"DXD: Infinite Loot System"Chapter 366: Dark Fallen Angel
Tenra surveyed the fallen angel girls sprawled at his feet, their gazes burning with fanatical devotion. He didn't doubt for a second—if he ordered them to die, they'd obey without hesitation.
Loyal. Twisted. Mad. They were no longer individuals, but slaves—utterly dominated, mind and body.
Raynare's methods had been cruel, even monstrous. But for Tenra, darkness was as necessary as light. To rule both, to wield every force—this was the doctrine he'd carved into the Codex of Divinitas et Diabolus. The kind deserved kindness; the wicked, darkness. After their hellish transformation, Keshia and the others were more beautiful than ever.
"Raynare, excellent work."
He stroked her cheek, finally offering the praise she craved.
Raynare shivered in delight, eyes glazed with feverish obsession. "To be praised by Master… I'm so happy…"
"Master, use them as you wish. Like me, they're your loyal tools and dogs."
Nestled in his arms, Raynare's madness shone through. Her cruelty wasn't just self-indulgence—it was a desperate plea for Tenra's approval.
"I'll put them to good use," Tenra replied. Then, with a sly smirk, "But tell me… They're dogs. Are you one too?"
Raynare caught his meaning instantly. Rising, she collected three collars from a nearby table, snapping two around Mittelt and Kalawarner's pale necks.
"Kneel."
Her voice was ice. Mittelt and Kalawarner obeyed, joining Keshia and the others in submission. They'd seen Raynare's darkness firsthand—resistance was unthinkable.
Satisfied, Raynare locked the final collar around her own neck and knelt with the rest. A pack of dogs, awaiting their master.
"My great Master, whip us, use us, dominate us as you please!"
She handed Tenra the chains, her eyes wild with twisted excitement. The others mirrored her frenzy.
Tenra closed his eyes and sighed. How deep would Raynare's depravity go? If Aisha was the light, Raynare was pure darkness—she had cast away her soul, plunging into the abyss, determined to drag others with her.
Someday, her madness might devour the world. But Tenra, her master and creator, had no intention of saving or stopping her. On the contrary—he welcomed it.
"Raynare, become darker. Become more twisted, more insane—and more beautiful."
His command rang out, absolute. Raynare froze, then erupted in ecstasy.
"As you command, my Master…"
Her very soul trembled with joy. Only Tenra truly understood her. If salvation was impossible, abandon it. If she chose to fall, let her fall completely. If she was darkness, let it shake the heavens.
Tenra knew he might be creating a monster. But what of it? Light inspired longing; darkness, obsession.
"Raynare, accept your reward."
Laughter—mad, broken, ecstatic—filled the room. Chains rattled, clothing tore, low growls and muffled moans blended with Raynare's manic laughter. The depravity became music—a dark symphony, elegant and haunting.
Long after, the storm subsided. The air hung heavy with the scent of ruin. Raynare, Keshia, and the others lay scattered, bodies marked by sin, eyes vacant, mouths slack with drool—broken dolls.
Tenra summoned his power, cleansing the filth from his body. He dressed, crouched, and lifted Raynare's chin.
"Raynare, handle Keshia and the rest. You know what to do."
Raynare's lips moved, but no words came. She was spent—too shattered to respond. But Tenra knew she'd heard, and she knew her duty.
Soon, the reborn Keshia and her companions would be set free—returning to the Underworld, infiltrating the fallen angel ranks, bringing Tenra more tools to use.
He looked forward to what they'd accomplish.
Leaving the room, Tenra wandered the corridors of Sancta Diabolus Ecclesia alone. Katerea, Jeanne d'Arc, Raynare—women of darkness, depravity, evil. By the law of the world, evil never triumphs over good; their original fates were death or ruin.
He didn't pity them. He simply saw waste in letting them rot.
Even monsters had their uses. Properly dominated, even the wicked could shine. And these women had proven their worth.
But Tenra knew he couldn't build his empire on darkness alone. He needed opposition—forces of light to balance the scales.
He thought of the seed he'd planted in the Church. It had taken root, grown strong, and now, perhaps, it was time to reap the fruit.
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