so!” She leaned in, dropping her voice to a theatrical, soft whisper. “You can even sleep under the same blanket with me every night so you don’t have to be jealous of Issei’s harem.”
Ren’s face, which had just returned to a normal human shade, instantly ignited back into a blinding, atomic red. He stared at the ceiling, letting out a long, defeated sigh. “I give up. My dignity is permanently dead.”
Ariel, completely failing to read the bizarre, teasing nature of the joke, slammed his fist against his chest. “Hey, that sounds like a great idea! I’ll join in too! There’s no need to be ashamed, Ren! We can all sleep in a giant pile! Let’s forge an unbreakable bond between siblings!”
Ren slowly turned his head to stare at Ariel, utterly appalled by the sheer density of his muscle-brained brother.
Kala giggled, her chaotic energy practically vibrating the air around her. “Anyway! It was already decided with Kairos and Fajar before you guys woke up. I’m going to be joining your drop into Kuoh Town. And I am officially shifting the genre.”
Ren rubbed his temples, a comedic, throbbing headache already forming. “What a pain. You’re going to turn a supernatural war into a comedic chaos route, aren’t you?” He paused, looking at his sister’s beaming face, and finally let out a soft, resigned sigh. “But… maybe a comedic route could actually be fun for once.”
“Exactly!” Ariel grinned, cracking his knuckles. “And Kala, whenever you need to break the plot, just call me. I’ll smash whatever obstacles get in your way, just like the old days.”
“It’s a deal!” Kala cheered. She pulled up a holographic interface from her wrist. “But I’m not dropping in with you at the start. I’m setting my spawn point for after Issei is resurrected as a Devil. You two muscle-heads can enjoy your serious, gritty grinding time in the prologue. But the second I touch down… the genre completely changes to comedy!”
Life 0
Section 1
Sub Section 1
The world stabilized with a soft, atmospheric hum.
Ren opened his eyes, expecting the cramped, functional layout of his old Kuoh apartment. Instead, his gaze met high vaulted ceilings, polished hardwood floors, and the warm, ambient light filtering through the large bay windows of a spacious two-story suburban house. Beside him, Ariel flexed his fingers, taking a deep, appreciative breath of the crisp morning air.
“Not a bad spawn point,” Ariel chuckled, looking around the furnished living room.
Ren walked over to the mahogany entryway table, where a neat stack of official identification documents, family registries, and residential deeds was laid out. He picked up the heavy paper file, his dark eyes scanning the text.
“Fajar and Kairos handled the administrative integration flawlessly,” Ren noted, handing a document to Ariel. “According to the municipal records, we are officially the Veritas Siblings—a family of four. Kairos is listed as our legal guardian and eldest brother, currently managing off-site academic research. You and I are enrolled at Kuoh Academy as second-year students. And Kala is registered as our younger sister, currently completing an overseas exchange program until her scheduled transfer.”
Hanging on the wardrobe doors in the adjacent hallway were two pristine, freshly ironed Kuoh Academy male uniforms.
“Time to put on the armor,” Ariel grinned, throwing off his casual jacket and slipping into the black-and-white school uniform. He adjusted the collar, his broad shoulders straining slightly against the fabric even with his physical stats suppressed.
Ren put on his own uniform, buttoning it up methodically. But as he adjusted his cuffs, the local temporal memories of this reality forcefully synchronized with his conscious mind. A sudden, sharp throbbing ignited behind his temples. Ren pressed two fingers to his forehead, letting out a long, pained groan.
“What’s wrong, tactician?” Ariel asked, slinging his school bag over one shoulder. “Insertion shock?”
“No,” Ren sighed, his voice dripping with pure exhaustion as they opened the front door and stepped out onto the sunlit streets of Kuoh Town. “My local identity status just updated. I am officially classified as a member of Kuoh Academy’s infamous Perverted Quartet. My social standing is in the absolute gutter.”
Ren turned to his brother, squinting through a fresh wave of second-hand embarrassment. “Which brings me to an urgent question. How in the world did someone with your athletic build, heroic aura, and straightforward personality get dragged into their orbit in this timeline? What is your backstory with them?”
Ariel burst into a loud, booming laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that! It was a total misunderstanding at first, man! A few weeks ago, I was sitting on a park bench during lunch, reading the newest issue of Weekly Shonen Jump. Matsuda and Motohama saw the cover—it was a big color spread of a major battle arc—and sat down next to me to talk about it.”
Ariel shrugged, a bright, naive smile on his face. “I thought they were just fellow battle-manga enthusiasts bonding over hype fights and martial arts scaling! But then Motohama started flipping to the color pin-ups and ecchi fanservice pages, and Issei joined in, making these crazy, wildly perverted comments. That’s when I realized: ‘Oh, wow, these guys are absolute degenerates!’”
Ren stared at him. “And you didn’t immediately walk away?”
“Why would I?” Ariel asked, completely genuinely. “Sure, they’re lecherous muscle-brains who think with their hormones ninety-nine percent of the time, but deep down, they’re honest, loyal, and good people! They don’t pretend to be fake polite aristocrats. Issei would take a bullet for his friends. A real man doesn’t cut ties with his bros just because they have trashy hobbies!”
Ren rubbed his temples again. “Your muscle-brained optimism is going to be the death of me.”
As they approached the massive iron gates of Kuoh Academy, both brothers felt the faint, thrumming pulse of Fajar’s dimensional limiter humming deep within their cores. Their raw physical output—their physical strength, speed, and durability—alongside their active Qi discharge, was strictly capped to Level 1 mortal human bounds. They couldn’t shatter mountains or tear open dimensions with a punch.
However, their sensory capabilities remained entirely unhindered. Ren’s Observation Haki and sensory overclocking, alongside Ariel’s intention sensing, were as sharp and expansive as ever. Even if they walked through the campus completely blindfolded, every heartbeat, kinetic shift, and whispered murmur across the entire school ground was instantly mapped in their minds.
And right now, Ren’s hyper-tuned hearing was picking up every single piece of gossip from the female students lined up along the walkway.
“Eww, look… it’s Ren,” a female student whispered to her friend, turning her face away in disgust. “One of those gross creeps from the perverted quartet.”
“I know, right?” her friend sneered softly. “He always has that cold, moody look. He’s probably thinking of something utterly filthy.”
Ren’s headache spiked violently. But as they took a few more steps, the public perception narrative took an absurd, completely unexpected left turn.
“Wait… but look who he’s walking with!” another girl gasped, her voice suddenly dripping with deep, melodramatic pity. “It’s Ariel-kun!”
“Oh, poor Ariel-kun!” a third girl whimpered, clutching her hands over her heart. “He’s so handsome, athletic, and sweet! He’s literally like a sun! It is such a heartbreaking tragedy…”
“I know!” her friend agreed, tears practically welling in her eyes. “He only has to hang out with those awful perverts because Ren is his brother! Ariel-kun is just being a dutiful, loving, and loyal brother who refuses to abandon his family, even when his brother is a social outcast! He’s suffering in silence to protect him! It’s so noble!”
Ren froze dead in his tracks. He turned his head slowly, looking at Ariel, who was cheerfully waving to a group of third-year girls with a blinding, movie-star smile, causing three of them to swoon against the school fence.
“Are you kidding me?” Ren hissed, his voice trembling with comedic outrage. “The local reality narrative turned me into the designated black-sheep scapegoat, while framing you as a tragic, saintly martyr who is forced to endure the perverted trio out of brotherly sacrifice?!”
“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ariel grinned, throwing his arm around Ren’s shoulder in a heavy, affectionate headlock. “I didn’t write the school’s headcanon! But hey, perks of being the supportive brother, right?”
“Get off me,” Ren muttered, shoving Ariel’s arm away, though he couldn’t stop the faint, amused twitch on his lips.
They pushed through the double doors leading into the main courtyard, where three familiar figures were gathered near the giant sakura tree.
Issei Hyoudou was slouched against the trunk, sipping a box of sweet strawberry milk. Beside him, Matsuda was aggressively flipping through a crumpled magazine, while Motohama pushed up his thick glasses, analyzing something on his phone with the intensity of a top-tier tactical general.
“Yo! Ren! Ariel!” Issei called out, noticing them first and raising his hand in a lazy wave.
Matsuda instantly dropped his magazine, his eyes bulging as he stomped over to them. “Ren, you traitorous bastard! Why are you walking next to a guy who looks like he stepped out of a high-budget sports anime?!”
“Statistically speaking,” Motohama added, marching up beside Matsuda and tapping his phone screen, “Ariel’s sheer physical charisma and athletic reputation briefly elevate our group’s social baseline by approximately four point two percent! However, his radiant presence simultaneously draws a dangerous volume of female attention to our covert perimeter, completely ruining our stealth operations!”
Ariel stepped forward, delivering a massive, hearty slap to Issei’s back that sent the Pawn stumbling forward, coughing on his strawberry milk.
“Good morning, boys!” Ariel boomed, his energy completely shattering the gloomy atmosphere of the perverted trio. “Ready for another glorious day of youth?!”
“Ariel, man, you’re gonna break my spine one of these days!” Issei wheezed, wiping his mouth and grinning. He then looked at Ren, noticing his stoic, incredibly annoyed expression. “What’s with you, Ren? You look like you swallowed a lemon.”
“I am currently contemplating the statistical probability of surviving high school without dying of sheer mental fatigue,” Ren replied flatly, folding his arms.
“Ah, don’t worry about it!” Matsuda laughed, throwing his arm around Issei’s neck. “We’ve got big plans today, boys! The track team is practicing on the south field during fourth period!”
As Matsuda and Motohama launched into a passionate, highly detailed breakdown of their upcoming, doomed reconnaissance mission, Ren stood quietly beside Ariel. He watched Issei’s bright, completely innocent laughter—the laughter of a normal, foolish high school boy who had no idea that a spear of light, a crimson magic circle, and the entire supernatural underworld were silently waiting for him in the shadows of the coming weeks.
Ren exchanged a quick, subtle glance with Ariel. The Level 1 grinding era had officially begun.
Sub Section 2
Matsuda slammed his hands down on Issei’s desk, completely abandoning their previous conversation. “Forget the track team! I have acquired critical, time-sensitive intel. There is a structural compromise near the Kendo club dojo. A loose ventilation grate behind the equipment shed gives a direct, unobstructed line of sight into the girls’ changing area!”
Motohama pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses gleaming ominously. “My calculations confirm a ninety-eight percent probability of a flawless view. However, the terrain is treacherous. The perimeter is heavily guarded by third-year enforcers. We need a flawless infiltration route.” Both of them turned in unison, staring at Ren with desperate, pleading eyes. “Ren. We need your tactical genius.”
Ren blinked slowly, his expression entirely devoid of emotion. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and let out a long, heavy sigh. “No. I am entirely uninterested in this endeavor. Once the final bell rings, I am going to put my head on this desk and sleep until the janitor kicks me out.”
Complete, stunned silence fell over the group. Issei dropped his strawberry milk. Matsuda’s jaw unhinged. Motohama’s glasses slid down his nose.
“Sick… he must be sick!” Issei yelled, suddenly waving his hands frantically around Ren’s face. “Matsuda, check his temperature! Is it a fever? A concussion? Did a stray baseball hit you in the head on the way to school?!”
“I am in perfect physical health, Issei,” Ren replied, slapping Issei’s hand away with a dull glare. “I am simply, fundamentally, completely uninterested in crawling through the dirt to look at high school girls.”
“But you don’t understand!” Matsuda dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together in absolute despair. “The maintenance staff is doing perimeter checks! That loose grate is going to be welded shut by tomorrow morning! This is a once-in-a-lifetime, limited-edition event! If we don’t strike today, the promised land will be sealed forever!”
“Please, oh great tactician!” Motohama begged, bowing so low his forehead practically touched the floor. “Guide us through the shadows!”
Ren pinched the bridge of his nose, the comedic headache returning with a vengeance. He looked over at Ariel, who was leaning against the classroom doorway, highly amused by the entire spectacle. “Ariel, please. If I have to endure this soul-crushing pain, you are coming with me. Help me escort these absolute fools so they don’t get themselves expelled on day one.”
Ariel chuckled, walking over and clapping a heavy hand onto Ren’s shoulder. “Come on, bro, it’s just a simple escort mission. Look on the bright side! You managed to show the entire school how drastically you changed your life before, right? You can absolutely do it again here. In fact, think about the sheer sensation of blowing this entire school’s mind when the ‘creepy pervert’ suddenly transforms into a stoic, untouchable sigma male. That’s a legendary character arc that even I won’t get a chance to experience!”
Ren paused. The sheer narrative potential of completely shattering the school’s perception of him began to outweigh his immediate annoyance. A faint smirk finally touched his lips. “You know… you make an incredibly compelling point. Thank you, Ariel.” Ren stood up, his eyes narrowing as he shifted into full operational mode. “Alright, you degenerates. If we are doing this, we follow my exact route. One mistake, and you’re on your own.”
The trio erupted into muffled, triumphant cheers.
Thirty minutes later, the infiltration was well underway. Moving with terrifying, ghost-like precision, Ren led the trio through the blind spots of the courtyard, utilizing the shadows of the old school building, the timing of the changing bells, and the exact patrol routes of the disciplinary committee.
“I remember this,” Ariel whispered, effortlessly crouching behind a row of thick hedges alongside Ren, completely ignoring the trio who were army-crawling through the dirt ahead of them. “You always admired tactical espionage games. You’re literally treating this like a Metal Gear stealth sequence.”
“If you treat every mundane task as a life-or-death tactical simulation, your baseline operational awareness never degrades,” Ren muttered back, not breaking his focus.
Ahead of them, Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama finally reached the holy grail—the rusted ventilation grate. They pressed their faces against the metal slats, giggling like maniacs as they enjoyed their illicit view.
Ariel and Ren, completely uninterested, remained seated behind the thick hedges, relaxing in the shade. However, within seconds, the invisible, atmospheric pulse of Ariel’s Observation Haki rippled outward. His eyes widened slightly.
“Ren,” Ariel whispered, his tone dropping its jovial edge. “I’m picking up hostile intent. Sharp spikes of suspicion coming from inside the dojo.”
Ren closed his eyes, his hyper-tuned senses sweeping the area. “Confirmed. Two girls near the lockers just noticed a shadow moving across the grate. Their breathing patterns just shifted to an aggressive, alert state.”
Ariel leaned forward, his voice a harsh, urgent hiss. “Hey! Issei! Matsuda! Fall back right now! They’re suspicious. Hide in the brush!”
“Are you crazy?!” Matsuda hissed back, not taking his eyes off the grate. “We’re at the climax! The captain is taking off her chest guard!”
“Statistically, if we stop now, we lose all momentum!” Motohama added, completely blinded by his own degenerate excitement. “We don’t hear anything! Your senses are just paranoid!”
Ariel groaned, looking back at his brother. “Ren, what’s the play here? We can’t let them get caught.”
“Give up,” Ren said flatly, his eyes still closed. “You cannot save a fool from his own folly. We cannot forcefully pull them away without making noise and exposing ourselves.”
Suddenly, Ariel’s Haki flared again, this time violently. “Wait. It’s not just the dojo. I’ve got multiple hostile signatures rapidly converging on our location from the eastern corridor and the southern courtyard. They’re surrounding the perimeter!” Ariel turned back to the grate. “Guys, I am entirely serious! It is getting extremely dangerous! Abort the mission!”
“Never!” Issei whispered furiously, tears of joy streaming down his face. “This is peak youth!”
Ariel gritted his teeth and turned to grab Ren’s shoulder to initiate an emergency tactical retreat. “Ren, we have to—”
Ariel grasped empty air. He blinked, staring at the empty patch of grass beside him. Ren was completely, utterly gone. There was no sound, no displaced air, no rustling of leaves. The tactician had simply evaporated the moment he confirmed the perimeter was breached.
“That treacherous, brilliant bastard,” Ariel muttered in sheer awe.
A split second later, the heavy wooden doors of the dojo smashed open. A legion of furious, bamboo-sword-wielding Kendo girls poured out into the alleyway, their eyes burning with righteous fury.
Ariel didn’t hesitate. With a burst of suppressed but explosive athletic power, he bolted from the hedges, scaled the sheer brick wall of the equipment shed in three rapid, parkour-style leaps, vaulted over the rusted roof, and vanished into the tree line just as the death squad descended upon the perverted trio.
“Found them! The perverted trio!” a third-year girl screamed. “No mercy!”
“Wait! No! It’s a misunderstanding!” Issei shrieked, raising his hands defensively.
The alleyway erupted into a chaotic, comedic symphony of brutal thwacks, yelps of pain, and desperate apologies as the Kendo club unleashed hell upon Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama.
Ten minutes later, the battered, bruised, and highly traumatized trio limped back toward the main courtyard. Their uniforms were covered in dirt and footprints, and Matsuda had a massive, comical bump throbbing on the top of his head.
“I can’t believe it…” Issei groaned, rubbing a painful welt on his cheek. “Where did Ariel and Ren go? They were right behind us!”
“Tactical abandonment,” Motohama whimpered, his glasses cracked right down the middle. “They utilized us as biological meat shields to facilitate their own escape. Ren’s tactical genius is terrifying.”
As they stumbled past the old, decaying architecture of the Occult Research Club building, Issei paused. The setting sun cast a deep, golden-orange hue over the campus. Issei looked up toward the second-floor window.
Standing there, bathed in the twilight, was a girl with hair the color of spilled crimson, her piercing blue eyes looking down at him with an enigmatic, unreadable expression. For a brief, surreal moment, the pain in Issei’s body vanished, replaced by a strange, magnetic pull that echoed deep within his chest.
“Woah…” Issei breathed, completely mesmerized.
Matsuda grabbed Issei’s collar, yanking him forward. “Don’t even look, man. That’s Rias Gremory. The absolute top of the food chain. She is in a completely different dimension from trash like us.”
Issei stumbled after his friends, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back one last time at the crimson-haired girl in the window, completely unaware of the gears of destiny slowly turning around him.
Sub Section 3
Ariel dropped silently from the corrugated roof of a nearby convenience store, landing in a crouch within the shadow of a narrow alleyway two blocks away from Kuoh Academy. He stood up, dusting off his uniform, and looked around in genuine confusion. He had utilized maximum parkour efficiency to escape the Kendo club’s wrath, expecting Ren to be miles ahead of him.
“Where did he go?” Ariel muttered, scanning the bustling pedestrian street.
“I have been standing right here for the past three minutes,” a flat, monotone voice spoke from the shadows directly behind a nearby vending machine.
Ariel jumped, spinning around to see Ren leaning casually against the brick wall, sipping a canned black coffee. “Bro! How did you beat me here? You don’t even have my vertical leap stats!”
“I didn’t outrun you, Ariel,” Ren sighed, crushing the empty can and tossing it flawlessly into a recycling bin. “While you were violently vaulting over rooftops and drawing all the kinetic attention, I simply utilized the chaotic distraction you created. I dropped my heart rate, merged with the visual blind spots of the Kendo club members, and literally just walked out the front gates at a leisurely pace. It is basic tactical espionage maneuvering.”
Ariel stared at him, shaking his head. “You are an absolute menace. Anyway, we need to shift gears. The timeline is moving fast. The incident with Raynare is going to happen soon, and since Fajar heavily capped our internal energy and physical output, we need actual, physical gear.”
Ren nodded in agreement. “There’s a massive, multi-level discount superstore down the street. It has everything from groceries to industrial hardware. We go there.”
Thirty minutes later, the brothers were navigating the chaotic, neon-lit aisles of a store that heavily resembled a Don Quijote. The sheer volume of random merchandise was staggering, but Ren moved with cold, calculating purpose. He completely bypassed the cheap, flashy display weapons and headed straight for the professional hunting and outdoor survival section.
After meticulously testing the balance and carbon-steel composition of several blades, Ren selected three professional-grade tactical knives with matte-black finishes to prevent light reflection. He then moved to the sporting goods section, grabbing a heavy-duty, reinforced extendable steel pole.
“A collapsible staff,” Ren muttered, testing the locking mechanism with a swift flick of his wrist. “Perfect for mid-range spatial control.”
Ariel watched him, his arms crossed. “I was planning to just use my bare hands to cave in the skulls of any Fallen Angels we run into, but while we’re here…” Ariel reached into a nearby display case of ‘novelty biker accessories’ and pulled out a pair of solid, heavy-duty brass knuckles. He slipped them onto his fists, testing the weight with a few sharp jabs in the air. “Yeah. These will add some nice blunt-force trauma to my striking kinetic energy.”
They moved to the apparel section to finalize their loadouts. Ren opted for a tactical, dark-grey cloak set that offered maximum concealment for his throwing knives and obscured his physical silhouette in low-light environments. Ariel, completely rejecting stealth, chose a highly elastic, lightweight combat-athletic set consisting of reinforced track pants and a compression shirt, prioritizing absolute, unhindered joint mobility and explosive movement.
With their bags packed and their wallets significantly lighter, the brothers began the trek back toward their new suburban home.
As they crossed the bridge over the local river, Ariel paused, resting his hand on the railing. Just a few meters down the walkway, standing against the sunset, was Issei Hyoudou. He was blushing furiously, frantically bowing to a beautiful girl with long, dark hair and an innocent, nervous smile.
“There it is,” Ariel whispered. “Yuma Amano. Raynare in her human disguise.”
Ren didn’t even turn his head to look. His sensory perception had already mapped her exact bio-rhythm and the faint, suppressed scent of light magic emanating from her core. “We do not need to pay attention to them. The canon narrative is securely locked in. We know exactly where this goes.”
They continued walking, leaving Issei to his doomed twilight confession.
“I’ve been thinking about Fajar’s Route 0,” Ren said quietly, his eyes narrowing with competitive determination. “Fajar dismantled a Fallen Angel cadre and an elite Exorcist with nothing but biomechanics and borrowed weapons. I want to break his legendary streak. When the time comes, I am going to beat Raynare to an absolute pulp using nothing but pure, unadulterated human tactical superiority.”
Ariel grinned, his blood already pumping at the thought of a genuine fight. “If we’re going to pull that off with Level 1 stats, we need to optimize our muscle memory immediately. You know the rule, Ren. Sparring is always the fastest way to train when time is short. Our minds remember our god-tier techniques, but these physical bodies need to be forcefully synchronized with our reaction times.”
Ren dropped his shopping bags on the grass as they reached an abandoned, fenced-off construction lot near their neighborhood. “Agreed. How do you want to run this? Old times?”
“Unarmed combat sparring first,” Ariel declared, tossing his own bags aside and dropping into a loose, bouncing boxer’s stance. “No weapons. Just raw, kinetic application. Let’s see how much force we can generate with these restricted mortal shells.”
Ren didn’t answer with words. He simply shifted his weight, his presence instantly vanishing as he slipped into the blind spot of Ariel’s peripheral vision.
The silence of the evening was instantly shattered by the sharp, whip-like crack of flesh hitting flesh. Ariel deflected a lightning-fast palm strike aimed at his throat, countering with a sweeping roundhouse kick that carried enough raw, perfected biomechanical torque to snap a normal man’s femur. Ren ducked under the heavy blow by a millimeter, using the momentum to sweep Ariel’s planted leg.
For the next hour, the abandoned lot became an intensive, hyper-focused battleground. Dust kicked up into the twilight air as the two brothers traded hundreds of calculated, brutal strikes, completely ignoring the fatigue of their mortal bodies as they forcefully forged their Level 1 stats into absolute, lethal perfection.
Section 2
Sub Section 1
The morning commute to Kuoh Academy was completely derailed by the sight of Issei Hyoudou strutting down the sidewalk, an obnoxiously proud grin plastered on his face as he held hands with the beautiful, dark-haired Yuma Amano.
Matsuda was practically tearing his own hair out, dropping his school bag in the dirt. “This is a glitch in reality! A biological impossibility! How does a degenerate like him get a cute girlfriend before me?!”
Motohama was frantically furiously typing on his phone. “My calculations are completely shattered! The probability of Issei achieving romantic success without divine intervention was zero point zero zero one percent!”
Ariel walked up and slapped Issei on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Congratulations, man! Youth is in full bloom! Treat her right!”
Ren, walking calmly beside his brother, adjusted his collar and gave Issei a curt, polite nod. “Congratulations on your first relationship, Issei. I hope you enjoy your time together.”
Matsuda and Motohama froze, their heads snapping toward Ren with absolute, betrayed horror.
“Ren… what the hell is wrong with you?!” Matsuda shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Ariel, I get! He’s a shining beacon of athletic positivity! But you? You’re one of us! You’re supposed to be biting your lip and crying tears of blood in agonizing jealousy!”
“I have simply matured past the need for petty envy,” Ren replied with a perfectly deadpan expression, completely ignoring the fact that in his past loop, he had absolutely cried tears of blood over this exact scenario.
Yuma giggled, leaning against Issei’s arm. “You have such funny friends, Issei-kun! Well, I have to get to my school now. See you on our date later, my darling!”
As Yuma waved and jogged away, Issei waved back like a lovesick puppy, while Matsuda and Motohama dramatically collapsed onto the pavement in utter despair.
Ariel and Ren left the crying duo behind, walking a few paces behind Issei as they approached the school gates.
“So,” Ariel muttered under his breath, not changing his cheerful expression. “Did your hyper-senses pick up the little white-haired mascot tailing them yesterday afternoon?”
“Koneko Toujou,” Ren affirmed quietly. “Yes. She was completely focused on tracking Issei’s movements and mapping his routine. The Occult Research Club is actively monitoring his threat level.”
Meanwhile, inside the decaying architecture of the old school building, the Occult Research Club was holding a morning briefing.
Koneko sat on one of the plush leather sofas, quietly nibbling on a chocolate biscuit. Rias Gremory sat behind her grand desk, while Akeno Himejima poured tea and Yuuto Kiba stood near the window.
“Your surveillance was accurate, Buchou,” Koneko reported in her usual flat, emotionless tone. “The Fallen Angel known as Raynare has initiated contact under the alias Yuma Amano. She is clearly targeting Issei Hyoudou. This confirms he is harboring a Sacred Gear.”
“Excellent work, Koneko,” Rias smiled, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers. “We will keep a close eye on him. Did anything else happen during your patrol?”
Koneko stopped chewing. A rare, faint flicker of confusion crossed her golden eyes. “There is… an anomaly. I successfully tailed Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama to the Kendo dojo. However, the Veritas brothers were with them. When the perimeter was breached…” Koneko paused, looking directly at Rias. “Ariel scaled a three-story vertical brick wall in under two seconds using raw physical momentum. And Ren… he simply vanished. He stepped into a blind spot and my tracking lost him completely. Neither of them used a trace of demonic or magical energy. They just disappeared.”
Kiba blinked in surprise. “Normal humans outmaneuvered you, Koneko?”
“Ara, ara,” Akeno chuckled, placing a teacup on Rias’s desk. “It seems our school’s perverted quartet has some hidden talents.”
Rias’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of genuine intrigue flashing in her blue eyes. “Keep observing Issei for now. But if the Veritas brothers show any more anomalies, I want to know immediately.”
Hours later, the final bell rang, echoing across the campus.
Issei practically vaulted over his desk, violently shoving his textbooks into his bag with chaotic speed.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” Matsuda asked, leaning back in his chair. “We have a recon mission at the tennis courts!”
Issei slung his bag over his shoulder, striking a ridiculously arrogant pose. “Sorry, losers! I’ve got a date with my beautiful girlfriend! You boys have fun in the dirt! Hurry up and get a girlfriend so you can be on my level!”
With a booming, victorious laugh, Issei bolted out the classroom door.
Matsuda and Motohama sat in stunned, crushing silence, their egos thoroughly shattered by Issei’s brutal parting words.
Ren calmly stood up, picking up his bag. “Well, I am leaving as well.”
Matsuda slammed his hands on his desk, tears streaming down his face. “How can you be so calm, Ren?! The hierarchy is broken! Issei is ascending to the heavens while we rot in the abyss!”
“Calm down,” Ren sighed, adjusting his bag. “Let him have his fleeting moment of arrogance. We will systematically interrogate him tomorrow after his ego crashes back to reality. Let’s go, Ariel.”
“Right behind you!” Ariel laughed, waving to the crying duo as he followed Ren out of the classroom.
An hour later, the abandoned construction lot echoed with the sharp, lethal sound of clashing steel.
Ren moved like a phantom, his dark cloak swirling around him as he seamlessly transitioned from his extendable steel pole to the matte-black tactical knife in his left hand. He thrust the blade toward Ariel’s ribcage with terrifying, calculated precision.
Ariel didn’t flinch. Relying entirely on his restricted Level 1 stats and peerless biomechanical mastery, he parried the knife strike with his brass knuckles, the metal sparking violently as they collided. Ariel immediately countered with a devastating hook aimed at Ren’s jaw, forcing the tactician to flip backward to avoid the concussive force.
The sun set over Kuoh Town, casting long shadows over the lot as the two brothers pushed their mortal bodies to the absolute limit, preparing for the inevitable clash of light and blood.
Sub Section 2
The morning commute to Kuoh Academy was a familiar, agonizing loop of degenerate melodrama. Matsuda and Motohama were practically dragging their feet across the pavement, loudly lamenting the gross injustice of the universe while Issei eagerly babbled about his upcoming second date with Yuma.
However, amidst the usual chaos, there was a glaring anomaly. Ren was not staring stoically ahead or rubbing his temples in annoyance. Instead, his eyes were locked onto his smartphone, his thumb rapidly tapping and dragging across the screen with intense, focused precision.
“Whoa, hold on,” Issei said, pausing his monologue and leaning over Ren’s shoulder. “Are you playing a game? Wait… is that chess?”
Matsuda blinked, momentarily forgetting his heartbreak. “Ren? Playing a mobile game? I thought your only hobbies were sighing at us and looking like you’re plotting a murder.”
“I have always played chess after school,” Ren replied smoothly, not taking his eyes off the digital board as he castled his King. “I merely preferred the physical desktop environment. I am currently adapting my processing speed to the mobile interface.”
Issei laughed, throwing his hands behind his head. “Man, you’re such a nerd sometimes! You should be looking around! The morning commute is prime time for spotting cute girls from other schools!”
As the trio resumed their loud, hormone-fueled debate over which school uniform was superior, Ren subtly shifted closer to Ariel.
“I am not just playing chess,” Ren whispered, his eyes still glued to the screen while he effortlessly sidestepped a cracked paving stone. “I am forcefully splitting my cognitive load. I am actively mapping a fifty-meter sensory perimeter, tracking the bio-rhythms of every pedestrian, and manually regulating the circulation of my internal energy, all while calculating variations on the board.”
Ariel’s eyes widened, a massive, brilliant grin splitting his face. He whispered back, his voice vibrating with sheer athletic hype. “Bro, twenty-four-hour continuous passive training? That is absolute genius! If you’re doing cognitive-sensory overload, I need to start maximizing my physical downtime immediately!”
Without missing a beat, Ariel dropped into a deep, walking lunge, perfectly keeping pace with the group while bringing his back knee a millimeter from the concrete with every step. The perverted trio didn’t even notice, too caught up in their own delusions.
When the lunch bell rang, Issei immediately grabbed his bag, fully intending to sprint off campus to buy a specific brand of juice Yuma had mentioned liking. He made it exactly two steps before Ren, completely engrossed in his phone, casually stuck his foot out and shifted his shoulder, forming an immovable human barricade in the doorway.
“Hey! Move, Ren!” Issei complained, trying to push past him.
Ariel suddenly dropped from the top of the doorframe, where he had been doing suspended pull-ups on the molding, landing with a heavy thud right next to Ren. “Sorry, Issei! You have an appointment!”
Matsuda and Motohama instantly flanked the doorway, their expressions twisting into terrifying, jealous sneers.
“The interrogation begins now, you lucky bastard!” Matsuda roared, dragging a protesting Issei back to his desk by his collar.
While Matsuda and Motohama aggressively interrogated Issei about every single detail of his first date—down to the exact millimeter of distance between their hands—Ariel dropped to the floor, seamlessly transitioning into a set of rapid, one-armed clapping push-ups.
Ren sat at his desk, his thumb hovering over his phone. The digital board was highly complex. His Queen, Bishop, and Knight had successfully infiltrated the enemy King’s corner.
I have a discovered check, Ren’s mind raced, his tactical senses firing. If I move the Knight, the Bishop checks the King, and I win the enemy Queen for free. It is the objectively correct, safe move. But… the geometry is too perfect. I can force a checkmate in five moves. I must pursue perfection.
Ren dragged his Knight to a hyper-aggressive square, sacrificing a pawn to trap the King, fully expecting the opponent to move their Rook to block. Instead, the opponent made a completely irrational, defensive retreat, pulling their own Knight back to an awkward, terrible square that somehow perfectly covered the checkmate square.
“WHAT?!” Ren shouted, his voice echoing over Matsuda’s screaming.
Ariel popped up from his push-ups, immediately jogging over to Ren’s desk. He leaned in, his eyes scanning the digital board. Despite not being a dedicated chess player, centuries of watching Ren formulate war strategies and play multiversal grandmasters had given Ariel a terrifyingly sharp eye for the game.
Ariel burst into a booming laugh. “Oh, bro, you got greedy! You completely tunnel-visioned on the forced mate and missed the Knight retreat! You could have taken the Queen for free on the previous turn!”
“I know!” Ren hissed, his thumb hovering frantically over the screen as the time clock ticked down to twenty seconds. “Now the position is completely equalized! It’s an endgame scramble!”
Sweat formed on Ren’s brow. He was deeply sour about missing the brilliant checkmate, his frustration clouding his usually flawless emotional control. With ten seconds left, the opponent’s King advanced, attacking Ren’s Rook.
Ren’s eyes darted across the screen. If I push my pawn sideways, it attacks their Rook. If they take the pawn, I have a discovered attack on their Rook. If they ignore it, I take the pawn with my Rook! It’s a brilliant counter-trap!
Ren aggressively slammed his thumb on the screen, pushing the pawn.
Instantly, the opponent slid their Rook across the back rank, checking Ren’s completely exposed King. Ren had no pieces to block. He was forced to move his King away, abandoning his own Rook to be captured for free. The entire position collapsed in a single move.
Ren stared at the screen in pure disbelief. He slowly pressed the resign button, dropped the phone on his desk, and aggressively slapped his own forehead with the palm of his hand.
Ariel had to cover his mouth to stop himself from howling with laughter. “You were too tilted, man! You were so frustrated that you didn’t get the beautiful win earlier that you completely refused to calculate the draw, and you missed a basic back-rank check!”
“You are entirely correct,” Ren groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I let my ego dictate my calculations. I learned my lesson. If the universe hands you a free Queen, you take the Queen. You do not overcomplicate the execution.”
By the time the afternoon sun began to dip toward the horizon, Matsuda and Motohama had dragged Issei—who was trying to leave early again—to the chain-link fence surrounding the outdoor tennis courts.
“Observe, gentlemen,” Motohama whispered intensely, his glasses gleaming. “The second-year girls’ tennis club. The wind conditions are optimal. When they execute a high-velocity overhead serve, the kinetic momentum guarantees a ninety-four percent chance of a skirt flip!”
“This is the promised land!” Issei wept, completely forgetting about his date for a split second as the trio pressed their faces against the wire mesh.
A few feet away, entirely separated from the degenerate behavior, Ariel was doing deep, slow, weighted squats, using a massive, abandoned concrete block he had found behind the equipment shed. Ren was sitting in the shade of a large oak tree, his eyes locked onto his phone screen while his Observation Haki flawlessly mapped the trajectory of every tennis ball on the court.
However, the trio’s aggressive, heavy breathing had an immediate, adverse effect. The female students noticed the blatant peeping. Disgusted and deeply uncomfortable, the girls began playing terribly, keeping their knees locked and their movements rigid to prevent their skirts from lifting even a millimeter.
“No! They’re compromising their form to protect their modesty!” Matsuda cried out in agony.
Under the tree, the sound of a loud, sharp slap echoed. Ariel dropped the concrete block, which hit the dirt with a heavy thud, and jogged over to his brother.
Ren was staring at his phone, his hand clamped over his face in sheer, unadulterated shame.
Ariel peered at the screen and immediately started laughing again. “Bro! That was a completely free Queen! Your opponent literally just blundered their Queen right next to your pawn, and you… you pushed your pawn forward to block it?!”
“I won the game anyway!” Ren defended himself, his face slightly red. “The positional advantage was overwhelming! But yes… I completely missed the capture.”
“How do you miss a free Queen?!” Ariel chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Because I am accustomed to playing high-level Rapid and Blitz time controls!” Ren complained, gesturing to the screen. “My rating on those formats is extremely high. I am used to playing against rational opponents who do not make catastrophic, nonsensical blunders! This is my first time playing one-minute Bullet chess on a new account! The opponent made a move so incredibly stupid that my brain completely filtered it out as a possibility!”
Ariel crossed his arms, smirking down at the tactician. “So what you’re saying is, your expectations are too high. You’re so used to fighting gods that you forgot how to fight a Level 1 goblin.”
Ren paused, his annoyance fading into a sharp realization. He looked at the digital chessboard, then at Ariel. “You are exactly right. It is a fundamental flaw in my current methodology. It is genuinely important to play against lower-rated opponents occasionally. If I cannot recognize and punish a basic mistake because I am over-anticipating a masterstroke, I will fail in the field.”
“Hey! I gotta go!” Issei suddenly yelled from the fence, checking his watch. “Yuma is waiting for me at the park! See you losers tomorrow!” Issei bolted off into the sunset, leaving Matsuda and Motohama to weep by the tennis courts alone.
Ren slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up, dusting off his uniform. “Let him go. His time is running short.”
“Agreed,” Ariel said, cracking his knuckles, his jovial demeanor instantly shifting into a hyper-focused, lethal calm. “Let’s leave these fools to their crying. The sun is setting. It’s time for us to spar.”
Sub Section 3
The Friday morning walk to Kuoh Academy was an absolute masterclass in psychological torture for two specific second-year students.
Issei walked at the front of the group, strutting with his hands behind his head, practically floating on an invisible cloud of romantic bliss. Beside him, Yuma Amano held his elbow, giggling sweetly at every terrible joke he made.
“Issei-kun, you’re so funny!” Yuma squeaked, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m so excited for our big date at the park tomorrow evening!”
“Ehehe! Me too, Yuma-chan!” Issei beamed, his face beet red. “I’ve been counting down the hours!”
Right behind them, Matsuda and Motohama looked like two hollowed-out husks wandering toward their execution. Matsuda was literally chewing on the corner of his own handkerchief, leaving damp bite marks in the fabric, while Motohama was furiously scratching his fingernails against a nearby concrete wall.
“Look at him,” Matsuda wept, his voice cracking with unbearable anguish. “Look at his stupid, smiling face! He’s holding hands with a girl! In broad daylight!”
“My soul is disintegrating,” Motohama whimpered, his glasses sliding down his nose as tears blurred his vision. “The contrast between his romantic success and our absolute solitude is generating a localized field of pure despair. Why him?! Why not us?!”
Ren walked a few paces behind the suffering duo, his phone held loosely in his right hand. Beside him, Ariel was executing crisp, low-impact calf raises with every single step, casually maintaining his physical conditioning while enjoying the melodrama.
“Have a wonderful day at school, Issei-kun!” Yuma called out as they reached the intersection leading to her academy. She gave Issei a quick, delicate wave and blew him a kiss before jogging away.
Issei stood on the sidewalk for three full minutes, waving like a brainless mannequin, before turning back to the group with a smug, insufferable grin. “Alright, boys! Let me hear it! How jealous are you on a scale of one to ten?!”
“A hundred!” Matsuda roared, yanking Issei into a headlock. “A billion!”
As the trio dissolved into their usual chaotic scuffle down the main walkway, Ariel’s eyes flickered. The invisible, atmospheric pulse of his Observation Haki expanded across the campus, filtering through the dense waves of student chatter lined up along the iron gates.
Ariel leaned in close to Ren, his lips barely moving as he whispered. “Bro… your chess match yesterday completely broke the school’s social radar. Listen to these rumors.”
Across the courtyard, a group of second-year girls whispered frantically behind their notebooks.
“Did you hear?! Ren was playing competitive mobile chess yesterday during break!” “Wait, chess?! Since when does anyone play chess at Kuoh besides President Rias and Student Council President Sona?!” “Is he secretly an elite intellectual?! Was he just pretending to be a pervert this whole time to fit in with Hyoudou and the others?!” “No way… maybe he was never a real pervert at all! Maybe he was just acting as a cover for his brother Ariel-kun!” “Wait, didn’t he completely ignore the girls’ tennis team upskirts yesterday?! He sat under a tree and didn’t look once!” “Do you think he’s heartbroken because Hyoudou got a girlfriend first?!” “Or maybe… he’s undergoing a dramatic, silent redemption arc?!”
Ariel grinned, nudging Ren’s elbow. “Did your hyper-senses catch all of that, tactician? The entire school is currently debating whether you’re a secret grandmaster, a tragic brother, or a reformed villain.”
Ren kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his expression entirely stoic. “I caught every single frequency. The human mind’s innate compulsion to construct elaborate, dramatic narratives out of mundane actions never fails to amuse me.”
“So you really didn’t plan any of this?” Ariel asked, chuckling softly. “You didn’t intend to build this whole mysterious, cool aura?”
“I merely ceased method-acting as a brainless degenerate,” Ren replied, adjusting the strap of his school bag. “I reverted to my original, baseline state. I stopped caring about the mob’s superficial opinions. I play chess because it sharpens my tactical geometry. If they interpret basic rationality as an enigmatic transformation, that is their analytical failure, not my concern.”
Ariel slapped Ren’s shoulder with a bright, appreciative laugh. “Still, bro… you gotta admit. Playing chess under a tree, ignoring upskirts, and letting the entire student body think you’re some stoic, untouchable genius? That’s cool as hell.”
A rare, faint smirk touched the corner of Ren’s lips. “I will confess… it is significantly more agreeable than having water balloons thrown at my head.”
By the time the final afternoon bell rang, the atmosphere in the Year 2 classroom reached a boiling point.
Issei didn’t even wait for the teacher to leave the room. He shoved his books into his bag, leaped over two desks, and struck a victorious pose at the door. “Later, losers! I’ve gotta go buy some fresh clothes and get haircut prep for my big date tomorrow! Try not to die of loneliness while I’m gone!”
Before Matsuda or Motohama could hurl their erasers at him, Issei vanished down the hallway with a loud, triumphant laugh.
Matsuda slammed his head violently against his wooden desk. THUD. “I can’t take it anymore! A date at the park on a Saturday evening! What are they going to do when the sun goes down?! What if they go to a cafe?! What if they hold hands on a bench?!”
“My mind is generating explicit, highly detailed visual simulations of their romantic progression,” Motohama groaned, clutching his temples as he slumped in his chair. “The psychological agony is fatal. If I cannot verify what happens on this date, I will not survive the weekend!”
Ariel, who was currently leaning against the back wall performing standing torso twists, paused and looked down at the two sobbing boys.
“Hey,” Ariel said casually, a bright, innocent smile on his face. “If you guys are losing your minds over it… why don’t you just stalk him tomorrow?”
Complete, dead silence fell over the classroom.
Matsuda slowly lifted his head from the desk, a red mark imprinted on his forehead. “Stalk… him?”
“Yeah!” Ariel shrugged cheerfully. “Put on some shades, follow him to the park from a distance, and see what actually happens! That way you don’t have to spend all weekend guessing!”
Motohama’s cracked glasses slid up his nose as a terrifying, brilliant light flared behind his eyes. He stood up slowly, grabbing Matsuda by the shoulders. “Matsuda… do you realize what Ariel has just proposed?!”
“A full-scale, covert reconnaissance operation!” Matsuda gasped, tears instantly drying on his face. “Operation: Romantic Sabotage and Surveillance!”
Motohama turned to Ariel, bowing deeply with profound reverence. “Ariel-san… you are an absolute tactical genius! We must assemble disguise kits and binocular gear immediately!”
“To the discount store!” Matsuda roared, yanking Motohama by the arm as they bolted out of the classroom like two men possessed.
Ariel watched them sprint down the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. But as the sound of their footsteps faded, Ren quietly walked up beside him, his dark eyes locked onto his brother.
Ariel’s smile faltered slightly. “Uh… Ren? You’re giving me your ‘you just compromised the operational parameters’ look. Did I mess up the timeline by blurting that out?”
Ren adjusted his collar, a sharp, deeply calculating glint flashing in his eyes. “On the contrary, Ariel. That was a stroke of unadulterated, accidental genius.”
Ariel blinked, surprised. “Wait, really? You’re not mad?”
“Think about the strategic implications,” Ren explained softly, leaning against the window frame as he analyzed the upcoming event. “Tomorrow evening, at the central park fountain, Raynare will drop her human disguise and launch her lethal strike against Issei. In our previous loops, Matsuda and Motohama were completely excluded from the supernatural ecosystem. They remained blind, helpless mortals while Issei was dragged into the underworld, eventually drifting apart from them.”
Ren looked out at the sun setting over the campus. “If they follow Issei to the park tomorrow… they will witness the truth. They will see the Fallen Angels. They will see the spears of light. And most importantly, they will witness Rias Gremory’s crimson magic circle when she resurrects Issei.”
Ariel’s eyes lit up with immediate realization, a proud grin returning to his face. “Yes! That way, Matsuda and Motohama don’t get left behind as forgotten side characters! We keep the entire squad together from day one!”
“Precisely,” Ren agreed. “However… it is a double-edged sword.”
Ariel’s smile sobered. “Because they’re normal humans.”
“Because exposing untrained, baseline mortals to supernatural violence, blood, and demonic magic can permanently shatter their mental stability,” Ren noted coldly. “If Raynare realizes they are watching, she will not hesitate to execute them as collateral damage, just as she attempted to do with me in Route 0.” MD
Ren turned to face Ariel, his presence dropping into a lethal, battle-ready focus. “Which means we cannot afford a single miscalculation tomorrow. We must act as their invisible vanguard. We need to control the entire perimeter of the park without Raynare or the Occult Research Club ever detecting our presence.”
Ariel cracked his knuckles, the metal of his brass knuckles gleaming in the twilight. “Now that sounds like a real mission. Let’s go home and grab the gear, tactician. It’s time for night training.”
Section 3
Sub Section 1
The Saturday evening air was crisp as the sun began its slow descent over Kuoh Town’s central plaza. Hidden behind a thick row of manicured hedges, Matsuda and Motohama were completely decked out in the most suspiciously conspicuous espionage gear imaginable—khaki trench coats, fedoras, and dark sunglasses. They were pressed belly-down in the dirt, their eyes practically glued to the lenses of their heavy-duty binoculars.
A few feet away, entirely ignoring the concept of stealth, Ariel and Ren were sitting comfortably on a park bench. Ariel was happily devouring a massive strawberry crepe, while Ren was slowly sipping a canned black coffee, his eyes closed in absolute, serene relaxation.
“Target is currently purchasing a strawberry ice cream cone,” Matsuda hissed, furiously twisting the focus dial on his binoculars. “Wait. He just handed it to her. She is taking a bite. He is taking a bite of the exact same cone! Indirect kiss confirmed! My internal organs are hemorrhaging from the stress!”
Motohama was frantically scribbling in a tiny notebook. “The spatial proximity between their shoulders has decreased to less than two centimeters. The probability of hand-holding within the next five minutes has skyrocketed to ninety-nine point9 percent! This is a catastrophic development for our social hierarchy!”
Matsuda tore his eyes away from the binoculars for a fraction of a second to glare at the brothers on the bench. “How are you two so calm?! Issei is literally ascending to a higher plane of existence, and you’re just sitting there eating pastries!”
“Because we are currently executing a highly calculated recovery phase,” Ren replied smoothly, not opening his eyes.
“Exactly,” Ariel mumbled through a mouthful of crepe cream. “You guys didn’t see us last night. We were doing intensive, full-contact biomechanical optimization training until four in the morning. Our muscles need glycogen replenishment and zero-stress downtime before we exert any sudden kinetic force.”
“You guys talk like you’re preparing for a war zone!” Motohama complained, adjusting his glasses. “We are witnessing the death of our youth! Wait—target lost! The crowd shifted! Where did they go?! I lost visual!”
“Dammit! Did they go into the cinema?” Matsuda panicked, scanning the plaza wildly.
Ren took another slow sip of his coffee. He didn’t even turn his head. “They are currently fifty meters to your direct left, standing in front of the accessory boutique. Her heart rate has elevated slightly as she points at a silver necklace.”
Matsuda and Motohama immediately whipped their binoculars to the left.
“He’s right!” Matsuda gasped. “How the hell did you know that?! You didn’t even look!”
Ten minutes later, the crowd surged around a street performer, and the duo lost Issei again.
“Visual lost! Did they enter the underground mall?!” Motohama sweated.
Ariel licked some whipped cream off his thumb. “Nah, they just walked past the crepe stand. They’re heading toward the central park fountain. About a hundred and twenty meters north.”
Matsuda stared at Ariel in sheer, terrified awe. “Are you guys mutants? Do you have satellite tracking devices implanted in your brains? You’re literally psychic!”
“We simply possess superior situational awareness,” Ren stated flatly, finally opening his eyes as the golden hour faded into the deep, bruised purple of twilight. His relaxed demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp focus. He crushed the empty coffee can in his grip. “The ambient temperature is dropping. The pedestrian density in the central park is rapidly decreasing. Ariel.”
Ariel swallowed the last of his crepe, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His jovial smile disappeared. “Yeah. I feel it too. The atmosphere just got incredibly heavy.”
Matsuda and Motohama, oblivious to the shift in the air, scrambled out from the bushes and sprinted toward the treeline overlooking the central fountain. Ariel and Ren followed closely behind, moving with complete, silent fluidity.
When they reached the clearing, Issei and Yuma were standing alone by the bubbling water of the fountain. The sky was entirely dark now, illuminated only by the flickering park lamps.
“They’re stopping,” Matsuda whispered, his hands trembling as he held up the binoculars. “The date is over. Is he going to kiss her? I can’t watch! I can’t look away!”
From across the clearing, Yuma’s sweet, innocent voice drifted over the rushing water, but her words made the blood freeze in Matsuda and Motohama’s veins.
“Will you die for me?”
Issei recoiled, a nervous, confused laugh escaping his lips. “H-Huh? What did you say, Yuma-chan?”
The air pressure violently inverted. A suffocating, malevolent aura erupted from the girl. Yuma’s cute, civilian clothes dissolved into a flurry of dark, leathery feathers, replacing her attire with a highly revealing, bondage-style dominatrix outfit. From her back, two massive, pitch-black wings tore through the fabric of reality, extending outward with a terrifying gust of wind.
Matsuda dropped his binoculars. They hit the pavement with a sharp crack.
Motohama fell backward onto the grass, his mouth opening and closing in absolute, soundless terror. “W-W-What… what is that? Wings? A monster? Cosplay? What is happening?!”
“A Fallen Angel,” Ren whispered, his voice completely devoid of fear.
At the center of the fountain, Raynare raised her hand to the sky. A blinding, lethal spear of pure, condensed light materialized in her grasp. The sheer ambient heat radiating from the weapon caused the fountain water to hiss and evaporate.
“Goodbye, Issei Hyoudou,” Raynare sneered, pulling her arm back to impale the terrified boy through the heart.
Clank. Splash.
Raynare blinked. A crushed, half-empty can of black coffee had just bounced directly off the center of her forehead, spilling a few cold drops onto her nose before splashing into the fountain.
She froze, her majestic, lethal execution completely derailed by sheer, unadulterated disrespect. She slowly turned her head toward the treeline, her eyes burning with furious, divine wrath. “Who dares—”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence.
Ariel didn’t just run; he exploded from the treeline. Channeling every single ounce of his restricted Level 1 physical stats into pure, forward kinetic momentum, he closed the distance in a fraction of a second. Before Raynare could even adjust her grip on the light spear, Ariel launched his entire body weight forward, driving a devastating, rugby-style shoulder tackle directly into her midsection.
The impact was thunderous. The sheer biomechanical force lifted the Fallen Angel completely off her feet, knocking the wind from her lungs with a sickening gasp. The spear of light slipped from her fingers, shattering into harmless, glowing particles as it hit the concrete.
“A-Ariel?!” Issei shrieked, falling backward onto the ground, completely unable to process why his athletic best friend had just materialized out of thin air to tackle a winged monster.
Back in the treeline, Matsuda was furiously pulling his own hair, screaming in sheer, reality-breaking hysteria. “He tackled it! Ariel just tackled a winged demon! What is happening to our youth?!”
Sub Section 2
Raynare scrambled backward across the wet concrete of the fountain, her eyes wide with a mixture of absolute shock and rising, divine fury. She raised her hand, desperately attempting to manifest a second spear of light, but her magical circulation was instantly violently interrupted.
Ariel did not give her a single microsecond to breathe. Moving with the terrifying, relentless efficiency of an apex predator, he stepped inside her guard, slipping perfectly under a panicked, sweeping backhand. He pivoted on his heel, driving a devastating right hook into her floating ribs, followed instantly by a lightning-fast left uppercut that snapped her head back with a sharp, echoing crack.
“What are you?!” Raynare shrieked, blindly flapping her massive, pitch-black wings in a desperate attempt to create spatial distance. She launched a jagged, unrefined bolt of pure light magic directly at Ariel’s chest.
Ariel didn’t even block. He simply tilted his torso two degrees to the left. The lethal magic scorched the air a millimeter past his shoulder, completely missing its target. “I’m just a high school student with an excellent workout routine!” Ariel boomed, stepping forward again and delivering a brutal, spinning back-kick that sent the Fallen Angel skidding across the pavement.
Before Raynare could recover her footing, a shadow detached itself from the treeline.
Ren sprinted across the clearing, his dark grey tactical cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a phantom. He drew his matte-black combat knife, the blade completely absorbing the dim park lighting. Raynare swung her wing forward like a massive, bladed shield to crush the incoming mortal, but Ren’s eyes tracked the kinetic telegraphing of her shoulder muscles flawlessly.
He slid beneath the sweeping wing, his knees scraping the concrete, and slashed upward in a flawless, crescent arc. The carbon-steel blade tore through the leathery feathers and the fabric of her dominatrix attire, leaving a stinging, shallow line of crimson across her thigh.
“Filthy human!” Raynare roared, summoning a short-sword of light and slashing wildly at Ren’s neck.
Ren casually deflected the trajectory of her glowing blade with the reinforced spine of his tactical knife, parrying the divine weapon with simple, irrefutable physics. He stepped smoothly into her blind spot, delivering a rapid sequence of four precise cuts to her triceps, hamstrings, and the connective tissue of her wings.
To the untrained eye, Ariel and Ren looked like unstoppable, mythological gods of war utterly dismantling a demon. However, the internal reality of the battlefield was incredibly restrictive. Fajar’s dimensional limiter was operating at maximum capacity, aggressively suppressing their physical and energetic output. Ariel’s flawless, biomechanically perfect strikes—which should have instantly shattered Raynare’s ribcage into dust—merely bruised her ribs and knocked the wind out of her. Ren’s hyper-accurate slashes—aimed perfectly at major arteries and tendons—were forcefully dulled by his capped mortal strength, resulting in dozens of superficial, stinging paper-cuts that infuriated the Fallen Angel far more than they actually damaged her.
Yet, despite their damage being capped at Level 1, the battle was almost insultingly easy. Raynare’s combat technique was sloppy, arrogant, and entirely reliant on overwhelming magical firepower. Against two multiversal grandmasters who could read her intentions before her brain even fired the electrical signals to her muscles, she could not land a single hit.
Issei Hyoudou was still sitting in the wet grass near the fountain, his jaw unhinged, his eyes bulging out of his skull. The romantic, terrifying climax of his first date had completely transformed into an incomprehensible martial arts spectacle.
“A-Ariel? Ren?!” Issei stammered, frantically gripping his own hair. “Since when do you guys know kung fu?! Why does Ren have a military knife?! What is happening to my life?!”
In the bushes fifty meters away, the situation had deteriorated into pure, unfiltered hysteria.
Matsuda had his binoculars pressed so hard against his face that they were leaving deep, red circular indents on his skin. “Motohama! Motohama, tell me I am hallucinating! Ren just parried a laser sword with a pocket knife! Ariel is boxing a winged demon!”
Motohama was rocking back and forth in the dirt, clutching his notebook to his chest like a protective shield, his mind completely failing to process the mathematical impossibility of the scene. “The laws of physics are crumbling! Ariel’s evasion rate is statistically impossible for a baseline human! Ren’s stealth parameters are exceeding modern military stealth technology! We have been mocking highly trained covert operatives this entire time!”
“Are we going to die?!” Matsuda wept, aggressively shaking Motohama by the collar. “Is this why they didn’t care about the tennis club upskirts?! Because they fight monsters in their free time?!”
Back in the center of the fountain clearing, Ren ducked under another frantic, sweeping light spear, slicing a neat line across the back of Raynare’s calf before smoothly retreating to stand beside his brother.
“She is incredibly slow,” Ren noted calmly, twirling the knife effortlessly in his left hand.
“And her guard is practically non-existent,” Ariel laughed, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, entirely unharmed and barely breaking a sweat. “But man, Fajar really nerfed our output. I hit her with a hook that should have launched her into the stratosphere, and she just stumbled!”
“It is sufficient for our current tactical objectives,” Ren murmured, his eyes narrowing as he expanded his Observation Haki across the park’s perimeter.
Ariel threw a quick, sharp jab into the air to keep his muscles warm. “Hey, tactician. If we completely humiliate her and she runs away, Issei doesn’t die. If Issei doesn’t die, Rias Gremory never resurrects him as a devil. Don’t we absolutely need him to die to trigger the primary canon timeline?”
“We do,” Ren affirmed softly, his gaze remaining locked on the furious, bleeding Fallen Angel in front of them. “But we do not need to purposefully throw the fight. My hyper-senses have already confirmed the presence of three additional hostile signatures. They are currently concealed in the atmospheric shadows atop the gothic church spire two kilometers away, and they are rapidly descending upon our location.”
Ariel’s grin widened into a fierce, battle-hungry smirk. “Ah. Raynare’s backup. Kalawarner, Mittelt, and Dohnaseek. So the script fixes itself.”
“Precisely,” Ren said, adjusting his grip on the matte-black blade. “We simply have to survive the escalation.”
“I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU BOTH!” Raynare screamed, her voice distorting into an unholy, echoing screech that shattered the glass of the nearby park lamps. Her entire body erupted with a blinding, violently unstable aura of raw, destructive light magic. She raised both hands to the sky, preparing to unleash an indiscriminate, omnidirectional bombardment that would vaporize the entire plaza—including Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama.
But before she could bring her hands down, the sky above the park completely fractured.
Three massive, heavy impacts shook the concrete as three new figures descended from the pitch-black clouds, landing directly between Raynare and the Veritas brothers.
A towering man in a fedora and trench coat with a condescending sneer. A tall, voluptuous woman in an elegant blue dress with cold, calculating eyes. And a petite, blonde girl in a gothic lolita outfit, twirling a parasol with a sadistic giggle. From the backs of all three new arrivals, majestic, pitch-black wings unfurled into the night air.
“Really, Raynare?” Dohnaseek sneered, pushing the brim of his fedora up with a gloved finger as he looked down at the battered, humiliated girl. “You’re being pushed to the brink of a magical meltdown by two baseline human teenagers? How utterly pathetic.”
“Shut up!” Raynare hissed, clutching her bleeding arm. “They aren’t normal! They move like phantoms!”
Mittelt giggled, pointing her parasol directly at Ren. “Ooh, but they are cute! Can I play with them before we kill the Sacred Gear host?”
Ren simply raised his knife, settling into a flawless, low-profile defensive stance, while Ariel cracked his knuckles, the metal of his brass knuckles gleaming in the ambient light of the Fallen Angels’ auras. The true battle of Route 4 had officially begun.
Sub Section 3
Mittelt giggled, her high-pitched laughter echoing across the park as she twirled her gothic parasol. “I call dibs! Let’s see how you boys squeal!”
With a burst of dark feathers, the blonde Fallen Angel vanished from her spot, reappearing directly above Ariel and Ren with her parasol extended like a deadly lance. She expected to skewer them effortlessly, anticipating the satisfying crunch of mortal bones.
Instead, she hit empty air.
Ariel didn’t even look up; he simply pivoted on his heel, his body fluidly sidestepping the lethal thrust by a mere millimeter. As Mittelt’s momentum carried her downward, Ariel raised his knee, burying it squarely into her ribs with a sickening thud. Before she could even gasp, Ren spun from her blind spot, his matte-black tactical knife flashing in the dim light.
For a fraction of a second, Ren’s muscle memory overrode his suppressed mortal state. He instinctively channeled his multiversal mastery, embedding a microscopic fragment of his indomitable will—his Haki—into the very edge of the blade. The steel effortlessly bypassed Mittelt’s innate magical defense, slicing a deep, agonizing gash across her forearm.
Mittelt shrieked, tumbling backward onto the concrete and clutching her bleeding arm. “Agh! What the hell?! That actually hurts! These aren’t normal humans!”
Ariel glanced at Ren, a hint of annoyance crossing his face. “Bro, how did you get through her magical skin so easily? My strikes are just giving her deep bruises!”
“I remembered to embed my will into the kinetic trajectory of the blade,” Ren replied, his eyes never leaving the enemy.
Ariel groaned, slapping his forehead. “Damn it! I completely forgot we could still use conceptual intent even with the limiters! I’ve just been using raw physical torque!”
Hovering above the fountain, Dohnaseek’s arrogant sneer completely evaporated. He stared at Mittelt’s bleeding arm, his eyes narrowing as he re-evaluated the situation. “Impossible. They are moving with zero magical fluctuation, yet their biomechanical efficiency is flawless. Kalawarner! Stop playing around!”
Kalawarner, floating with her arms crossed, clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Fine. But if they move like ghosts, I will simply target the dead weight.”
She summoned a spear of light, its core burning with intense, azure heat, and hurled it not at Ren, but directly at Issei, who was still sitting frozen in the grass.
Ren’s hyper-senses screamed. His tactical mind processed the variables in a microsecond: If I let Issei die here, the plot proceeds flawlessly. But if I stand perfectly still and watch him get impaled when I have already demonstrated peerless speed, my cover as a loyal friend is entirely blown.
“Tch. What a pain,” Ren muttered. He lunged forward, throwing his entire body weight into Issei.
“W-Waah!” Issei screamed as Ren tackled him into the dirt. The light spear detonated exactly where Issei’s chest had been a split second prior, blasting a scorching crater into the earth and showering them with superheated dirt.
Kalawarner smirked, her eyes glinting with cruel realization. “Look at that, Dohnaseek. The phantoms are shackled. They are protecting the weaklings. Target their friends!”
The battlefield dynamics shifted violently. Raynare, her pride shattered and her eyes burning with pure malice, joined Mittelt. The two of them descended upon Ren and Issei in a flurry of sweeping light swords and explosive magical bursts.
Ren was instantly forced onto the defensive. He extended his steel pole, using it to parry the divine weapons while simultaneously dragging a hyperventilating Issei across the grass. The tactical genius was genuinely struggling now; he could easily dodge every strike, but shielding a stationary, screaming civilian required him to absorb graze damage. His dark cloak scorched at the edges as he deflected a blast meant for Issei’s head.
“Ren! Why are you doing this?!” Issei bawled, clutching his head as explosive light shattered a nearby bench. “You’re going to die because of me!”
“Shut up and keep your head down!” Ren barked, his calm demeanor finally cracking under the sheer annoyance of the escort mission.
Simultaneously, Dohnaseek and Kalawarner locked their sights on the thick bushes where Matsuda and Motohama were hiding.
“Found the other rats,” Dohnaseek laughed, forming two massive spears of light.
Matsuda and Motohama shrieked in absolute, existential terror, clutching each other as the sky illuminated above them. “Our youth is over! We’re dying as virgins!” Matsuda sobbed hysterically.
Before the spears could leave the Fallen Angels’ hands, a blur of motion intercepted the trajectory. Ariel sprinted at breakneck speed, throwing himself directly between the bushes and the descending angels. He raised his arms, crossing them in a dense, defensive guard.
The explosive shockwaves of the light spears slammed into Ariel’s forearms. Without the ability to use his internal energy to harden his skin, the searing heat burned his forearms, and the concussive force sent several jagged cuts across his cheek and shoulders. Blood trickled down Ariel’s chin, but he didn’t yield a single inch, planting his feet firmly into the soil.
“A-Ariel-san is bleeding!” Motohama wept, watching his athletic friend take the brunt of the divine wrath. “He is sacrificing his perfect physique for our miserable lives!”
“Is that all you’ve got?!” Ariel roared at Dohnaseek, grinning through the pain, his adrenaline spiking as he protected the crying duo.
Suddenly, amidst the deafening explosions and frantic screaming, a calm, entirely out-of-place sound echoed through the clearing.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Everyone—the Fallen Angels, the terrified mortals, and the Veritas brothers—froze.
Stepping out from behind an oak tree on the edge of the park was a completely ordinary-looking high school student. He had messy hair, a relaxed posture, and wore a standard Kuoh Academy uniform. He carried absolutely no magical aura, no demonic presence, and no angelic light. He was, by all sensory metrics, a baseline human.
But as Fajar walked onto the battlefield, the sheer, crushing weight of his absolute authority made the ambient air pressure physically drop.
Fajar chuckled, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looked at Ariel’s bruised arms and Ren’s scorched cloak. “I thought you two just wanted to beat them up? Are you actively trying to break my legendary Route 0 streak?”
Ariel wiped the blood from his cheek, grinning widely. “Hey! We had it completely under control until they initiated AoE bombardment!”
Fajar nodded thoughtfully, pacing across the cracked concrete, completely ignoring Kalawarner’s readied spear. “I must admit, during my run, I was notoriously terrible at hostage rescue and civilian protection. By bringing the perverted trio into the crossfire, you’ve actually raised the difficulty modifier of this scenario significantly. It is quite an impressive flex.”
Ren parried a residual spark of light from Mittelt and glared at Fajar. “What are you doing here? You explicitly stated you would not interfere with the early game grinding phase.”
“I am here for scheduled maintenance,” Fajar smiled warmly. “The designated date and time have arrived to remove your limiters. Honestly, if you hadn’t dragged Matsuda and Motohama into this, the fight would have ended ten minutes ago and you would have moved on.”
Fajar paused, looking around at the sheer, absolute chaos—Issei crying on the ground, Matsuda and Motohama praying to various deities in the bushes, and four highly confused, heavily armed winged demons hovering in the sky.
“However,” Fajar’s smile widened into a terrifyingly excited grin, “seeing how incredibly fun this chaotic escort mission looks… I think I will join the fight.”
Above them, Dohnaseek blinked, his brain completely short-circuiting. “What… what is happening? Who is this child? What limiters?!”
In the dirt, Issei looked back and forth between Ren, Ariel, and the new arrival. “Ren… Ariel… do you know this guy? Why is he talking like this is a video game?!”
Motohama aggressively adjusted his cracked glasses from the bushes. “Difficulty modifiers?! Limiters?! What kind of secret society are we mixed up in?!”
Fajar merely laughed, cracking his neck as he stepped onto the frontline. The mortals and the Fallen Angels had absolutely no idea that the apex predator of the multiverse had just joined the server.
Sub Section 4
Fajar stretched his neck, producing a series of sharp, echoing cracks that cut through the chaotic noise of the battlefield. While Ariel and Ren fought with a measured, tactical balance—preserving energy and analyzing variables—Fajar possessed an entirely different combat paradigm. He was hungry for blood. His movements were not just precise; they were fiercely, terrifyingly aggressive.
As he stepped fully into the clearing, Fajar began to circulate his internal energy. It was strictly capped at the human baseline, offering no superhuman physical enhancements, but Fajar didn’t need enhanced stats. He seamlessly embedded his absolute, multiversal will into his strikes. Worse yet, he passively projected a monstrous, apex-predator aura. His opponents didn’t realize it, but their subconscious minds were screaming in mortal terror, causing their magical defenses to involuntarily waver and break before Fajar even touched them, multiplying the kinetic damage they received tenfold.
Dohnaseek sneered, completely misreading the situation. “Another suicidal human! I’ll impale you where you stand!” The towering Fallen Angel manifested a massive spear of light and thrust it directly at Fajar’s chest.
Fajar charged straight forward, not breaking his stride. To Ariel and Ren, who could sense intent, it was an incredibly reckless maneuver. But Fajar’s sensory perception operated on an entirely different dimensional axis. He wasn’t just reading intentions; his Advanced Observation Haki was allowing him to literally foresee the future, mapping out Dohnaseek’s exact trajectory seconds before the muscles even twitched.
Fajar simply tilted his head, letting the searing heat of the light spear graze his cheek. In the exact same synchronized motion, Fajar dropped his center of gravity and executed a flawless Renewal Recoilless Baekdu.
By eliminating all wasted kinetic energy and applying absolute rotational torque, Fajar drove his knee directly into Dohnaseek’s solar plexus. The impact sounded like a cannon firing. Despite hitting a biologically superior entity, Fajar’s embedded will and terrifying aura bypassed the Fallen Angel’s durability entirely. Dohnaseek’s eyes bulged, blood erupting from his mouth as his ribcage fractured.
Without giving the angel a microsecond to breathe, Fajar seized Dohnaseek’s trench coat, pivoted his hips, and launched into a textbook Ippon Seoi Nage. Fajar threw the massive Fallen Angel over his shoulder with one arm, slamming him into the concrete with such catastrophic force that a spiderweb of cracks cratered the park plaza.
“One down,” Fajar whispered, his eyes glinting with a sadistic thrill.
Ariel burst into laughter, bouncing on his heels as he turned his attention to Kalawarner. “Looks like the boss is warming up! My turn!” Ariel slipped under Kalawarner’s frantic barrage of light magic, dismantling her guard with a brutal combination of liver blows and uppercuts that sent the elegant Fallen Angel staggering backward in sheer panic.
Fajar didn’t linger on Dohnaseek. He pivoted and locked his sights on Raynare, who was still trying to recover from Ren’s tactical cuts.
Seeing the human who had just effortlessly pulverized Dohnaseek charging at her, Raynare shrieked, blindly throwing horizontal arcs of light magic. Fajar closed the distance in a blur. He trapped her extended arm and unleashed a devastating barrage of Wing Chun chain punches directly to her sternum and face, mixing the rapid-fire strikes with heavy, bone-rattling low kicks to completely destroy her vertical base.
Raynare stumbled backward, her wings flapping erratically as she desperately tried to create distance.
Fajar pursued her relentlessly, shifting his stance. He drew both fists back to his waist, circulating every drop of his mortal internal energy, and unleashed the Double Fist of the Black Turtle: First Stance - Basaltic Fist. The explosive double-punch slammed squarely into Raynare’s chest, the embedded shockwave of his will rippling through her internal organs.
She was launched backward, gasping for air, but Fajar was already moving. He followed up the explosive strike with a brutal, full-body shoulder tackle, completely blowing Raynare off her feet and sending her crashing violently into a stone pillar.
Watching her leaders get systematically dismantled by a single, terrifyingly aggressive high schooler, Mittelt completely lost her composure. “You monster! Die!” she screamed, abandoning all tactical sense and diving directly at Fajar from above, her parasol aimed at his neck.
Fajar didn’t even look at her. His Future Sight had already mapped her desperate strike. Before she was even within striking distance, Fajar planted his left foot and executed the Recoilless Three Stage Hoechook.
In a span of time almost undetectable to the human eye, Fajar unleashed three distinct, rotational kicks—striking her jaw, her temple, and the back of her neck in a continuous, physics-defying blur of motion. The sheer concussive trauma left Mittelt suspended in the air, completely paralyzed.
Ren materialized from the shadow of the fountain, his dark cloak swirling. “Allow me to assist.” The tactician followed up instantly, delivering a rapid sequence of shallow, agonizing slices across Mittelt’s exposed arms with his tactical knife, before pivoting into a flawless roundhouse kick that blew the blonde Fallen Angel away, sending her rolling across the dirt to land in a heap next to Raynare.
A few feet away, Kalawarner was breathing heavily, clutching her bruised sides as Ariel continued to dance around her with a terrifyingly bright smile. “What’s wrong? I thought angels had better stamina!” Ariel taunted.
Kalawarner gritted her teeth in absolute despair. This is impossible! They have no magic! They are just humans! But their technique… it’s like fighting gods!
Realizing they were seconds away from total annihilation, Kalawarner leaped backward, frantically drawing a glowing, teleportation magic circle in the air with her bloodied fingers. “Dohnaseek! Raynare! Mittelt! Fall back immediately!”
The battered Fallen Angels dragged themselves toward the expanding magic circle, their eyes filled with humiliation and rage.
“We are not leaving empty-handed!” Dohnaseek roared, wiping blood from his chin. “Eradicate the witnesses!”
In a final, spiteful act of desperation, all four Fallen Angels summoned every ounce of their remaining magical reserves. The sky above the park illuminated with a blinding, terrifying golden light as dozens of massive light spears materialized, humming with lethal, explosive heat.
With a unified shriek of fury, they hurled the entire barrage not at Fajar, Ariel, or Ren—but directly at Issei, who was trembling in the grass, and Matsuda and Motohama, who were cowering in the bushes.
“We’re dead!” Matsuda howled, throwing his arms over his head.
“The probability of survival is zero!” Motohama sobbed, clutching the dirt.
Issei could only stare up at the descending apocalypse, his vision going entirely white.
Fajar remained perfectly calm. He didn’t rush toward the civilians. Instead, he simply reached out a hand toward the tactician standing beside him.
“Ren,” Fajar said smoothly, his eyes locked onto the descending barrage of divine light. “Let me borrow your extendable pole.”
Sub Section 5
Fajar caught the heavy, extendable steel pole with a fluid, effortless flick of his wrist. Without a single word of warning, he bolted directly toward the descending apocalypse of divine light. However, instead of rushing in a straight line toward the sky, Fajar deliberately angled his kinetic trajectory, sliding across the cracked pavement to position himself perfectly in front of Ariel, Matsuda, and Motohama. By inserting his overwhelming, predatory aura into their direct line of sight, he manipulated the Fallen Angels’ targeting instincts, effectively drawing the entire concentrated barrage toward himself.
Raynare, Dohnaseek, Kalawarner, and Mittelt, their eyes burning with a mixture of terror and absolute hatred, unleashed the full payload of their magical reserves. Dozens of superheated, explosive light spears rained down like a meteor shower, all converging on the single, mortal high school student.
Fajar remained entirely unbothered. Utilizing his Advanced Observation Haki to peer seconds into the future, he simply walked through the orbital bombardment. He tilted his neck a fraction of an inch to let one spear scorch past his ear, stepped lazily to the right to avoid a localized explosion, and casually swatted a third spear into the stratosphere with a lazy backhand swing of the steel pole.
Behind the absolute chaos of Fajar’s vanguard charge, Ariel and Ren stood firmly in front of the bushes, flawlessly deflecting and dismantling the few stray light spears that managed to bypass Fajar’s terrifying blockade, ensuring Matsuda and Motohama were completely shielded from the explosive shrapnel.
“Look at him,” Ren sighed, casually slapping a stray bolt of light away with the back of his tactical knife. “He is actively terrorizing them. Fajar is, and always will be, more of a localized disaster and a menace than a conventional hero.”
Ariel laughed brightly, crossing his arms to block a shockwave that sent dust billowing over the cowering perverted duo. “It’s a difference in philosophy, bro! My admirations have always been the classic, hardworking heroes—Goku, Luffy, Rock Lee, Natsu, Asta. Guys who push past their limits with guts and friendship! But Fajar? His multiversal role models are absolute monsters. He idolizes Rocks D. Xebec, Kaido, Otsutsuki Isshiki, Acnologia, Sosuke Aizen, and literal Gods of Destruction!”
Ren nodded, his dark eyes tracking Fajar’s relentless, physics-defying advance. “Indeed. Even when he immerses himself in Wuxia and Murim literature, he has zero interest in the righteous orthodox sects. He exclusively favors the Heavenly Demons. Entities like Roman Dimitry or Baek Joong-Hyuk—absolute apex predators who march at the absolute front line, completely disregarding conventional tactics while their loyal comrades desperately struggle just to keep up with their pace of slaughter. Fajar literally coined this vanguard tactic the ‘Heavenly Demon Formation’.”
Up ahead, the Heavenly Demon in question had successfully closed the distance.
Dohnaseek, desperately trying to recover his footing, raised his hand to summon another spear. Fajar’s eyes flashed red. Seeing the magical circulation before it even manifested, Fajar swung the steel pole with brutal, rotational torque, delivering a sickening thwack directly to Dohnaseek’s forearm, shattering the magical construct before it even formed.
“Gaaagh!” Dohnaseek howled, clutching his bruised wrist.
Mittelt fired a desperate, jagged bolt of light at point-blank range. Fajar simply tilted his torso backward, letting the magic singe his collar, and immediately countered by bringing the heavy steel stick down directly onto the top of her blonde head with a resonant, cartoonish bonk.
What followed was an absolute, undignified massacre. Fajar completely abandoned all high-level martial arts forms, reverting to the sheer, primal satisfaction of violently thwacking four high-level demonic entities with a metal stick. He moved like a blur, striking shoulders, ribs, and heads with relentless, terrifying accuracy. The mighty Fallen Angels were reduced to cowering on the cracked concrete, pathetically covering their heads with their arms and wings to shield themselves from the merciless, rapid-fire beating.
“Kalawarner!” Raynare screamed hysterically, curling into a ball as Fajar delivered a stinging strike to her back. “Is the teleportation circle ready yet?! Get us out of here!”
Kalawarner, weeping openly as she desperately channeled her remaining mana, finally completed the intricate glowing sigil on the ground. “It’s ready! Fall back! Retreat!”
With a blinding flash of golden light, the spatial distortion expanded, engulfing the four battered, utterly humiliated Fallen Angels. In the next microsecond, they vanished from the park plaza entirely, leaving behind nothing but scorched concrete and scattered, pitch-black feathers.
Fajar lowered the steel pole, a deep, heavy sigh of profound disappointment escaping his lips. He rolled his shoulders, the adrenaline slowly leaving his system. “Oh well. I really wanted to draw more blood, but I suppose they served their narrative purpose. You just can’t find good punching bags these days.”
He turned around, a casual smile returning to his face as he surveyed his handiwork.
Matsuda and Motohama were violently weeping in the bushes, traumatized but completely physically unharmed. Ariel and Ren were casually dusting the debris off their uniforms, completely untouched by the divine bombardment.
However, as Fajar’s gaze swept across the clearing, his smile faltered.
Lying in the center of a scorched crater near the destroyed fountain was Issei Hyoudou. While Fajar, Ariel, and Ren had successfully protected the bushes, Issei had been completely exposed in the open grass. A massive, jagged wound had been blasted cleanly through his abdomen by the concentrated barrage of light spears. His breathing was wet and shallow, his blood rapidly pooling across the cracked pavement as the life began to fade from his eyes.
Sub Section 6
The oppressive silence that settled over the destroyed park plaza was broken only by the shallow, wet gasping of Issei Hyoudou. He lay completely motionless in the center of the scorched crater, his school uniform soaked through with his own rapidly pooling blood. The massive, jagged wound in his abdomen—a direct byproduct of the concentrated divine bombardment—was catastrophic. For a normal human, it was a definitively fatal injury, the kind that promised total organ failure within a matter of minutes.
Fajar walked casually across the cracked concrete, his hands slipping back into his pockets as the terrifying, predatory aura that had completely broken the Fallen Angels vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He stopped at the edge of the crater and looked down at the dying boy. Kneeling beside Issei, Fajar placed his bare hands directly over the searing wound. He did not use magic, nor did he tap into any god-tier multiversal power. Instead, Fajar flawlessly circulated his minimum, baseline human internal energy, threading it into Issei’s failing biological systems just enough to slow the catastrophic bleeding and artificially sustain his fading heartbeat.
“Hyoudou Issei,” Fajar said, his voice entirely devoid of panic or urgency, carrying the casual curiosity of someone asking about the weather. “How does dying feel like?”
Before Issei could even process the absurdity of the question, a blur of motion arrived at Fajar’s side. Ariel dropped to his knees in the dirt, his face tight with uncharacteristic seriousness. He immediately placed his own hands next to Fajar’s, seamlessly syncing his internal energy circulation with his leader’s to act as a localized, biological painkiller.
“Bro, seriously?” Ariel hissed, shooting Fajar a deeply disapproving glare. “The kid is literally minutes away from bleeding out, and you’re treating it like a psychological interview! How can you ask something so unbelievably insensitive at a time like this?”
“Because it is an entirely valid empirical question, and one he is uniquely positioned to answer,” Ren said as he smoothly descended into the crater beside them.
The tactician knelt, placing his hands near Issei’s collarbone to help regulate the dying boy’s internal temperature and stabilize the shock wracking his nervous system. Ren kept his eyes locked on the fading light in Issei’s pupils, his expression a mask of melancholic nostalgia.
“This scene is highly reminiscent of our past, is it not?” Ren murmured quietly, the ambient noise of the bubbling park fountain framing his words. “Back in the fiction-to-reality community. You were always the unstoppable vanguard, Fajar. You charged the absolute front lines, tearing through the enemy ranks with unparalleled efficiency. But the collateral damage was always absolute. Everyone stationed behind you… every single comrade trying to hold the rear… they all died.”
Fajar did not break his concentration on Issei’s life-force, but a faint, chillingly calm smirk touched his lips. “That is a slight mischaracterization of the historical record, Ren. I was not simply charging the front lines; I was engaged in localized combat with entities of absolute, overwhelming strength. I applied such concentrated, lethal pressure that continuing to fight me became a mathematical net loss for them. I forced their strongest combatants to initiate a full-scale tactical retreat because engaging with me was entirely unprofitable.”
Fajar’s smile slowly faded, leaving behind a cold, hollow gaze that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of the universe. “But yes. You are correct about the aftermath. When they retreated and I finally walked back to the rear guard… there were only bodies waiting for me.”
The sheer gravity of the conversation—a casual reflection on a multiversal massacre—hung over the dying boy. Fajar looked back down, his eyes refocusing on the present.
“I will ask you again, Hyoudou Issei,” Fajar prompted softly. “How does dying feel like?”
Issei was completely beyond the point of questioning his reality. The agony in his gut had faded into a numbing, icy hollow. He did not care who these strange boys were, how they had fought off winged demons, or what incomprehensible wars they were talking about. His consciousness was unraveling, drifting lazily toward a pure, blinding white light.
“It… it hurts,” Issei gasped, his voice barely a wet whisper. He slowly, agonizingly raised his trembling hand, staring blankly at the thick, crimson blood coating his fingers. “It hurts so much… but…”
Issei’s eyes glazed over, losing their focus on the night sky. “This red… it’s not beautiful at all. It’s not… as crimson red as her hair.”
Ariel and Ren exchanged a quick, knowing glance, maintaining their energy circulation to give the boy just enough breath to finish.
“The first time I saw her…” Issei smiled weakly, a solitary tear sliding down his dirt-streaked cheek. “I was… completely captivated. If I really have to die here… it would be nice… if I could die on her breast. While being hugged by her…”
Fajar chuckled, a genuine sound of amusement echoing in the quiet park. His eyes flashed with the terrifying clarity of Advanced Observation Haki, peering just a few seconds into the immediate future. “Your romantic perseverance is genuinely commendable, Hyoudou. And as it turns out, my foresight indicates that the blood rapidly soaking through your trousers is currently activating the crumpled paper magic circle you shoved into your pocket this afternoon. I believe your final wish is about to be granted.”
The exact moment Fajar finished speaking, a blinding, localized pulse of crimson demonic energy erupted from Issei’s pocket. Fajar, Ariel, and Ren simultaneously withdrew their hands, effortlessly leaping backward out of the crater in synchronized precision to give the magic room to breathe.
The crimson light expanded, etching a massive, intricate Gremory crest directly into the scorched pavement. The air pressure in the park shifted violently, completely overwriting the lingering divine residue of the Fallen Angels with a heavy, suffocating aura of pure, high-class demonic power.
From the center of the glowing circle, Rias Gremory materialized.
The crimson-haired heiress stepped onto the battlefield with an expression of absolute, regal authority, fully expecting to find a dying boy bleeding out alone, perhaps with a low-level Fallen Angel lingering nearby waiting for execution. Instead, she stepped out of the portal and immediately froze.
Her demonic senses aggressively scanned the environment, but the data she received made absolutely no sense. Issei was indeed dying in a crater, but standing perfectly casually around him were three Kuoh Academy students. They possessed zero demonic energy, zero angelic light, and zero magical fluctuations. They were entirely, utterly baseline humans. Yet, their uniforms were completely unbattered, and they radiated an incomprehensible, terrifying calm in the center of a supernaturally devastated war zone.
Fajar dusted his hands off, offering Rias a polite, perfectly deadpan smile. “He specifically requested crimson hair and a soft chest to die on. The floor is yours, President.”
Rias’s cerulean eyes narrowed, her mind racing. She had no idea what had transpired here. Her familiar, Koneko, was supposed to be observing from afar and had not yet delivered a reconnaissance report. Rias was completely blind to the tactical reality of the situation, but one fact remained absolute: the host of the Boosted Gear was mere seconds away from total biological death.
Interrogating these impossible humans would have to wait.
Ignoring Fajar’s brazen commentary, Rias rushed to Issei’s side. “You’ve done well to survive this long, Issei,” she whispered softly, her regal composure melting into deep, maternal empathy.
Understanding that a mortal body required absolute biological intimacy to properly merge with high-tier Evil Pieces, Rias did not hesitate. In a fluid, entirely unabashed motion, she unbuttoned her Kuoh Academy blouse, shedding her clothing to reveal her bare, flawless skin. The crimson magic of the summoning circle flared vibrantly as she gently lifted Issei from the blood-soaked dirt, pressing his head directly against her bare, soft breasts. She wrapped her arms around him in a deeply intimate, naked embrace, sharing her demonic body heat and transferring her life-force directly into his failing system.
“Live for me, Issei,” Rias commanded softly, pulling the eight glowing Pawn pieces from her demonic space and pressing them into his chest, watching as they sank seamlessly into his heart to rebuild his flesh.
While the majestic, highly intimate resurrection ritual took place, the true casualty of the evening was occurring fifty meters away.
Hidden entirely within the dense, leafy perimeter of the park’s bushes, Matsuda and Motohama were witnessing the absolute apex of supernatural beauty combined with their ultimate, unattainable erotic fantasy. They had just survived an apocalyptic orbital bombardment of holy light, narrowly escaping death by the grace of a multiversal vanguard, but all of that trauma was instantly, violently overwritten.
Matsuda was literally biting through the sleeve of his trench coat, tears of blood streaming down his face as he watched the school’s most unapproachable, beautiful idol cradle his dying best friend naked. “He… he gets a beautiful demon princess… and we get to hide in the dirt! The universe is a cruel, mocking void!”
Motohama was aggressively clawing at the soil, his glasses completely fogged over with the sheer heat of his jealousy. “The statistical probability of this outcome is a negative integer! He has transcended humanity through the sheer power of perversion! I am dying! My soul is actually leaving my body!”
Back in the crater, the crimson glow slowly began to fade. The fatal wound on Issei’s abdomen knitted completely shut, leaving behind unblemished skin. His breathing stabilized into a deep, rhythmic slumber.
Rias carefully wrapped herself in a conjured, thick crimson blanket, holding the unconscious, reincarnated Devil in her arms. She stood up, the Gremory magic circle already reforming beneath her bare feet to initiate a spatial teleportation back to Issei’s bedroom.
She did not reach out to wipe the memories of the three boys standing before her. Erasing the minds of mortals was standard protocol, but Fajar, Ariel, and Ren were a catastrophic anomaly. Rias knew that attempting a memory wipe on entities she fundamentally did not understand could trigger a lethal defensive response. She needed Koneko’s recon report. She needed to understand exactly what kind of monsters were hiding in plain sight within her territory before she made a single move.
Without uttering a single word of gratitude or inquiry, Rias cast one final, piercingly cold, intensely calculating glare at Fajar, Ariel, and Ren. The crimson light flared, and in the blink of an eye, the Gremory heiress and her new Pawn vanished from the park, leaving the multiversal veterans standing quietly in the devastated ruins of the plaza.
Sub Section 7
The atmosphere inside the Occult Research Clubroom was stiflingly heavy. The antique grandfather clock ticked rhythmically against the wall, but the sound felt muted beneath the suffocating tension. Rias Gremory sat behind her grand mahogany desk, her fingers steepled together, her cerulean eyes locked onto the petite, silver-haired girl standing in the center of the Persian rug.
Akeno Himejima stood perfectly still beside the window, her usual teasing, elegant smile completely absent. Yuuto Kiba leaned against the leather sofa, his arms crossed, his knightly composure fractured by a rare expression of deep, unsettling confusion.
Rias had just returned from Issei Hyoudou’s bedroom, having successfully completed the reincarnation ritual. But the image of those three unbothered, mundane teenagers standing in the center of a supernaturally devastated crater refused to leave her mind.
“Begin the report, Koneko,” Rias ordered, her voice carefully controlled, masking the deep well of anxiety churning in her stomach. “Tell me exactly what transpired in that park before I arrived. Leave no detail out.”
Koneko Toujou, the stoic Rook of the Gremory peerage, took a slow breath. Her golden eyes, usually entirely devoid of emotion, carried a faint, lingering tremor of genuine shock.
“The initial phase of the target’s date proceeded as expected,” Koneko began, her voice quiet but echoing clearly in the vast room. “However, the perimeter was compromised from the beginning. Issei Hyoudou was being aggressively surveilled by two mundane students—Matsuda and Motohama. Accompanying them were two other students. Ariel Veritas and Ren Veritas.”
Kiba frowned, his brow furrowing. “The Veritas brothers? I know them. They transferred to Kuoh Academy a while ago. They are incredibly athletic, highly popular, but they actively choose to associate with Issei’s perverted trio. My sensory scans on them have never returned anything beyond a standard, baseline human signature.”
“Your scans were functionally correct, but practically useless, Kiba-senpai,” Koneko stated bluntly. “When the Fallen Angel Raynare dropped her disguise and initiated her execution strike on Issei, Ariel and Ren Veritas intervened. They did not use magic. They did not use Sacred Gears. They used pure, unadulterated physical kinetics.”
Rias leaned forward, the leather of her chair creaking. “Explain.”
“Ariel Veritas intercepted a materialized spear of light by physically tackling the Fallen Angel,” Koneko said, delivering the impossible statement with clinical detachment. “His acceleration went from zero to maximum velocity in a fraction of a second. The biomechanical torque he generated lifted Raynare entirely off the ground and shattered her focus. Ren Veritas then engaged her in close-quarters combat using a standard, carbon-steel tactical knife.”
“A mundane knife?” Kiba interjected, his pride as a magical swordsman genuinely offended. “That’s impossible, Koneko. A weapon forged of pure, divine light would instantly melt through standard carbon steel upon contact, let alone the sheer kinetic force of a Fallen Angel’s swing.”
“He didn’t block the light, senpai,” Koneko replied, looking directly at the Knight. “He deflected the kinetic trajectory. He read the micro-contractions in her shoulder muscles, calculated the angle of her strike, and parried the divine weapon using irrefutable physics, striking the side of her blade where the magical density was weakest. He then systematically severed her tendons with surgical precision. To my eyes… it looked like they were fighting a slow, clumsy child. Raynare could not land a single strike on either of them.”
Akeno inhaled sharply, bringing a hand to her cheek. “My, my… baseline humans completely dismantling a high-tier Fallen Angel? That completely rewrites our understanding of mortal limitations. But Rias found the park completely destroyed, and Issei was fatally wounded. If they were so dominant, how did the situation deteriorate?”
“Reinforcements,” Koneko answered, her expression darkening. “Three more Fallen Angels descended. Kalawarner, Mittelt, and Dohnaseek. Even then, Ariel and Ren possessed the speed and technique to evade and counter. The battlefield dynamic only shifted because the Fallen Angels realized they could not hit the brothers, and instead targeted the absolute dead weight on the field: Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama.”
Koneko paused, her small hands clenching into fists at her sides. “Ariel and Ren were artificially shackled. They willingly threw themselves into the crossfire, absorbing graze damage and explosive shockwaves to physically shield the mundane humans. It was a chaotic escort mission. But then… the unregistered variable entered the perimeter.”
Rias’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “The third boy. The one who spoke to me. I ran a mental cross-reference of the entire Kuoh Academy registry the moment I saw him. He was wearing our uniform, but he is not enrolled at our school. Who is he, Koneko?”
“I do not know his name, President. I have never seen him before in my life,” Koneko admitted, a slight shiver running down her spine—a biological reaction she could not suppress. “But his presence… President, I have senjutsu. I can read the natural flow of life energy. When that boy stepped into the clearing, the ambient air pressure physically dropped. He possessed absolutely no magical aura, but his sheer, psychological presence was that of an apex predator. The Fallen Angels were subconsciously terrified before he even moved. Their magical defenses involuntarily wavered in his presence.”
Kiba stepped forward, entirely captivated. “How did he fight?”
“With absolute, unmitigated violence,” Koneko whispered. “He did not fight defensively like Ariel or Ren. He charged the frontline directly. Dohnaseek thrust a spear of light at him, and the boy didn’t even attempt to block. He moved as if he already knew exactly where the spear would be seconds before it was thrown. He slipped past it, struck Dohnaseek’s solar plexus with a rotational knee strike that bypassed his supernatural durability entirely, and then threw him into the concrete hard enough to crater the plaza.”
Akeno’s smile was completely gone. “A human… physically throwing Dohnaseek?”
“He then engaged Raynare,” Koneko continued, her voice gaining a rapid, almost breathless cadence. “A flawless barrage of close-quarters chain punches, followed by a double-fist strike that sent a shockwave through her internal organs. Mittelt attempted to ambush him from above. He didn’t even look at her. He executed a three-stage rotational kick in mid-air that paralyzed her nervous system. When the Fallen Angels attempted a final, desperate orbital bombardment of light spears to cover their retreat, he borrowed Ren’s extendable pole, walked directly into the falling artillery, and physically beat the remaining magic out of them until they teleported away weeping.”
Silence reigned in the clubroom for a long, suffocating minute. Rias stared at her desk, her mind working furiously to categorize this apocalyptic data.
“They let Issei take the fatal hit,” Rias concluded softly, a cold, aristocratic anger bleeding into her tone. “If they possessed the speed and foresight you describe, they could have saved all three of the boys. Did they deliberately use Issei as a sacrificial pawn? Did they know about our monitoring? Are they agents of the Church attempting to manipulate the Gremory clan into a proxy war?”
“No, President,” Koneko answered immediately, her tone absolute and unwavering.
Rias looked up, surprised by her Rook’s immediate dismissal. “You sound certain, Koneko.”
“I am,” Koneko nodded, stepping closer to the desk. “I observed their micro-expressions, monitored their heart rates, and read their lips throughout the entire engagement. There is no grand conspiracy, President. They possess absolutely zero manipulative intent toward the Occult Research Club. In fact… they barely care that we exist.”
Kiba blinked, taken aback. “They don’t care? But they let Issei die.”
“They knew Issei possessed the Gremory summoning flyer,” Koneko explained meticulously. “They knew that if Issei suffered a fatal injury, the paper would activate and you would arrive to resurrect him as a Devil. They calculated that Issei already had a supernatural safety net backing him. Matsuda and Motohama did not.”
Koneko looked directly into Rias’s eyes. “When the orbital bombardment began, they made a cold, instantaneous tactical calculation. They could not protect all three civilians perfectly. So, they abandoned the one who had an immortal medical evacuation waiting for him, and threw their entire defensive output into shielding Matsuda and Motohama—their mundane friends who had absolutely no one else to save them. They didn’t do it to manipulate you, President. They did it because they genuinely wanted to save their friends, and…”
Koneko hesitated, swallowing hard. “…and because they were having fun.”
“Fun?” Akeno repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yes,” Koneko confirmed, her golden eyes wide. “They were smiling. They were bantering. Ariel and Ren were treating high-class Fallen Angels like sparring partners. And that unknown boy… he was treating them like literal punching bags. To them, this wasn’t a desperate battle for survival. It was recreation.”
Rias Gremory slowly leaned back in her chair, the sheer weight of the revelation settling over her shoulders like a lead mantle. Her territory, the town she ruled as the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess, was currently housing three entities masquerading as human teenagers. Entities who possessed no magic, yet could effortlessly dismantle divine beings with pure martial arts and overwhelming willpower. Entities who viewed Devil reincarnation not as a miraculous, life-altering pact, but as a convenient ambulance service they could reliably pawn their injured friend off on while they enjoyed a supernatural brawl.
“Keep observing them, Koneko,” Rias commanded quietly, her voice trembling with a mixture of profound dread and intense, overwhelming curiosity. “Do not engage. Do not provoke them. We need to figure out exactly what it is that has decided to make Kuoh Academy its playground.”
Sub Section 8
In the dense foliage at the edge of the destroyed park, the sheer, unrelenting psychological pressure of the evening finally reached its absolute boiling point. Matsuda and Motohama had survived an orbital magical bombardment, witnessed their best friend bleed to death, and then watched in paralyzing, blood-weeping jealousy as Kuoh Academy’s untouchable idol resurrected him via a naked, magical embrace. Their mortal brains simply could not process another byte of data. With a synchronized, heavy groan, their eyes rolled into the back of their heads, and they fainted dead away into the dirt.
Fajar chuckled, stepping away from the crater. He raised his right hand and casually snapped his fingers.
The sound resonated with a strange, cosmic frequency that bypassed the physical environment entirely. Instantly, the invisible, oppressive dimensional limiters shackling Ariel and Ren shattered. A profound, invisible wave of raw, multiversal kinetic energy rushed back into the Veritas brothers’ bodies. Their capped baseline human parameters vanished, replaced instantly by the familiar, surging warmth of their limitless internal energy and peerless physical durability.
Ariel rolled his shoulders, a satisfying series of loud pops echoing from his joints as his cosmic stamina returned. “Oh, man. That feels so much better. Being a normal human is exhausting.”
Ren flexed his fingers, feeling his immense, uncapped magical circulation seamlessly synchronize with his physical vessel once more. He glanced over at the two unconscious teenagers snoring softly in the bushes. “I will open a dimensional corridor through the Harrowing Interstice. We can teleport them directly into their respective beds to avoid any further logistical complications.”
“Hold on, bro! Cancel the portal,” Ariel grinned, walking over and effortlessly hoisting Matsuda over his left shoulder and Motohama over his right like two sacks of flour. “I haven’t had a proper workout all week because of the limiters. Carrying two dead-weight teenagers across town is decent dynamic resistance training. We walk.”
Ren sighed softly, adjusting his dark cloak. “Very well. A pedestrian escort it is.”
The three multiversal anomalies strolled out of the ruined park, leaving the magical anomalies and destroyed concrete behind them. They navigated the quiet, dimly lit streets of Kuoh Town, the cool autumn wind carrying the casual, joyful tone of their conversation.
“Fajar,” Ren spoke up, his analytical mind still processing the battlefield data. “Your vanguard charge tonight was entirely reckless by conventional tactical standards, yet your execution was flawless. You did not just read their intentions; you preempted their physical mechanics before the kinetic signals even fired. How did you achieve that level of precision without utilizing your higher-dimensional speed?”
Fajar walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, gazing up at the streetlights. “It’s an application of advanced sensory perception. I wasn’t just sensing the surrounding environment or reading their killing intent. I was quite literally foreseeing the future.”
Ariel’s eyes lit up with intense, unrestrained anime-fanboy enthusiasm. He nearly dropped Motohama in his excitement. “Wait, seriously?! Like Katakuri’s Advanced Observation Haki from One Piece? You were looking seconds into the future?!”
“Exactly like that,” Fajar affirmed with a warm smile. “When you push your willpower and sensory mastery to the absolute pinnacle, the linear flow of time becomes a readable variable. I saw their attacks, the trajectory, and the resulting damage before they even summoned their weapons.”
Ren’s dark eyes narrowed with quiet, burning determination. “Future Sight… I see. That is the next logical evolution of my sensory capabilities. I am adding that to my training regimen immediately. I will begin tomorrow morning.”
Ariel shifted Matsuda’s weight on his shoulder, his grin widening. “I knew it! And those strikes you used on Raynare and Dohnaseek—those were strictly from The God of High School, right? I recognized the Renewal Recoilless Baekdu and the Basaltic Fist anywhere!”
“Good eye,” Fajar laughed. “Yes, they were. There is a profound beauty in mortal martial arts. Remember back in the God of High School narrative? Even the Jade Emperor, Okhwang—the absolute pinnacle of divine authority—eventually started learning human martial arts because he recognized their terrifying, undeniable effectiveness against raw magical power.”
“Exactly!” Ariel cheered. “Gods rely too much on their destructive yields! They completely forget about biomechanical torque!”
Their joyful, animated banter carried them through the suburban streets. They made a quick detour to Matsuda’s house, where Ariel casually hopped a two-story fence to drop the boy through his open bedroom window, before doing the exact same for Motohama a few blocks later. With the civilians safely secured, they finally made their way back to the Veritas household.
They stood on the front porch under the warm, amber glow of the porch light. Fajar stretched his arms over his head, a relaxed sigh escaping his lips.
“Well, my designated maintenance job here is done,” Fajar said, his form subtly beginning to shimmer at the edges as the spatial reality around him began to warp. “I am returning to the Infinite Reality realm.”
Ariel frowned, visibly disappointed. “Aw, come on! Why not just stick around? Now that the limiters are off, we can actually enjoy the Kuoh Academy slice-of-life properly. You should stay!”
“I concur,” Ren added smoothly. “Your presence would provide an excellent sparring baseline for my Future Sight training.”
Fajar smiled, the shimmering distortion around his body growing brighter. “That is genuinely a great idea, and I would love to. But I manifested here too suddenly to perform the limiter removal. To stay long-term in this specific narrative layer without collapsing the local dimensional physics, I need the proper time to forge a stable Avatar and embed a true fragment of my soul into it. If I stay in this temporary projection, I’ll accidentally break the planet.”
Fajar offered a lazy, two-finger salute as his physical form began to dissolve into pure, ambient starlight. “I’ll do the paperwork and build a proper vessel. See you both next time.”
With a silent, non-kinetic flash, the Heavenly Demon vanished from the porch, leaving Ariel and Ren standing alone in the quiet night, fully unrestrained and ready to truly begin their lives in Kuoh.
Sub Section 9
Issei Hyoudou bolted upright in his bed, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. His hands flew instinctively to his stomach, fully expecting to feel the slick, terrifying warmth of his own blood and the gaping, jagged hole left by the Fallen Angel’s orbital bombardment. Instead, his fingers met smooth, unblemished skin and the soft fabric of his pajama shirt. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over a stack of discarded adult magazines, and practically threw himself at the full-length mirror.
Nothing. There was not a single scratch, scar, or bruise on his torso.
“Was it… a dream?” Issei muttered, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. But the phantom sensation of searing, localized heat and the lingering scent of ozone and copper felt entirely too real. And worse, his last memory was the terrifyingly calm face of a strange boy, the sudden, intoxicating smell of high-class perfume, and the sensation of bare, impossibly soft breasts pressing against his face.
Unable to contain the suffocating anxiety, Issei haphazardly threw on his weekend clothes and sprinted out of his house, his feet carrying him directly toward the park. When he arrived, the sheer, undeniable reality of the situation punched all the air from his lungs. The plaza was a devastated war zone. Deep, scorched craters littered the concrete, the fountain was violently shattered, and the benches were reduced to splintered kindling.
“It wasn’t a dream,” Issei whispered, his eyes widening in absolute horror as the memories flooded back with agonizing clarity. The light spears. The strange, overwhelmingly powerful transfer students. The absolute massacre. “Matsuda! Motohama!”
Driven by sheer, panicked adrenaline, Issei sprinted toward the residential district. He didn’t have to search long. Sitting on a low brick wall outside a local convenience store, looking like two war veterans who had just survived a multi-year deployment, were Matsuda and Motohama. They were both aggressively slurping down boxes of strawberry milk, their eyes ringed with heavy, dark bags.
“Guys!” Issei yelled, skidding to a halt in front of them. “You’re alive! You’re completely fine!”
Matsuda slowly lowered his milk carton, his gaze entirely hollow. “Hyoudou… I want to punch you in the jaw so badly right now, but my arms feel like wet noodles. Do you have any idea what we went through last night?”
Motohama violently adjusted his glasses, his hands trembling. “The statistical probability of three individuals experiencing the exact same highly detailed, traumatic, and erotic hallucination is functionally zero. Ergo, reality itself has fractured, or we survived an actual encounter with winged demons who got beaten half to death by Kuoh Academy transfer students.”
“So it was real,” Issei groaned, gripping his hair. “The light spears… the craters…”
“Oh, it was real,” Matsuda suddenly sobbed, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was all real! We almost got vaporized by holy orbital strikes, but that’s not even the worst part! The worst part was watching you, you absolute degenerate, get coddled and resurrected by President Rias Gremory! Naked! She hugged you naked! Why does the universe reward your idiocy with the ultimate high school fantasy while we get shoved into the dirt?!”
“Wait, naked?!” Issei yelled, a massive blush erupting across his face as the hazy, dreamlike memory suddenly snapped into high-definition focus. “That actually happened?! I thought that was just my brain shutting down!”
“I am mathematically calculating the exact angle I need to throw myself into traffic to reincarnate into a protagonist,” Motohama muttered darkly, staring at the asphalt. “Let’s just agree it was a gas leak. A highly localized, hallucinogenic gas leak that specifically targeted our perversions.”
“I don’t think it’s a gas leak,” Issei said softly, blinking in extreme confusion as he looked around the street. “Guys… something is wrong with me. I can… hear things.”
Issei focused his gaze on a stray cat sitting on a fence three blocks away, realizing with mounting terror that he could perfectly hear its heartbeat, the soft rustle of its fur, and the tiny scratching of its claws against the wood. When he looked at Motohama, his vision auto-focused to the point where he could count the individual microscopic scratches on the lenses of his glasses. The sensory overload was dizzying. He was no longer human, but his mortal brain hadn’t caught up to his demonic physiology yet.
Desperate to normalize the situation, the trio decided to seek refuge in absolute, mundane banality. They bought cheap snacks and aimlessly wandered down a quiet, abandoned commercial alleyway behind the arcade, desperately trying to distract themselves with arguments over their favorite gravure idols.
But the supernatural world was not done with them.
The ambient temperature in the alley plummeted. The sky above them seemed to artificially darken, the shadows lengthening ominously against the brick walls. A heavy, suffocating pressure washed over the alleyway.
“Look up,” a deep, arrogant voice commanded from the sky.
The three boys froze, slowly raising their heads. Hovering twenty feet above them, his black feathered wings fully extended, was Dohnaseek. The Fallen Angel looked significantly worse for wear compared to the previous night, sporting dark bruises and a thoroughly humiliated disposition, but his magical aura was flaring with lethal intent. Utilizing his supernatural senses, he had tracked them down. Because the multiversal limiters on Ariel and Ren had been removed, Dohnaseek’s radar only picked up the three weak, baseline signatures of the perverted trio. He assumed they were alone and completely defenseless.
“You humiliating little rats,” Dohnaseek sneered, manifesting a crackling, superheated spear of pure light in his right hand. “Did you really think you could survive an encounter with the Fallen, witness our humiliation, and simply walk away? I will incinerate you until not even your ashes remain!”
A few blocks away, standing atop a water tower, the Occult Research Club was watching the confrontation unfold. Rias narrowed her eyes, observing Issei’s demonic aura instinctively flaring up in response to the threat.
“President, should we intervene?” Kiba asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his unseen sword.
“Hold your position,” Rias commanded calmly. “Issei is a Devil now. The innate physical durability of the Gremory Pawn piece is more than enough to tank a standard light spear. Let him take the hit. It will force his demonic powers to fully awaken and solidify his understanding of his new reality.”
Dohnaseek roared, throwing his arm forward. The spear of light shot down toward Issei like a localized lightning bolt, illuminating the dark alleyway with blinding, lethal radiance. Issei threw his arms up in a pathetic, entirely human attempt to shield himself, squeezing his eyes shut as Matsuda and Motohama screamed in terror.
But the explosion never came.
Instead, a sharp, concussive boom echoed through the alley, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
Issei slowly opened his eyes. Standing directly in front of him, having closed the distance so fast he simply appeared as a localized blur of displaced air, was Ariel Veritas. The athletic transfer student wasn’t standing in a tactical guard, nor was he employing any complex martial arts. He was simply holding his right hand out.
Clutched tightly in Ariel’s bare, unprotected palm was the tip of the superheated light spear.
Dohnaseek’s jaw dropped, his eyes bulging in absolute, uncomprehending horror. A baseline human attempting to touch a weapon forged of pure holy light should have resulted in instantaneous, agonizing vaporization.
“Man, you guys just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Ariel sighed, an energetic, almost bored smile on his face.
With a casual, terrifying flex of his uncapped physical strength, Ariel closed his fist. The indestructible, divine light spear shattered into a million harmless, glittering sparks that drifted down around him like snow.
Before Dohnaseek could even process the impossible display of physical dominance, the shadows cast by the alley’s dumpsters violently warped and elongated. The darkness surged upward, bypassing the physical distance entirely, and instantly coalesced into four massive, jagged, obsidian spikes that erupted directly from Dohnaseek’s own shadow.
Schhhk!
The Fallen Angel shrieked in agony as the solid shadow spikes impaled him through the shoulders, wings, and lower back, completely immobilizing him in mid-air. He writhed helplessly, bleeding out magical energy as he looked frantically around for the source of the attack.
Leaning casually against the brick wall near the alley’s entrance, bathed in the dim light of his smartphone screen, was Ren Veritas. He wasn’t even looking at the Fallen Angel. His thumbs were rapidly tapping the screen as he navigated a high-level digital chess match.
“Knight to E4. Check,” Ren murmured quietly to himself, before finally lifting his dark, apathetic eyes to the bleeding entity suspended in the sky. “Allow me to clarify the current paradigm, Fallen Angel. Last night, Ariel and I were severely dimensionally limited, forced to rely exclusively on baseline human kinetics and biomechanical redirection to fight you. We did this purely as a localized handicap for our own entertainment.”
Ren pocketed his phone, the air around him suddenly distorting as a terrifying, boundless, uncapped aura of multiversal pressure bled into the alleyway. The sheer weight of it made the brick walls groan and crack.
“Those limiters are no longer active,” Ren continued, his voice cold and devoid of all mercy. “If you ever attempt to threaten the lives of our friends again, we will not merely humiliate you with martial arts. We will systematically dismantle your atomic structure until you cease to exist across all observable realities.”
“W-What are you?!” Dohnaseek gasped, coughing up blood. “You’re not human! You’re monsters!”
Before Ren could finalize the execution, a blinding, majestic crimson magic circle erupted on the ground beneath them. The heavy, suffocating aura of high-class demonic power instantly flooded the alleyway, aggressively clashing with the lingering divine light and Ren’s multiversal pressure.
Rias Gremory rose from the teleportation circle, flanked flawlessly by Akeno, Kiba, and Koneko. Her crimson hair flared violently, her cerulean eyes locked onto the suspended Fallen Angel with the absolute, uncompromising authority of a monarch defending her borders.
“That is quite enough,” Rias declared, her voice echoing with commanding, regal power. “You have trespassed deep into Kuoh Town, Fallen Angel. This entire territory is under the exclusive, sovereign jurisdiction of the Gremory clan. Any further aggressive action against my servants or the citizens of this town will be interpreted as a direct act of war against the Underworld.”
Dohnaseek stared at the crimson-haired heiress, the pieces finally snapping into place. He looked from Rias to the terrified, trembling Issei, feeling the distinct, undeniable demonic signature now radiating from the boy he thought he had killed.
“A reincarnated Devil…” Dohnaseek choked out, his arrogance entirely shattered. He realized he was not only hopelessly outmatched by the two anomalous monsters pinning him to the sky, but he was also staring down a high-class Devil peerage. “I am Dohnaseek. Grigori operative. We… we have no intention of inciting an all-out factional war over this territory. This was a localized assassination directive that has clearly been compromised. We will retreat.”
Ren quickly processed the political variables of the situation. Continuing the execution in front of the local supernatural authority would unnecessarily complicate their slice-of-life retirement plan. With a completely dismissive sigh, the tactician pulled his phone back out and resumed his chess game.
“Acceptable,” Ren said quietly. He snapped his fingers without looking up.
The obsidian shadow spikes instantly dissolved into black mist. Dohnaseek plummeted out of the sky, barely catching himself with his battered wings just before he hit the asphalt. Panting heavily, clutching his bleeding wounds, the Fallen Angel manifested a crude teleportation circle beneath him, casting one last terrified look at Ariel and Ren before vanishing into a flash of golden light.
Silence descended upon the alleyway, broken only by the soft beep of Ren’s chess app declaring a checkmate.
Rias turned her gaze away from the empty space where Dohnaseek had been, her expression shifting from regal authority to a carefully guarded, intensely calculating calm. She looked at Issei, who was currently hyperventilating against a dumpster, and then at Matsuda and Motohama, who had seamlessly fainted into a tangled heap on the concrete for the second time in twenty-four hours. Finally, her eyes settled on Ariel and Ren, who were radiating an aura of completely casual indifference.
“This situation has escalated beyond casual oversight,” Rias said, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. “It is clear that the reality of this town has shifted dramatically, and you all have been thrust into the center of it. Take your friends home. Rest and recover your strength.”
Rias turned her back, her crimson hair flowing behind her as the teleportation circle began to glow once more.
“We will convene at the Occult Research Club room tomorrow after school,” Rias finalized, casting a sidelong glance at Issei. “All of you. We have an extensive amount of history to discuss.”
Life 1
Section 1
Sub Section 1
The morning commute to Kuoh Academy was usually filled with the loud, highly inappropriate, and aggressively animated chatter of the school’s most notorious trio. However, on this crisp Monday morning, Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama walked in a state of stunned, uncomprehending silence. Their eyes were glued to the figure walking perfectly in stride beside them.
Ren Veritas was wearing a thick, impenetrable band of black fabric wrapped tightly over his eyes, completely obscuring his vision.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Matsuda finally said, breaking the awkward silence as he pointed a trembling finger at the blindfold. “What exactly is the narrative here, Ren? Are we doing a cosplay thing? Did you lose a bet? Or did you finally look at something so magnificently perverted that you decided to retire your eyes while you were at your peak?”
Ren didn’t miss a single step, easily navigating the uneven pavement and a stray bicycle parked on the sidewalk with terrifying, fluid grace. “It is routine sensory deprivation training,” Ren answered, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of irony. “My current baseline capabilities are insufficient. I am attempting to force my auxiliary senses to evolve so that I can bridge the insurmountable gap between my current self and Fajar.”
The mere mention of that name caused a collective, involuntary shudder to ripple through the perverted trio. The memory of the park incident—the apocalyptic craters, the descending light spears, and the terrifying, god-like aura of the boy named Fajar physically dismantling winged demons with a steel pole—was permanently burned into their retinas.
Under normal circumstances, the trio would have relentlessly interrogated Ren about his sudden, bizarre shift in behavior and the complete, unnatural evaporation of his perverted tendencies. But after surviving an orbital magic bombardment and witnessing the literal resurrection of their best friend, their threshold for absurdity had drastically expanded. If Ren said he was training to catch up to a multiversal apex predator, they were inclined to believe him.
“I… see,” Motohama muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Given the recent paradigm shift in our observable reality, voluntarily blinding yourself for martial arts training is statistically one of the least crazy things I’ve witnessed this week.”
Ren turned his head slightly toward them, his tone softening with genuine warmth despite his stoic expression. “I appreciate your understanding. And please, do not let my personal martial pursuits alienate you. Regardless of our differing trajectories, we are still friends forever.”
“Heck yeah, we are!” Ariel chimed in from the rear, flashing a massive, sunny grin. He jogged up to join the front of the group, though every step he took was accompanied by the heavy, metallic clanking of dense iron. Ariel’s Kuoh Academy uniform was noticeably bulging, stretched taut over a series of thick, cumbersome training weights strapped to his chest, arms, and calves.
“I’m actually planning to start the blindfold training later this evening,” Ariel declared proudly, rolling his shoulders with a heavy grunt. “For now, I’m focusing on dynamic kinetic resistance! Though, honestly, I’m extremely disappointed in the local sporting goods stores. I bought literally every ankle and vest weight they had in stock, and it barely feels like a heavy winter coat.”
Internally, Ariel sighed. Mundane iron is useless. The density is all wrong. I need to contact Fajar later and ask him to forge me some localized gravitational anomaly weights from the Infinite Reality realm. Maybe something forged from a dying dwarf star.
As the group finally approached the grand iron gates of Kuoh Academy, the bustling morning atmosphere washed over them. For a normal human, it was just the loud, chaotic hum of hundreds of teenagers. But for Ren, whose hyper-senses were dialed to the absolute maximum to compensate for his lack of sight, and for Ariel, whose Advanced Observation Haki passively blanketed the courtyard, the environment was a crystal-clear tapestry of biological rhythms, emotional spikes, and isolated conversations.
Specifically, they easily picked up the aggressive, localized whispering of the female student body.
“Look at the Veritas brothers…” a second-year girl murmured to her friend near the shoe lockers. “Is Ren actually blindfolded?”
“I told you he changed!” another girl hissed excitedly from the staircase. “Remember last week when Issei and the others were trying to peek through the chain-link fence at the girls’ tennis club? Ren didn’t even look! He sat under a tree playing digital chess on his phone the entire time! And now he’s literally wearing a blindfold! You can’t be a pervert if you physically refuse to look at anything!”
“But why is he doing it?” a third chimed in, a faint blush on her cheeks. “It looks so extreme and ascetic… like a mysterious martial arts monk. It’s kind of incredibly hot.”
Ariel nudged his brother’s ribs with a heavy, weighted elbow, a wide, teasing grin on his face. “Way to go, brother. You accidentally engineered a massive PR campaign. The girls think you’ve shed the ‘Beast of Perversion’ title to become a mysterious, tragic bad boy. You’re a heartthrob now.”
Ren sighed, perfectly dodging a student who was running late without even shifting his posture. “I assure you, Ariel, social engineering was the furthest thing from my mind. I had completely forgotten about our deliberately cultivated perverted reputations. I am simply desperate. The memory of Fajar’s Future Sight is haunting me. I cannot rest until my sensory network reaches that exact multiversal frequency.”
The school day passed in a blur of mundane classes, a stark and jarring contrast to the supernatural violence of the weekend. When the final bell of the afternoon finally rang, the students began packing their bags, chatting eagerly about club activities and weekend plans.
Suddenly, a collective, breathless sigh swept through the female population of the classroom. The atmosphere instantly shifted as Yuuto Kiba, the undisputed Prince of Kuoh Academy and Knight of the Gremory peerage, stepped through the sliding classroom door. He radiated an aura of flawless, knightly elegance, his polite smile immediately captivating every girl in the room.
However, the swooning quickly morphed into profound, collective confusion when Kiba bypassed the popular crowds entirely and walked directly toward the back corner of the room.
“Excuse me,” Kiba said, his voice smooth and perfectly modulated. “Hyoudou Issei-kun. The President of the Occult Research Club would like to see you in the old school building.”
The girls in the classroom physically recoiled. Hyoudou? The biggest pervert in the school? Why on earth would the beautiful, untouchable Rias Gremory want anything to do with him?
Kiba politely ignored the murmurs and turned his gaze toward the two transfers sitting nearby. “Ariel-kun. Ren-kun. The President extends her invitation to both of you as well. If you would please accompany us.”
Instantly, the girls in the classroom nodded in synchronized, understanding approval. That made perfect sense. Ariel was an athletic giant with a sunny disposition, and Ren was the mysterious, blindfolded stoic. Of course the elite Occult Research Club would want to recruit the Veritas brothers. The fact that Issei was included was clearly just an unfortunate bureaucratic oversight.
Matsuda and Motohama, however, completely ignored Kiba’s polite request to Ariel and Ren. Having witnessed the Veritas brothers literally punch Fallen Angels through concrete, the duo held a deep, terrified respect for them. They knew better than to question their involvement in occult matters.
Issei, on the other hand, was still their peer in the gutter of high school hierarchy.
“Hyoudou, you absolute traitor!” Matsuda roared comedically, tears of pure, unadulterated venom streaming down his face as he lunged forward, grabbing Issei by the collar. “What kind of dark, forbidden blood pact did you sign to get an escort from the Prince to see President Gremory?!”
“You are a biological anomaly that must be studied and subsequently destroyed!” Motohama shrieked, biting down on his handkerchief as he adjusted his glasses with a violently trembling hand. “You die in a park and suddenly you’re entering the highest echelon of the school’s social stratum! I curse you, Issei! I curse your entire bloodline!”
To be continued in next sub section.
Sub Section 2
The atmosphere inside the Occult Research Clubroom was a study in contrasts. Sunlight filtered through the antique stained-glass windows, casting warm, colorful patterns across the Persian rug, yet the air was thick with an oppressive, undeniable tension.
Issei Hyoudou stood near the center of the room, looking entirely out of his depth. Behind Rias Gremory’s imposing mahogany desk, the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess sat with her fingers steepled, her cerulean eyes locked onto the trio before her. Akeno Himejima stood by the window, her usual teasing smile replaced by a look of sharp calculation. Kiba Yuuto leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed but his hand resting inches from where he would summon his demonic sword. Koneko Toujou sat on a velvet sofa, quietly snacking on a chocolate bar, though her golden eyes never left Ariel and Ren.
“Hyoudou Issei,” Rias began, her voice echoing with commanding authority. “Let us dispense with the pleasantries. The girl who asked you on a date, Amano Yuma, was a Fallen Angel named Raynare. Her sole objective was to assassinate you.”
Issei physically recoiled, his face draining of color. “A Fallen Angel? Like… from the Bible? But why me?! I’m just a normal high school student!”
“Because you possess a Sacred Gear,” Rias explained patiently, summoning a faint crimson aura to her fingertips to emphasize her point. “Artifacts of immense power bestowed upon humans by God. Yours is particularly dangerous, which drew the attention of the Fallen Angels. When Raynare dealt the fatal blow, the flyer you received from me activated. I arrived and used my demonic power to resurrect you.”
Rias stood up, her crimson hair flowing behind her like a regal cape. “This world is divided in a hidden, eternal stalemate between three major factions: Angels, Fallen Angels, and Devils. As of last night, you are no longer human, Issei. I reincarnated you as a Devil. You are now my servant, a member of the Gremory peerage.”
Issei stood frozen, his brain struggling to process the sheer weight of the supernatural lore being dumped onto his shoulders. Devils. Angels. Sacred Gears. He looked down at his hands, expecting to see claws, but they looked exactly the same. He looked back at Rias, taking in her flawless, breathtaking beauty, the absolute conviction in her eyes, and the memory of her warm embrace in the park.
“I… I’m a Devil?” Issei muttered, the fear slowly being overshadowed by his overwhelming teenage hormones. “And I serve you, President? A beautiful, high-class Devil?” A goofy, entirely inappropriate grin began to spread across his face. “Honestly, that sounds like an absolute win!”
Rias blinked, slightly taken aback by his rapid, hormonally driven acceptance, before a small, amused smile touched her lips. “I am glad you are adaptable, Issei.”
Instantly, the ambient temperature in the room dropped. Rias’s smile vanished, replaced by the cold, uncompromising gaze of a monarch defending her territory. She shifted her attention to the two brothers standing casually beside the newly minted Devil.
Ren was still wearing his thick black blindfold, his hands resting in his pockets, while Ariel stood with his arms crossed, the heavy iron weights beneath his uniform clanking softly as he shifted his stance.
“Now,” Rias said, her voice dropping an octave. “Let us address the anomalies. Ariel Veritas. Ren Veritas. My first and most pressing question: What are your intentions in Kuoh Town? Are you agents of a rival faction sent to interfere with my territory, and should the Underworld consider you a threat?”
Ariel and Ren exchanged a brief, entirely relaxed look, though Ren’s was obscured by his blindfold.
“President Gremory,” Ariel started, flashing a bright, disarming grin. “We are literally just here to hang out with Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama. We have zero hostile intentions toward you, your peerage, or the Underworld. We don’t care about factional politics. In fact, since Issei is part of your club now, you can consider us entirely supportive of the ORC.”
Ren nodded in agreement, his tone perfectly level. “If our presence inherently triggers your territorial defense protocols, we are willing to submit to voluntary containment. We can wear demonic monitoring devices, or you may physically tie us to these chairs to verify our compliance. We have no desire to incite paranoia.”
The absolute sincerity of their offer—and the casual willingness to be tied up—completely shattered the dramatic tension Rias had been trying to build. Akeno brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a surprised giggle, while Kiba coughed awkwardly into his fist.
“That… will not be necessary,” Rias said, slightly flustered. She quickly regained her composure. “But that brings us to the next mystery. Koneko’s senjutsu and Kiba’s magical scans confirm you possess absolutely zero demonic, angelic, or divine energy. You are biologically mundane. Yet, Ren deflected a weapon of light with a standard carbon-steel knife, and Ariel crushed a superheated light spear with his bare palm. If you are not affiliated with the Three Factions, what exactly are you?”
“And what did you mean by having your ‘limiters’ removed?” Kiba added, his eyes burning with a swordsman’s intense curiosity.
“We are human,” Ren answered calmly, tilting his blindfolded head toward the Knight. “Nothing more. The issue is that modern humanity has fundamentally forgotten what that entails. Society today dismisses sensory honing, internal energy cultivation, and extreme biological conditioning as myth, choosing instead to rely solely on basic physical fitness and superficial fighting techniques. We simply pushed human martial arts and internal energy cultivation to their absolute, logical extremes.”
“Exactly,” Ariel chimed in, flexing a bicep. “Any human could technically achieve what we do if they trained hard enough. Those ‘limiters’ you heard us mention were just highly dense, internal training weights we placed on our own energy pathways to make daily life more challenging. Taking them off just let us access our full, cultivated human potential.”
Rias and her peerage stared at them in profound disbelief. The idea that pure, unadulterated human martial arts could bridge the gap to the supernatural was fundamentally alien to them.
“Fascinating,” Akeno murmured, her eyes glittering. “But that does not explain your knowledge. You knew Issei possessed the President’s flyer, and you deliberately abandoned him to save your other friends because you knew we would resurrect him. How do you know so much about our operations?”
“Our sensory training isn’t just physical,” Ren explained smoothly. “We cultivate our awareness to sense intentions, biological rhythms, and non-human signatures. We were aware that Issei was carrying an anomalous magical artifact. We were also fully aware that your Rook, Koneko, was monitoring Issei for days.”
Ren turned his head precisely toward where Koneko was sitting. “For example, she was sitting on the branch of the cherry blossom tree observing us when Issei was attempting to peek at the Kendo club last Thursday.”
Koneko paused mid-bite of her chocolate bar, her golden eyes widening in genuine, uncharacteristic shock. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she realized these “humans” had easily detected her espionage.
“As for our deeper knowledge of your world,” Ren continued, his voice taking on a slightly more serious, rhythmic tone. “We possess a promise to fulfill regarding the Occult Research Club. It is a vow that binds us to your future. However, we cannot explain the exact parameters of this promise yet. We ask that you wait exactly one month. After the conclusion of the upcoming Rating Game incident—the Riser Phenex affair—we will reveal everything.”
Rias flinched visibly. The mention of Riser Phenex—a deeply guarded, highly personal political nightmare she had kept entirely hidden from her peerage—proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that these brothers possessed information they had absolutely no right to know.
“The third boy,” Koneko suddenly spoke up, her voice regaining its stoic edge. “The one who utilized Future Sight. Who is he? What is the ‘Infinite Reality’ he returned to?”
“Ah, Fajar,” Ariel laughed warmly. “He’s a comrade in arms. He’s the founder of our little ‘fiction to reality’ community. We basically took concepts like internal cultivation, advanced haki, and dimensional physics that normal people dismiss as fiction, and proved they weren’t myths. Fajar is currently in his own realm. Explaining the mechanics of his existence right now would just give you all a massive headache. Like Ren said, we ask for your patience until next month.”
The room fell silent as Rias processed the overwhelming, paradigm-shifting information. These were not enemies. They were anomalous, impossibly strong humans who treated supernatural threats like sparring partners, yet they possessed a baffling, respectful loyalty to Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama.
Slowly, the icy, regal facade of the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess melted away. Rias sighed, her shoulders relaxing as a genuinely warm, kind smile spread across her face. The imposing monarch vanished, replaced by a caring, deeply empathetic young woman.
“I want to make something perfectly clear to both of you,” Rias said softly, looking between Ariel and Ren. “I hold absolutely no prejudice against humans. The Occult Research Club is a sanctuary, and I have no problem whatsoever with humans joining us or associating with my peerage. My hostility earlier was not born of arrogance.”
Rias glanced toward the window, her expression tightening with genuine worry. “It was born of fear. The supernatural world is unimaginably dangerous. My primary duty as a King is to protect my servants. When humans get involved with us, they inevitably become targets. And frankly, baseline humans are fragile. They cannot protect themselves. If you join our circle, it endangers my peerage, because we would be forced to constantly divide our attention to keep you alive.”
She turned her gaze back to them, her eyes full of sorrowful concern. “I am not worried about the two of you anymore. You have proven you can dismantle a Fallen Angel strike team with terrifying ease. But Matsuda and Motohama are truly, entirely mundane. They survived by sheer luck yesterday. If they continue to associate with Issei, they will be targeted again. And I cannot guarantee their safety.”
Ariel’s grin softened into a look of absolute, unshakable resolve. He stepped forward, the iron weights clanking decisively.
“You don’t have to guarantee their safety, President,” Ariel said, his voice carrying the immovable weight of a mountain. “We will.”
Ren adjusted his posture, his multiversal presence bleeding just slightly into the room—a warm, protective aura that felt fundamentally different from demonic magic. “Issei has the Gremory clan to protect him. We will take full, absolute responsibility for Matsuda and Motohama. If any supernatural entity, regardless of their faction, attempts to harm them, we will handle it personally. You do not need to divide your forces to protect our friends.”
The heavy, lingering anxiety in the clubroom evaporated instantly. Rias’s eyes widened, touched by the sheer, unwavering loyalty these anomalously powerful humans possessed. Kiba smiled genuinely, recognizing the pure chivalry in their declaration, while Akeno let out a soft, approving hum.
“Very well,” Rias said, her warm smile returning in full force. She extended her hand across the desk. “Ariel Veritas. Ren Veritas. We accept your terms, and we look forward to the revelations you promised next month. Until then, you are officially welcome in the Occult Research Club territory as esteemed friends.”