"For me, being a devil is not that different from having a part-time job," Issei said with a shrug. "I just have to hand out leaflets at night and fulfill the wishes of whoever summons me. And with that, I can increase my social status and eventually become a high-class devil."
I stared at him like he'd just told me he considered McDonald's a viable retirement plan.
"You do know that even after you become high-class, you're still beholden to Rias, right?" I asked.
"Of course I know that," he said, sounding just a bit smug. "The system's similar to the feudal systems of European nations. Like, if you were knighted by a noble and granted land, you still swore fealty to your lord."
I blinked. Not because he was wrong,but he surprised me with a historical reference that didn't involve swords, dragons, or fantasy boobs. Somehow, he pulled that comparison out of the abyss of his surprisingly educated mind. Which was a bit like discovering a shiny gem in a dumpster fire.
Then again, I shouldn't be too surprised. Kuoh Academy is an elite school. You don't just walk in. You take an entrance test. And those tests aren't exactly easy.
Still, hearing Issei casually drop European feudalism like it was common lunch table talk threw me.
Feudalism. That word had been bouncing around my head for a while now. His comparison had merit. And honestly, it's one I've made before. Peerage systems, devils, reincarnations, it's all suspiciously medieval. Feudal lords. Vassals. Land. Loyalty in exchange for protection and status..
Yeah, on paper, the devil peerage system does resemble that. You get "knighted" with a piece: a pawn, bishop, knight, and from there, you serve under your lord's command. You fight for them, live under their banner, maybe even die for them. And if you're good enough, useful enough, maybe they'll elevate you. Grant you your own "land," your own peerage.
But here's the thing that always sticks in my throat like a poorly chewed truth:
Humans grew out of that system. Eventually.
Feudalism was brutal. Unequal. Unsustainable. It only worked if you accepted, deep in your bones, that some people were born to rule and others were born to serve.
And devils? They didn't grow out of it. They institutionalized it.
And here's where the feudal comparison falls apart: a human vassal could eventually die free. Grow old, retire, have a legacy. A reincarnated devil? We live for thousands of years. Tens of thousands, even.
One mistake, one deal you couldn't resist, and you're chained to someone stronger than you for a millennium. Maybe two. And don't hit me with that motivational poster about how "you can rise up if you try hard enough." That's capitalism cosplay. Sure, technically we can become high-class devils. if you're exceptional. If you're useful. If your master lets you.
But even then, you're still shackled to the peerage system. You still owe your fealty. You still exist in a hierarchy designed to keep you obedient.
It's like someone told me I could earn my freedom by climbing a staircase. Then forgot to mention it extends into the clouds and the steps regenerate every time you blink.
And if your master sucks? Congrats, you're doomed. Because you're not a person anymore. You're property. A devil can punish, command, and control you however they like, and unless you're strong enough to resist or political enough to escape, you've got no recourse. There's no HR department in Hell. No ethics committee. No "freed servant hotline."
You're a pawn that breathes.
Even Rias, who's leagues above the average devil in decency, doesn't seem to see anything wrong with the system. Because why would she? She's a noble. A daughter of one of the 72 Pillars. Her world was built by that system. Critiquing it would be like biting the hand that coddled you with privilege.
Let me be clear: Rias is one of the better ones. She treats us well. She's kind. Protective, even. But that just makes the system look better, not be better. One kind noble doesn't justify a thousand tyrants.
"Why do you want to be a High-class devil in such a system?" I asked Issei, though I already knew his answer. I just wanted to hear him say it out loud.
"To achieve my dream, of course," Issei said with pride, puffing up like a proud dog who just fetched a stick the size of a log.
"Ah yes. What was your dream again?" I asked, already smiling inside.
"The dream all men have, but can't achieve either because they can't or because they're cowards," he said, full of conviction, as if quoting scripture. Then, eyes burning with absurd determination, he declared, "My dream is to gather the greatest harem and become the Harem King!"
He even gestured dramatically, like some heroic declaration at the climax of a shounen arc, complete with sparkles of imagined glory and a twinkle of delusion.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
Because honestly? That's what made Issei such a breath of fresh air back when the anime came out. Harem anime protagonists were a dime a dozen, but they were all cut from the same bland, milquetoast cloth. Perpetually confused, awkward, and painfully sexless, written with all the personality of a damp tissue. They'd stumble into a dozen panty shots, have five girls fall for them, and then act confused about why their childhood friend was blushing after he accidentally groped her for the fifth time that week.
But not Issei.
Issei had ambition. Crude, yes. Unapologetically pervy, sure. But ambition nonetheless. He didn't want a harem by accident. He wanted it on purpose. He trained for it. Bled for it. Lived for it. That level of delusion, backed by hard work, was almost… admirable.
"So you want to gather servants you can sexually use," I said, carefully watching his expression. "In other words, sex slaves."
His face twisted with irritation. "Do you always have to interpret any word or situation in the worst possible way? No, I don't want to gather servants just so I can sexually use them. That's horrible," he said, voice sharp with annoyance.
"Well, you can't blame me," I replied evenly. "I mean, you want to get a peerage in the hopes that you can use it to gather harem members. Harem members who'd be beholden to you just like you are to Rias. That's a relationship based on power inequality. These hypothetical girls wouldn't likely be able to say no to you."
"You really are the worst," Issei muttered, practically growling. "Do you always have to be so negative? And no, you're intentionally misinterpreting my dream. I want a peerage not because I want to enslave girls and turn them into sex toys, but because it gives me an opportunity to achieve my dream."
He leaned forward now, more serious. "I don't mind being a devil because having a harem isn't taboo or illegal in this society. It gives me the chance to pursue my dream earnestly, even if it's pathetic to you. But that doesn't mean I'd suddenly turn evil and enslave anyone. Relationships need work. I know that. I learned that the hard way, from my past self, who accepted the confession of a girl just because she was pretty and I was desperate. And she turned out to be a psycho. So why would I ever want to make anyone experience something like that again?"
His voice had grown intense now. He stood slightly, hands braced against the table.
"No, the reason I want a peerage isn't because I want imaginary power to force people to serve me like you're saying. It's because I want to build something real. I may not be some prodigy with generational talent like you, but I have my own morals and principles. I will not force anyone to be my slave."
I watched him carefully. He meant it.
"That's easy to say now," I said, calm and cool, not rising to meet his passion. "But what about when you actually have the power and the influence to enact your dream? Will you still cling to your so-called principles? Absolute power corrupts eventually, after all."
"Miss me with that edgy shit," Issei snapped, slumping back into his seat. "Why do you always assume the worst in people? You have no faith in the decency of others at all, which is hypocritical, because you yourself are a decent person. So why can't others be the same?"
We sat in silence after that.
Just eating lunch.
"Rias said back then that you were able to summon her in your dying moments because you just happened to be given a leaflet by her familiar before your date with that fallen angel," I said after a while, remembering that little info-dump she gave us post-resurrection.
"Yeah, I remember," he replied. "It was when I was waiting for Yuuma. I got there three hours early because I was nervous."
The way he said "Yuuma" still made him flinch. Can't blame him. Nothing kills the mood like being impaled by a spear of light on your first date. Talk about a bad match on Tinder.
"Don't you find it weird that you just happened to get a flyer from Rias's familiar right before meeting your date? Who, by the way, just happened to be a fallen angel?"
He narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying to say?"
"Nothing you haven't already thought of," I said evenly.
"You think Rias let me die... just to recruit me?"
The question hung in the air like a loaded gun. I didn't answer. Not directly.
"It looks suspicious," I said. "And if I didn't know Rias, I might believe it. But the point is, don't take everything at face value. You need to think for yourself."
The look on his face told me he had thought about it. Maybe even believed it. But it hurt too much to say aloud.
The truth is, I'm not trying to hurt Rias. I'm not trying to corrupt Issei either. But the guy is dangerously naive. He's too trusting. Too nice. He latches onto affection like a starving dog. It's sweet, and it's dangerous. Because nice people get used.
He wants affection so badly that he's willing to ignore red flags the size of national borders. He needs someone to nudge him. To make him think critically. Maybe I'm a bit of a jerk for doing it like this, but... he reminds me of someone.
My best friend, back in my old world.
The kind of person who's too kind for their own good. Who bends until they break. Who lets people use them because saying "no" feels like betrayal. And I've seen how that story ends.
So yeah. I poke. I prod. I make Issei uncomfortable. Because maybe one day he'll be strong enough, not just to fight, but to change something. The protagonist always becomes important, after all. Shonen law. Protagonist privilege. One day, he might be in a position to fix this whole corrupt mess.
And maybe, just maybe, he won't forget the uncomfortable truths he heard from the asshole in the corner.
And let's be real, this world needs changing.
The peerage system is slavery with sparkle filters. High-class devils handpick "servants" from among the mortals and desperate, hand them a magical chess-piece, and call it salvation. But the power dynamic is never equal. You're eternally in debt.
And here's the scariest part: they're not wrong. There's a giant gap between us. Power, status, resources, it's all rigged in their favor. We aren't equals. We're barely even on the same board. They'll never say it outright, unless they're the cartoonishly evil type, but it's there in every command, every unspoken assumption.
Even Rias, for all her kindness, doesn't question the system. Not really. Not fundamentally. Because it works for her. It benefits her. Why poke holes in the mansion you live in?
After that conversation, I headed home. Walking through the city helped clear my head, but it didn't make me feel better. Because the more I thought about it, the more glaring the problems became. The Issei situation was one thing. My own survival was another.
Here's the uncomfortable truth: I am weak.
Pathetically so.
There are fallen angels roaming the city. Issei's been attacked twice. The second time, a male fallen named Dohnaseek stabbed him. The only reason he stopped was because Rias showed up and claimed Issei as her servant.
He stopped. Because Issei had an owner.
Not because Issei was a person. Not because murder is wrong. Because killing a claimed devil is "bad politics."
That realization chilled me more than the spear did.
That's one of the reasons I accepted Rias's deal. Six months. That's how long I promised to stay under her wing. Not because I trust her blindly. But because leaving now would be monumentally stupid.
Even if Rias doesn't declare me a stray when I leave, that wouldn't save me. Every supernatural faction out there would see me as an unaffiliated devil with no power, no backup, and no purpose.
I'd be a walking target.
And worse? I have a family.
Ordinary humans. They don't even know magic exists. And if I stayed near them, I'd be painting a big glowing target on their backs for any malicious forces wouldn't hesitate to use them as leverage.
So yeah. I need power.
Not just so I can protect myself. But so I can protect them. So I can stop being dependent on someone else's protection. Because being dependent? That's just a slow-motion vulnerability.
Dependence is a cage. It doesn't matter if the bars are velvet. When you rely on someone else, they own a part of you. Like when you live with your parents: you follow their rules, meet their expectations, bend yourself to stay in their good graces. And that's family. Imagine how much worse it gets when your "guardian" is an immortal devil aristocrat.
My life is mine. Or at least, it should be.
But everywhere I look, I see things that could take it from me. Devils. Angels.Dragons. Yokai. Gods. Monsters that could erase me with a flick of their fingers. And I refuse to be disposable. I refuse to be owned.
So I've been studying. Researching. Learning about every entity with enough power to shape the world. Gods, monsters, angels, devils, Dragons. Every myth anyone ever told to scare kids or give them hope... they're out there. And I got dropped into the middle of it as a Reincarnated devil, bottom of the food chain. You'd think being a devil meant something. It doesn't. Not when there are beings out there who can erase you with a thought.
People look at creatures like that and think they're distant, untouchable. But even the smallest thing, something you'd never notice, can kill you if you don't see it coming. Doesn't matter how big or important you think you are. If you don't know what's out there, if you don't understand it, if you can't control it, then you're at its mercy. That's not freedom. That's just waiting to get stepped on.
My goal? To become someone so powerful, no one could ever lay claim to me again.
You think that's arrogant? Blasphemous? Delusional?
So be it.
If that puts me in the same lane as Lucifer, then I'll just have to wear that crown. Because I'd rather fall in rebellion than kneel in comfort.
I will unravel every secret of this world. I will crack open the systems that govern it.
You say it's impossible?
Then you've already lost.
Because the man who believes the truths of the world are unknowable lives in fear. He surrenders to fate.
The man who does not strive for power will live beneath the shadow of those who do. He will speak of freedom, yet bow with each passing wind. Superstition will shackle him. The rain will wash away his name as if he never was. But the man who sets himself the task of mastering strength, of wrenching control from the chaos, will by that very resolve seize his claim upon the world, and only by such dominion can he ensure he is not ruled, but ruler; not a footnote in another's story, but the master of his own fate.
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After I got home, I called my parents and we chatted for a bit, basic life stuff. Independence, laundry accidents, awkward grocery budgeting. I gave them the usual sanitized updates. "school's fine," "I'm eating properly," "no, I don't need more allowance", and they, being the paragons of supportive parenting across parallel dimensions, asked if I needed anything anyway. One thing that hasn't changed between this life and my last is that I somehow hit the jackpot in the parent department. They're the kind of people who'd sacrifice their own comfort just so I could chase dreams I haven't even admitted to myself.
They're still good people in this world, too. That's the part no one really talks about in reincarnation stories. Everyone obsesses over cheat powers and who they can seduce with their magical bloodline, but honestly? The real jackpot is getting reborn with parents who love you. That's divine intervention right there.
After dinner, I sat down at the study desk, not to study, obviously. I cracked open a notebook because I needed to keep track of my newest science project: Me. Or more specifically, the devil version of me. Because beyond the standard curriculum of blasting things with demonic energy enhanced fists, stuff Akeno, Koneko, and Yuuto are helpfully tutoring me in, there's something a little less standardized. A little more… DIY.
See, devils all have "traits." Personal, signature abilities that reflect who they are, stuff like Rias's "Power of Destruction," which is basically a death eraser. A lot of the higher-ups, especially the pillar families, get their traits handed to them on a silver platter, literally passed down through bloodlines. It's insanely OP. Like, Rias didn't make her power, she inherited it from the House of Bael, from which her mother hails from. That kind of cheat code saves you a lot of time and effort. You get a power, maybe even a training manual, or at the very least someone who can walk you through how to use it properly. Super convenient.
I don't have any of that.
So I have to make one. A devil trait, I mean. From scratch.
And that's kind of the fun part. Or the terrifying part, depending on how you look at it.
And let me be very clear: making a devil trait is not like choosing a Pokémon starter. You don't just pick fire, water, or grass and roll with it. See, a devil trait isn't just a flashy move. It's supposed to reflect you, your personality, your quirks, your worldview. Like, it doesn't have to be super complex or wild, but it should feel right in your gut. You know when something just clicks? That's what I'm chasing.
The trait has to fit you. Now, technically speaking, if an ability is possible through demonic power in general, like throwing fireballs or summoning lightning, then anyone could theoretically learn it. But just learning something isn't the same as owning it. You can mimic someone else's technique all you want, but it'll never feel like yours. Not really. And that kind of symbolism is important in magic.
Now, sure, there are plenty of elemental repeats out there. More than one devil knows how to do lightning stuff or fire-based attacks. But the way Akeno uses hers? That's hers. Unique vibe, unique execution. That's what I'm aiming for. The flair. The thing that makes it yours.
So I've been thinking: what do I want?
Ideally, something versatile. Something that scales well. Something that rewards creativity and allows me to punch above my weight class. But the problem with powerful traits is they aren't cheap. You can't just will a top-tier ability into existence. You have to pay. And I don't mean with money. I mean with metaphorical (or literal) blood.
That's when I stumbled across ritual magic. Real old-school, grim-dark, pre-civil war devilcraft. The kind of stuff that involves sacrificing your name, your sense of self, or, you know, virgins. The classics. Back in the day, devils used these deals to boost their power, offering boons in exchange for souls, firstborns, or whatever taboo currency was trendy at the time. It's questionable but efficient and quick.
So I wondered, could I take that principle and build it into my trait?
Not the virgin-sacrificing part, obviously. That's both gross and impractical in the modern world. But the underlying logic of equivalent exchange? That's interesting. FMA fans were right. What if I created an ability that only activates after I fulfill a difficult condition, or perform a specific ritual? What if I could burn a part of myself, identity, comfort, safety, in order to power up?
But then again, that's vague and hard to regulate. Maybe too vague. Power with no structure is chaotic and ineffective. So I've been refining. Adding layers. Thinking like a devil economist. What's the cost that makes the ability potent, but also usable? What's the risk-to-reward ratio that makes it dangerous, but worth it?
Like, what if I could increase my demonic energy by fulfilling increasingly difficult rituals? Layered conditions. Stacked prerequisites. Maybe something like: "if I complete X impossible task under Y restriction, I get permanent increase in demonic energy in limited percentages." Complex, but not impossible.
In the meantime, while I stew on that mess, I've been prototyping something smaller. Something simpler. A proof-of-concept devil trait: manipulating the properties of demonic energy itself to create short-term effects. It's not flashy. But it works. Great for taking out low-level threats or creating utility effects in a pinch. I've finalized it. I just need a live test now.
And that's when I got the call.
Not a summoning. A call. From Rias.
Rias can't summon me like the others. And that's by design. Devils can use their magic circles to communicate with or teleport their servants, if the servant has accepted the house crest. It's basically a mark, etched into the body somewhere. Issei and the rest have them. Different sizes, placements, all nice and magical.
I refused mine.
Rias tried to explain that it's a family seal, not a slave brand. She said it comes with perks like teleportation, fast responses, ease of summoning, all that. But the truth is, it still smells like ownership. I didn't want a crest that made me someone's branded familiar. I'd rather take the long way and create my own one. Devil magic is versatile enough to find a workaround.
She wasn't thrilled, but she didn't push. Another reason why, for all my complaints about the system, Rias herself is one of the better ones.
So yeah, she uses a phone. Like a normal person. She asked me to come by. Said she wanted to show me something "informational and educational". Nothing suspicious on the surface. I agreed.
It was night.
I changed into something comfortable: grey jogging pants and a dark green hoodie. Slid open my window, stepped out onto the ledge, and unfurled my wings.
And then I jumped.
Flying as a devil is something else.
It's not graceful. Not at first. Your body fights it. Some part of your brain knows you're cheating physics and wants to scream about it. But then you push through it. And suddenly, you're coasting. Weightless. Above the streets. Above the noise. No grinding gears or engines. Just you, moving with sheer willpower and a pair of wings that hum like condensed freedom.
Flying is not just awesome, it's liberating. And once you've done it, once you've really felt it, walking feels like a downgrade. It's like you suddenly realize that sidewalks are just land prisons.
There's this thing I said once to Rias, trying to rationalize how flight works. I told her: "The secret to flying is doing it before your body realizes it's supposed to fall." She found that both weird and funny, which honestly describes a lot of how she reacts to me.
Anyway, after a few minutes of pure aerial bliss, I landed lightly on the school roof. I walked across the tiles. Climbed through the open window of the Occult Research Club.
Inside, the usual suspects were already waiting.
Rias was there, of course. So were Akeno, Kiba, Koneko, and Issei.
"Good evening, everyone," I said, brushing wind from my hoodie.
Time to see what this "informational and educational" thing was about.
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Eliminating a rampaging stray devil. That's what Rias meant when she asked me to tag along. Not exactly the sort of thing you'd expect for a Thursday night activity, but who am I to judge. According to Rias, this particular Stray had wandered into Kuoh, her jurisdiction, and that meant she got the cleanup duty.
So, what's a stray devil, exactly? In short: a devil who got reincarnated as part of a peerage but then went rogue. Either they killed their master, or just said "screw this job" and bounced. Rias said this kind of thing "rarely happens." Of course it doesn't. Because most reincarnated devils are statistically weaker than the person who turned them in the first place, and surprise, betrayal doesn't work when you die two seconds into the rebellion. And if by some miracle you do escape? You become a walking problem. Everyone wants you dead: devils, angels, fallen angels, bored gods looking for side quests.
It's less "freedom" and more "being marked for deletion."
Anyway, that's why we're here. The building we arrived at looked like a haunted house rejected by Scooby-Doo. Unused, crumbling, and just isolated enough to be the ideal murder dungeon for a rogue devil trying to LARP as a horror movie boss.
"…The smell of blood," said Koneko, covering her nose.
She's a catgirl. Explains the nose. I can replicate that sensory precision, but it'd take some demonic energy control and a lot more fine-tuning than I've managed so far. Still, worth considering.
Things got quiet. The air was heavier. A presence made itself known. A very not subtle, "I want to eat your spleen" kind of presence. Killing intent is one of those things you don't need training to feel. It just kind of latches onto your instincts. It didn't scare me exactly, but it definitely registered. Wild and unhinged, more animal than person.
I glanced around. Kiba and Akeno were calm. Koneko looked mildly annoyed, like the stench offended her more than the danger. Issei, though? Dude looked like someone just threatened to reveal his browser history. Shaking, sweating, the whole thing.
Rias noticed and threw him a bone.
"Ise, this is a good opportunity to experience what it's like to fight," she said.
He panicked, obviously. "Wait, are you serious!? I'm positive that I'll be completely useless!"
"Yes, it's impossible as you are now," she replied flatly, with the kind of honesty that would kill lesser men. "But you can watch what a devil's battle is like. Today, just concentrate and look at how we fight. Get a measure of things."
To be fair, Issei hasn't trained much yet. Rias wanted to give time to properly adjust to his new life.
We walked deeper into the building until suddenly, everyone stopped. The killing intent spiked. The stray was close.
Then came the voice. Raspy, low, vaguely feminine and completely unhinged.
"I can smell something disgusting, but also something delicious. Is it sweet, or is it sour?"
Creepy. But the real horror was the form.
She emerged from the shadows, a topless upper body of a woman, grafted onto the hulking bottom half of a beast. Snake tail, clawed feet, standing at least five meters tall. Looked like an overdesigned boss from a mid-budget JRPG.
Just to clarify: this isn't what she became after going stray. Devils don't "mutate" like Pokémon when they go rogue. That's just what she chose to look like. Devils are shapeshifters. Aesthetics are a matter of preference. Some lean into the "classic demon" thing with horns, red skin, claws, wings, others cosplay as humans. You can't make assumptions based on appearances here.
"Leaving your master's side and rampaging as you please definitely deserves death. In the name of Duke Gremory, I will gladly eliminate you!" said Rias, striking a pose like she was on a magical girl contract.
I almost lost it.
"You're arrogant for a little girrrrrrl! I'll rip your body and dye it red just like your haaaaaair!!" shrieked the monster.
That laugh. That over-the-top villain laugh. I couldn't help myself.
"Grunts sure do speak in a stylish mann—"
I cut her off. "Hey Rias. I'd like to fight her alone."
That got their attention. The others turned to me, surprised. Issei especially. I guess they assumed I'd hang back and take notes or something. Which is fair. But I came here for field data. Simulation only gets you so far. At some point, you need to fight something that's actively trying to kill you. Otherwise, what are we even doing?
"I want to test myself against a real enemy," I said, plainly. Although I hate to do it against Viser, I kind of feel bad for her situation.
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POV: Akeno Himejima
"Of course, we'll jump in if things get bad," Buchou said, ever so composed.
Haruki stepped forward.
The stray clasped its hands and hurled a ball of demonic energy toward him. Fast, vicious, direct. And to its credit… not unimpressive. Emitting demonic energy like that, as a projectile, takes real control. Most new devils can barely coat their fists with magic, let alone throw it.
But Haruki?
He dodged without fanfare. No wasted movement. Blink, and he was gone, then crack. The sound of a palm colliding with flesh. The stray's head slammed into the concrete with a sickening crunch.
I almost laughed.
That was a flawless augmentation, speed and strength both enhanced through demonic flow. It's only been six weeks since Haruki started practical training with Yuuto, and already he's moving like a seasoned fighter. At first, he stumbled through sparring, trying to connect theory to action. Then, something clicked. Now he channels energy while moving, attacking, even dodging. It's instinctual. That level of internalization takes most devils years to achieve. Buchou and I, both considered talented, needed nearly a year before we could use magic reflexively in combat. Haruki's done it in a month and a half.
Unparalleled talent. I'm jealous.
Ufufu.
The stray staggered to its feet, clearly rattled. It hadn't expected him to hit that hard. But desperation makes fools bold. It lunged at Haruki, claws bared, screeching nonsense.
What followed wasn't a fight. It was an autopsy.
It swung. Missed. He kicked.
It punched. He broke its arm.
It tried to grab him. He took the limb.
Then a leg. Another. A third?
Limbless, it collapsed, supporting itself on what remained. Haruki stood over it, expression unreadable, then reached into his pocket and pulled out... a lighter. Of all things.
He looked at the stray, broken, barely breathing and asked, "Are you willing to go back to your master? Maybe you won't have to die."
Why that question?
The Archduke's order was clear: eliminate it.
But Haruki never bothers with orders. He's polite enough to listen, but only ever does what he decides.
"Hahaha… anything but that," the stray wheezed, voice filled with hatred and fear. "Kill me."
"As you wish."
He flicked the lighter. Tossed it.
Boom.
The explosion rocked the building. Light and heat flooded the hallway. We shielded our eyes. When it faded, there was nothing left. No body. No bones. Not even dust. Only ash and smoke curling up from scorched concrete.
"Have… have you already created your own Devil Trait?" Buchou asked, genuinely stunned.
I don't blame her. Crafting a personal Devil Trait is a feat that takes a long time. Most reincarnated devils need at least years to create one.
But with Haruki… I wouldn't be surprised.
"Nothing so extravagant," he said, as if discussing the weather. "I merely altered the nature of my demonic energy, made it flammable and highly explosive. Then I dispersed it into the air around her and herself. Void Embrace kept it concealed."
He smiled. "The lighter was just a trigger."
Void Embrace. Advanced concealment technique. Suppresses the presence of one's demonic energy so completely it vanishes from every form of detection, sight, sound, aura sense, even spiritual perception. It's perfect for laying traps. A difficult, precise technique.
And he's already mastered it.
Ridiculous.
He says "nothing extravagant," but every word out of his mouth defies reason.
He keeps doing this, moving past every limit like it's a suggestion instead of a law.
Honestly…
What a terrifying boy.
AN: Another chapter! Here we start to get a glimpse into Haruki's mentality, there are cracks showing. Like how he believes he has to be in control, or else others will control him. That idea was inspired by a passage from Blood Meridian, where the Judge says man must master everything in the world to be its true ruler. Haruki believes he needs power not just to protect his family, but to truly be free.
The big question is: how far is he willing to go to gain that power? And how far can he justify his actions to himself? That internal conflict, his conscience vs. his logic, is going to be at the heart of the story moving forward.
Originally, I planned to include and finish the Fallen Angel arc in this chapter, but... yeah, I got lazy. So that'll be next time.