It had been an ordinary day for Issei. No beautiful nun had transferred into their class, no mysterious girls had appeared out of nowhere, and nothing supernatural had happened during school.
Of course, that didn't stop Matsuda and Motohama from complaining the entire day. Ever since Issei had started spending more time around Rias Gremory, the two of them had become endlessly jealous, treating him like some kind of traitor to their miserable club of single men.
Naturally, the moment classes ended, Issei left them behind and headed straight for the Occult Research Club.
He arrived in front of the familiar door with his usual relaxed pace, hands tucked behind his head while his mind wandered toward fantasies that would probably get him punched if anyone could hear them.
Issei pushed the door open.
"President?"
The moment he stepped inside, he paused.
Something felt off.
Near the table, Rias Gremory sat quietly with a photograph resting in front of her. She didn't even look up when he entered, her gaze fixed on the image as if she had been staring at it for a long time.
Issei frowned slightly and walked closer.
"Huh? Who's this guy?"
Rias exhaled slowly before answering.
"Someone new in Kuoh."
Her voice carried a faint tension that immediately caught Issei's attention.
"Is there something wrong with him?"
"Yesterday I considered recruiting him because of his strength," Rias said, finally lifting her eyes from the photograph. "But he seemed more interested in having me join his harem."
For a moment, Issei didn't react single word echoed in his mind.
Harem.
His eye twitched.
Of all the things Issei expected to hear, that wasn't one of them.
Under different circumstances, he might have thought the guy had good ambitions.
But the moment he realized that Rias was supposed to be part of it, that idea disappeared.
Instead, a quiet resentment settled in.
Rias continued speaking calmly, as if she had simply mentioned the weather.
"Of course, I refused such a stupid suggestion."
She leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the window.
"But situations like that remind me of something."
Issei was still staring at the photograph, his brain trying to process what he had just heard.
"What situations?" he asked.
Rias rested her chin lightly against her hand.
"That no matter how powerful a woman may be, there will always be people who believe they can claim her."
Her voice remained calm, but there was a faint bitterness behind it.
"My fiancé believes the same thing."
Issei's head snapped up.
"And if someone powerful enough appeared," she continued quietly, "even my family might expect me to obey."
She didn't sound frightened.
If anything, she sounded tired.
"People think being treated like a princess means you can have anything," she said softly. "But sometimes it feels more like living in a cage."
Silence settled over the room.
Issei looked at her, his earlier confusion slowly being replaced by something else.
"President…"
Rias noticed the tension in his voice and glanced back at him.
"You don't have to worry about it," she said lightly. "These things are simply part of the world we live in."
Issei clenched his fists.
"No."
The word came out sharper than he expected.
Rias blinked in mild surprise.
"You shouldn't have to accept that."
His gaze hardened as he looked down at the photograph again.
"And if that guy thinks he can just take you like that…"
He stopped himself.
For a moment the room was quiet.
Then Issei looked up again, determination replacing the earlier panic.
"Then I'll just have to become strong enough to stop them."
Rias studied him for a moment before a faint smile touched her lips.
"Then," she said softly, "you'll have to train even harder. People who want to claim me will never be weak."
With that, Rias finally managed to encourage Issei to train seriously. She knew he had enormous potential, but without a sense of urgency there had been almost no improvement in his strength since she had reincarnated him as a devil, which was becoming a rather serious problem.
---
Inside the largest prison in Japan, the last man stumbled backward across the concrete floor, slipping on something wet as panic twisted his face.
"N-no—please—!"
Around him, the entire place was silent. There were no guards, only the lingering smell of burned metal and smoke. Bodies lay inside each cell, the aftermath of a hunt that had already ended for them.
Only one prisoner remained.
Ethan stepped forward.
Hellfire flickered across his skull, the chain dragging lightly across the ground as the terrified man tried to crawl away.
It didn't matter.
The chain made of fire snapped forward.
A sharp pull.
A scream.
Then silence.
The flames slowly receded as the transformation faded, leaving the corridor still and empty.
Outside, Azazel gave a quiet whistle.
"Well, that was quite an interesting way to torture… or kill," Azazel remarked.
He stepped forward, studying the scene with calm curiosity. His gaze moved across the scorched walls, the bodies on the ground, and finally settled on Ethan.
"So," Azazel said thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly, "it's both. Torture and execution at the same time."
Azazel's eyes narrowed with growing interest.
"Even the most heinous demons I know can't torment a soul while killing the body so perfectly."
Ethan turned and began walking out of the cell.
"Maybe that's the difference," he said flatly, "between a Holy Spirit and a spirit of judgment."
Azazel blinked once.
Then a slow grin spread across his face.
"Oh, that's wonderful."
He chuckled as he followed Ethan into the corridor.
"If Michael hears that, he might actually have a heart attack."
Azazel laughed quietly.
"Imagine believers discovering there's an angel out there that looks like you."
His grin widened.
"With an appearance like a demon, I bet half their faith would collapse overnight."
They walked a few more steps down the silent corridor before Azazel suddenly moved ahead of him and raised a hand.
A faint magic circle appeared in the air.
"Well," he said lightly, glancing back at Ethan, "I believe I've done you a favor today."
He gestured casually toward the prison behind them.
"A chance to kill a hundred criminals."
The teleportation circle slowly expanded.
Azazel stepped aside and motioned toward it.
"So how about returning the favor?"
"By joining me for a drink," he said casually. "It's a surprisingly effective way to have a serious conversation."
---
Authors note : while poor health the biggest speed breaker to my writing but with the extra support and engagement I can always continue to write for that you can even join Patreon for free not like the membership is compulsory and if you have ideas proper one with basic outline I could try them and show you in my extra time as do like to try different stories even if I stop them due to lack of time all feedback is always welcome 🙏
This sorry is 1st on Patreon for free it's nice place to talk
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