I survived the rest of the school day without any further supernatural confrontations, which, frankly, felt suspicious. Akeno passed me in the hallway and smiled that unsettling, too-sweet smile of hers. Kiba kept showing up in my peripheral vision like a blond NPC whose quest trigger hadn't been activated yet. And Rias… well, Rias didn't show up again.
Which was somehow even worse.
By the time the final bell rang, my nerves were shot. I slipped out of class before the usual crowd gathered and ducked behind the school, hoping to avoid any more devil-related conversations.
No such luck.
"Yo! New guy!"
I turned.
Of course. Issei Hyoudou. The legendary pervert himself. Short brown hair, dumb grin, and the energy of a golden retriever who just discovered bras.
He jogged over to me, flanked by his two equally infamous partners in crime. I braced for impact.
"You've been dodging us all day," he said, frowning slightly. "We just wanted to talk."
"About…?"
Issei scratched his cheek. "Okay, fine. Mostly about boobs. But also about you."
"That's somehow worse."
"No, seriously," said Matsuda—short, twitchy, and clearly the beta of the trio. "We saw you dodge that eraser like a ninja. And there was a glow."
Motohama adjusted his glasses. "You've got an aura. A strange one. It's kind of…" He squinted. "Warm."
"…Thanks?" I said, not entirely sure if I was being complimented or scanned.
They leaned in, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"You're not from the Occult Research Club," Issei said. "But you've got that vibe. So spill it. Are you psychic? Alien? Are you one of those anime protagonists with a tragic past and mysterious powers?"
"That's oddly specific," I muttered.
He nodded sagely. "We've seen things."
I sighed. "Look, I'm just trying to survive high school without being dragged into anything weird. I'm not a protagonist."
He looked disappointed. "Damn. You look like a protagonist."
I was halfway through plotting my escape when the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
A flicker of cold swept through the air, almost like a breath of winter cutting across the warm afternoon. The others didn't seem to notice, but my soul did.
That small red heart inside me began to pulse—faster now. Warning me.
Then I heard it.
A scream.
Without thinking, I ran.
Down the back path, through a side alley, and into the park just behind the school wall.
A girl—maybe fifteen, maybe younger—was huddled near the swings, clutching her arm. Standing above her was a man. Or… something in the shape of a man. His presence felt off—his edges blurry, his face too smooth. Like a person generated by an AI that had never seen a real human.
My heart kicked into overdrive.
My hands trembled, but my legs kept moving.
He turned to look at me, and in that moment, I knew—he wasn't human.
A stray—maybe a low-class fallen angel in disguise. Or a corrupted spirit. Either way, the air around him shimmered with dark energy.
He took a step forward.
And something in me snapped.
"Hey," I said, stepping between him and the girl. "Leave her alone."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "This doesn't concern you."
"It does now."
The world seemed to pause for a second.
I felt it then—my soul surfacing. That gentle hum. The heat behind my ribs becoming a flame. The sensation of something ancient and stubborn taking the wheel.
I didn't summon magic. I didn't raise a weapon. I just stood there.
And the man hesitated.
His eyes narrowed. He looked past my body and into something deeper.
"You're not human," he whispered. "What are you?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I stepped forward. Slow. Deliberate. I looked him in the eye.
And without saying a word, I let him see the soul.
Just a flicker. Just long enough for him to feel it.
Compassion.
Resolve.
Determination.
Something older than violence. Stronger than hatred.
His expression twisted. Not in rage, but in confusion.
He stepped back.
Then, like smoke caught in a breeze, he vanished.
I collapsed to my knees the second he was gone.
The girl was staring at me. Her eyes wide. Scared. But safe.
"You okay?" I asked, voice rough.
She nodded, clutching her arm. "He just appeared out of nowhere. I—I didn't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything now," I said. "Just… go home. Tell your parents. Stay away from here at night."
She nodded again, shakily, and took off running.
I stayed there, kneeling in the dirt, trying to steady my breathing.
What the hell had I just done?
I didn't fight. I didn't cast a spell. I just… stood there.
And it had worked.
Later that night, alone in my room, the system finally responded.
Not with a window. Not with a notification.
Just a quiet feeling.
Like something had changed.
The Frisk template—whatever it really was—it didn't rely on brute strength. It didn't ask me to win fights.
It asked me to end them.
And in that moment, I understood what kind of path I was being pushed toward.
This wasn't a game.
This was a test.
And the only way to survive… was not to fight harder.
But to stand.