Beta read by Shigiya
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-Kuoh-
"Eh, Seekvaria won the Rating Game?"
Upon waking up from what I could only call a graceful defeat at the hands of the so-called strongest devil of the younger generation, I expected certain consequences. They were predictable, obvious in fact, to the point where I had already pictured the scene in my head before I even opened my eyes. First, there was the matter of everyone's surprise, the part where no one had anticipated me being flattened so easily. Naturally, Rias, Akeno, and the others would hound me with their usual scolding, dragging me through a one-hour lecture about why I hadn't bothered to use my Sacred Gear, why I had allowed myself to be practically swatted aside without even the pretense of resistance. Then, of course, I thought I would open my eyes to see the news headlines plastered with the face of the latest Rating Game champion. I could imagine it vividly: that smug grin stretched across a face sculpted onto a body that looked as though it had been carved from stone, his victory paraded for all to see.
But no. The reality that greeted me was a complete contradiction to my expectations. He wasn't the one who won. Instead, the victor was someone I had pegged as a potential fourth-place contender at best, maybe fifth if things went poorly for her. The idea of the Agares heir standing as the champion made no sense. How in the world had that happened?
These thoughts spun through my head as I found myself once again in my own living room, seated comfortably rather than lying broken somewhere else. Beside me sat a raven-haired girl, calmly slicing an apple before bringing each piece to my mouth as though this entire development was nothing to stress over. Akeno rested lazily nearby, perfectly at ease as if this absurd twist in events required no reaction at all. Rias, however, stood apart from them, arms crossed and expression fixed into that of a mother preparing for the dreaded lecture her child had earned.
"That was the final," I muttered, still trying to piece the situation together. "The moment I lost, he should have been declared the winner. So what happened?"
"What do you think happened? We are talking about my cousin, Sairaorg of all people!" Rias pressed her fingers against her temples, exasperation clear in both tone and movement. "I can say with certainty, and pride no less, that among all the devils in our generation, he is not only the strongest but also the most stubborn when it comes to fairness. He doesn't accept gifts, not when it comes to strength, and certainly not when it comes to victory. His pride won't allow it. You practically handed him the win on a silver platter, in front of millions of viewers, no less. Tell me, how do you think a man like that would react?"
The more she explained, the more I started to see her point. Having spent time with that battle maniac, it was easy enough to imagine his distaste. He wouldn't want an empty victory, not when he lived for proving himself against opponents who gave everything they had. And as though to drive the point deeper, Rias added, "Not only did he renounce the title and position in front of everyone, he walked away entirely. He didn't even bother staying for the closing ceremony."
"Wait, wait, hold on," I said, raising a hand as if that would help me keep up. "Even if he did give up the title, even if the Satans permitted it, that still should have meant the win defaulted to either you or Sona."
"Both of them did the same thing as Sairaorg," Akeno interjected smoothly, her voice light and teasing as though this was nothing more serious than the weather. She seemed utterly unbothered by the magnitude of the situation. "Besides, we were more worried about you."
I turned to the crimson-haired heiress with disbelief etched across my face. I had not only delivered the victory into Sairaorg's hands, but in doing so, I had indirectly passed that chance on to her once he refused. And yet she let it go. "You should have stayed," I said, baffled by the sheer irrationality of her choice. "Wasn't it your dream to win this tournament, to finally be recognized as number one? Your main obstacles were me, Sairaorg, and Sona. Without me or him in the way, Sona would still have been tough, but between you and the rest of your peerage, a win wasn't impossible. If you pushed yourself, with Akeno tapping into her fallen angel heritage, you could have done it. The Boosted Gear has its limits. You could have even used the same technicality I did to force an advanta—oof!"
My attempt to give this irrational redhead some advice on common sense was cut short by a pillow hurled directly into my face. The redhead didn't hold back her frustration, and though the impact was harmless, the message was plenty clear. I didn't even bother raising a hand to block it.
"For someone who constantly prides themselves on following logical trains of thought and making sound decisions," she said sharply, "you can be painfully blind and irrational at times."
I rubbed the side of my head, conceding the point. "I won't deny I've had my moments. Still, I try to avoid those whenever I can."
"Then use that mind of yours," she shot back, with a sharp tone, "and try to figure out why I gave up my position."
She was really laying it on thick with that angry mother routine, wasn't she? The scolding tone, the furrowed brows, the way she planted herself like she was about to hand down a punishment for sneaking in after curfew. But I wasn't stupid. Or at least, I wanted to believe I wasn't stupid, so I gave her question some actual thought instead of brushing it aside. The answer was painfully obvious, the kind that mocked you for even needing to think. It was because of me. Nothing more complicated than that. Unless I had overlooked something massive, there wasn't any other explanation to give.
"Me."
"At least you haven't completely lost your mind after that punch to the face," Akeno muttered as she stepped forward and pressed an apple against my mouth.
Her movements carried the casual familiarity of habit, as though this was nothing new for her. In fact, it wasn't. She used to do this to me often when we were younger. A lot had changed since those days. Even though she changed into what I liked to call a devilish succubus—there were still moments of prior innocence that remained unchanged.
"It isn't like you to go into an important fight and just let yourself get beaten like that," she said, her voice carrying a trace of reprimand beneath the usual softness. "If you wanted to lose, you could have done it with Sona earlier. Sairaorg is powerful, I'll give you that, but you've proven yourself plenty of times in the past. You are no pushover."
Her words weren't wrong; I couldn't deny them. But every show of strength I had put on up until now had been tied to Vritra. Either I leaned on his power, or worse, let it take the reins entirely. Strip that away, and what was I left with? My most recent self-made spell was a silence field, useful at best for making a library quieter or annoying someone during a lecture. A tool of inconvenience rather than anything resembling power. Sad didn't even cover it. Realizing that all my notable feats had been carried by a dragon's strength made me feel like I was nothing more than dead weight. Not ungrateful, but definitely inadequate.
"We thought something had gone wrong," Akeno continued, lowering her voice. "We didn't care who the next opponent was supposed to be or what the rating game meant in the long run. We went back with you to the human world instead. Sona too. We didn't even ask her why she stepped away from her own match. She just left with us."
Guilt settled into my chest at her words, a slow heaviness that was harder to ignore than the throbbing in my head. My intention had been simple, if not selfish: let them be worried enough to fight harder when their turn came. That was it. I hadn't accounted for them throwing aside their positions completely. For Rias, walking away from her match meant turning her back on the most direct path to her long-cherished dream. That wasn't supposed to be part of the deal. I hadn't planned for any of this, and yet the fallout had spiraled far beyond what I had expected.
"Why did you abandon your fight against him?" the redhead pressed, cutting into my thoughts. "Did my brother force you into another scheme? If he did, then I swear—"
"Sorry, but no," I cut in quickly. "Your brother had nothing to do with it. Well, not exactly. It's true he's the reason why I was even in the Rating Games in the first place, but he didn't play any role in me losing like that. Even if I had gone all out or dragged everyone else into a full team effort, it wouldn't have mattered. Sairaorg would have beaten us regardless in the end. Kuroka's strong, sure, but he's stronger. Xenovia's got her holy sword, but she's not skilled enough to wield it at the level needed to put him down. Kalawarner and Raynare are on the same boat as Kuroka. Maybe we could have pushed him to the brink, maybe made it look like a real contest, but I know without a shred of doubt that he was hiding something. A trump card. Something that could skyrocket his strength even further and make everything we saw so far look like a cheap firework display."
I paused, letting the words hang before adding, "He has the kind of aura you'd expect from the protagonist. The main character's energy, if you will. I'd never buy for even a second that he could be beaten. So, not wanting the others to suffer for no reason, I figured I should take the fall as the leader."
"Still, why didn't you fight properly at the very least then?" Akeno asked curiously. "At least use your Sacred Gear to reduce the damage and still lose."
"Because I can't."
The silence after that statement felt heavier than it should have.
"What do you mean… You can't?" Rias demanded this time, with the smile on Akeno's face freezing as she gave me the exact same look.
"I can't use Vritra," I said again. "At least, not for now."
The response I got nearly ruptured my eardrums.
"What!?" they both shouted, their voices colliding into a painful echo that rattled through my head. For someone still recovering from a concussion, it was torture.
"Ugh, can you not be so loud?" I groaned, picking my ear to ease the ringing. "I'm still trying to recover here."
"If you can't use Vritra, then what happened?" Rias pressed again, ignoring my plea. "Is it like last time? Why on earth would you throw yourself into a fight knowing you can't even use your Sacred Gear?"
Now, given their reaction to just this single piece of information, I had reason to worry about going deaf if I told them the rest. I took a slow breath, then spoke before I could lose my nerve. "So, you might not like this, but just before the rating game against Sona, I may or may not have gotten kidnapped. Well, technically, I was sent somewhere else by a trap set up by Ajuka's brother, Diodora. While I was trying to figure out what happened, I ended up running into this lunatic who called himself Rizevim, the leader of the Old Satan Faction. He tried to recruit me, which didn't exactly work out, and while I was trying to get away and find my way back, he launched some kind of attack at me using his magic. Whatever it was, it blocked Vritra from me." I said all of it in one breath, already moving a few steps ahead of them and plugging my ears, waiting for the backlash.
"Why the hell didn't you tell us anything!?"
I was fairly sure even the foundation of the house shook from the sheer volume of their voices. Explaining everything to them properly and calming them down afterward would be exhausting, but what else is new?
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Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
The sharp rhythm of a ball smacking against the wall echoed through the basketball court. I let out a grunt and hurled the basketball again with enough force to scrape the ceiling, my aim locked on the wasp nest clinging high above.
Bam!
"A hit! You actually nailed it!"
"Amazing!"
"Get out of the way! I don't want to get stung!"
"There aren't any wasps!" I shouted, "That nest is empty."
"Double amazing!"
The volleyball club members exclaimed in unison, their cheers bouncing off the court's polished floor. I caught the ball as it came back down and quickly snapped open the umbrella I had brought along, shielding myself from the scattering debris.
"It wasn't anything difficult," I replied flatly, lowering the umbrella as pieces of the nest dropped. "Though you could have just called the janitor to deal with this."
"We tried, but she's terrified of heights and couldn't manage it," one of them answered, her tone half embarrassed.
Right. A school that cost a fortune to build, run by one of the most powerful and wealthiest devil families in the entire Underworld, and yet they apparently could not afford to hire even a handful of competent janitors who could resolve something as minor as a wasp problem. Why wasn't I even remotely surprised?
"You do know we're the Service Club, not the janitor crew, right? Don't any of you have some actual trouble in paradise? A guy you want to confess to? Or maybe a girl that you want to go 'Doki Doki' with?, I don't judge. Exam stress, class issues, anything remotely along those lines?" I asked while bouncing the ball lightly, watching them hesitate.
The volleyball girls exchanged glances, the silence dragging out before one of them finally spoke. "We all have top scores in our classes, and it's not like there are that many boys in this school to even think about relationships."
Another girl chimed in immediately after. "Half of those boys are hopeless perverts, and the other half are either uninterested or already taken."
At that, I felt several pairs of eyes flick toward me, making their intentions clear. My face twitched despite myself.
"Right then. My job here is done, so I'll be on my way. If you ever need help with something real, come by the clubroom anytime. Okay, bye."
Even though I had been spending time around them for a while now, I was reminded once again that these girls could be dangerous in their own way. The fact that my relationship with Akeno was public knowledge hadn't deterred everyone as much as I would have preferred. There were still a few who seemed to view me in a way I found difficult to take seriously. I could never fully understand it, and it was easier to assume that any interest was just one of those mistakes people made when they were young, something fleeting they would learn from as they matured and hopefully never repeat.
As I made my way down the hallway and back toward the clubroom, I slid open the door with the expectation of quiet. Just a brief pocket of silence, that was all I wanted. An empty room where I could stretch my legs, maybe crack open a book, and read in peace without someone hovering over me. That modest dream, however, was instantly crushed. The moment the door rattled on its track and I stepped inside, my eye began twitching. Instead of the empty chairs and polished desk, I was met with a full gathering that looked more like a poorly arranged mixer than a place for rest.
"What the hell are all of you doing here?" I asked, my voice carrying more irritation than I intended.
Inside sat Aika and Asia, which made sense given that both were members of the club. Their presence was not the issue. The problem began with the rest of the room's occupants. Raynare was there, perched on one of the chairs as if she owned the air itself, wearing a revealing punk rock get-up that showed off too much skin to be appropriate in school, with her black leather boots on the table—having both her wings out with zero fucks to give. Rossweisse, the silver-haired Valkyrie, looked stiff as always with papers stacked neatly in front of her. And to make matters worse, there was Riser Phoenix, lounging like he had nothing better to do with his life.
I was pretty sure that the black cat sleeping on top of the bookshelf was Kuroka.
"We needed a place to chill, so I came here. If you got a problem with that, then kiss my perfect ass," The Fallen Angel shot back casually and discarded any remnants of her Amano Yuma disguise. That tone really did not belong with a girl with such a soft, angelic face.
"U-um, I was only seeking this gentleman's advice on how to write a proper résumé so that I might find employment here," Rossweisse explained, sounding embarrassed as her hands fidgeted against the edges of her papers.
My eyes shifted toward Riser. The irritation building in my chest doubled. "And what the hell would you know about writing a résumé?"
He straightened, clearly pleased with himself. "As the heir to the Phoenix Clan, my family holds considerable influence over the management of this academy. Since my enrollment, our authority has extended to staffing decisions. Therefore, it is only right that I lend my guidance to ensure that the recruitment process for new teachers is handled properly with the most suitable candidates—"
I stopped listening right there. His voice droned on like a broken record, filled with pompous nonsense. With a sigh, I plucked the sheet of paper from Rossweisse's hands. Whatever advice he had been giving her couldn't have been good, and I was proven right in less than five seconds.
A headache flared the moment my eyes ran over the words. "Put on a skimpy, tight suit ready to come off, apply lipstick, make your cleavage more presentable, speak with a sultry voice, laced lingerie, Devil's… Passion … perfume? And wear a costume where the skirt only reaches just below the ass?" I read aloud, my tone flat and unwilling to believe the stupidity written down.
"Exactly! To make it even clearer for her, I took the time to illustrate my idea using my artistic talents. Do you not see? It's a masterpiece!" Riser announced proudly.
I lowered the page enough to see his so-called drawing. If I had to describe it, it looked like something scribbled together by a nine-year-old armed with a box of crayons and too much sugar. The figure was barely human, a collection of crooked lines, bright blobs of color, and a skirt that looked more like a torn rag than anything fashionable.
Without hesitation, I tore the paper in half and dumped the remains into the trash can.
"Hey! What's the big idea?!" he shouted, glaring at me like I had just committed some great sin.
"Sit down," I ordered, my voice carrying a sharp edge, "and don't you ever give anyone advice again. The last thing this school needs is a scandal when reporters start crawling around asking about harassment claims because of you."
Then I turned to Rossweisse, who froze in place when I pointed a finger in her direction. She flinched like a child caught red-handed with her hand buried in a cookie jar.
"And you," I continued, not easing up, "why do you even want this job? Don't you already have one as a Valkyrie and the personal guard of that perverted Norse god king?"
Immediately, her expression shifted into something pitiful, her eyes swelling with tears until streaks began running down her cheeks. My irritation from earlier evaporated in an instant, replaced only with sheer bewilderment at the sudden and rather theatrical transformation of her demeanor.
"Uuuh… I-I was a V-Valkyrie, up until yesterday! Odin fired me and told me I should go and experience the human world by myself so I can be worthy to be back by his side again!" she cried, her words tumbling over themselves. "He fired me before I even got my end-of-the-month paycheck, and now I'm living off the little money I borrowed from Ms. Akeno after I accepted to help you get better! If I can't find a job by next month, I won't even be able to buy groceries anymore!"
To hear a Valkyrie of all things whimper about not being able to afford groceries was almost absurd. Yet, when I remembered our very first meeting, my surprise dulled slightly. It became harder to ignore the question gnawing at the back of my mind: just how exactly did Odin treat his female warriors if one of them had been reduced to this?
"Alright," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "before your situation starts sounding like the rejected plotline of some hentai anime, I'll just ask Sona or Rias to immediately hand you a job. I'll make sure you get a paycheck in advance and a bonus for… uh, for being a good person, I don't know. Also, just pick a random room in my house and stay there as long as you like. You're free to use the fridge too, but you better not empty it."
At this point, my house was practically a haven for freeloaders anyway, so adding one more didn't make much of a difference. And as far as calling that mansion mine a harem mansion, that wordplay belonged to Akeno. I wasn't nearly shameless enough to claim ownership of something that ridiculous.
"Thank you!" she cried out, springing forward and clinging onto my legs as tears continued spilling down her face. "Thank you, thank you very much! I'll make sure to repay you somehow. I'm in your debt! You saved my life! I'll do anything! Even bearing my body and soul to you!!!!"
"As expected from my rival, you only needed a few words to claim her as your own forever," Riser remarked smugly, his voice dripping with a false sense of pride.
"You shut up!" I snapped, shouting at him as I felt my blood pressure shoot up, my hair practically threatening to go gray on the spot. Then I turned my attention back to the Valkyrie still glued to my legs. "And you—get up already! Don't use my pants as a tissue. I can feel your tears and snot all over them! I might be financially stable, but these pants still cost a fortune to replace, which I will make sure to get out of your paycheck!"
As expected, at the mere mention of money, she jerked away as if lightning had shot through her. She scrambled back into her seat, where she sat upright like a soldier awaiting inspection, stiff as a statue. For a moment, silence returned, and I thought I had earned some fleeting peace.
Not even a second passed before it was ruined. When I turned around, I caught sight of Raynare lounging comfortably, her phone raised, the faint red recording light mocking me. She was smirking as she blew a bubble with her chewing gum, letting it pop before she spoke.
"The Service Club president uses his position to take advantage of a helpless woman. Posted and sent," she said casually, flicking her phone screen with her thumb. Who she sent it to, I had no idea, and honestly, I didn't want to know.
"Can't you just hang around with, I don't know, Murayama and Katase like you used to? Why come here to make my life miserable?" I muttered as I stepped over to her. I grabbed her foot from where she had propped it carelessly on the table and set it back down on the ground.
She looked at me without a flicker of change in her expression. Another bubble formed between her lips, inflated slowly, and then popped right in my face.
"Those two are busy with their kendo training or something. There's some kind of tournament coming up," she said flatly.
A tournament? It had been so long since I spent time with them that I had nearly forgotten. They had been training for months for this, dedicating themselves while I was busy juggling problems from every other corner of my life. Just one more thing to add to the endless list of obligations I had been stockpiling in my so-called ordinary days.
"You know," she added, leaning back with an annoying calmness, "the least you could do is offer me something to drink. Who do you think was taking care of you while you were stuck in that coma, all because you got one-shotted by a devil of all things?"
This woman…
"Well, what does that make you? When we first met, I defeated you as a human." I shot back.
"You don't count. Even before your weird transformation, nothing about you was human," she replied, blowing another bubble with her chewing gum. The pop echoed in the quiet room, a small, sharp sound that seemed to dig right into my skull. I had to admit, it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"You really are pushing the definition of being a 'welcomed' guest."
"What are you gonna do? Going to try and punch your soon-to-be queen? Spank me in front of your devoted little girlfriends? Think you have the balls for that~?" she asked with a smirk that made it clear she was enjoying herself far too much. Considering the role she played during the rating game against Sona, I had already made no secret of what her piece would have been if I ever had my own set of chess-like evil pieces — though Kuroka also fit that role. For some reason, she found that idea ridiculously funny, which only added to the irritation. I still couldn't figure out why she laughed at it, but the way she teased me whenever it came up was starting to grate more often than not.
"Ugh," I muttered, not willing to let her turn me into a punching bag with her words again. I reached out and grabbed her face, catching hold of both cheeks and forcing her still. My other hand tugged at her jaw, prying her mouth open just enough for me to pull out the gum. The disgust on my face was obvious.
"That's mine," she said coolly, biting down on my finger hard enough to stop me from taking it. I held back a shudder when I felt her tongue lick and coil around my finger, making it far more lewd than necessary.
"No chewing in this classroom," I shot back, keeping my tone dry. "Knowing you, you'd just stick it under the table or worse, under my seat."
She rolled her eyes, unbothered. "If I wanted to get on your nerves, I'd stick it right on your seat so you'd have to deal with peeling it off your pants."
"You're not going to play nice, are you, Amano Yuma?"
Her eyes narrowed at the name. In the next second, her foot pressed firmly against my chest. She made no effort to hide the way her skirt shifted, leaving her laced black g-string fully visible. A choice of underwear that I fully found to be normal for someone like her.
"Call me that again, and I'll make your life miserable."
"As if your mere existence isn't already doing that," I retorted, refusing to look away. "We wouldn't want someone to end up locked into a contract, their soul bound to mine like a certain Governor General once did, now would we? Choose wisely."
Her lips tightened, but she didn't speak. Instead, she just stared down at me with sharp eyes. Her foot lowered, but I let my smirk grow wider. I thought I had won the exchange. That was until she leaned forward slightly, biting into my finger with enough force to leave a small cut. A thin line of blood welled up where her teeth sank in and dropped on her tongue.
"Next time, I'll bite harder," she murmured low, the words sliding out huskily and amused. "Maybe I'll just chomp it clean off."
"Go ahead. Keep it up, and I'll embarrass you in front of the whole room by spanking your ass right here," I shot back, flat and even. "Bitch."
"Asshole."
"Wanna-be rebel brat."
"Fuck you, you horny cunt!"
Our faces were so close, I could feel her breath fanning hot against my cheek and her chest pressed tight against mine, her heartbeat running wild.
"Whoa, this is intense."
That cut in sharp, snapping both of us out of it. The voice sliced through from the side, and when I looked, my heart just sort of skipped in my chest. The room had filled in somewhere along the way—not just a few people, but everyone—and every last set of eyes was fixed on us. Kalawarna was there too, beaming for reasons I couldn't parse, while the rest were outright goggling. Some even had their phones out, taking pictures, filming, like our spat was the hottest ticket in the building.
Riser, naturally, took the chance to make it worse. He pointed at me with a smug look and told Rossweisse, "Make sure to take note. This kind of play works on basically anyone. You need to be the one in control, not the other way around. Trust me, I speak from experience."
Perhaps I needed to find another place to cool off. Staying here any longer was only going to drive me insane.
{Break}
(An hour later)
Meditation was not some novelty to me, nor was it a passing trend I had picked up for the sake of looking impressive. It was a discipline hammered into me through different points in my life under the guidance of several teachers, some more tolerable than others. There was the old hag who barked orders as though I had committed a crime by existing, the books I once clung to as a child that taught me the foundation of my first spell, and even people like Kuroka and Sairaorg had stressed its value in their own ways. It was not simply a method to calm the mind, though that alone was useful. Within the supernatural, it took on an entirely different weight. A passage in one of those early books described it as a way to become more attuned to one's magic, to reach an understanding of both the self and the power within. At the time, I brushed it off as the usual mystical nonsense, vague wording meant to sound profound while saying little. That was until I put it into practice a few times with Rias's help and found the meaning to be far less poetic and far more practical. Now I understand just how important it was.
There was little worth describing in my inner world. It was not the serene meadow or shining temple others liked to imagine when they spoke about meditation. Mine was pitch-black, an expanse without a horizon, like sinking endlessly in an ocean that had no surface and no bottom. Barely any light filtered in. If someone had a fear of water, this place would be their personal hell. In the beginning, it unsettled me as well. My chest would tighten, and I could feel panic pressing against my ribs, but I had grown used to it. Now, it was simply familiar. I moved through the darkness calmly, heading deeper into that endless void in search of a presence few would wish to encounter. For me, though, he was what I needed.
It did not take long. He was impossible to miss. A titanic, serpentine body lay coiled in the depths, shrouded in a black haze that seemed to breathe on its own. His form stretched out into the distance, too vast for me to take in completely, with a single crimson eye open and fixed on me while the other two remained shut as if in slumber. He appeared at ease, and the sheer scale of him radiated the same majesty I remembered. Relief washed through me at the sight. I had never truly believed I had lost him, but having proof he was still there mattered more than I wanted to admit. It was the reassurance that I sorely needed.
"You look better than last time."
"■▅▅■■■ーーー"
The answer I received was garbled, little more than static and meaningless syllables strung together into a sound I could not decipher. It was as though there was some interference cutting through our link, distorting his voice into nonsense. The black haze surrounding him pulsed faintly, and I suspected that was the cause. "I take it this will be a pain to remove," I muttered.
"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅…"
More incomprehensible noise followed, though his massive head shifted slightly. From the body language of a serpent, if such a thing could even be read, it did not look as dire as I had first feared. "But it will still take time, won't it?" I asked. This time, he gave a slow nod, confirming it.
"▅▅▃▃▄▄."
"Not like before, then," I continued. "When I lost contact but could still access the Sacred Gear. This time it is cut off entirely." He shook his head in answer, a gesture large enough to ripple the haze around him. The realization sank in like a stone. Whatever that man had done, it was not just Vritra he had interfered with. The link to my Sacred Gear itself had been severed.
"Well, this is going to be troublesome," I said under my breath. "As if I didn't already have more enemies than I could count. If word about this gets out, I will not just have people breathing down my neck. They will come after me with spears, eager to skewer me the first chance they get."
"■■—▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅… ▅▅?"
Another burst of warped syllables came in reply, the sound carrying no more clarity than before.
I let out a sigh. "You know as well as I do that my magic talent has always been pathetic. Ten years, an entire decade of training day in and day out, and what do I have to show for it? A few spells, barely enough to fill one page of a manual. My reserves grew larger, yes, but what good are reserves when the repertoire is so thin? Magic arrow, teleportation, one or two elemental-related spells, giant arrow — tricks like those work fine on average strays. Against someone of ultimate-class? They will not even leave a mark. Runes are powerful and useful, but they scale with my own 'level', you see."
"▂▂▃▅!"
The noise came again, distorted words that refused to line up into sense.
"Right touki," I added, shaking my head, "touki demands time and patience in quantities I can hardly afford. I may be disciplined and diligent, but nowhere near the level of Sairaorg. Compared to him, I am crawling along at a snail's pace. A month of training won't double my powers out of nowhere."
"■▅▅."
Even I was not sure if I was interpreting his jumbled words correctly. I was going off instinct, leaning on the years I had spent with him, guessing at his meaning and hoping I was not far off the mark. Judging by the way he responded so far, my guesses seemed to be working, so I kept pressing on.
"Ask Kuroka? You mean with her and Koneko possibly teaching me senjutsu? I can give it a try, but that doesn't mean I can just ignore touki. From what I understand, the two go together, ignoring touki possibly leading me into a wall sooner than later. Still, if the process takes time, I don't really have a choice but to refine what I already know, do I? I'll ask them."
"■…"
What followed was what I could only describe as the psychic equivalent of an eye roll, one made with his third eye rather than his actual ones.
"Hey, don't get sassy with me. It's not like I've been slacking for fun. Training time has been short lately. At least I managed to put in some effort in the Underworld against Sairaorg."
"▅▅▂▂▃▃▄▄▅."
"I'm still counting that as training. You said it yourself before, the best teacher is danger, and you don't get more dangerous than Sairaorg's fists. You think I forgot how many times I nearly had my head caved in during those sparring matches?"
"▂▂▄▄▅▅… ▅▅."
I hated to admit it, but he had a point. The dragon usually did. With my Sacred Gear, I could match or even overwhelm ultimate-class devils, cadres, or beings of similar weight. That power gave me a fighting chance even against monsters or gods who stood leagues above me. But without it, stripped of that borrowed might, I was little more than a mage with a reinforced body, moderate amount of rune knowledge, and enough spearmanship to stay alive. Nothing about me on my own stood out as exceptional. Though against Connla, I did manage to face him through skill alone for a brief moment, I was not sure if that revealed more about me or him.
"Fine, I get it. Until you're back, I'll just start another training arc of my own. And don't act like you weren't laughing when Sairaorg punched me through several walls. I could practically feel your amusement from the inside."
"■■■■■■■■!!"
The waters around me stirred in answer, low vibrations rolling against my skin. No words were needed. He was laughing, and the fact that he found my pain entertaining was somehow both annoying and familiar. Against my better judgment, I found myself laughing as well. Even without sound, without hearing each other in the usual sense, we shared that small moment.
.
.
.
"Wah!"
When I opened my eyes again, I nearly jumped out of my skin. My heart skipped so hard it hurt when the first thing I saw wasn't the empty rooftop I had been using as my private corner of peace, but rather two enormous blue eyes staring straight at me.
"G-Gabriel?" The name left my mouth before I had time to think. I had almost forgotten she was serving as an English teacher at Kuoh Academy, which at least explained why she was here at all. "What are you doing here…?"
"Watching you~!"
If those words had come from anyone else, I would have taken them as deeply unsettling, maybe even stalker-level creepy. But coming from her, it carried a kind of innocent absurdity I didn't know how to process. "Sorry, I was just focusing on… something. Did you have anything to ask me?"
Her answer came in the form of physical touch, her hand gently caressing his face. The action alone made me shiver with how ridiculously close she was that I could see her cleavage! "I was worried, I'm glad you're well."
"I'm healed, the Rating Game system helps with preventing life-threatening wounds." I reassured her, "How has life been for our beautiful teacher? I hope your students haven't been causing you too much trouble in class."
"No, the students are very kind to me! But strangely enough, the girls won't let any boys approach me. Do… do I smell bad?" She asked the question, the question itself making no sense whatsoever, and I even questioned how she came to that conclusion. But her pitiful look and radiating naivety made it hard to look at her eyes.
The light was too bright!
"No, they're just protecting you. Don't mind them, that means they like you."
That prior look of disappointment disappeared instantly, and the blonde gave a bright smile. "Ah, really? That's a relief! I'll continue to try my best as their teacher! By the way, I want to show you this assignment I had planned for the class." We started to discuss things related to her class, small stuff that were easy to keep up with, and where I could give her several pieces of advice to help her get better.
She genuinely wanted to improve and took this role as a teacher seriously. Then again, teaching visibly suited her more than anything I saw from her so far. She definitely was in her own element. As we were talking, the conversation ended up getting interrupted by the sound of her phone buzzing.
"Oh, sorry, give me a second." I nodded, turning my attention to the sky and cloud gazing for a few seconds, my eyes then closing and enjoying the calm breeze and the wonderful fragrance coming from the woman next to me. Though for some reason, in the following moment, I heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like mine.
In fact, the more I listened, the more I recognised that those words being uttered were the exact same ones I mentioned an hour ago at the club.
"What?" Opening my eyes back up, I looked down at Gabriel's phone and found myself frozen in place, eyes widening in this belief as the Seraph was for some reason watching a video someone took of me and Raynare earlier. From this angle, our position looked extremely intimate and easy to take out of context.
As for the sender…
'Aika!? WHAT THE HELL YOU PERVERTED FOUR EYES!'
When did that girl get Gabriel's number!?
Snap!
"—!"
I nearly jumped on the spot upon hearing that sharp crack, realising that it came from none other than the phone she was holding, which had now been split into two… somehow. Gabriel looked at me with a curious face that did not radiate any anger.
Yet I still felt something very off about that mask she just put on.
"So does that mean Hachi-kun likes bad girls?"
Was it my imagination, was I going crazy, or did, for a brief moment, some of her feathers on her wings shift to black?
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The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.