The world didn't just arrive; it slammed into him. Not heat, but an impossible pressure, crushing his very essence through a singularity. Light, blinding and brutal, ripped a thin, reedy wail from lungs that felt alien, raw. Cold air stabbed like knives. Limbs flailed – weak, useless things. Shapes swam into focus: dark, ornate wood; guttering flames throwing monstrous shadows; faces – sharp, aristocratic, eyes gleaming with the cold satisfaction of predators.
A voice, deep and resonant, cut through the disorientation like a cleaver: "Another son. Strong lungs." A beat. "Good." The language was alien, yet the meaning struck with the force of a hammer blow. Son. Another son. Fragments – screeching tires, shattering glass – collided with the sensory chaos. Baby. Again. Not Earth. The opulence, the thick aura of power... Devil. The instinctive understanding froze his newborn core. Noble. Confirmation came a breath later, a woman's sharp tone slicing through murmurs: "The Phoenix blood runs fierce in this one, Lord Phenex. A potent sign."
Phenex. The name detonated in his skull. High School DxD. Angels, Devils, Fallen... the near-immortal, regenerating Phenex clan. Arrogant. Hedonistic. Ambitious. Oh god. I'm one of them. Kael Phenex. Younger brother to Riser. Older brother to Ravel... Pawn.
Life in the obsidian-and-gold spires was a suffocating paradox. Silken cushions, exotic fruits, servants flitting like shadows – yet beneath the gilded surface, tension hummed like trapped lightning. Kael learned to read the unspoken language: the way his father's eyes, usually cold embers, hardened into flint after a scroll bearing the Gremory crest arrived; the minute stiffening of his mother's perfect posture when Sitri messengers darkened the door.
He witnessed the truth at six. The Gremory visit was no social call. Lord Zeoticus Gremory stood like a granite cliff-face, his gaze sweeping the Phenex hall with undisguised assessment. Lady Venelana's smile was polished steel, her eyes holding calculations that chilled Kael more than any winter wind. Between them stood Rias Gremory, hair like spilled wine, chin lifted bravely, but her small fingers twisting anxiously in her skirt. Kael, hidden behind a carved column, felt the room crackle.
Lord Zeoticus's voice boomed, devoid of warmth: "…strengthens both our lines, Phenex. Secures the future against… uncertainties." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the vast hall. "An advantageous alliance, binding our houses."
Lady Venelana's hand rested lightly on Rias's shoulder – protective, yet also restraining. "Rias understands the privilege of such a union," she said smoothly, her eyes flicking to Lord Phenex. "Don't you, dear?"
Rias's voice was small but clear: "Yes, Mother." Her eyes, however, darted away, wide with something Kael recognized instantly: trapped panic.
Kael's own parents stood rigid. His father's knuckles were bone-white where they gripped his throne-like chair. His mother's smile was brittle, fixed. "The Gremory honor us," Lord Phenex stated, the words clipped, forced. "Riser will fulfill his duty."
Riser, preening nearby, puffed his chest. "Of course, Father! Only the best for the Phenex heir!" He grinned, utterly oblivious to the undercurrents, the silent scream in Rias's stiff posture.
A cold knot of understanding formed in Kael's gut. It wasn't a request. It was a decree. We're the price they demand for their 'security'. Riser… he's too stupid to see the chains.
A year later, the Sitris arrived. Lord and Lady Sitri moved with unnerving, synchronized precision, faces unreadable masks. Sona Sitri, even at seven, mirrored them, her dark eyes sharp, missing nothing. Kael was presented, feeling like a prize stallion at auction.
Lord Sitri's voice was clipped, efficient: "Complementary assets, Phenex. Your regenerative resilience, our… strategic acumen. Consolidation is prudent in the current climate." He glanced at Kael, a swift, analytical sweep. "The boy shows promise. Discipline is evident."
Lady Sitri's gaze lingered, dissecting. "Potential requires structure. Guidance." Her eyes met Lady Phenex's. "An arrangement would provide mutual benefit. Stability."
Lady Phenex's hand trembled almost imperceptibly as she smoothed her gown. "Sona is remarkably poised," she offered, her voice strained. "Such composure at her age."
Sona inclined her head slightly. "Thank you, Lady Phenex." Her voice was cool, detached. Her gaze settled on Kael, not with curiosity, but assessment. Asset. Variable.
The formalization of Kael's engagement to Sona was a cold, swift affair. The knot in Kael's gut turned to ice, then ignited into a silent, consuming fury. Another move. We're just territory they're carving up. The Sitris want a bulwark, a tool… and they're using us to get it.
He didn't scream. A seven-year-old Devil prince couldn't. Later, alone in a corridor lined with polished obsidian, he stared at his reflection – a small face already hardening, eyes burning with cold fire. His small hands clenched into fists, nails biting crescents into his palms until blood welled, only for Phoenix Fire to instantly knit the skin. Power. I need power they can't trade away.
While Riser boasted lazily of his innate immortality and Ravel played with enchanted toys, Kael sought the training grounds. He found a discarded, blunted dagger meant for adolescents – heavy, awkward. He swung it. Again. And again. Against a scarred practice dummy. Thud. Thud. THUD. Sweat stung his eyes. Muscles shrieked. He ignored them, channeling the icy fury into each jarring impact.
His tutor observed, then reported his "unprecedented dedication." His father found him one twilight hour, sparring with a senior guard. A controlled blow caught Kael's ribs. He staggered, gasping, a bruise already blooming darkly before flickering Phoenix Fire began its slow, painful work beneath the skin. He pushed himself up, face pale, eyes blazing.
"Enough," Lord Phenex commanded. The guard stepped back. Lord Phenex approached, his expression unreadable in the fading light. "Such fervor, Kael. Your blood protects you." He gestured at the fading bruise. "Why court the pain? Why this… relentless pursuit?"
Kael lowered the dagger, knuckles white. He met his father's gaze, the ice in his gut radiating. He couldn't speak of the Great Clans' predation. He offered ambition his father might grasp. "Protection is passive, Father," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of childish lilt. "A Phoenix endures. I will dominate. I will forge my flames into a blade no alliance can ever dare to blunt." He hefted the dagger slightly. "So I never need to rely solely on rebirth."
Lord Phenex studied him. A flicker of something – unease? – crossed his face before the stoic mask slammed down. He gave a curt nod. "See it doesn't interfere with your duties. Strength…" he paused, the word sounding hollow, "...demands responsibility. To the Clan."
"Strength is responsibility, Father," Kael replied, bowing his head to hide the contempt flaring at the mention of the Clan being used as a shield. "Responsibility for our own fate." He turned back to the dummy. His next strike cracked the wood beneath the padding.
Permission granted, Kael's life became fire and iron. Dawn found him running brutal obstacle courses, breath sawing, muscles trembling. Mornings were combat – swords, daggers, fists. Punishment was absorbed; bruises flowered and faded under agonizingly slow Phoenix Fire. He learned to wield the fire – shaping searing points on his fingertips left his own skin blistered. Forcing it into a crude shield drained him to near-collapse, bringing blinding headaches and gut-wrenching nausea he fought through, teeth locked, sweat dripping onto forbidden combat texts.
He intercepted Ravel once, catching her trying to scorch a servant's robe with weak, playful flames. He didn't scold. He knelt, snuffed the flicker with a touch, and placed a heavy tome on demonic battle formations into her small hands. "Real power, Ravel," he said, his voice low and intense, "understands the board. Sees the whole game. Not just… burning pieces." She blinked, confused, but clutched the book.
Years bled into relentless discipline. At twelve, Kael was whipcord lean, Phoenix Fire obeying with deadly precision – wounds sealed in minutes, blasts scorched stone, a heat-haze clung to him during spars. Yet the chasm between him and the true powers forcing their will upon his family remained vast. The engagements were shackles.
Late one night, hunched over a complex treatise on dimensional compression, a voice slid from the shadows – ancient, resonant, edged with chaotic amusement: "That focused resentment, little Phoenix… it hums. Like a blade held too tight."
Kael froze. No alarm. No presence sensed. Phoenix Fire erupted around his fists in a silent, deadly corona. He turned, slowly.
Two figures coalesced from the gloom. One: impossibly tall, elegant, silver hair like frozen moonlight, eyes like voids holding dying stars. Power radiated, warping the air, heavy with melancholic depth. The other: slightly shorter, messy black hair, eyes blazing with chaotic, barely leashed energy, a sharp-toothed grin splitting his face. Their presence crushed, a suffocating weight of absolute power. Legends walking.
"Identify yourselves," Kael demanded, voice steady despite the primal fear icing his veins. He knew.
The elegant one inclined his head fractionally. "Vali," he stated, the name dropping like a shard of absolute zero.
The chaotic one chuckled, the sound like stones grinding. "Albion. Heard you're itching to flip the board those dusty old clans play on. We find that… entertaining." Albion took a step closer, chaotic eyes pinning Kael. "See, we got our own beef with the status quo. Big, messy beef. And a couple of ridiculously overpowered troublemakers might be just what a caged bird needs… if its talons are sharp enough to scratch gods."
Vali's ancient gaze held Kael's. "Your position. Your unique… perspective. They hold potential. Power, young Phenex," his voice dropped to a near-whisper, cold and compelling, "isn't merely inherited. It can be taken. Forged in the fires of defiance." A ghost of cold amusement touched his lips. "Are you merely a spark trapped in gilded bars, Kael Phenex? Or are you the wildfire waiting to melt them down?"
The icy fury Kael had banked for years roared into an inferno. He stared at the incarnations of the Hakuryuukou and the Vanishing Dragon. Insane. Terrifying. His only real chance. But servitude? Becoming their piece? The thought choked him.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his flaming fists. The fire didn't die; it condensed, swirling tighter, hotter, around his forearms – controlled fury made manifest. He met Vali's depthless eyes, then Albion's chaotic grin.
"Melting the bars," Kael said, his voice a low, dangerous thrum vibrating in the charged air, "isn't negotiable. Your alliance… I see its necessity." He paused, the controlled flames flickering like contained lightning. "But my path is my own. When I receive my Evil Pieces, when I stand as a King… then I join your peerage." He locked eyes with Vali. "As an ally, Vali Lucifer. Not a pawn. My strength, forged by my own hand, will be the foundation of that pact."
Albion barked a sharp, surprised laugh. "Hah! Got spine, hatchling! Demanding terms already?"
Vali didn't react immediately. The ancient power in the room seemed to crystallize. Then, the faintest upward curve touched Vali's lips – the edge of a drawn blade. "Confidence," he murmured, the word chilling the air. "Or fatal arrogance? You stake your future freedom on becoming a King worthy to stand beside me, not kneel?" He tilted his head, a predator considering defiant prey. "Very well, Kael Phenex. Your condition is noted."
Vali took a silent step forward. The pressure intensified, making the stone groan. "But know this: Your chosen path leads through abysses you cannot fathom. Failure… is absolute. To ensure your… fervor… remains directed, we seal this pact with a wager." His glacial eyes pinned Kael. "The terms bind us, blood and power. Succeed, join my peerage as you wish. Fail to meet the standard I deem worthy by the time your Pieces are bestowed…" Vali extended his hand, palm up. Dark energy, cold and absolute, coalesced into a complex, shifting sigil pulsing with ominous finality. "...you will kneel. Not as an ally, but as a possession. Do you grasp the precipice?"
Kael's blood froze. The unspoken threat hung heavy, the dark sigil radiating annihilation. His eyes darted from the sigil to Vali's impassive face, then to Albion's expectant grin. The flames around his arms flared violently, betraying the terror warring with his rage. The ultimate gamble. The gilded cage… or the dragon's maw.
He took a slow, burning breath. His jaw clenched like a vise. The grim determination etching his young face was terrifying. He met Vali's gaze, his icy rage crystallizing into diamond resolve. No words. He simply raised his own hand, Phoenix Fire blazing fiercely, and slammed his palm against Vali's.
Light – searing white and consuming darkness – exploded. The sigil dissolved, sinking into their joined flesh with a surge of agonizing, binding cold. Kael gasped, staggering back, his hand burning with the icy brand of the pact. Vali merely lowered his hand, the predatory curve returning to his lips.
"The pact is sealed," Vali intoned, the words echoing with doom. "The hourglass turns, Young Phoenix. Forge your strength. Claim your Pieces. Prove your worth…" His gaze held Kael's. "...or be extinguished by the wager you dared make." He turned, melting into shadow. Albion shot Kael a final, toothy grin. "Train like hell's chasing you, chick. Vali always collects." Gone.
Silence crashed down. Kael stood alone, the phantom chill of the binding sigil pulsing in his palm – a grim brand, a constant reminder of the razor's edge he now walked. The Phoenix had chosen fire to escape the cage, unaware he'd just flown straight into a dragon's crucible. The true forging had begun.
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AUTHOR NOTES :-
9 power stone a week one bonus chapter watch my other fanfic as well
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