The living room shimmered as Isaiah stepped through the spatial tear, with a soft thud. The tear dissipated behind him in a cascade of fading sparkles, leaving only the faint traces.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. After everything that had happened—the battles, the chaos, the near-death experience, there truly was no place like home.
'Home'
The word resonated through him with unexpected warmth. When had this place become more than just a base of operations? When had it transformed into something that actually mattered?
He turned, intending to locate Rayne and Ravel, to let them know he'd returned safely. The words were already forming on his lips when—
"ISAIAH-SAMA!"
The impact drove the breath from his lungs.
Rayne crashed into him with enough force to stagger a lesser devil, her arms wrapping around him in a desperate embrace. Before Isaiah could even process what was happening, his face was buried in the soft warmth of her chest, her arms trembling as they held him tight.
"Isaiah-sama, are you alright?! I heard you were hurt pretty ba—" Her frantic words cut off abruptly. She pulled back just enough to scan his face and body, her blue eyes wide with concern that slowly shifted to confusion "Hm, you look perfectly fine?"
Pulling himself free from her embrace, Isaiah gasped for air, his lungs burning as they refilled with sweet, blessed oxygen.
'A few more seconds in there, and I would have lost my life suffocated by the concerned affection of his own peerage member. What a way to go'
Rayne's hands still hovered near his shoulders, as if reluctant to completely let go. Her perfectly styled hair was slightly disheveled, and her usually composed expression replaced with worry. She'd genuinely been scared for him after hearing what he went through earlier. The realization settled something warm in his chest.
"Can I get something to eat?" Isaiah asked, offering her a tired smile. His stomach chose that exact moment to growl audibly.
Rayne's expression immediately brightened, though traces of concern still lingered in her eyes. She nodded cheerfully, the familiar composure of the Phenex household's former lady reasserting itself "Of course! I'll prepare something wonderful for you, Isaiah sama. Just give me a moment"
She guided him to the dining room with gentle hands, pulling out a chair for him like he was some visiting dignitary rather than her King. Isaiah sank into it gratefully, his body finally acknowledging just how exhausted he truly was.
As Rayne disappeared into the kitchen, humming softly to herself, Isaiah allowed himself a moment of peace. Then, with a thought, the blue screen materialized before him, invisible to anyone but himself. Its familiar glow cast his face in soft azure light.
Four character cards rotated slowly on the display, each one promising new power, new abilities, new possibilities. The soreness that had been clinging to his bones seemed to evaporate as he looked at them. This was what made everything worth it.
A smile tugged at his lips
"Let's see what fate has given me this time"
---
[[ Character Card 1 ]]
The first card split down the middle, showing two distinct figures.
On the left: *Revy*—"Two Hands," the psychotic gunslinger from Roanapur. A woman with tribal tattoos snaking up her right arm, amber eyes that promised violence, and a feral grin that belonged on a predator. Isaiah felt his pulse quicken as information flooded his consciousness. A master of Gun Kata and the art of Guns Akimbo, wielding twin modified Beretta 92FS pistols—the Cutlass—with supernatural precision. She could reload while dodging, shoot while airborne, hit targets in complete darkness through pure instinct. Born from the gutters of Chinatown, forged in the criminal underworld, she was violence personified. Raw, brutal, effective. Her combat philosophy was simple: shoot first, shoot fast, keep shooting until everything threatening was dead.
On the right: *Spike Spiegel*—the too-cool-for-school bounty hunter from the Bebop. Lean, dangerous, with perpetually bored eyes that had seen too much. A practitioner of Jeet Kune Do, Bruce Lee's own martial art philosophy. Every movement efficient, every strike purposeful. Combat experience that spanned years of gang wars and bounty hunting across the solar system. And that almost supernatural ability to read opponents, to flow like water around their attacks while delivering devastating counters. Plus that unshakeable calm in the face of death itself.
Isaiah's mind raced, analyzing both options with the cold calculation that had kept him alive this long.
Spike's martial arts would be invaluable. That Jeet Kune Do mastery, the combat reading ability—I'd become a nightmare in hand-to-hand combat. Plus that experience, that calm...
But Revy...
His eyes lingered on her card. Two Hands. There was something visceral about her skillset that called to him. In the supernatural world of devils and fallen angels, everyone relied on magic, on Sacred Gears, on ancient powers. But Revy? She was pure human skill pushed to its absolute limit. No magic, no supernatural enhancement—just a woman with two guns and the will to survive against everything the world threw at her.
I already have some hand-to-hand capability, Isaiah reasoned. And I'll get more. But firearms expertise at Revy's level? That's something else entirely. In a world where everyone expects magic and energy blasts, someone who can put a bullet through your eye from fifty meters while doing a backflip? That's an edge nobody will see coming.
Plus, he had to admit—there was something darkly appealing about her sheer audacity. Revy didn't just fight; she dominated through pure skill and aggression. That killer instinct, that ability to stay calm in absolute chaos while bullets flew like rain...
And practically speaking, magical guns were easy to acquire, easy to conceal, easy to explain. Nobody would question a devil with firearms training. But they'd severely underestimate just how dangerous someone with Revy's skills could be.
Isaiah's finger moved to her card. "Two Hands it is."
The card flashed brilliant crimson before dissolving into particles of light that streamed into his chest like liquid fire. Knowledge slammed into his mind—not gentle, not gradual, but violent and immediate. Muscle memory of a thousand gunfights seared itself into his nerves. His fingers twitched, suddenly knowing the exact weight of twin Berettas, the precise angle for a speed reload, the timing needed to fire both guns at different targets simultaneously.
He could feel it now—that awareness of multiple targets, that ability to track movements while firing at full speed, the technical understanding of ballistics and angles that made seemingly impossible shots routine. The pure skill of Gun Kata and Guns Akimbo techniques settled into his muscle memory like he'd spent years drilling them.
Isaiah flexed his fingers, feeling the phantom weight of pistols that weren't there. The knowledge was incredible, the skill undeniable.
Well, this was a good start he thought with satisfaction.
---
[[ Character Card 2 ]]
The second card materialized, splitting to reveal two Dragon Slayers from Fairy Tail.
On the left: *Sting Eucliffe*—the White Dragon Slayer. Blonde hair, confident smirk, and the swagger of someone who knew exactly how powerful he was. Isaiah leaned forward, fascinated as information flooded in. Holy Light Dragon Slayer Magic, taught by the dragon Weisslogia. The ability to consume light itself for power, to coat his body in brilliant white scales for enhanced defense, to fire devastating roars of pure radiant energy. And the signature technique—Holy Nova, an explosion of light magic that could devastate entire battlefields. Plus that Dragon Force state, where he could tap into the true power of dragons themselves. He was versatile, aggressive, with both close-range and long-distance capabilities.
On the right: *Rogue Cheney*—the Shadow Dragon Slayer. Dark hair, reserved demeanor, but with power that lurked in the darkness. Shadow Dragon Slayer Magic, taught by Skiadrum. The ability to consume and become shadow, to move through shadows for instant travel, to hide completely in darkness, to manipulate shadows into physical weapons. His Shadow Drive ability granted immense power boosts, and his techniques ranged from the destructive Shadow Dragon's Roar to the insidious Shadow Dragon's Slash. And there was something else—a connection to his partner, the possibility of Unison Raid techniques that multiplied power exponentially.
Isaiah's breath came faster. Both were incredible. Both represented different philosophies of power.
Light versus Shadow. Offense versus versatility.
His strategic mind kicked into overdrive. Sting is raw power. That Holy Nova technique alone could turn the tide of battles. And light magic would probably be effective against devils and fallen angels—ironic as that is. Plus Dragon Slayer magic means I could potentially consume light-based attacks and grow stronger.
But Rogue...
Shadow magic in the devil world, Isaiah thought, his eyes narrowing. We already have affinity for darkness. This wouldn't clash with my nature as a devil—it would complement it. And those utility abilities... shadow travel? Becoming intangible in darkness? That's just going to take my Assault Mode to the next level
He thought about his fights, about the enemies he'd faced. Raw destructive power was useful, certainly. But the ability to disappear into shadows, to move unseen, to strike from darkness itself?
In the underworld or any world, shadows are everywhere. I'd effectively have complete battlefield mobility. And against light-based opponents—angels, holy sword users—I'd have a natural counter by consuming their attacks through shadow.
The deciding factor came down to adaptability.
Isaiah pressed his finger to Rogue's card. "Shadow it is. Still sticking to the dark side"
The card burst into fragments of darkness that swirled around him like a small tornado before sinking into his skin. This time the sensation was different—cold where Revy's had been hot, seeping rather than slamming. Shadows in the room seemed to deepen, to reach toward him like they recognized something familiar.
Knowledge unfurled in his mind like a flower of darkness blooming. He could feel the shadows now, sense them as extensions of himself. The magical theory, the techniques, the raw power of a dragon compressed into human—or in his case, devil—form. His demonic energy resonated with this new magic, finding unexpected synergy.
'Looks like I now know what favour I am gonna ask Tiamat' Isaiah thought, watching shadows flicker at his fingertips.
---
[[ Character Card 3 ]]
The third card appeared, and Isaiah immediately felt a chill run down his spine. These two...
On the left: *Hisoka Morow*—the Magician, the self-proclaimed jester who lived only for fighting strong opponents. Pink hair, painted tear and star on his face, and eyes that held a disturbing mixture of intelligence and madness. Isaiah swallowed as information poured in. Master of Nen, specifically Transmutation—the ability to change his aura's properties. His signature techniques: Bungee Gum, which had both the properties of rubber and gum, allowing for incredible versatility in combat; and Texture Surprise, the ability to replicate any texture with his aura. But it was more than just techniques. It was combat genius that bordered on prescience, the ability to read opponents and predict their moves multiple steps ahead. A master strategist who treated fights like performances, who got stronger the more excited he became. And that disturbing bloodlust that actually enhanced his abilities...
On the right: *Illumi Zoldyck*—the eldest son of the Zoldyck assassination family. Black, expressionless eyes that looked dead, pin-straight hair, and an aura of such intense killing intent it could paralyze people. Another Nen master, this one specializing in Manipulation. His needles could control people like puppets, implant suggestions, cause pain or paralysis. He could change his appearance completely, disguise himself as anyone. And his combat abilities were nothing to dismiss either—trained from birth as an assassin, with techniques that killed efficiently and without remorse. There was also that cold, calculating intelligence, the ability to plan operations with terrifying precision, and complete emotional control that made him nearly impossible to read or manipulate.
Isaiah stared at both cards, his heart pounding. These weren't just powerful—they were dangerous in a way the others weren't. Both represented philosophies that could fundamentally change how he approached combat and conflict.
Hisoka's combat genius would be incredible, he mused. That Bungee Gum ability alone is one of the most versatile powers I've ever seen. Attack, defense, mobility, trapping—it does everything. And his ability to read opponents, to predict and counter...
But there was something deeply unsettling about Hisoka. That madness, that obsession with fighting strong opponents, that barely controlled bloodlust. Isaiah wasn't sure he wanted those particular psychological traits bleeding into his own mind even though they weren't going to be part of him.
Illumi, on the other hand...
Manipulation specialist. Assassination expertise. Complete emotional control. Isaiah's analytical mind catalogued the benefits. In the political world of devils, where manipulation and intrigue are just as important as raw power, this would be invaluable. Plus those needles—the ability to control opponents, to inflict pain or paralysis from a distance, to completely disguise myself...
He thought about his position, about the Games he'd inevitably be drawn into, about the various factions all vying for power in the supernatural world. Raw combat power was necessary, certainly. But the ability to manipulate situations, to control variables, to eliminate threats with assassination precision rather than overt displays of force?
Hisoka fights because he loves fighting. Illumi fights to accomplish objectives—efficiently, precisely, without wasted effort or unnecessary risk.
There was also the practical consideration. Hisoka's bloodlust and battle-madness could be a liability, especially when Isaiah needed to maintain diplomatic relations or navigate complex political situations. Illumi's cold rationality, his ability to compartmentalize emotions, his training in subtlety and misdirection—these would complement Isaiah's existing analytical nature rather than conflict with it.
And those needles... Isaiah could already envision a dozen uses for them beyond simple combat. Information gathering, infiltration, creating controlled opposition, removing threats without leaving evidence...
His finger moved to Illumi's card, though something in him hesitated. This one felt... dangerous in a different way. Not to others, but to himself. That emotional coldness, that assassin's mentality—was he ready to integrate that into his being?
I need every edge I can get, Isaiah reminded himself. The enemies I'll face won't hesitate. Neither can I.
He pressed down. "Illumi Zoldyck."
The card shattered like glass, fragments of dark purple light spiraling into his chest like a drill. This time, the sensation was different again—precise, surgical almost. Knowledge flooded in: Nen theory and application, the art of manipulation through needles, assassination techniques refined over generations of the Zoldyck family. The precise angles for instant death, the nerve points that caused paralysis, disguise methods, interrogation techniques.
And Nen itself—the ability to manifest life energy as aura, to manipulate it, to shape it according to his will. It resonated with his demonic energy in strange ways, not quite compatible but not entirely incompatible either. Like two different languages describing the same concepts.
Isaiah sat still for a moment, processing the sheer volume of information. This was perhaps the most technical, the most precise skill set he'd acquired. Every technique had been refined to perfection.
He flexed his hand, imagining the phantom weight of needles between his fingers.
---
[[ Character Card 4 ]]
The final card appeared, showing two elderly martial artists.
On the left: *Bang*—also known as Silver Fang, the master of Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. An elderly man with white hair and mustache, but beneath that grandfatherly appearance was one of the most skilled martial artists alive. His fighting style was devastatingly effective: redirecting enemy attacks with flowing movements, using opponent's force against them, then countering with strikes that could shatter boulders. He could fight multiple opponents simultaneously through perfect awareness and economy of motion. His ultimate technique, Awakening Breath, pushed his body to superhuman limits. And beyond just combat technique, there was wisdom—decades of teaching, of refining martial arts to their purest form, of understanding combat on a level that transcended simple physical ability.
On the right: *Bomb*—Bang's older brother and master of Whirlwind Iron Cutting Fist. Similar appearance, but with a different philosophy. Where Bang was defensive and flowing, Bomb was offensive and direct. His style emphasized powerful, precise strikes that cut through defenses. Combined with his brother, they could perform a combination technique called Cross Fang Dragon Slayer Fist that multiplied their individual power several times over. He brought aggressive martial arts mastery, decades of experience, and a more direct combat philosophy.
Isaiah studied both cards carefully. After the intensity of Illumi's abilities, these seemed almost refreshingly straightforward. Just pure, refined martial arts. No tricks, no mind games—only martial arts technique users.
Bang's Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist is defensive genius, he analyzed. The ability to redirect any attack, to remain calm under pressure, to counter with devastating precision. It's the perfect complement to aggressive fighting styles—it fills the defensive gaps.
But Bomb...
Offensive power. Direct assault. The ability to cut through defenses rather than flow around them.
Isaiah thought about his current arsenal. He had Revy's gun skills—aggressive, fast, lethal. He had Rogue's shadow magic—versatile, mobility-focused, with both offensive and utility applications. He had Illumi's assassination techniques and manipulation abilities—precise, efficient, strategic.
What I'm missing is a solid defensive foundation in close combat, he realized. I have ways to attack, ways to evade, ways to manipulate. But if someone gets past all that and engages me directly in hand-to-hand, I need something that can turn their own power against them.
Bang's philosophy resonated with him. In a world of overwhelming power—gods, dragons, Ultimate-Class devils— offensive martial arts would only get you so far. But a style that used enemy force against them? That could redirect a punch back at them? That remained calm and flowing no matter how chaotic the battle became?
There was also the wisdom factor. Bang wasn't just a fighter; he was a teacher, a philosopher of martial arts. That understanding, that refined perspective on combat—it would tie together all of Isaiah's other abilities, create a coherent fighting philosophy rather than just a collection of techniques.
Isaiah's finger moved to Bang's card without further hesitation "Silver Fang"
The card dissolved into silver light that flowed into him like water, and the sensation was remarkable. Where the others had been intense or cold or empty, this was calm. Peaceful, even. Techniques settled into his muscles with the patience of decades of practice. His breathing automatically adjusted, became deeper, more centered.
He could feel it now—that awareness of flow, of movement, of how force traveled through bodies and could be redirected. His posture shifted subtly, unconsciously adopting a more balanced stance even while sitting.
Perfect, Isaiah thought, and for the first time since beginning this gacha session, he felt truly centered. This is the foundation everything else can build on.
---
The sound of Rayne's footsteps approaching snapped Isaiah back to full awareness. The blue screen vanished instantly, and he straightened in his chair, returning his expression to casual tiredness rather than the intense focus he'd been maintaining.
Rayne emerged from the kitchen bearing a tray laden with food that made Isaiah's mouth water instantly. Perfectly grilled fish, seasoned rice, miso soup that steamed invitingly, pickled vegetables, and several side dishes he couldn't immediately identify but that smelled amazing. She set it before him with the practiced grace of someone who'd served at formal Phenex clan dinners, though her smile was warmer, more personal.
"Please, eat as much as you'd like" she said softly, taking a seat across from him. Her golden eyes studied his face with continued concern "You really are alright? The reports I received suggested... significant injuries."
Isaiah picked up his chopsticks, taking a moment to appreciate the spread before him "I was injured" he admitted, taking a bite of fish that practically melted on his tongue "Not that badly, actually. But I've recovered pretty fast"
He didn't elaborate on how or why his recovery had been so complete. The regeneration that he received from gacha system wasn't something he discussed with anyone, not even his most trusted peerage members. Some secrets had to remain absolute.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that only came from people who'd shared enough meals together that conversation wasn't always necessary. Isaiah savored each bite, letting the familiar flavors ground him after the intensity of the character integrations. He could still feel them settling in his consciousness—four new sets of skills, techniques, and perspectives finding their places alongside his existing abilities.
Finally, Rayne spoke again, her voice quieter, more hesitant "Isaiah-sama... I want to apologize"
He looked up, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth "Hm...For what?"
"During your battle... I wasn't there. I couldn't support you." Her hands clenched in her lap "As your peerage member, I should have been by your side. Instead, I was here, safe, while you were fighting for your life. I—"
"There is no reason for you to apologize" Isaiah placed his hand over her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. He smiled, and there was nothing but genuine warmth in his expression "Never consider that I have even the slightest doubt about your loyalty to me. To me, you and Ravel are like family"
Rayne's eyes widened, her breath catching "Family?" The word came out barely above a whisper.
Isaiah nodded, his smile softening "Well, we've spent enough time and shared enough meals to consider each other as part of a family, haven't we? Besides, as the King of my peerage, I can't have distrust toward you, Ravel, or any other peerage members"
He squeezed her shoulder gently before releasing it, returning to his meal "Trust is the foundation of every relationship, Rayne. Without it, we're just a bunch of strangers staying together for our personal benefits"
Rayne stared at him, something complicated flickering across her face. In the Phenex household, relationships had been transactional. Alliances were political. Even family bonds came with expectations, obligations, power dynamics that had to be navigated carefully.
But this devil sitting across from her, casually eating fish and declaring her family with such simple sincerity...
"You trust too easily, Isaiah sama" she finally said, though her voice lacked conviction "In the world of devils, that kind of trust can be exploited"
"Maybe," Isaiah acknowledged, taking a sip of soup. "But I'd rather build something real and risk betrayal than build a house of cards on suspicion and paranoia. Besides..." His eyes met hers, and there was something sharp beneath the warmth, something that reminded her that her King was more dangerous than his casual demeanor suggested. "I'm pretty good at knowing who deserves that trust."
His analytical mind was already working, processing her body language and micro-expressions with the enhanced observational skills from his new abilities. But it only confirmed what he already knew.
Rayne's loyalty was pure and genuine.
The integration of his new powers was settling smoothly. Four distinct skillsets finding their places alongside his existing abilities, complementing rather than conflicting.
But first, he was going to finish this delicious meal.
"Thank you, Rayne" he smiled "For worrying about me. And for this food. It's exactly what I needed after that near death experience"
"N..near.. death experience?" She looked down as she began to mumble something as I caught a wind of it as kill kill kill kill. Maybe she is just being worried I got nearly killed. So caring she is.
I got to pay a visit to Tiamat tomorrow. It's been a long time, we put each other at ease.
. . .
For supporting me and for advance chapters, you can check on
p a treon.com/opeler
Replace * with a