Three pairs of eyes watched as Draconis closed his own. He steadied his breath, reaching inward, searching for that sword and shield he'd summoned once before.
Something called to him—a pull, gentle but insistent. In the next moment, his consciousness slipped free and drifted into a limitless void.
He could still sense his body, but all he saw was emptiness. The call grew clearer, echoing through the silence. Draconis turned his focus, searching, and found it: a distant spark of white light.
He willed himself forward. The light responded, racing toward him, growing until it filled his vision.
And then he saw it.
The light faded, revealing a massive black fortress—walls forged from iron, towering and endless, stretching beyond sight. Engraved across the stone were countless images: birds, beasts, ancient glyphs. The city radiated a power that felt almost alive, yet it was silent as the grave.
On the ramparts, rows of soldiers stood motionless in black armor, more statues than men.
Where was he?
Draconis stared, awed and uneasy. The city was magnificent, but it felt abandoned—a kingdom of ghosts.
His gaze drifted to the center gate: above it, a statue dominated the skyline. A faceless rider sat astride a rearing warhorse, mane flying, the rider's posture proud and commanding. In his hands gleamed a silver sword and shield—the very same pair Draconis had summoned before.
Against the black-gold city, the sword and shield blazed with light, the source of that distant glow.
Drawn closer, Draconis reached the statue. As he looked upon the sword and shield, the world blurred.
A vision swept over him: armies thundered across the plains, banners flying. A king wielded the sword and shield, leading his warriors to victory after victory. Crowds knelt, voices raised in worship—"Long live the King!"
But war took its toll. The king fought, bled, protected his people, until betrayal struck—a blade in the dark. His blood stained the shield, the sword snapped in two.
On that day, even the heavens wept. Storms howled, blood rained from the sky. The gods themselves mourned.
Yet the sword and shield, bathed in royal blood, were reborn—awakened to new power, beyond mortal reach.
A name whispered in Draconis's mind—gentle, feminine, like a goddess's breath:
Aegis of the Virtuous Monarch.
It had once belonged to a human king—a ruler both mighty and merciful. The weapon carried his legacy.
Draconis's awareness snapped back. He opened his eyes to find the silver sword and shield floating before him, gleaming with otherworldly light.
"Ara ara, such powerful energy," Akeno murmured, voice soft with awe. "There's a strong aura hidden inside that Sacred Gear."
Draconis reached out, fingers closing around the hilt. The sword slid free from the shield's custom scabbard. The shield hovered beside him, circling protectively, almost alive.
Rias smiled, eyes bright with approval. "A sword and shield, huh? You really do look the part of a knight."
But Draconis felt something more—a possibility, a promise. That black fortress… it felt summonable, too.
He almost tried, but Rias's voice cut through his thoughts:
"Careful. Sacred Gears aren't so easily controlled. You'll need to grow stronger before you can handle their full power. Force it, and you'll only hurt yourself."
Draconis snapped back to caution. That fortress was far beyond him now—summoning it would be reckless, maybe fatal. No sense in getting himself killed by his own power.
He practiced a few more times, learning the rhythm of summoning and dismissing the sword and shield. Satisfied, he turned to Rias.
"All right, you're free for now," she said, stretching languidly. "I spent last night healing you. I need a bath."
"Thanks for everything," Draconis replied, rising. He glanced at Koneko, who'd been quietly munching snacks since he'd arrived—sweet buns, cookies, never stopping, never speaking.
She looked oddly adorable, focused on her food. Draconis nodded a greeting, then left the clubroom for his classroom.
He barely made it through the door before the crowd descended—questions flying, voices overlapping. Why had Rias invited him? How did he get into the Occult Research Club?
Draconis kept his thoughts to himself. You want to join? Good luck—those girls are devils. Literally.
Outwardly, he smiled, explaining that Rias thought he was a good fit, so she extended an invitation. The boys groaned, some pounding their desks in jealous frustration.
"Why do you get to hang out with President Rias?!"
"And Akeno-senpai!"
"And Koneko-chan!!!"
The chorus of envy grew louder. Draconis kept his polite smile, but inside, he was bored. Teenagers, he thought. So obsessed with the trivial.
I've shared a bed with Rias—naked, no less. Did I make a fuss about it?
Soon enough, Rias, Akeno, and Koneko entered the classroom, each greeting Draconis with a nod. The boys seethed, shooting him daggers behind their smiles.
Draconis just shrugged it off.
During a lull, Rias teased him, laughter in her voice. "Looks like you're famous now."
He sighed. "Famous for this? I'll pass."
Akeno slid into the seat beside him, grinning. "Ara, isn't it nice to be popular? You're fitting in better."
Draconis shook his head, voice calm. "Fit in? What's the point? In a world of ugly ducklings, even swans are guilty."
Some atmospheres you just couldn't enter—especially when you didn't speak the same language as the crowd.
The three girls paused, surprised by his words. For a moment, they had no answer.
Draconis's personality was unique, sure. But it was also undeniably solitary.
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