- Hey, so, a little more politics, but things are in motion for more action. Authors Out. -
The air above the derelict high-rise was thin, metallic, and full of static.If silence had a sound, this was it — the quiet before thunder, heavy and waiting.The building leaned like an old drunk against the skyline, windows punched out, the walls tagged with the ghosts of delinquent art and forgotten warnings. The city glimmered in the distance, a blanket of neon and glass pretending to be safe. But here, at the edge of Kuoh's jurisdiction, safety was just a rumor.
A gust rolled through the broken corridors, carrying the scent of ozone and burnt dust. It swept across the hollow floor and rattled the shards of glass like chimes.I stood near the window, hands gloved with fingerless gloves for brawling in my pockets, watching my reflection tremble in the cracked pane. There wasn't much to see — a young man in a red sleeveless t-shirt that had seen too many training nights, eyes a little too still for his age, broad shoulders carrying a secret the world wasn't ready for.Behind me, two presences hummed — heavy enough to tilt gravity, old enough to remember the first wars of Heaven.
Azazel, Governor General of the Fallen Angels, looked like someone who'd come to a poker game and accidentally brought a nuke. Tall, black-haired with blonde highlights, thin goatee, long wine colored coat fluttering in the night wind. His expression was a strange mix of curiosity and amusement — a man who'd seen the world nearly end more times than could count and found it funny each time.Next to him stood Shemhazai, his right hand, slightly shorter, quieter, all sharp edges and calculation. Where Azazel felt like a storm pretending to nap, Shemhazai was a scalpel waiting for an excuse.
And off to the side, wings folded neatly, stood Kalawarna. The woman who'd brought me here — equal parts pride and caution in her stance. She was wearing a red armor combined with her usual clothes, that had more or less the same color scheme that my Balance Breaker, and she kept stealing glances between me and her boss like she wasn't sure if she'd just delivered a prize or lit a fuse.
Azazel broke the silence first, his voice calm and playfully low. "So… this is the human that's got little Kala buzzing. The one who apparently slammed her into the ground without using his Sacred Gear."
His words hung in the air like a smirk.
I turned slightly, the corner of my mouth lifting. "I didn't slam her. I just didn't lose."
Kalawarna's glare flicked over to me — half-annoyed, half-reluctantly impressed. "You pinned me in thirty seconds."
"Details," I said dryly.
Azazel's chuckle rolled through the empty floor. "Confidence suits you, kid. But I can't decide if it's bravery or stupidity. Either way, I like it."He leaned his shoulder against a crumbling wall, folding his arms. "Still… confidence doesn't explain why your power feels like it's trying to bite the air itself."
I didn't bother to answer with words. Instead, I raised my right arm.The emerald jewel embedded beneath the skin glowed faintly before the crimson metal of the Boosted Gear unfurled around it.The world shifted instantly — the pressure in the air, the electric sting on the skin, the way even the shadows seemed to take a step back.
Azazel's casual grin faltered for half a heartbeat. Even Shemhazai's brows lifted a fraction — subtle, but there.Then Azazel exhaled, the grin snapping back into place. "Ahh. That explains it. The Red Dragon Emperor himself, hiding in the devils backyard. I thought Kala was exaggerating."
Kalawarna muttered something under her breath that I was pretty sure wasn't a compliment.
Shemhazai's voice was cool, precise. "You're far too young to carry that spirit, Hyoudou. The Gear chooses its host, but the dragon rarely chooses to show himself to children."
"I didn't get a say in the timing," I said, flexing my hand as the gauntlet retracted, the glow sinking back under my skin. "But I'm making it work."
Azazel's eyes glinted, twin mismatched stars. "Making it work, huh? You sound like every dangerous man I've ever hired."
"Then you'll understand why I'm here."
He straightened, curious now. "You didn't drag my people into fights just for introductions. What do you want, Red Dragon?"
"I want a deal."
That got their attention.
Kalawarna's gaze sharpened; Shemhazai's chin tilted. Even Azazel's smirk dimmed by a few degrees.
"A deal," he repeated. "With the Grigori?"
"Exactly. I work for you—on good terms." I let the words hang there a moment, feeling them cut through the stillness. "Think of it as a freelance contract. You give me missions that need strength and subtlety. In exchange, you give me two things."
Azazel spread his hands in mock invitation. "I'm listening."
"First," I said, stepping closer until the wind carried the scent of ozone between us, "protection. For my parents. Quiet, invisible. You've got field operatives and human contacts everywhere. I want my family off-limits. You so much as sneeze in their direction, and the deal's dead."
Shemhazai's eyes didn't blink. "You care for mortals that much?"
"They're my parents," I said simply. "They've sacrificed enough in a world they don't even know is dangerous. You want my help, you make sure they never have to learn."
Azazel's smile faded into something gentler, almost nostalgic. "Family, huh? That's a rare line from a host of Ddraig."
"Maybe I'm more of a dragon than you can understand."
"And the second thing?" he asked, leaning back, arms crossing again.
"Payment," I said. "Cash. No politics, no favors, just straight compensation."
That earned a chuckle. "A dragon that understands economics. I might have to frame you."
"Frame me after you pay me."
Kalawarna's lips twitched, but she didn't comment. Shemhazai made a note on a small pad he'd conjured, no doubt listing 'Hyoudou, Issei: transactional, pragmatic, possible problem.'
Then I added the third optional term, watching their reactions closely.
"And I want Kalawarna as my partner. It's optional."
She blinked, feathers twitching. "...Me?"
"You're competent, disciplined, and less likely to stab me than your average operative," I said. "I could use that. Although a little weak."
Her brow arched and her eyes twitched. "You mean you could use someone to keep you from blowing up your own cover."
"Semantics."
Azazel grinned like a cat that had just spotted another cat wearing a slightly better hat. "And why her, specifically? She tells me you're not the flirty type."
"Because she's good," I said evenly. "And I don't trust anyone else in your organization yet."
Kalawarna's smirk this time carried actual amusement. "Fair enough."
I turned my eyes back to Azazel. "I'll build a small unit. Independent, off the record. You can think of it as a black ops team. Just like your Slash Dog."
That name—the phrasing—hit the air like a hammer.Shemhazai's head tilted sharply. "You shouldn't know that information. It isn't something many mortals whisper."
"I know enough," I said, letting a ghost of a smile show. "My dragon partner is a talker."
Azazel's laugh was sudden and genuine. It echoed through the half-collapsed room, bouncing off pillars like a joke the gods forgot to censor. "A dangerous little bastard, aren't you, Hyoudou?"
"Dangerous," I corrected, "but useful."
He grinned wider. "I like useful."
They exchanged a glance, silent communication flowing between them like old code. I could feel the evaluation—the measuring of my ambition against the weight of my power. Neither saw a child anymore.
Shemhazai finally spoke, voice low. "If we accept this arrangement, what do you gain beyond protection and pay?"
"Growth," I said. "Every assignment, every contact, every battlefield—each one will make me stronger. And I need that strength, because something big is moving. You feel it too."
For once, the easy glimmer in Azazel's eyes dimmed. "You're not wrong," he said, and for a brief moment, the scientist gave way to the general. "The factions are restless. Heaven watches, Hell rebuilds, and our own people whisper about old wars returning. Peace is a card trick, not a state."
"Then we understand each other."
Azazel tilted his head, studying me, almost like he was trying to see the shape of the storm behind my pupils. The wind rattled the windows; one cracked shard fell and shattered below, punctuating the silence.
Finally, he smiled. Not the lazy grin of before, but the smile of a man sealing a deal he didn't yet understand. "Alright, Red Dragon. Let's see how your fire burns."
He extended a calloused hand. "You've got a deal."
Azazel's hand was steady, the kind of steadiness that came from centuries of gambling with fate and never quite losing enough to stop playing. I took it.His grip was warm, electric; power radiated off him like a heartbeat from another species. For a moment, our auras brushed—his a cold current of sharp intellect, mine a slow-burning furnace—and the concrete under us gave a polite crack.
"Careful," he said, grinning again. "This building's old. Wouldn't want to start our partnership by collapsing the floor."
"You picked the location," I replied, matching his grip until I saw a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. "Don't blame me if the architecture can't handle dragons."
Kalawarna exhaled through her nose, her incredible beautiful tits jiggled a little, equal parts amusement and disbelief. Shemhazai scribbled something in the air with his finger; sigils glowed briefly, recording every word like invisible stenographers.
Azazel let go first. "Welcome to the Grigori's operations, kid. Try not to set the place on fire unless you mean to."
"No promises."
That earned another laugh. The kind that didn't quite reach the eyes.
Shemhazai closed whatever invisible document he'd been writing and turned his gaze on me. "You understand that by accepting this arrangement, you operate under our protection but not our leash. We can't defend you from consequences if you provoke Heaven or the Underworld directly."
"Wouldn't want you to," I said. "If I pick a fight, I'll finish it."
"Spoken like a true dragon," Shemhazai muttered.
Azazel smirked. "And here I was hoping for a bit more diplomacy."
"I'm diplomatic," I said. "I just prefer negotiations that end quickly."
[You have the tact of a hammer, boy.]
Thanks for the feedback, coach.
[It was not praise.]
I sure took as one.
Azazel was watching me with that same half-interested gleam scholars get before dissecting something fascinating and possibly lethal. "Tell me something, Hyoudou. You said you need strength. What kind?"
"The kind that survives."
He raised an eyebrow. "Vague answer."
"It's the only honest one," I said. "Every power has a predator. Every system breaks. I'm not looking for a throne—I'm looking for immunity."
That earned me a long whistle from Kalawarna. "Big dreams for a high-schooler."
I looked at her. "You think this world gives you time to grow up before it takes a swing?"
Her smirk faded a little. "Point taken."
Azazel leaned back against the wall again, coat shifting in the breeze like a restless flag. "Alright, mercenary-boy. Let's discuss logistics. You'll work through Kalawarna. Field assignments first—intel recovery, small-scale elimination, containment. We test you, you test us. Simple."
"Simple never lasts."
"True," he admitted. "But it's a start. As for pay—"
Shemhazai flicked a small card across the air. It stopped mid-flight, hovering before me until I took it. A sigil gleamed on its surface. "Channel magic through that," he said. "Funds transfer automatically after verified completion."
"Digital devilry," I muttered.
"Efficient," he corrected.
I slid the card into my pocket. "Fine. And my parents?"
Shemhazai nodded once. "Already in motion. A small team will relocate into the area before dawn. They'll think the new neighbors are a security firm. No one will know who they work for."
Something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction. "Good."
Azazel studied me, expression softening just enough to hint at the man behind the legend. "You care more than most people who hold that Gear. That might keep you human longer than expected."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was. Partly."
He pushed off the wall and stretched, 6 pairs of wings flexing in the draft. "Alright, meeting adjourned before the roof decides to fall. Kala, you're his partner now. Don't let him do anything I wouldn't."
Kalawarna rolled her eyes. "That leaves a pretty wide field, sir."
"Exactly," he said cheerfully, then turned to Shemhazai. "You coming, or are you going to glower at him until sunrise?"
Shemhazai's lips twitched, which might've been his version of a smile. "I'll monitor the aftermath."
They exchanged a look, then both vanished—Azazel in a shimmer of blue light, Shemhazai in something colder, quieter. The pressure in the room dropped several tons.
Kalawarna let out a long breath. "You really don't know how close you were to being vaporized, do you?"
I looked at the empty space they'd left. "If they were going to, they'd have done it before I finished talking."
She folded her arms. "You've got a talent for bluffing."
"It's not bluffing if you mean it."
She stared for a second, then shook her head with a small laugh. "You're going to be a pain in my ass, aren't you?"
"Probably," I said. "But maybe I want to be something more in you ass."
"We'll see about that, dragon boy."
She stepped closer, just enough that the faint scent of her aura brushed against mine—ozone and steel, tempered arrogance. "For the record," she said, "I don't like babysitting."
"Good," I said. "I don't need being babysat."
We stood there, silence stretching just long enough to turn awkward before she sighed and looked away. "You really are different from the usual idiots we deal with."
"I've heard that before," I said. "Usually right before things explode."
"Then let's hope you're wrong this time." She turned toward the window, her single pair of wings unfurling. "First assignment will come through the link tomorrow. Don't make me chase you."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She gave me a final glance—half amusement, half warning—and jumped. Black feathers scattered into the night, catching the city lights like falling sparks.
When she was gone, the silence crept back in, patient and alive. I stayed by the window, watching Kuoh's glow pulse in the distance, each flicker another lie the human world told itself about safety.
[You have stepped into their web, boy.]
I built my own threads first, I thought. They just don't know it yet.
[You trust them too easily.]
"I don't trust them at all," I whispered. "I trust leverage."
The dragon rumbled approval deep in my chest. [Hmph. That's closer to wisdom.]
Below, a lone car passed on the street, headlights slicing through the dark. I watched it until it vanished, then turned from the window. The room felt smaller now, full of echoes.
For a second, I let the mask slip—the weight of the day pressing down, the knowledge that I'd just tethered myself to a faction older and crueler than history textbooks would dare admit. But power wasn't something you borrowed; it was something you survived, and then conquer.
I looked at my reflection in the cracked glass again. The young man who stared back wasn't the same one who'd once wasted nights binging anime in a filthy apartment. His eyes were steadier now. Harder. They didn't belong to a dreamer anymore—they belonged to a predator that had learned to wait.
[So, what now, partner?]
"Now?" I flexed my hand, letting the faint glow of the gauntlet bleed through skin and vanish again. "Now we start earning that paycheck."
[And when they realize what they've invited into their house?]
"Then we'll see who burns it down first."
The dragon laughed—a low, rumbling thunder that vibrated through bone and air alike. [That's the spirit. I was beginning to worry you'd gone soft.]
"Soft doesn't survive."
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed and cut short. The city turned over in its sleep, dreaming of peace while monsters inked new contracts under its nose.
I stepped away from the broken window and toward the stairwell. The night welcomed me like an accomplice.
Each footstep echoed down the corridor, steady, measured—like a countdown starting.
[You've chosen allies among the fallen.]
"Not allies," I corrected. "Opportunities."
[You speak like one of them already.]
"Maybe. But unlike them, I remember what I'm fighting for."
[Your parents?]
"Partly." I paused at the stairwell door. "Mostly the freedom to decide my own damn fate."
The dragon hummed approval. [Then let us forge it. Fire beneath stone, hammer against the world.]
"Yeah," I said, pushing the door open and stepping into the stairwell. "Let's make it loud enough for Heaven to notice."
The descent felt endless—each floor another layer of dust and ghosts. By the time I reached the ground, the storm had broken. Rain sheeted down the street, slicking the asphalt, filling the city's silence with white noise.
I walked through it, no umbrella, no hurry. The water hissed where it met the faint heat that always clung to my skin, turning each drop into a whisper of steam.
In the distance, thunder rolled—deep, familiar, almost like laughter.
Maybe the world was warning me.Maybe it was applauding.Either way, the Red Dragon Emperor had taken his firsts steps.
And somewhere in the shadows of the Grigori, the clock started ticking.