The long dining table was already prepared.
Platters of food filled the surface—warm bread, carefully prepared meats, fruits infused with faint traces of mana, and dishes from both the human and underworld traditions. Jay had cooked all of it himself. Not because he needed to, nor because anyone had asked—but because it was efficient, and because it was his way of grounding himself after a millennium of isolation.
Seated around the table were those who now carried the future of the supernatural world on their shoulders.
Elysia sat with her usual relaxed elegance, pink hair cascading down her back, her smile gentle but her eyes sharp. Serafall Leviathan, the Maou, radiated cheerfulness as always, though the weight of responsibility never truly left her posture. Across from them were Rias Gremory and her peerage—Akeno's calm amusement, Kiba's focused attentiveness, Koneko's quiet watchfulness, and Gasper's nervous but earnest presence.
Beside them sat Sona Sitri and her peerage, Sona herself composed and analytical, Tsubaki Shinra standing straight-backed and vigilant, with the rest of her team maintaining disciplined silence.
None of them spoke as Jay placed the final dish on the table.
He took his seat at the head—not as a king asserting dominance, but as a fixed point around which everything else naturally aligned.
"Go on," Jay said, voice calm but lighter than expected. "It won't bite. I made it myself."
His voice was calm, even, neither warm nor cold. Yet it carried authority that none of them would ever question.
They did.
The meal did not pass in silence.
It wasn't lively in the conventional sense, but it wasn't rigid either. Jay did not rush anyone, nor did he discourage conversation when it arose.
"This is… really good," Kiba said after a moment, genuine surprise in his voice.
Jay glanced at him. "It would be a problem if it wasn't. You're about to exhaust yourselves later."
Akeno smiled softly. "You sound almost considerate."
"Almost," Jay replied. "Don't spread rumors."
Even Koneko's tail flicked once, betraying approval.
Jay rested an elbow on the table. "Eat properly. Training on an empty stomach is inefficient—and watching someone collapse from something that stupid is tedious." When he was silent, it was because silence was sufficient.
When the plates were mostly empty, Jay finally spoke again.
"After this, training resumes," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Don't hold back this time."
No one reacted with surprise. They had expected this.
"Elysia. Serafall." His gaze shifted slightly toward them. "You will oversee it."
Serafall brightened immediately. "Leave it to me! Levi-tan supervision mode activated~!"
Elysia smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "Of course. I'll make sure no one breaks before they grow."
Jay nodded once.
"I'll be stepping out for a bit," he added casually. "Something I need to take care of on my own."
That caused a ripple—subtle, but real.
Jay rarely involved himself directly anymore.
Rias straightened. "Will it take long?"
"No," Jay replied. "And yes."
A paradoxical answer. One that none of them dared question.
Jay stood. "Continue your paths. Strength without direction is meaningless. Direction without strength is delusion. Do not waste either."
With that, he turned and walked away.
The heavy doors of the castle closed behind him, sealing the training hall—and the future battles it would birth—away.
The city was ordinary.
That was the first thing Jay noticed.
No demonic energy saturating the air. No angelic surveillance hidden between layers of reality. No threads of active destiny converging violently on a single point.
Just a quiet town, unaware of how close it stood to the edge of something far larger.
Jay walked the streets unremarked, his presence concealed, his divinity folded in on itself. To mortal eyes, he was nothing more than a tall figure in strange attire, his face hidden behind a mask.
He stopped near a small park.
On a bench sat a boy.
Brown hair. Ordinary build. School uniform slightly wrinkled. A convenience-store bag rested beside him, half-open, containing cheap bread and a drink.
Issei Hyoudou.
The future Red Dragon Emperor.
The future cornerstone of wars, treaties, and tragedies.
Currently, just a teenager killing time before heading home.
Jay observed him not with contempt, nor pity—but with clarity.
The threads of fate around Issei were dense. Tangled. Heavy. They spiraled outward into futures soaked in blood, devotion, loss, and endless conflict. Dragons. Devils. Gods. Monsters.
And death.
Repeated death.
Jay stepped forward.
Issei noticed him immediately, brow furrowing. "Uh… can I help you?"
Jay stopped a few steps away.
"Relax," Jay said lightly. "I just want to talk."
Issei hesitated. "About… what?"
"About you."
That earned a nervous laugh. "Sorry, man, but that's kinda creepy."
Jay did not react. "You may leave if you wish. This conversation is optional."
Something in his tone—calm, absolute—made Issei pause.
"…Fine," Issei said slowly. "Just—make it quick."
Jay sat on the bench opposite him, crossing one leg over the other with casual ease.
"Don't worry," he added, glancing at the convenience-store bag. "I'm not here to sell you anything. And if I were, you couldn't afford it anyway."
"You've got something sleeping inside you," Jay said, tone light, almost like he was commenting on the weather. "Old. Powerful. The kind of thing that ruins schedules." "Old. Powerful. And very patient."
Issei's smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"
"A power that will awaken," Jay continued, unbothered. "It will grant you strength. Companionship. Purpose."
Issei swallowed. "And the catch?"
"It's the kind of gift that smiles at you while cutting you," Jay said with a faint shrug.
Jay raised a hand.
For a moment—just a moment—Issei saw something.
A girl with black wings and a false smile.
Pain.
A spear through his chest.
Darkness.
Then fire.
A dragon's roar echoing in his bones.
Issei gasped, gripping the bench. "What… what was that?"
"One of several futures," Jay replied calmly. "Think of it as a trailer. The full movie is much longer—and much louder." "One where you die. You get into something you shouldn't know ."
Issei's breathing was uneven. "That's insane."
"Yes, but it is real."
Jay's voice softened—not with emotion, but with honesty. "Your life would become conflict. Endless. You would gain power, friends, lovers. And you would lose peace. Permanently."
Silence stretched between them.
"…Why are you telling me this?" Issei finally asked.
"Because," Jay said, leaning back slightly, "unlike most people who casually meddle with someone's fate, I will ask first."
Jay met his gaze through the mask. "I can take that power off your hands," Jay said calmly. "No contracts, no loyalty programs, no surprise resurrection packages." "No pain. No tricks."
Issei stared. "And if I say no?"
"Then I will leave," Jay said. "And your story will proceed as it always has. ah…. and you will 100% guaranteed hunted by everyone"
Issei laughed weakly. "You're joking right?."
"unfortunately no."
"…And if I gave up my power?"
Jay nodded. "You got a normal life," Jay replied. "Friends who don't explode. Enemies that don't exist. Plus a small bonus from me. I will not be so stingy, so you don't have to worry about your life."
Issei hesitated. Then—slowly—he exhaled.
"I don't want to die," he said quietly. "And I don't want a life where fighting never ends."
He looked up. "If you're telling the truth… then yeah. Take it."
Jay extended his hand.
Golden light surged—silent, precise.
The Red Dragon Emperor's power was extracted cleanly, without pain, without resistance. Ddraig's presence vanished like a dream upon waking.
Issei sagged slightly—but remained whole.
Jay moved again.
He wove fate.
and the he create skill for issei
Golden Rule (A+).
Wealth without obsession. Luck without excess. A life where money would never be a chain.
Then Jay paused.
"One more question," he said. "Do you wish to remember this meeting?"
Issei thought for a long moment.
"…No," he said. "If this stuff is real, I don't want it following me."
Jay inclined his head. "Very well."
Issei smiled faintly. "Thanks… whoever you are."
Jay reached out.
Memories dissolved.
Threads snapped.
Fate was cut.
When Jay stood, Issei was already dozing on the bench, nothing more than a boy destined for an ordinary life.
Jay turned away.
Behind him, the world continued—unaware that a protagonist had just been erased.
And somewhere far above fate itself, the universe adjusted.
Jay walked on.
The story moved forward.
Without him.