[ Yuuto's Pov ]
It's been three days since Kuroka's ambush was rendered useless.
And it made me realize I'd been coasting on newly acquired powers like some trust fund kid with daddy's credit card. The system had gifted me these broken-ass abilities, and what did I do? Jack shit to actually explore them beyond "sword go slash, demon form go brrr."
My Sacred Gear—Sword Birth—could create weapons with attributes. Not just sharp pointy things, but swords that could be imbued with different attributes. And I'd been treating it like a goddamn pocket knife, all this time.
The system update wasn't a bug. It was the universe's way of telling me to stop being a dumbass and actually get a good look at what I already had, before jumping on to the next one.
I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders, feeling the residual tiredness from everyday training still clinging to my skin like cigarette smoke. The Infinity Castle stretched endlessly around me, no roof, no walls, just impossible architecture that made M.C. Escher look like he worked with Lincoln Logs.
"Alright, then" I muttered to myself, closing my eyes "Let's see how far I can tap into the true extent of my Sword Birth"
Sword Birth activated with a thought. The magic circle materialized in front of my feet, with its distinctive glow.
I poured my will into it, imagining a sword that didn't just cut flesh but reality itself. Something that could carve through the fabric of existence like tissue paper. My mind constructed every detail—the weight, the balance, the way it would feel in my hand when it drank deep of dimensional barriers.
Minutes crawled by. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cool air.
Then the sword rose from the magic circle.
My eyes snapped open.
The blade gleamed in the ambient light, roughly three feet of impossibly sharp steel with a slight curve near the tip. The crossguard twisted into an asymmetrical spiral, like someone had frozen a miniature black hole mid-rotation. Runes I didn't recognize crawled along the fuller, pulsing with dull purple light.
"Holy shit, it actually—"
I grabbed the hilt. The moment my fingers closed around the leather wrapping, information flooded my brain. Not words, but pure understanding of what this thing could do.
I grinned like a maniac and swung.
RIIIIIP
The air tore. Not sliced—tore, like fabric caught on a nail. A jagged wound in reality appeared, edges crackling with unstable energy. Through the gap I could see another part of the castle, maybe a hundred feet away.
My grin died.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
It's almost An arm's length. I'd created a goddamn spatial tear the size of a toddler. Couldn't fit through it unless I wanted to leave half my body on this side and the other half playing peekaboo across the room. And that was assuming the tear didn't collapse mid-teleport and turn me into avant-garde modern art.
I clenched my fist. The disappointment was immeasurable and my day was ruined.
But then again...
It worked.
The concept was sound. The execution just needed more. More power. More me.
"Fuck giving up." The words came out as a growl. "If the current me isn't enough, then I'll just step into the next level"
I dispersed the sword with a thought. It crumbled into motes of light that faded like dying fireflies.
Then.
Darkness exploded from my core, erupting across my skin in waves of pure malevolence. The demon mark seared across my forehead, burning bright enough to cast shadows. My vision bled red at the edges as demonic power flooded every cell, every nerve, every molecule of my being.
The darkness coalesced into physical form—a ragged coat that hung off my shoulders like tattered wings, collar standing high and sharp. Wristbands of solidified shadow wrapped around my forearms, cold and heavy. My hair shifted, framing the mark on my forehead in a way that probably looked edgy as hell.
Assault Mode.
The world snapped into hyperfocus. Every sound, every scent, every microscopic movement became crystal clear. Power thrummed through me like a second heartbeat, dark and hungry and eager.
"Let's try this again" I said, and my voice came out layered, echoing within the area.
I focused. Same concept. Same intent. But this time I wasn't hoping, I was demanding reality bend to my will.
The magic circle blazed beneath me, so bright it hurt to look at it directly. The sword rose again, but different this time. Darker. The blade had gone from steel-grey to absolute void-black, edges shimmering with that telltale distortion you see around black holes. The runes burned angry crimson, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. Even the hilt had transformed, wrapping itself in shadows that writhed like living things.
I grabbed it.
The information hit harder this time, sharper, more complete. I understood this weapon on a fundamental level, every capability, every limitation, every nasty trick it could pull.
I swung horizontally, putting my whole body into it.
KRRRRRRSSSHHHHH
The tear ripped open like the world's most violent zipper. Easily as tall as a goddamn Warhammer Titan, wider, edges crackling with enough energy to atomize anything stupid enough to touch them. Through the gap I could see clear across to the far side of the castle, details sharp and clear.
"YES!" The laugh that bubbled up was probably more unhinged than healthy, but I didn't give a shit "Now we're talking!"
I could see it now—the potential. Different attributes, different concepts, each one a tool for the exact right situation. Why limit myself to just one spatial sword when I could create an entire arsenal of specialized blades? Each one designed to fuck up a specific type of opponent in the most efficient way possible.
My grin widened into something manic as the Assault Mode darkness swirled around me.
"Time to get to work"
---
[ Few Hours Later ]
My arms ached. My head pounded. The Assault Mode had faded about an hour ago, leaving me running on fumes and spite.
But it was worth it.
Seven swords stood embedded in the floor, each one a masterpiece of destructive potential. The room looked like a tornado had hate-fucked a weapons depot—scorch marks, spatial tears slowly mending themselves, chunks of floor missing entirely.
I walked between them, examining each blade like a proud parent at a fucked-up science fair.
"Alright, let me introduce you all to my newpieces of art"
---
[ First up: Draco Vorax ]
This dragon-killer gleamed with predatory intent.
The blade curved slightly, serrated edges catching the light like scales. Metallic purple and deep crimson swirled through the steel in patterns that resembled dragon hide. The crossguard spread into wing-like protrusions, and the pommel was shaped like a snarling dragon head with ruby eyes that seemed to devour.
I'd designed this beautiful bastard specifically for Dragons and it's Longinus users and their scaly friends. The blade could slice through dragon-based defenses like they were made of cheap wood. Boosted Gear armor, Scale Mail, even Ddraig's actual scales wouldn't mean shit against it's edge.
Sadly, I couldn't use it against Tiamat, because that Dragon King had placed her chains deep in my heart. And there was her offer, which made me rethink about even using it in a battle with her. Well, I was close to fulfilling my deal, so there is no reason for me to resort to violence, when I can have my way with peace.
Now get ready for my next creation.
---
[ Second: Sanguis Umbra ]
The Black metal with veins of deep crimson running through the blade like a fucked-up circulatory system. The edge seemed to shimmer, as if the sword itself was salivating at the thought of its next meal. The crossguard twisted into shapes that resembled grasping hands, and the grip was wrapped in leather that felt disturbingly warm.
Life-drain with a side of stamina conversion. Every drop of vitality it sucked from a target got filtered and pumped straight back into me. Fighting immortals? Pure-blood vampires who wouldn't stay down? Phenex clan members regenerating faster than you could say "broken as fuck"? This baby would turn their greatest strength into my battery pack.
---
[ Third: Eras Blade ]
Simple. Clean. Almost boring if you didn't know what it did.
The blade was mirror-smooth, reflecting nothing. Not light, not magic, not anything. Looking at it was like staring into the concept of absence. The metal had a faint iridescent quality that hurt to focus on. The crossguard was minimalist, just two straight bars, and the hilt wrapped in white leather that felt cold to the touch.
But holy shit, the applications.
Magic was just energy given form and structure through formulas and equations. This sword disrupted that structure, unraveled those equations, turned complex spells into ambient mana chaos. It could shatter barriers mid-formation, cancel teleportation circles, destabilize summoning contracts, and generally ruin any magician's day.
The Magician's Council operatives would probably piss themselves if they saw this thing in action.
---
[ Fourth: Soul Rend ]
Now this one was nasty.
Ethereal.
That's the only word for it. The blade existed in a state somewhere between physical and not, edges blurring in and out of perception. Ghostly blue light emanated from the metal, cold and unforgiving. Touching the flat of the blade made my hand tingle with pins and needles.
Soul Rend bypassed physical durability entirely. It didn't matter if you had Touki-enhanced Skin, Scale Mail armor, or a body made of literal diamonds—this sword went straight for the Soul. Cut the intangible, carved the metaphysical, left wounds that regeneration couldn't fix because the damage was existential.
Warriors who relied on enhanced bodies? Fucked. Beings reformed from pure energy? Double fucked. Anyone who thought "physical durability" was a valid defense strategy? Supremely fucked.
This will be my trump card.
---
[ Fifth: Aether Cleaver ]
The spatial sword, perfected. Longer than the prototype, sleeker, meaner. The blade shimmered with that distinctive reality-warping distortion, edges seeming to cut through multiple dimensions simultaneously. The metal was dark grey shot through with lines of white light that pulsed like lightning frozen in time. The crossguard swept back in sharp angles, and the entire weapon hummed with barely-contained spatial energy.
This thing carved through dimensional barriers like they were a minor inconvenience. Could slice teleportation paths mid-transit, create stable spatial tears for travel, and generally it says the laws of physics to go fuck themselves.
Trapped in a pocket dimension? Not anymore. Enemy trying to teleport away?
Get bisected mid-warp, asshole.
---
[ Sixth: Void Fang ]
Pure black, the kind that hurt to look at because your eyes kept trying to find details that didn't exist. The blade absorbed light, creating a silhouette of absence in reality. Tendrils of darkness leaked from the edges constantly, dissipating before they could touch the ground. The crossguard was jagged, like crystallized shadow, and the pommel pulsed with a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
Energy absorption and nullification. Shoot a fireball at me? Absorbed. Lightning blast? Nullified. Demonic power beam? Nom nom motherfucker, thanks for the snack. Any attack, magical, elemental, or energy-based, hit this blade and just... get into nothingness.
Offense is great, but defense was equally valuable.
"You're going to make so many people rage quit"
---
[ Seventh: Wraith Edge ]
Seriously. The moment I'd finished creating it, I started hearing things. Not words, exactly, more like the suggestion of words, thoughts that weren't mine scraping at the inside of my skull. The blade was matte grey, covered in symbols that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them. The metal looked corroded, pitted, as if it had been buried for centuries. Tendrils of dark mist leaked from the steel constantly, dissipating before they could pool on the floor.
Wraith Edge inflicted psychological damage on contact. Terror. Paranoia. Hallucinations. Anyone cut by this blade would hear the curses and whispers of terror and fear too, but unlike me, they didn't have the mental fortitude to tune it out. Their concentration would shatter, their techniques would falter, their formations would collapse as madness crept in through the wound.
Enemies who relied on complex magic or coordinated tactics? This sword turned them into gibbering wrecks.
---
I stood in the center of the destroyed room, seven swords now safely tucked away in magical storage, ready to be summoned at a moment's notice.
The grin on my face probably made me look like a supervillain, but I didn't care.
"Rias is going to lose her sanity for a few good seconds" I said, already imagining her expression. That perfect blend of shock, concern, and barely-hidden excitement she got whenever I showed off something new.
Akeno would probably get turned on. Koneko would just stare, then call me weird. Asia would worry about whether the swords hurt people too much. Standard reactions all around.
But before all that I could already see myself sitting in the clubroom, cup of tea in hand, casually mentioning "Oh yeah, I made these swords in my free time, no big deal" and watching everyone's mind in shambles.
All of a sudden, The back of my left hand flared with heat. I glanced down to see the crimson mark burning bright.
Someone was summoning me.
"Finally, the moment I was looking forward to" I muttered with a sigh, stretching my arms over my head until my shoulders popped in ecstasy "Today's been productive as hell. Explored my Sacred Gear, created enough weapons to start my own apocalypse. So why not end with a summon, who will possibly ask me to do their homework or cook for them"
I focused on the summoning mark, accepting the pull for my destination.
"Can't wait to see what other marvelous swords I can create while the system's updating. Conceptual blade that cuts through time? Sword that could possibly severs causality?"
The crimson magic circle bloomed beneath my feet, light intensifying.
"The possibilities are fucking endless"
---
The living room materialized around me in the typical disorienting rush of devil teleportation. My boots hit plush carpet instead of wooden planks, this is always jarring. This room screamed "money" in that understated way rich people did when they wanted you to know they were rich subtly.
Oil paintings on the walls, probably originals. Leather furniture that costs more than a car. A flat-screen TV mounted above a fireplace that had never seen actual use. Crystal decanters on a bar cart, each one filled with liquor expensive enough to make a grown man weep.
It was the kind of place that makes you feel like you should be wearing a suit just to sit down. But I wasn't here to admire this , I was on a job and where the fuck is my client?
My Observation Haki pinged immediately and I noticed two presences standing by the massive windows on my right, silhouetted against the city lights beyond.
But I didn't look at them yet. Playing dumb had its advantages, especially when you knew that the others were trying to gauge your true capabilities.
"Devil at service. Here, for your summon" I called out, loud enough to make sure they heard. Acting like the perfect innocent devil responding to a random summoning.
Internally, though, my brain was already putting pieces together.
Two Fallen Angel signatures. Strong ones. That distinctive crackle of otherworldly power that separated the wheat from the chaff. These weren't random grunts, these were the real deal. The kind of Fallen Angels who'd been around since the original Fall and had the power to back up their age.
And I had an idea about one but not the other one.
One was most likely Azazel, but who was the other one, Baraqiel? Why are they in this bougie-ass living room and playing hide n seek with me??
After a moment.
"Ara, what a polite young devil" a smooth feminine voice said from my right, with an amused tone with slight tease underneath.
I turned, keeping my expression neutral and curious.
The woman standing by the window was exactly as I remembered from the light novel, purple hair cascading down her back, curious orange eyes studying me through stylish glasses. Professional outfit that screamed "sexy secretary" without being overtly sexual about it. White blouse, dark skirt, the kind of curves that made you briefly wonder about the natural curves of a beautiful lady.
Benemune.
Also called Penemue. One of the original two hundred Fallen Angels who'd got kicked out from Heaven for sleeping with human. Chief Secretary of the Grigori, advisor to Azazel, and, if my knowledge serves me right, she is one of the Fallen who taught humanity about writing and knowledge.
So basically, we could blame her for homework and Physics subject existing, instead of Newton.
But why was she here?! Wasn't Vali supposed to be with Azazel in this town? And is it really Azazel, the other one or is it someone that I didn't even met before. Putting aside the wave of thoughts about identity of other fallen, I played along with my duty, as a devil.
"I'm a devil from the Gremory Household" I said, bowing slightly "Here to provide whatever service you require"
Keep playing the role of polite, professional devil while confused about why I'd been summoned.
Right now, I was Just a devil responding to a random client.
"My my, such professionalism" Benemune said, adjusting her glasses with one finger. That small smile playing on her lips told me she was enjoying this "How refreshing to see young devils taking their duties so seriously."
"I try my best" I replied neutrally, as this woman was giving me Akeno vibes on the next level.
Movement from deeper in the apartment caught my attention. A man strolled into view, hands in his pockets, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed despite wearing casual but expensive clothes.
Azazel.
Governor-General of the Fallen Angels. Leader of the Grigori. One of the few beings in existence who could go toe-to-toe with Satans and Seraphs and walk away smiling. And his side hustle being as a Sacred Gear researcher and enthusiast, or should I say obsessed?
He looked exactly like I expected him to be. Sharp eyes that missed nothing despite the lazy demeanor, the kind of casual confidence that came from being absurdly powerful and be fully aware about it.
"Yo, devil-kun" he greeted with a wave "Thanks for showing up. Hope we didn't interrupt anything important"
Just me creating seven weapons of mass destruction in my pocket dimension. You know, normal Tuesday stuff.
"Not at all" I said aloud "I'm here to serve. So, state your desires"
Both of them smiled as if they were looking forward to it for a memorable entertainment by interacting with me.
. . .
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