The hallway filled with voices and hurried footsteps, as always happens during break. A sea of students spread out in all directions, some in search of food, others just wanting to gossip and laugh loudly.
Klein headed toward the cafeteria in silence, ignoring the curious glances that inevitably clung to him due to his stunning beauty.
Upon arriving at the cafeteria, he didn't care about the lines. His gaze scanned the menu without haste, mechanically choosing a stuffed bread and a can of iced coffee. He paid with the same calm, while the murmurs increased around him. He didn't need to look up to notice: they were talking about him, of course.
He could feel the stares burning his skin like dull blades. It wasn't just paranoia: his perception was extraordinary, an almost animalistic instinct that had become natural and increasingly 'conscious' to him.
His ability wasn't limited to sensing special auras like Issei's [Dragon Charm].
It wasn't about "reading minds" or some miraculous power; it was sensing intentions.
A simple analogy would be: when someone enters a dark room, even without seeing anything, they can sense if there's another person inside, because the environment "changes." It's an almost imperceptible feeling, but real. Now imagine that multiplied by a thousand. Klein could capture these changes in an almost tactile way.
Each gaze directed at him carried a hint of emotion: curiosity, desire, hostility, or simple distraction. For most people, this would go unnoticed, but for him, it was like hearing voices whispering in a silent room. Even without words, he understood what each gaze meant.
When he walked through the hallways, he felt as if he were walking amid invisible threads pulling from all directions. Some threads were light, like students who were just curious. Others were denser, like the insistent desire that dripped from female gazes. And there were still those almost cutting ones, when someone looked with envy or contempt.
This sensitivity was useful, of course, but also uncomfortable. There was no way to turn it off. It was like living in a world where everyone screams at the same time, even when they don't open their mouths.
But he thought that this might not be because of his Longinus.
While walking down the hallway, the memories of the last class returned. The way he absorbed every detail was almost absurd. He didn't just remember what the teacher had said: he could mentally reproduce even the intonation of the words, the order in which the students laughed, the chalk mark that was crooked on the board. A memory so crystalline that it seemed like a recording.
But it made sense, when he was reborn, his soul must have fused with the soul of his predecessor, and then, his body had become a vessel for these two fused existences. But it wasn't a common sum, like joining two glasses of water. It was more like fusing two colors of paint. Blue and red don't coexist side by side; they create purple.
Something new, something that didn't exist before.
This fusion not only mixed memories but redesigned the way his brain, his soul, and even his intuition operated. The sensitivity to gazes and the mind that functioned like a perfect archive were just different manifestations of the same root: two sets of experiences, instincts, and memories overlaid in a single being....
The explanation, for any layperson, could be simple: imagine two computers connected in parallel. One alone is already capable of processing data. But when they fuse, they not only add processing power; they create new shortcuts, paths that neither would have individually. He was this new system, with the strange consequence of perceiving the world in ways that no one else could understand.
That was the conclusion he reached about his ability resulting from the fusion of his soul with that of the 'original Klein'. Of course, his Longinus might have something to do with it too, but this explanation seemed more plausible to him.
Setting that aside, with the tray in hand, he didn't bother to look for a table. He had no interest in sitting among noisy groups or pretending to socialize. What he sought was silence.
So, he took the stairs that led to the top floor of the main building and climbed up.
The rooftop was empty, as always. The wind blew gently, bringing the smell of spring mixed with the metallic perfume of the iron railings. The sky was clear, some sparse clouds floating like pieces of cotton in the deep blue.
Klein walked to the parapet and leaned against it, opening the bread without haste. The first bite was accompanied by a sip of the iced coffee. The sensation was almost trivial, but it was precisely that "almost" that pleased him. There was something comforting in the artificial normality of school life.
When he finished eating, he threw the empty can into the corner of the tray and left the parapet. He walked to the small concrete structure that housed the access stairs to the rooftop.
The annoying sun beat against the flat roof, warming the surface. Klein lay down there, arms open, looking at the blue sky between the lazy clouds.
The discomfort in his chest, however, did not dissipate. He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and extended his hand.
A golden flash shone in the air.
And a cup appeared in his hand, with an almost solemn presence.
The [Sephiroth Graal].
It was about thirty centimeters tall, the slender body supported by a thick circular base, resembling more a museum relic than a weapon. The gold that coated it wasn't a common gold; the shine was uniform, almost clinical, without spots, scratches, or wear, as if it had never been touched by the passage of time.
The instant the Longinus manifested, Klein felt something strange. It wasn't like picking up a sword for the first time, nor like learning to use an unknown ability. There was no strangeness, no hesitation. On the contrary: it seemed instinctive; he knew how to use its powers at a basic level, although he already knew what they were due to his predecessor's memories, who, although he hadn't trained or anything like that, was forced to learn his powers in formal training with the wife of his 'master's' brother.
In the end, invoking his Longinus only served to eliminate doubts. The cup had no relation whatsoever to his new sensitivity, something he, deep down, already sensed.
From what he remembers, a Sacred Gear is an extension of the body and soul of its host, created by God to function intuitively. At first, it doesn't require formal training: instinct itself guides the basic commands, like invoking the weapon or activating abilities. In the original work, for example, Issei awakens the [Boosted Gear] and, without understanding what he's doing, simply shouts "Boost!", being promptly attended by the power. Similarly, Asia Argento uses her [Twilight Healing] naturally, guided only by the "call" of her ability when healing others.
But not everything is automatic. Advanced abilities require practice, training, and personal growth.
Anyway, taking advantage of having materialized his Longinus, he decided he would test his abilities; there was no one there anyway.
His Longinus possessed five main abilities: [Resurrection], [Animation], [Soul Manipulation], [Healing], and [Regeneration]. He was capable of using them, but only up to a certain limit.
Starting with [Resurrection], this ability allowed bringing the dead back to life, as long as a fragment of the deceased's soul still existed. It was precisely this power that motivated his predecessor to try to overcome his own trauma and accept brief formal training with the wife of his master's brother. His goal was clear: to resurrect his best friend. However, the result was disastrous. The mutant ability of his Dhampir blood completely devoured her soul, making [Resurrection] useless in relation to Valerie. After this failure, he abandoned any attempt at training and left his Longinus practically unexplored.
Still, at least he discovered the limits of his powers.
[Animation] consisted of manipulating life in a broad sense, granting him the capacity to give existence to inanimate things or even infuse vitality into organisms for different purposes.
[Soul Manipulation] allowed him to interact, shape, and alter souls, the immaterial essence that inhabits all living beings.
[Healing] was simpler, but still valuable: it restored living beings to full health, repairing wounds, bones, and damaged limbs, diseases, in addition to neutralizing poisons, toxins, and burns.
Finally, [Regeneration] was, without a doubt, his most formidable power. As long as at least a fragment of his soul remained, he was capable of fully recomposing himself, always returning to the peak of his strength.
Klein let the [Sephiroth Graal] hover over the palm of his hand, concentrating on his own essence.
In the next instant, a greenish aura began to spread through his body, enveloping him like a soft flame that undulated with the wind. He first felt a weight being ripped from his shoulders. The sunlight, which before caused him some discomfort for being a Dhampir and, therefore, a creature of the Darkness, now seemed just common heat, nothing more than what any human would feel.
In the original story, Valerie's Holy Grail stood out for its capacity to mitigate weaknesses, making, for example, vampires more resistant to holy swords and evil dragons less vulnerable to dragon slayers. His Longinus apparently inherited this same trait, and Klein's test worked!
This was one of the benefits of knowing the story of this world: his predecessor never knew about this ability. If he had discovered it, the demons certainly would have done everything to use him. In a way, it was a relief that he never had awareness of it.
His attempt had been the "removal of all racial weaknesses," which meant he would still need to test later if he remained vulnerable to holy objects. The sun, however, no longer represented any problem for him.
...But, upon reflecting, he realized that the sun would really be considered a weakness? He only felt uncomfortable and biologically preferred darker places and at night, but he wouldn't burn or turn to ashes under its light. Maybe it was just a "minor weakness"...
Klein sighed, setting aside the reflection on the sun. With a calm gesture, he dematerialized the [Sephiroth Graal], which disappeared from his hand in a golden flash.
He placed his arms behind his head, leaning on the hot roof, and fixed his gaze on the blue sky. The clouds continued floating lazily, and the soft wind played with his hair, bringing with it the smell of iron and spring. For an instant, everything seemed… normal. An almost absurd calm, considering the complexity of what he carried within himself.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to hold on to that false tranquility. However, the bitter memory soon arose like a dark cloud in his mind: after class, he would have to drag himself to the Occult Research Club, fulfill his role as a "piece" within Rias Gremory's nobility.
He almost laughed at the irony.
Letting out a sigh, he opened his eyes slowly, staring at the clear sky as if he could find some answer hidden among the clouds. The feeling of imprisonment burned in his chest, suffocating any remnant of calm.
"Servant," that's what they called it. A title that seemed harmless, almost respectful, but it was nothing more than a veneer to mask what it really was: slavery.
It didn't matter that Rias smiled at him, that she said she trusted him, that she treated him with courtesy. In the end, everything was tied to an invisible collar.
An order from her, and his will would be reduced to dust. Even if he could refuse, would he do it knowing the slightest possibility of becoming a Stray Devil for disobeying her? Was it worth doing that and being hunted like a mongrel and killed mercilessly?
Demons are beings originating from the Underworld, created by the Original Lucifer from the body of his wife, Lilith. His goal was to form a military force capable of facing God and the Angels, in addition to satisfying his own ambition for world domination. This force was composed of high-class noble demons, the 72 Pillars and the Extra Demons, and countless armies of middle and low-class demonic soldiers, all under his command. The life expectancy of a demon is approximately 10,000 years.
Initially, the Demons were governed by the Four Great Satans, until their death in the Great War. With the end of that conflict, the descendants of the original Satans, except Rizevim, wished to continue the war, but faced resistance from other Demons, especially the Bael clan, which assumed power after the fall of the leaders. This confrontation gave rise to a Civil War among the Demons themselves. In the end, the descendants of the original Satans were defeated, and a new government was established. This government appointed four new Satans, chosen for their strength and achievements during the civil war.
Already consolidated, the demonic government saw Ajuka Beelzebub develop the Evil Pieces system, created to replenish the decimated armies and which later would give rise to the Rating Games. Although reformed, the Demons' government still maintains an aristocratic base, with the Great King Faction holding more power and political influence than the current Satans themselves.
According to what he remembered from the original work and the explanation given to his predecessor on the subject, Stray Devils are reincarnated demons who distanced themselves from their masters in search of satisfying their own selfish desires. Without someone to contain or balance their powers, they become unstable and represent a considerable threat, especially when they lose control. Among demons, this type of case is treated with extreme seriousness: anyone who becomes a Stray is usually eliminated immediately.
Klein frowned.
So that was it? If a demon decided to live for himself, without licking the boots of a "master," he was labeled a Stray and sentenced to death? What a joke. That wasn't strength or order; it was just control masked as pompous rules. They used pretty words like "instability" or "threat," but deep down it only meant they didn't tolerate anyone outside the collar.
Disgusting.
In the end, it wasn't much different from other peoples who had been massacred throughout history simply for not kneeling to those at the top. They called it rebellion, corruption... when in reality it was just natural selfishness, the pursuit of one's own will. Pathetic. If being free was a crime, then this world was rotten to the core.
He had always valued his freedom, even before being reborn; that's why he gathered the courage and quit that horrible job.
....The right to choose, to decide his own path no matter how difficult or dangerous. And now? He was chained, even if the chains were invisible.
The most bitter part was realizing how everything was masked. The demons spoke of bonds, companionship, "family." Pretty words to gild the cage. But deep down, it was all just a power relationship.
The master commanded, the servant obeyed.
Simple as that.
Obviously, in the original work, this was painted in a positive way, and he knew that the Gremory are the best family in terms of caring for servants, but it doesn't change the fact that it was disgusting...
A kind owner was still an owner. A silk collar was still a collar.
Klein ran his hand over his eyes, muffling a sigh. It was funny: the more he thought about it, the more he saw the grotesque contrast between the pages of the story he remembered and the raw reality he now lived. There, on paper, it was all adventure, friendship, and teenage romance. Here, lying under the sun, the feeling was of being trapped in a board where each piece believed it was free, but danced to the sound of the hands that moved the rules.
He clenched his fists slowly, feeling the skin crack.
That "order" of the demons was nothing more than a dictatorship varnished by traditions. And, worse, there were centuries of brainwashing so that everyone accepted it as normal. A servant who fled was a monster. A master who exploited was a pillar of society.
The institutionalized absurdity.
"Pathetic..." He murmured, almost laughing.
But the laughter died quickly. Because, in the end, that's exactly what he was now: a servant.
And no matter how many memories he had, how much logic he applied, or how much indignation corroded him, the fact was one: he was bound to Rias Gremory's magical circle...
He breathed deeply, forcing his body to relax against the hot concrete. It wasn't worth letting himself be consumed by anger at that moment. But he also wouldn't be naive enough to simply settle. Over the weekend, Issei would go to the meeting with that fallen angel, and the whole story would follow the original course, with him relegated to the role of supporting character. That would give him time to think, plan, and, above all, become stronger.
And the more he reflected on this, the more a certainty solidified in his heart: he needed to strengthen himself.
Strong enough to crush this entire world with a single finger. Only then would he conquer the freedom he so desired and could use it to do whatever he wanted.
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