3
"These people are here to help me."
Motohama's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Help you with what, exactly?"
Issei glanced at Solomon, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement.
"To become... better," Issei said, finding truth in the vague explanation. "Stronger. More worthy."
"Worthy of what?" Matsuda pressed.
"Of them," Issei admitted softly. "Of this second chance I've been given."
Something in his tone must have convinced his friends of his sincerity because the aggressive questioning gradually subsided, replaced by a more thoughtful curiosity.
"So," Motohama said after a moment, "you're telling us you somehow lucked into living with beautiful women from around the world, who are training you to be... what? Some kind of improved version of yourself?"
"That's... surprisingly accurate," Issei confirmed.
"And you can't tell us how or why this happened?"
"I really can't. Not yet, anyway."
His friends exchanged another look, having one of those silent conversations that only comes from years of friendship. Finally, Matsuda sighed dramatically.
"Fine. Keep your sexy secrets," he declared. "But on one condition."
"What's that?" Issei asked warily.
"You don't forget about us," Matsuda said, a rare seriousness beneath his typically exaggerated mannerisms. "No matter how fancy your new life gets, or how many beautiful women surround you, the Perverted Trio stays together."
The unexpected earnestness caught Issei off guard. He'd been so consumed by his supernatural transformation that he hadn't fully considered how his friends might feel abandoned.
"Deal," he agreed without hesitation. "Besides, who else would appreciate my perverted ambitions?"
"Umu! I would!" Nero interjected cheerfully. "The pursuit of beauty and pleasure is a noble imperial tradition!"
"See?" Issei grinned. "My new friends are perverts too. They just use fancier words for it."
This drew reluctant laughter from his friends, breaking the tension that had built up during their conversation.
"Speaking of perverted ambitions," Musashi said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she leaned forward conspiratorially, "did Issei ever tell you about his dream to become a—"
"TRAINING!" Issei interrupted desperately, leaping to his feet with surprising agility for someone who'd been complaining about muscle fatigue minutes earlier. "Didn't you mention more training? Something about sword forms? Very important, can't delay!"
"But I thought we were getting to know your friends," Musashi pouted, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Bonding over shared interests and aspirations..."
"Later!" Issei insisted, physically trying to push her toward the door while Matsuda and Motohama watched in bewilderment. "Much later! Like, never later!"
"What are you so afraid of?" Motohama asked, his curiosity piqued by Issei's obvious panic. "We already know about your dream of building a harem."
The room fell silent as Issei froze mid-push.
"Harem?" Artoria repeated, one elegant eyebrow raised.
"Oh yes," Matsuda confirmed enthusiastically, clearly delighted to share this information. "It's been Issei's declared ambition since middle school. 'I'm going to become the Harem King!' He announces it at least once a week."
"Does he now?" Solomon murmured, amusement dancing in her ancient eyes. "How fascinating that he's been so... consistent in his aspirations."
Issei wanted to sink through the floor as his legendary companions exchanged knowing looks. Of course they already knew about his dream—it was literally the wish that had summoned them—but having it casually revealed by his friends somehow made it more mortifying.
"It's just a joke," he mumbled unconvincingly.
"Is it though?" Motohama challenged. "Because you've given us detailed plans of your future harem palace, complete with architectural drawings of the custom bath house."
"And don't forget the organizational chart showing the hierarchy of wives versus concubines," Matsuda added helpfully.
"And the seasonal rotation schedule to ensure equal attention—"
"OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH!" Issei shouted, his face burning with embarrassment.
To his surprise, instead of mockery or disgust, his supernatural companions seemed genuinely intrigued by these revelations.
"You've created architectural plans?" Artoria asked with something like reluctant admiration. "That demonstrates forethought and administrative consideration."
"A hierarchical structure shows an understanding of governance principles," Solomon noted thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's more to your dream than mere carnal desire."
"I want to see these plans!" Nero declared. "As an emperor renowned for architectural achievements, I could offer valuable insights!"
"No one is seeing any plans!" Issei protested. "They're just stupid doodles!"
"Detailed, to-scale doodles with measurements and material specifications," Motohama corrected. "I still have copies if you ladies are interested."
"Traitor!" Issei hissed.
"What? This is literally the first time your harem obsession might actually impress women instead of creeping them out," Matsuda pointed out reasonably. "We're helping your cause!"
Before this mortifying conversation could continue, there was a polite cough from the doorway. Everyone turned to find Morgan le Fay standing there, her elegant dark attire a stark contrast to the casual setting.
"Pardon the interruption," she said smoothly, "but we've detected unusual energy fluctuations in the area. Ishtar believes fallen angels are conducting reconnaissance nearby."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Artoria and Musashi straightened, their casual demeanors falling away to reveal the warriors beneath. Solomon's eyes took on a distant focus, presumably extending her magical senses to verify the information.
"How many?" she asked.
"At least three distinct signatures," Morgan replied. "Circling the property but maintaining distance—likely aware of our presence but uncertain of our nature."
"Probably reporting back to this Kokabiel that Raynare mentioned," Musashi surmised, her hand instinctively reaching for swords that weren't currently at her side.
Matsuda and Motohama looked between the women in confusion, clearly lost in the suddenly serious conversation filled with unfamiliar terminology.
"Uh, what's going on?" Matsuda ventured. "Who's conducting reconnaissance?"
"Just some... exchange program officials," Issei improvised poorly. "Making sure everything's going well with the program. Nothing to worry about."
"Exchange officials who need to be detected?" Motohama questioned skeptically. "And what's a 'fallen angel'? Some kind of code name?"
The legendary beings exchanged glances, silently debating how to handle this complication. It was Solomon who made the decision.
"Memory adjustment would be simplest," she suggested quietly to Issei. "Quick, painless, and it would avoid unnecessary complications."
"No," Issei said immediately, surprising himself with his vehemence. "No memory tampering. They're my friends."
"Then what do you suggest?" Artoria asked pragmatically. "They've already heard too much."
Issei looked at his friends—confused but curious, suspicious but loyal despite everything. He made a decision that would likely complicate his already chaotic life even further.
"We tell them the truth," he declared. "Or at least enough of it that they understand the danger."
"Are you certain?" Solomon asked, studying him intently. "Once they know, there's no going back. Knowledge of the supernatural world brings its own risks."
"I'm sure," Issei nodded. "They deserve to know why I'm suddenly different. Besides, they're already involved just by being my friends. Better they understand the threats than remain ignorant and vulnerable."
His reasoning seemed to impress his legendary companions.
"A kingly decision," Artoria acknowledged with a slight nod of approval. "Protecting one's subjects through knowledge rather than ignorance."
"Umu! How noble!" Nero agreed enthusiastically. "Sharing truth with trusted advisors is essential for effective rule!"
"Uh, we're still here," Matsuda reminded them, waving his hand. "And getting more confused by the second."
Issei took a deep breath and turned to face his friends. "Remember how I said something life-changing happened to me? Well, it started when my girlfriend stabbed me through the chest with a spear made of light and left me to die in the park."
The blunt statement was met with stunned silence.
"That's... not funny, man," Motohama finally said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.
"I'm not joking," Issei replied, unconsciously rubbing the spot where Raynare's light spear had pierced him. "I actually died. Or would have, if not for what happened next."
Over the next twenty minutes, Issei gave his friends a simplified but honest version of recent events: his death, the Mythos Summoning Ritual, the true nature of his new companions, and the supernatural world that had suddenly become his reality. He left out certain details—like the full extent of his dragon heritage and the more embarrassing aspects of the "Harem King" motivation—but provided enough truth that they could grasp the gravity of the situation.
Throughout his explanation, Matsuda and Motohama sat in progressively deepening shock, their expressions cycling through disbelief, confusion, and dawning comprehension as certain odd details suddenly made sense.
"So when that gold-eyed girl said she was the 'King of Heroes'..." Matsuda began slowly.
"She meant it literally," Issei confirmed. "That was Gilgamesh. As in, the actual mythological hero from the Epic of Gilgamesh."
"And the blonde one who keeps saying 'umu'..."
"Emperor Nero. Yes, that Nero."
"And the quiet dignified one is..."
"King Arthur. Though she prefers Artoria."
Motohama blinked rapidly, processing this information. "King Arthur was a woman?"
"History is often written by those with specific agendas," Solomon explained gently. "Many truths have been obscured or altered over centuries."
"This is..." Matsuda shook his head, struggling to find words. "This is insane. You realize that, right? Completely insane."
"I know how it sounds," Issei acknowledged. "If I hadn't experienced it myself, I wouldn't believe it either."
"Prove it," Motohama challenged suddenly. "If they're really legendary figures with supernatural powers, prove it."
Issei looked to his companions questioningly.
"A reasonable request," Solomon nodded. "Though perhaps we should move to a more suitable location. Morgan, are our uninvited observers still in the vicinity?"
"They maintain their distance," Morgan confirmed. "Durga and Ishtar are monitoring them. They won't approach while we're all gathered."
"Then the backyard should suffice," Solomon decided. "Issei, would you do the honors of providing the first demonstration?"
Issei understood what she meant. With a deep breath, he focused on the now-familiar sensation of calling forth his sacred gear. The crimson gauntlet materialized over his left arm in a flash of red light, the green jewel pulsing with energy.
[BOOSTED GEAR!]
Ddraig's voice reverberated from the gauntlet, causing Matsuda and Motohama to scramble back in their chairs.
"Holy shit!" Matsuda exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. "Your arm just transformed!"
"This is the Boosted Gear," Issei explained, flexing his gauntleted fingers. "It contains the spirit of Ddraig, the Red Dragon Emperor. One of the most powerful sacred gears in existence, apparently."
[Greetings, friends of my host,] Ddraig rumbled, his voice projected for all to hear. [Try not to faint. It would be embarrassing for everyone.]
"It talks!" Motohama squeaked, his normally analytical demeanor completely abandoned in the face of irrefutable supernatural evidence.
"He talks," Issei corrected. "Ddraig is a sentient being, not an object."
[Precisely. And I've been enjoying the stories of your 'Perverted Trio' adventures. Particularly creative was your attempt to drill observation holes in the girls' locker room using mechanical pencils.]
"You told your dragon about that?" Matsuda hissed accusingly.
"I didn't have to," Issei replied with a grimace. "He has access to my memories."
"Okay, so you have a talking dragon gauntlet," Motohama said, regaining some composure through sheer analytical habit. "That's... one data point. What about the rest of them? The whole 'legendary figures from myth and history' thing?"
"Perhaps something subtle," Artoria suggested, looking to Solomon.
With a graceful gesture, Solomon raised her hand, multiple rings glowing with soft light. The air around them shimmered, and suddenly the dining room table was floating three feet off the ground, all its contents remaining perfectly in place as if gravity had simply decided to take a break in that specific location.
"Is this sufficient demonstration?" she inquired politely, while Matsuda and Motohama stared open-mouthed at the levitating furniture.
"I believe our young friends require further convincing," Morgan observed with dry amusement. She extended one pale hand, dark energy coalescing above her palm into the shape of a miniature castle complete with moving figures of knights and dragons engaged in an epic battle.
"It's like a hologram," Motohama whispered, scientific curiosity temporarily overtaking his shock.
"Hardly," Morgan replied. "Holograms are mere light projections. This is genuine material manifestation through shadow manipulation."
"My turn!" Musashi declared cheerfully. She picked up a metal spoon from the table, held it up for everyone to see, then with a movement too fast for the human eye to follow, sliced it cleanly in half using just her fingertips.
"That's... that's impossible," Motohama stammered, adjusting his glasses as if they were somehow responsible for what he was seeing.
"For humans, perhaps," Musashi agreed with a grin. "For the greatest swordsmaster in Japanese history? Merely Tuesday."
"I believe they're convinced," Artoria observed as Matsuda and Motohama sat in stunned silence, staring at the various supernatural displays around them.
"Actually," Matsuda said slowly, "I think I need to see more. You know, for scientific verification."
Despite the situation, Issei couldn't help but laugh. Even faced with irrefutable evidence of the supernatural, his friends' perverted opportunism remained intact.
"You just want to see what other cool powers they have," he accused good-naturedly.
"Can you blame me?" Matsuda replied defensively. "This is literally the coolest thing that's ever happened! My best friend died, summoned legendary heroes, and now has a talking dragon gauntlet! I'm allowed to be excited once the existential shock wears off!"
"You believe us, then?" Solomon asked, gently lowering the table back to its original position.
"I mean... it's hard to argue with floating furniture and sliced metal," Motohama conceded, picking up one half of the bisected spoon to examine it closely. "Though I'm still processing the implications."
"Which are?" Artoria prompted.
"That everything we thought we knew about reality is wrong," Motohama replied with surprising philosophical depth. "That myths are real, magic exists, and there's a whole supernatural world operating alongside our normal one."
"Most humans would find this revelation distressing," Solomon observed. "You seem to be adapting rather quickly."
"Are you kidding?" Matsuda exclaimed. "This is AWESOME! Do you know how many people dream of discovering magic is real? This is like finding out we're living in an anime!"
"Except for the part where fallen angels want to kill Issei," Motohama pointed out more soberly. "That's significantly less awesome."
"Which brings us back to our current situation," Morgan reminded them, gesturing toward the window where night had fallen. "We have supernatural entities conducting surveillance of this location, and now two additional humans aware of their existence."
"Are we in danger?" Motohama asked, his excitement dampening slightly.
"Not immediately," Solomon assured him. "The presence of thirteen legendary beings is sufficient deterrent against direct attack. However, your knowledge of the supernatural world does make you potential targets should our enemies seek leverage against Issei."
"So what do we do?" Matsuda asked, looking between Issei and his supernatural companions.
"We protect you," Issei said with a certainty that surprised even himself. "You're my friends. That makes you part of this now, whether I like it or not."
"Damn right we are," Matsuda declared, clapping Issei on the shoulder. "The Perverted Trio sticks together, even against fallen angels!"
"Though perhaps with some tactical adjustments to ensure your safety," Solomon suggested diplomatically. "We can establish protective measures around your homes and provide emergency communication methods."
"And perhaps basic self-defense training," Artoria added. "Nothing extensive, but enough to allow you to escape supernatural threats long enough for assistance to arrive."
"You'd teach us how to fight supernatural creatures?" Motohama asked, clearly intrigued by the possibility.
"To evade them," Artoria corrected firmly. "There is a significant difference."
As they discussed practical security measures, Issei marveled at how quickly his friends had adapted to this revelation. Rather than rejecting the impossible truth or running away in fear, they had embraced it with the same enthusiastic curiosity they typically reserved for new adult magazines or peeping opportunities.
In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Anyone willing to risk life and limb by drilling holes in the kendo club's changing room wall was unlikely to be deterred by mere fallen angels.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Matsuda said suddenly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"What?" Issei asked warily, recognizing that expression all too well.
"Your 'Harem King' dream isn't just a perverted fantasy anymore," Matsuda replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You've literally summoned beautiful women from across history who are bound to help you achieve it. You're living the ultimate harem protagonist life!"
"It's not like that," Issei protested automatically, though even he wasn't entirely convinced of his own denial. "The ritual just happened to summon women. It could have been anyone whose essence resonated with my soul."
"Umu! But it wasn't just anyone," Nero pointed out cheerfully. "It was us! Clearly your soul has excellent taste in resonance partners!"
"And the Eternal Oath does require us to assist you in achieving your heart's deepest desire," Solomon reminded him with a hint of amusement. "Which you explicitly articulated as becoming the 'Harem King.'"
"See?" Matsuda crowed triumphantly. "Even they acknowledge it! You're on the path to legitimate harem kingship!"
"Though perhaps not in the exact manner you initially envisioned," Artoria added, her tone making it clear that she had definite opinions about how such a 'kingship' should properly function.
"Guys, can we please focus on the fallen angels currently circling my house?" Issei pleaded, desperate to change the subject.
"Ah, but managing personal relations while addressing external threats is precisely what rulership entails," Morgan observed with silky amusement. "Consider this excellent practice for your future sovereign duties."
Issei buried his face in his gauntleted hand, wondering if dying might have been simpler than navigating his new reality. The laughter of his friends—both old and new—suggested that regardless of fallen angels, devil politics, or supernatural training regimens, some aspects of his life would remain consistently mortifying.
"For what it's worth," Motohama said, adjusting his glasses with a rare expression of sincerity, "we're with you, man. Whether it's perverted high school shenanigans or battles against supernatural forces, the Trio stands together."
"Though we might need a new name," Matsuda mused. "The Perverted Trio Plus Legendary Beings? The Supernatural Squad? Issei's Awesome Harem Adventure Team?"
"No one is calling us any of those things," Issei declared firmly, though he couldn't help but smile at his friends' unflagging enthusiasm. "But... thanks. For believing me. For sticking around even when things got weird."
"Please," Matsuda scoffed. "After all the embarrassing situations we've survived together? A few fallen angels and mythological figures are nothing."
As if on cue, a sharp whistle cut through the night air outside—some kind of signal from their supernatural perimeter guards.
"They're making a move," Morgan announced, rising gracefully to her feet. "Ishtar has engaged one of them."
"We should move this conversation elsewhere," Solomon decided. "Issei, perhaps you should escort your friends home with Musashi as guard, while we address our uninvited observers."
"I can help fight," Issei protested, raising his gauntleted arm.
"Your training has barely begun," Artoria reminded him gently but firmly. "And your friends' safety must take priority. A true king protects those under his care before seeking battle."
The wisdom in her words was undeniable, though Issei's pride chafed at being sidelined.
[She's right, partner,] Ddraig rumbled in his mind. [Know when to fight and when to protect. Both are essential aspects of true strength.]
"Fine," Issei conceded reluctantly. "But I want a full report afterward. If these fallen angels are hunting me, I need to understand what we're up against."
"Of course," Solomon agreed with an approving nod. "Information is a ruler's most valuable resource."
As they prepared to separate—Issei and Musashi escorting Matsuda and Motohama home while the others dealt with the fallen angel reconnaissance—Issei found himself reflecting on how drastically his life had changed in just a few days.
He had died, summoned legendary beings, discovered a hidden supernatural world, begun training to use draconic powers, established tentative diplomatic relations with devils, and now brought his human friends into this new reality.
And somewhere in the midst of all this chaos, his ridiculous dream of becoming a "Harem King" had transformed into something both more complex and more meaningful than he'd ever imagined.
"Ready to move out, future sovereign?" Musashi asked with her characteristic grin, dual swords materializing in her hands from thin air.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Issei replied, flexing his gauntleted fingers.
Whatever challenges lay ahead—fallen angels, devil politics, or simply surviving Scathach's training regimen—he would face them with both his old friends and new allies at his side.
The path to becoming a true Harem King, it seemed, would be neither simple nor precisely what he'd envisioned. But as he looked at the legendary beings who had answered his dying wish and the loyal friends who stood by him despite everything, Issei found himself unexpectedly grateful for the journey ahead, whatever it might bring.
Chapter 7: Midnight Confrontations
The night air carried a distinctive tension as Issei and Musashi escorted Matsuda and Motohama through the quiet streets of Kuoh Town. Every shadow seemed deeper, every rustle of leaves more significant now that Issei's friends were aware of the supernatural world lurking beneath ordinary reality.
"So," Matsuda broke the silence as they walked, clearly struggling to process everything they'd learned, "fallen angels. They're actually, like... former angels? With wings and halos and everything?"
"Wings, yes. Halos, no," Musashi replied casually, her swords hidden from normal human perception but still readily accessible in her spiritual arsenal. "The fallen lost their halos when they fell. They tend to be more individualistic than regular angels—less bound by divine law, more prone to pursuing personal desires."
"Like the one who stabbed Issei?" Motohama asked, glancing at his friend with newfound concern.
"Raynare," Issei confirmed, the name still bitter on his tongue. "Yeah, she's a fallen angel. Pretended to be a shy girl named Yuuma who wanted to be my girlfriend."
"Wait, Yuuma?" Matsuda stopped in his tracks. "The cute girl you were bragging about last week? The one we thought you made up?"
"You thought I made her up?" Issei asked, genuinely surprised.
"Well, yeah," Motohama admitted sheepishly. "You suddenly claimed a beautiful girl asked you out. What were we supposed to think?"
"Fair point," Issei conceded with a rueful smile. "I wouldn't have believed me either."
"So she was real, just evil," Matsuda summarized. "Man, your luck with women is somehow both the best and worst I've ever seen."
"Speaking of women," Motohama said, lowering his voice conspiratorially despite the empty street, "are you actually... you know... with any of these legendary ladies? Like, romantically?"
Issei nearly tripped over his own feet. "What? No! It's not like that!"
"Yet," Musashi added with a mischievous grin. "The ritual binds us to help him achieve his dream of becoming a 'Harem King,' after all. Interpretation of that goal is... flexible."
"So you're saying there's a chance?" Matsuda asked, eyes wide with vicarious hope.
Before this mortifying conversation could continue, Musashi's posture suddenly shifted—the casual swordswoman vanishing, replaced by the legendary duelist with centuries of combat instinct.
"Company," she murmured, hands moving to where her swords would materialize at a thought. "Three o'clock, rooftop. Fallen angel signature."
Issei immediately activated his Boosted Gear, the crimson gauntlet materializing with a flash of red light. "Matsuda, Motohama, get behind us."
To their credit, his friends reacted quickly, positioning themselves behind Issei and Musashi without question or panic—though their wide eyes betrayed their nervousness.
"Is it the same ones from your house?" Motohama whispered, adjusting his glasses anxiously.
"Different energy signature," Musashi replied, her keen senses assessing their observer. "Younger. Possibly less experienced. Curious rather than hostile at the moment."
"Should we run?" Matsuda asked, eyeing the seemingly empty rooftop with new wariness.
"Running often provokes pursuit," Musashi explained calmly. "Better to address them directly. Issei, this might be a good diplomatic opportunity."
"Me?" Issei squeaked. "Diplomatic? I don't know the first thing about supernatural diplomacy!"
"You negotiated with devils this afternoon," Musashi reminded him. "Same principle, different faction. Besides, they're likely here because of you specifically."
"Great," Issei muttered, but he squared his shoulders and stepped forward. Raising his gauntleted arm, he called out to the hidden observer: "We know you're there! Come out and state your business!"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a figure detached from the shadows of the rooftop—a young man with light blonde hair and a gentle face that seemed at odds with the black feathered wings extending from his back. He wore a dark gray trenchcoat over casual modern clothes, and his expression held curiosity rather than hostility.
"Impressive sensing abilities," he commented, his voice surprisingly soft as he descended to street level. "Especially for a human wielder of the Boosted Gear who only awakened recently."
"Who are you?" Issei demanded, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "And why are you following us?"
The fallen angel offered a small, almost sheepish smile. "My name is Nicodemus. I'm here on behalf of Lord Azazel, Governor General of the Grigori."
"Azazel?" Musashi repeated, her stance relaxing slightly though her vigilance remained. "Not Kokabiel?"
Surprise flickered across Nicodemus's face. "You know of Lord Kokabiel? Interesting. But no, I serve Lord Azazel directly. He's quite interested in rare sacred gears and their wielders."
"Is that why Raynare tried to kill me?" Issei asked bluntly. "Because your boss is 'interested' in sacred gears?"
"Raynare?" Nicodemus frowned. "The fallen angel who attacked you was named Raynare?"
"Playing dumb won't work," Issei said sharply. "She specifically mentioned being ordered to eliminate sacred gear users in this territory."
"By Kokabiel, not Azazel," Musashi clarified, studying the fallen angel's reactions closely.
Nicodemus's expression darkened. "If that's true, she was acting against the Governor General's explicit instructions. Lord Azazel has forbidden lethal operations against sacred gear wielders. His interest is purely scientific and observational."
"You expect us to believe that?" Issei challenged.
"Whether you believe it or not doesn't change the truth," Nicodemus replied simply. "Lord Azazel sent me to observe and report on the unusual energy signatures that suddenly appeared in this territory—signatures unlike anything in our records. Finding the Red Dragon Emperor at the center of this phenomenon was unexpected but explains much."
Throughout this exchange, Matsuda and Motohama had remained uncharacteristically quiet, watching the interaction with wide-eyed fascination. Now Motohama cautiously raised his hand as if in class.
"Uh, quick question from the normal human contingent," he said when everyone turned to look at him. "If different fallen angel factions are giving contradictory orders, doesn't that suggest some kind of internal conflict in your organization?"
Nicodemus blinked, clearly surprised by the astute observation from an ordinary human. "That's... perceptive of you. And not information I'm at liberty to discuss with outsiders."
"Which is basically confirmation," Matsuda whispered loudly to Issei. "Politics is politics, even with supernatural wings, apparently."
Despite the tension, Issei found himself grateful for his friends' presence. Their distinctly human perspective brought a grounding normalcy to an otherwise surreal confrontation.
"So," Issei said, refocusing on Nicodemus, "you're just here to observe? Not to attack?"
"Correct," Nicodemus confirmed. "Lord Azazel specifically prohibits aggressive action against sacred gear wielders. His interest is in research and understanding, not acquisition or elimination."
"And these others who were watching my house earlier? The ones Ishtar engaged?"
"Likely Kokabiel's faction," Nicodemus admitted with visible reluctance. "There are... differences of opinion within the Grigori leadership regarding how to approach the current era."
"Meaning some of you want peace while others want war," Musashi translated bluntly.
Nicodemus didn't deny this, which was confirmation enough.
"So we have to worry about some fallen angels trying to kill us while others just want to study us?" Issei summarized incredulously. "How are we supposed to tell the difference?"
"Those loyal to Lord Azazel will identify themselves," Nicodemus explained. "And we will never initiate hostilities. Those who attack without provocation or proper introduction are likely acting under... different directives."
The diplomatic phrasing barely concealed the reality of what he was describing—a supernatural faction in the midst of an ideological schism, with Issei and his companions caught in the middle.
"Great," Issei muttered. "Just great."
"If it helps," Nicodemus offered, "I can provide you with a direct communication method to reach me should you encounter aggressive fallen angels. Lord Azazel would be most displeased to learn of unauthorized operations in this territory, especially against a sacred gear wielder of your significance."
"Why should we trust you?" Issei asked, though with less hostility than before. Something about the fallen angel's straightforward manner seemed genuine.
"You shouldn't, necessarily," Nicodemus replied with surprising honesty. "Trust is earned. But consider this: if we wanted you eliminated, we would have attempted it before you summoned thirteen legendary beings to your side. The current situation makes you far too formidable a target for direct confrontation."
"He's got a point," Matsuda whispered. "Evil masterminds usually don't wait until the hero levels up before attacking."
"This isn't a video game," Issei hissed back, though he couldn't deny the logic.
After a moment's consideration, he looked to Musashi, silently asking for her assessment.
"Accepting communication doesn't mean trusting," she pointed out reasonably. "Information channels benefit both sides. Solomon would approve of establishing diplomatic contact with multiple factions."
Issei nodded, making his decision. "Alright. We'll accept this communication method. But if this turns out to be a trick—"
"You'll have thirteen legendary beings seeking retribution," Nicodemus completed with a small smile. "Believe me, I'm quite aware of the power now aligned with you. Lord Azazel finds it fascinating rather than threatening, but either way, deception would be foolish."
He reached into his coat and produced what looked like an ordinary business card, though faint magical symbols shimmered along its edges when viewed from certain angles.
"Channel your sacred gear's energy into this card while thinking of me, and I'll be alerted immediately," he explained, offering it to Issei.
Issei accepted the card cautiously, examining it before tucking it into his pocket. "Tell your Governor General that we're not interested in being research subjects. We just want to be left alone."
"I'll convey your message," Nicodemus promised, though his expression suggested he doubted it would change Azazel's interest. "But I should warn you—now that you've entered the supernatural world so dramatically, being 'left alone' may no longer be an option. Too many factions will take notice of what's happened here."
"Yeah, we're getting that impression," Issei sighed.
"Yeah, we're getting that impression," Issei sighed.
Nicodemus spread his wings, preparing to depart, but paused as if remembering something. "One more thing. Lord Azazel asked me to convey a message if I encountered you directly."
"What message?" Issei asked warily.
"He said, 'The Boosted Gear responds to its wielder's heart. Train your body all you want, but don't neglect what truly powers a dragon.'" Nicodemus recited, clearly delivering the words exactly as instructed without necessarily understanding their full meaning.
[Interesting,] Ddraig's voice rumbled from the gauntlet, startling the fallen angel. [Azazel always did understand dragons better than most.]
"The Red Dragon speaks!" Nicodemus exclaimed, genuine excitement overriding his professional demeanor. "Lord Azazel will be fascinated to hear this. Most sacred gear spirits remain dormant or communicate only with their wielders."
[Tell your Governor that if he wishes to discuss dragons, he should approach directly rather than sending messengers. I remember him from centuries past—he was less cautious then.]
Nicodemus bowed slightly, clearly recognizing the honor of being addressed directly by one of the Heavenly Dragons. "I'll convey your words exactly, Great One."
With that, he launched himself skyward, black wings carrying him swiftly into the night until he was lost among the stars.
"That was... surprisingly civil," Issei remarked once the fallen angel had disappeared.
"Political entities rarely begin with direct confrontation when information gathering is the priority," Musashi explained, her swords dematerializing as the immediate threat passed. "Even warlike factions typically assess before attacking."
"Unless they're crazy-ex-girlfriend fallen angels pretending to be high school students," Matsuda pointed out.
"Raynare was clearly operating with different objectives," Musashi agreed. "The question is whether she represented Kokabiel's true directives or was acting independently."
"What did he mean about what 'truly powers a dragon'?" Motohama asked, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully. "Is there some special dragon fuel we should know about?"
[Emotion,] Ddraig answered directly, causing both Matsuda and Motohama to jump despite having seen the sacred gear in action earlier. [Dragons draw power from strong emotion—rage, determination, desire, pride. A dragon with technical skill but empty heart is like a perfectly engineered engine without fuel.]
"So Issei's perverted feelings are actually useful?" Matsuda asked incredulously.
[More than you realize. My previous wielders have typically channeled rage or battle-lust. Issei's... unique motivational structure provides alternative emotional pathways that offer interesting possibilities.]
"Did my dragon just diplomatically call me a pervert?" Issei muttered.
[I called you uniquely motivated,] Ddraig corrected. [The distinction is important.]
"We should continue moving," Musashi suggested, gently steering the conversation back to practical matters. "That interaction seemed genuine, but we can't be certain other fallen angels in the area share Nicodemus's restraint."
They resumed their journey, the encounter with Nicodemus adding yet another layer of complexity to Issei's rapidly expanding supernatural world. By the time they reached Matsuda's house (the closest of the two), the friends had progressed from shocked silence to excited speculation about all things supernatural.
"So if devils and fallen angels exist, what about actual angels? Heaven? Gods from other mythologies?" Motohama questioned, his analytical mind cataloguing possibilities.
"All real," Musashi confirmed casually. "Though the relationships between pantheons are... complicated. Divine politics make mortal nations look straightforward by comparison."
"And monsters? Vampires? Werewolves?" Matsuda pressed.
"Yes, yes, and yes, though not always as depicted in human fiction," Musashi replied. "Most supernatural species have developed intricate social structures and civilizations that remain hidden from human awareness."
"This is so much to process," Motohama said, shaking his head in wonder. "Yesterday, my biggest concern was whether the new gravure idol photobook would be released on time. Today, I'm learning that every myth and legend might actually be real."
"Not every legend," Musashi corrected with a grin. "Some human stories are just stories. But you'd be surprised how many have roots in supernatural reality."
They arrived at Matsuda's front gate, where they would part ways for the night. An awkward moment of silence followed as no one quite knew how to conclude such an extraordinary day.
"So... see you at school tomorrow?" Matsuda finally offered, the mundane farewell hilariously inadequate given everything that had transpired.
Issei couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, see you tomorrow. Try not to get abducted by yokai before homeroom."
"Is that a legitimate concern?" Motohama asked, suddenly alarmed.
"No," Musashi assured him quickly. "Most yokai avoid unnecessary human interaction. Solomon will be setting protective wards around your homes tonight anyway."
This reminder of their new reality sobered the mood slightly.
"Be careful, man," Matsuda said to Issei, unexpected seriousness in his voice. "Sacred gear, legendary beings, and harem potential aside—you're still our friend. Don't go dying again without telling us."
"I'll do my best," Issei promised, touched by the genuine concern. "And thanks for... you know, not thinking I'm completely insane."
"Oh, we definitely think you're insane," Motohama clarified with a grin. "We just decided insanity is contagious and we're happily infected."
With a final round of goodbyes and promises to meet before school the next day, they parted ways—Matsuda disappearing into his home while Issei, Musashi, and Motohama continued toward the next drop-off point.
"Your friends adapted remarkably well," Musashi observed as they walked. "Most humans experience existential crises when confronted with supernatural reality."
"The Perverted Trio doesn't do existential crises," Issei explained with a fond smile. "We're too busy being perverted."
"A surprisingly effective psychological defense mechanism," Musashi noted thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's wisdom in focusing on basic desires when reality becomes too complex."
"Are you suggesting perversion is actually enlightened philosophy?" Motohama asked hopefully.
"I'm suggesting that maintaining connection to one's core nature provides stability during paradigm shifts," Musashi clarified. "Though your interpretation has a certain creative merit."
They continued their philosophical debate about the potential spiritual benefits of perversion all the way to Motohama's house, where another round of farewells followed before Issei and Musashi turned toward home.
"You handled yourself well tonight," Musashi commented once they were alone. "Both with your friends and with Nicodemus."
"I was mostly winging it," Issei admitted.
"As do all leaders, more often than they care to admit," Musashi assured him. "Decisive action in uncertainty is the essence of true leadership."
"I'm not sure I'd call anything I did tonight 'leadership,'" Issei said skeptically.
"No? You protected your friends, engaged diplomatically with a potential ally, established information channels without compromising security, and maintained group cohesion during a crisis. Sounds like leadership to me."
Issei hadn't considered it from that perspective. Before he could respond, he noticed they were taking an unfamiliar route back to his house.
"Why are we going this way?" he asked, recognizing they had deviated from the direct path home.
"Alternative approach vector," Musashi explained casually. "Basic tactical procedure when returning to base after potential hostile contact. Never take the expected path."
"You think we're being followed?"
"Not currently," she assured him. "But habits form futures. The tactical patterns you establish now may save your life later."
Issei nodded, filing away this wisdom as part of his ongoing education in all things supernatural. They walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the quiet night a welcome respite after the day's chaotic events.
"Can I ask you something?" Issei finally ventured. "Something personal?"
"Of course," Musashi replied cheerfully. "Though I reserve the right to answer with obscure swordfighting metaphors if the question becomes too philosophical."
"Fair enough," Issei chuckled. "I was wondering... what do you really think about being summoned here? About being bound to help me become a 'Harem King'? It must seem pretty trivial compared to the epic duels and legendary feats from your original life."
Musashi considered the question thoughtfully, her usual playfulness giving way to genuine reflection.
"You know," she said finally, "throughout my life, I sought the perfect opponent—someone who could truly test the limits of my blade and spirit. I traveled endlessly, challenged countless warriors, refined my technique to impossible perfection."
She gestured expansively at the quiet suburban neighborhood around them. "This world? This strange era with its technology and peace and teenage boys worried about romance? It's completely foreign to me. And that's precisely what makes it fascinating."
"Really?" Issei asked, surprised by her answer.
"Absolutely! The ultimate opponent isn't always another swordsman, Issei. Sometimes it's a new challenge, a different perspective, an unfamiliar path." Her eyes gleamed with genuine excitement. "Helping a modern teenager navigate supernatural politics while pursuing a dream of romantic sovereignty? That's a challenge I never encountered in my original lifetime!"
"When you put it that way, it sounds almost noble," Issei remarked wryly.
"All journeys can be noble with the right perspective," Musashi insisted. "Besides, your dream isn't merely about collecting beautiful women, is it? Not really."
"What do you mean?"
"I've observed you closely since our summoning," she explained. "The surface dream may be harem-focused, but beneath that lies something more fundamental—a desire to become worthy. To transform from ordinary to extraordinary. To create a realm where you and those you care for can thrive."
Her insight hit uncomfortably close to home. "That's... pretty perceptive for someone who's only known me a few days."
"The ritual forged connections deeper than mere acquaintance," Musashi reminded him. "We perceive aspects of your true nature that even you might not fully recognize yet."
They turned onto Issei's street, his house now visible in the distance. Lights blazed from windows that should have been dark at this hour, suggesting the others were still active despite the late time.
"Looks like they're waiting for us," Issei observed.
"Probably debriefing after the fallen angel encounter at the house," Musashi agreed. "Which reminds me—" She drew one of her swords with lightning speed, the blade flashing in the moonlight. "One more lesson before we return."
"Now?" Issei groaned, his muscles still aching from Scathach's earlier training session.
"The most important lessons often come when we're least prepared for them," Musashi stated with a mischievous grin. "Draw your sacred gear and prepare to defend yourself."
"You can't be serious—"
His protest was cut short as Musashi lunged forward with deliberately telegraphed slowness, giving him just enough time to activate the Boosted Gear and raise it defensively.
[BOOST!]
The gauntlet materialized just in time to deflect her wooden practice sword (which had somehow replaced her real blade without Issei noticing the substitution).
"Good reaction time!" Musashi approved, immediately launching into a series of follow-up strikes that forced Issei to backpedal down the sidewalk. "Remember—combat rarely waits for convenience!"
"This is completely unfair!" Issei protested, desperately trying to avoid being hit while also keeping his balance. "I have no sword training!"
"Improvise!" Musashi countered cheerfully, her wooden blade dancing around his defenses to deliver a light tap to his shoulder. "Point for me! In real combat, that would be your arm gone!"
Despite his complaints, Issei found himself rising to the challenge. Each exchange taught him something new—how to read an opponent's movements, how to use the sacred gear's enhancements effectively, how to maintain awareness of his surroundings even while under pressure.
[BOOST!]
With the second doubling of his power, Issei managed to catch Musashi's practice sword with his gauntleted hand, attempting to wrest it from her grip.
"Excellent initiative!" she praised, though she easily twisted free with superior technique. "Direct counterattack rather than pure defense! You're learning!"
Their impromptu training session continued all the way to Issei's front gate, where their audience awaited—several of the summoned legends watching from the porch with varying expressions of amusement and assessment.
"I see Musashi has instituted her 'surprise training' methodology," Artoria observed dryly as they approached.
"It builds adaptability!" Musashi defended cheerfully, finally ceasing her attacks to allow Issei a moment to catch his breath.
"It builds bruises," Issei corrected, rubbing his shoulder where the practice sword had connected multiple times.
"Same thing, from the right perspective," Nobunaga called from her perch on the porch railing, her characteristic grin suggesting she thoroughly approved of Musashi's teaching style.
As Issei and Musashi joined the others, Solomon stepped forward to offer a condensed report on the evening's events.
"Our uninvited observers have departed," she informed them. "Ishtar engaged one briefly—not to eliminate but to deliver a clear message regarding territorial boundaries. They withdrew without significant conflict."
"We encountered one too," Issei replied, describing their meeting with Nicodemus and the message from Azazel. "He claimed to represent a different faction within the fallen angels—one that's just interested in observing sacred gears, not killing their wielders."
"Azazel," Tiamat murmured, her massive form somehow fitting comfortably on the reinforced porch. "The Watcher. I remember him from the ancient days. Curious, intelligent, and dangerously unpredictable, but not malicious by nature."
"You've actually met him?" Issei asked, surprised by this direct connection.
"Many eons ago, when the boundaries between realms were less defined," Tiamat confirmed. "He was fascinated by dragons even then. His message about what powers your sacred gear contains wisdom worth heeding."
"So we potentially have two fallen angel factions with different agendas regarding Issei," Solomon summarized thoughtfully. "One scientific, one eliminationist. This adds complexity to our strategic calculations."
"It means we kick the asses of the ones trying to kill Issei while being diplomatically cagey with the ones just watching him!" Nobunaga translated with characteristic directness, spinning one of her rifles casually. "Simple enough!"
"The political landscape rarely divides so neatly into allies and enemies," Artoria cautioned. "Even those currently presenting themselves as non-hostile may have complex motivations we cannot yet discern."
Their strategic discussion continued as they moved inside, where Raikou had prepared a late meal despite the hour. The dining table had been expanded to accommodate the gathering, with various dishes arranged with aesthetic precision that somehow managed to be both homey and regal simultaneously.
"You must be famished after your diplomatic and training exertions," Raikou declared, ushering Issei to a seat at the head of the table. "A growing sovereign requires proper nutrition, especially after expending sacred gear energy."
"I am pretty hungry," Issei admitted, suddenly aware of the hollow feeling in his stomach. The events of the day had completely distracted him from basic needs like food.
"The physical body's requirements intensify during periods of supernatural development," Solomon explained, taking a seat nearby. "The Boosted Gear draws primarily on your life force and emotional energy, but this creates cascading metabolic demands."
"You mean I'm going to be constantly starving while learning to use my sacred gear?" Issei asked around a mouthful of rice.
"Essentially, yes," Solomon confirmed. "Though your draconic heritage should eventually adapt, creating more efficient energy pathways."
As the meal progressed, each of the summoned legends reported on their day's activities—from Durga's establishment of layered defensive perimeters around the property to Gilgamesh's imperious survey of potential locations for a "more suitable dwelling befitting our collective status."
"I've identified three potential properties that might serve our needs," Gilgamesh announced, somehow making real estate sound like conquest. "Though all require significant modification to meet minimal standards of acceptability."
"By which she means they're merely luxurious rather than palatial," Morgan clarified with dry amusement. "The King of Heroes has exacting tastes."
"Naturally," Gilgamesh sniffed. "Why settle for mediocrity when excellence is achievable?"
"Because excellence typically requires financial resources," Solomon pointed out pragmatically. "Which brings us to an important practical matter we must address."
"Money," Issei realized with a groan. "I hadn't even thought about how we're going to support thirteen additional people. My parents' savings won't last long, even with them conveniently 'visiting relatives' thanks to magical suggestion."
"Fear not, my emperor!" Nero declared confidently. "Resources always present themselves to those destined for greatness!"
"That's not actually how economics works," Issei pointed out.
"Perhaps not in conventional terms," Solomon acknowledged, "but we have numerous advantages that can be leveraged into financial stability."
"Such as?" Issei asked skeptically.
"My ability to predict market fluctuations with near-perfect accuracy," Solomon began, ticking points off on her elegant fingers. "Gilgamesh's eye for valuable antiquities. Morgan's talent for identifying exploitable legal opportunities. Durga's negotiation skills. Not to mention thousands of years of collective experience in resource acquisition and management."
"You're suggesting we use literal legendary beings as... financial consultants?" Issei summarized incredulously.
"Why not?" Nobunaga grinned. "Conquest takes many forms in the modern era. Economic dominance is merely one battlefield among many."
"We've already begun implementing certain initiatives," Solomon assured him. "By the end of the week, our financial position should be comfortably established without requiring anything illegal or overtly supernatural."
Issei shook his head in amazement. "So on top of everything else, I'm now the front for a supernatural investment consortium?"
"'Sovereign wealth management' sounds more dignified," Morgan suggested with a hint of amusement. "Consider it practice for managing the resources of your future kingdom."
As dinner concluded, Scathach rose from her place at the table, fixing Issei with that slightly terrifying gaze that promised physical suffering disguised as education.
"Dawn training begins at five," she announced without preamble. "Your encounter with the fallen angel demonstrates the need for accelerated combat preparation."
"Five in the morning?" Issei protested weakly. "After everything today?"
"The enemy doesn't schedule attacks around your convenience," Scathach replied implacably. "Besides, your friends will be joining us tomorrow afternoon for basic defensive instruction. You should be sufficiently proficient by then to assist in their training."
"Wait—I'm supposed to help train them? I barely know what I'm doing myself!"
"Teaching is the fastest path to mastery," Scathach stated with the confidence of someone who had been proving this principle for millennia. "Nothing clarifies understanding like explaining concepts to others."
"And connection to your human companions will strengthen your emotional foundation," Tiamat added, her ancient wisdom complementing Scathach's tactical perspective. "The dragon responds to bonds of loyalty and protection as much as to battle-rage."
Issei wanted to argue further but was interrupted by an enormous yawn that undermined any claim that he wasn't exhausted.
"Rest now," Raikou instructed with maternal authority, already collecting plates with efficient grace. "A sovereign's strength begins with proper recovery. Your room has been prepared."
"My room?" Issei asked suspiciously. "What did you do to my room?"
"Merely enhanced its functionality and comfort," Raikou assured him, though something in her tone suggested 'enhanced' might be understating the case.
Too tired to investigate immediately, Issei bid goodnight to the gathered legends and made his way upstairs. When he opened his bedroom door, he stopped dead in his tracks.
His modest teenage bedroom had been completely transformed. The single bed had been replaced by a significantly larger one with elegant carved posts and what appeared to be silk sheets. His desk had been upgraded to a substantial wooden workspace with built-in organizational systems. The walls, once covered in posters of motorcycles and the occasional idol, now featured tasteful artwork interspersed with practical training diagrams.
Most surprisingly, a small meditation area had been created in one corner, complete with cushions and a miniature rock garden.
"What happened to my room?" he asked the empty air, stunned by the transformation.
"Appropriate accommodations for an awakening sovereign," came Gilgamesh's voice from behind him, making him jump. The King of Heroes stood in the hallway, observing his reaction with mild amusement. "Your previous furnishings were insultingly inadequate."
"Where did all this come from?" Issei asked, running his hand over the intricately carved bedpost that definitely hadn't existed that morning.
"My treasury contains all the world's treasures," Gilgamesh replied with a dismissive wave, as if this explained everything. "Though this represents merely the most basic necessities. When we secure proper headquarters, your quarters will be truly befitting your station."
"This is already way more than I need," Issei protested, though he couldn't deny the bed looked incredibly comfortable to his exhausted body.
"Need and deserve are different considerations," Gilgamesh stated with surprising philosophical depth. "A true king's surroundings should reflect their inner potential, not merely their current requirements."
Before Issei could formulate a response to this unexpectedly thoughtful perspective from the typically haughty King of Heroes, she continued in a more characteristic tone:
"Besides, that pathetic excuse for a mattress you were sleeping on would have resulted in spinal misalignment incompatible with proper combat posture. Scathach would have blamed me for your resulting poor performance in training."
And there was the Gilgamesh he was coming to know—practical superiority thinly disguised as generosity.
"Well... thank you," Issei said sincerely, despite her reluctance to accept gratitude. "It's amazing."
Something flickered in Gilgamesh's crimson eyes—a brief softening that vanished so quickly Issei might have imagined it.
"Sleep well, young dragon," she said, turning to leave. "Tomorrow brings new challenges, and I refuse to be associated with a wielder of the Boosted Gear who cannot meet them adequately."
As oddly phrased as the sentiment was, Issei recognized the underlying concern for what it was—Gilgamesh's uniquely abrasive form of support.
Alone in his transformed room, Issei sank onto the edge of the impossibly comfortable bed, attempting to process everything that had happened in the span of a single extraordinary day.
School politics with devils. Training with legendary warriors. Diplomatic encounters with fallen angels. Financial planning with beings from myth and history. And through it all, the steady evolution of his own understanding of what it might mean to become a "Harem King"—something expanding beyond his original perverted fantasy into something more complex and meaningful.
[You're growing, partner,] Ddraig's voice rumbled softly in his mind. [Faster than most of my previous wielders.]
"I don't feel like I'm growing," Issei admitted to the dragon spirit. "I feel like I'm just stumbling from one impossible situation to the next, barely keeping up."
[That is growth,] Ddraig assured him with ancient wisdom. [Those who believe they have mastered their path have merely stopped advancing. Your uncertainty is the fertile ground from which true strength emerges.]
"That's surprisingly philosophical for a giant destruction dragon," Issei observed with a tired smile.
[I've been sealed within humans for millennia,] Ddraig reminded him. [One learns a great deal about the nature of growth and change when experiencing countless lives from within.]
Issei nodded thoughtfully, too exhausted for deeper philosophical discussion. "Thanks, Ddraig. For everything today."
[Rest now, partner. Your body requires recovery for the challenges ahead.]
Taking the dragon's advice, Issei changed into pajamas and slipped between the silk sheets of his new bed, which proved to be every bit as comfortable as it looked. As consciousness began to fade, his last coherent thought was a mixture of wonder and apprehension about what new impossibilities tomorrow might bring to his rapidly transforming life.
Chapter 8: Morning Revelations
Issei awoke to gentle darkness and the immediate awareness that someone was in his room.
He sat bolt upright, the events of the previous day rushing back as his hand automatically moved to activate the Boosted Gear—only to freeze when he recognized the figure seated in the meditation corner of his transformed bedroom.
Tiamat, the Primordial Mother of Monsters, had somehow compressed her massive form to fit the space, her scaled lower body coiled neatly within the confines of the meditation area. In the pre-dawn dimness, her eyes glowed with gentle bioluminescence, regarding him with ancient patience.
"Peace, young dragon," she said, her voice pitched low enough not to disturb the sleeping household. "I mean no alarm. Dawn approaches, and it is time for your first lesson in draconic heritage."
Issei glanced at the clock: 4:30 AM. Thirty minutes before Scathach's scheduled physical training.
"Now?" he asked groggily, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Couldn't this wait until after breakfast at least?"
"The time before dawn holds special significance for dragon-kind," Tiamat explained, seeming unmoved by his reluctance. "The boundary between night and day creates a liminality that facilitates connection to your draconic essence."
Still half-asleep, Issei struggled to process her formal explanation. "So... dragons are morning people?"
A sound like distant thunder rolled through the room—Tiamat's version of a chuckle. "Not precisely. Dragons are creatures of transition and transformation. Dawn and dusk, the boundaries between states, hold power for us. The Mythos Summoning Ritual activated dormant draconic aspects in your bloodline that have remained hidden for generations."
This caught Issei's attention enough to push through his morning fog. "So I'm part dragon? Like, literally?"
"In a manner of speaking," Tiamat confirmed. "Not in the physical sense—your form remains human. But your spiritual essence contains draconic elements beyond merely hosting the Boosted Gear. This is likely why the ritual responded so powerfully to your dying wish."
"Ddraig never mentioned this," Issei noted, finally swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up properly.
[I was unaware of the specifics,] Ddraig's voice rumbled within his mind, apparently awakened by the conversation. [I sensed unusual compatibility when first sealed within you, but the full nature of your bloodline was obscured until the ritual activated dormant potentials.]
"Many sacred gear wielders throughout history have possessed minor supernatural heritage," Tiamat explained. "It creates natural affinity for the power they host. In your case, that heritage traces back to my own bloodline, diluted through countless generations of interbreeding with humans."
Issei's eyes widened as the implication hit him. "Wait, are you saying we're related?"
"In the most distant sense possible," Tiamat clarified. "Think of it as sharing a common ancestor thousands of generations removed. Your human essence predominates, but the draconic spark remains—sufficient to create resonance with Ddraig and to activate the forgotten ritual in your moment of death."
"So I'm like... one-millionth dragon?" Issei attempted to quantify.
"Percentages are meaningless with draconic essence," Tiamat corrected. "It is not a matter of quantity but quality—a single spark can ignite remarkable potential if properly nurtured."
She gestured to the meditation cushion opposite her. "Come. Sit. The minutes before dawn are precious for what I must teach you."
Despite his lingering drowsiness, Issei complied, sliding onto the cushion and sitting cross-legged as he'd seen people do in movies. The position felt awkward and unnatural to his untrained body.
"Straighten your spine," Tiamat instructed gently. "Imagine a thread pulling upward from the crown of your head while your sitting bones root into the earth. The body is the vehicle through which energy flows—proper alignment creates optimal pathways."
Issei adjusted as directed, finding the position slightly more comfortable once properly aligned.
"Now," Tiamat continued, "close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Not controlling, merely observing the natural rhythm of inhale and exhale."
"Is this going to be one of those 'wax on, wax off' training montages where I don't learn anything cool until weeks later?" Issei asked skeptically, even as he closed his eyes as instructed.
"Patience is not your predominant virtue, I see," Tiamat observed with dry amusement. "No, young dragon. What I teach will have immediate practical application, though mastery will indeed require time."
For several minutes, she guided him through basic breathing techniques, instructing him to focus on the sensation of air entering and leaving his body. Just as Issei's patience began to wane, she introduced a new element.
"Now, with each inhale, visualize drawing in not just air but energy—cool blue light that fills your lungs and spreads throughout your body. With each exhale, visualize stale energy leaving as gray mist."
Issei attempted to follow these instructions, feeling mildly foolish but willing to try. To his surprise, after several cycles of breath, he began to sense something—a subtle tingling that seemed to follow the visualization, spreading from his chest outward with each inhale.
"I feel something," he murmured without opening his eyes. "Like pins and needles, but... pleasant?"
"Good," Tiamat approved. "You're sensing your own life energy—what some traditions call qi or prana. All living beings possess this energy, but those with supernatural heritage can learn to perceive and direct it consciously."
"Is this what Azazel meant about what really powers a dragon?" Issei asked, continuing the breathing pattern as he spoke.
"Partially," Tiamat confirmed. "Dragons draw power from multiple sources—elemental affinity, emotional intensity, and life force. Most sacred gear wielders focus exclusively on the emotional component, neglecting the other aspects."
She guided him through several more minutes of increasingly complex visualizations, teaching him to sense the energy centers within his own body and the pathways connecting them.
"The Boosted Gear doubles your existing power," she explained as they worked. "But if your baseline is weak, doubling provides limited benefit. By strengthening your foundational energy through these practices, each boost will yield exponentially greater results."
"So it's like upgrading the base stats before applying multipliers in a game," Issei summarized, translating into terms that made sense to him.
"Your analogy is surprisingly apt," Tiamat acknowledged. "Though I would caution against viewing your development as merely numerical advancement. Dragons are beings of quality as much as quantity."
As they continued the meditation practice, Issei gradually became aware of something unexpected—a subtle connection extending from his core outward, thirteen distinct threads of energy reaching in different directions throughout the house.
"I can feel them," he whispered in awe. "All of you. Like... like strings connecting us."
"The Eternal Oath," Tiamat confirmed. "The ritual created metaphysical bonds between your soul and ours. With practice, you'll learn to perceive these connections more clearly and eventually to channel power through them in both directions."
"Both directions?"
"Currently, the bond primarily allows us to lend you our strength in limited measure. With development, you will eventually be able to share power with us as well, enhancing our abilities in turn."
The implications of this reciprocal relationship were significant, suggesting a symbiotic partnership rather than the one-way support Issei had assumed.
"So we're all getting stronger together," he mused, finding the concept appealing. "Like a real team."
"Precisely," Tiamat agreed. "This interdependence is the true foundation of sovereignty—not domination but mutual growth and support."
As they concluded the morning's practice, the first hints of dawn light filtering through his window, Issei felt surprisingly refreshed despite the early hour. The meditation had energized him in a way he wouldn't have thought possible.
"We will continue these sessions each morning," Tiamat informed him as she uncoiled her massive form and moved toward the door with surprising grace for her size. "Eventually, you will incorporate these practices into your daily routine without guidance."
"Thank you," Issei said sincerely. "This was... not what I expected, but definitely cool."
"You're welcome, young dragon," Tiamat replied with what might have been fondness in her ancient eyes. "Now prepare yourself. Scathach's physical training begins in ten minutes, and she values punctuality above all else."
With that reminder of the grueling morning ahead, Tiamat departed, leaving Issei to quickly change into workout clothes while reflecting on these new revelations about his heritage. Part dragon. Connected to the Primordial Mother of Monsters through ancient bloodlines. Capable of sensing and eventually manipulating life energy.
Just when he thought his new reality couldn't get any more surreal, it found ways to surprise him again.
As he hurried downstairs, mentally preparing for whatever tortures Scathach had planned for his physical development, Issei wondered what other secrets his newly transformed life might yet reveal.
Little did he know that the day ahead would challenge everything he thought he understood about himself, his companions, and the complex supernatural world he had unwittingly entered.