Arto's First Person POV
'What's their problem?' I have been asking that question back and forth since the moment I woke up, but can't get up without disturbing the two soft, squishy weighs clinging to me since last night for....various reason.
One weigh is needing more training time in Dark Arena, and one weigh claimed to be my current dream guardian, both had legitemate reason, claimed by themselves, to invade my bed at night, clinging to me like an animal they called 'koala', it's a 'loek' to my language but it's a strange creature to see in a book.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling of the master bedroom, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of two distinct heartbeats against my ribs. To my left, the red weigh named Rias curled into my side, her crimson hair a chaotic silk spill across my shoulder.
To my right, the violet weigh named Akeno was practically draped over my chest, her breathing shallow and content. They were warm—terrifyingly warm—both my heart and my skin, not gonna lie, it does feel comfortable paralelling with slight annoyance this way, but I am in position to argue with them about the neccessity of their actions because no logical reason justifies their invasion because when it comes to emotions, I am not the one in control.
Aside from that, what truly concerns me is their habit that I've come to notice across days of this ordeal, both of them sleep naked, like completely in their birthday suit, how I figured that out? They came into my room in clothes, sitting with me at my desk in clothes to 'supervise' my magic translating process, or learning it, I don't know, I don't own their consciousness.
And when everything is done and I was about to head to bed, I noticed their clothes had been either folded neatly somewhere, or dropped on the floor like discarded shells. Then, they would slide under the sheets as if it were the most natural transition in the world.
Their naked forms? I seriously don't know what they look like, really, don't ask me that, I've never been curious about a woman's body when talking to them, why? I don't know, maybe it was carved out of my head to prevent seduction which might lead to potential betrayal of my role as a weapon, or I simply haven't felt it for 3000 years and now it's gocmin dull, you know, something like that.
But the warmth and the sensation, I won't even complain or deny anymore, it's more comfortable than any bed could provide. They are both very soft, squishy as their.....body parts pressed against my body, the feeling of their skin against mine was something I couldn't find in any manual. It's like a strange kind of magic, not the kind that destroys walls or burns forests, but the kind that makes my breathing slow down and my mind go quiet.
I try to shift, just a few inches, hoping to extract myself without triggering a "koala alarm." The moment my muscles tense, the weight on my chest tightens. Akeno lets out a tiny, sleepy mumble, her arm tightening around my waist, pulling herself closer until there isn't a single millimeter of air between us. On the other side, Rias lets out a soft huff, her face burying deeper into the crook of my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin.
"Don't... move..." Rias murmured, her voice thick with sleep, her grip on my arm tightening with a strength that reminded me she was still a high-class devil, even in her sleep. Fine, I'm not moving anymore, let this first day of school turn out how it wants to, I've run out of ideas to face the problem I can't kill through or negotiate because well, you can't negotiate with sleeping people, the strongest entity in the Abyssgard Legion was defeated by 2 girls without any fight....
But on the other hand, the had a really decent battle in the Dark Arena, Rias has been evolving well with her Destruction Power, versility and mana optimization are getting better by the day, and Akeno's lightning is becoming more precise, less erratic. The only problem they are both facing is their lack of tactical intelligence, quick adaptation and most importantly, close-quarter combat strength, something the Arena noticed immediately from the first night of them both.
They still had to follow all my directions and all had to lean onto my close-quarter combat ability for them to flush out their monstrous magical attacks, but when the line was breached, they struggled to find a way out quickly, resulted in unnecessary wounds, that part needs to be worked on for both of them, because the Arena won't tolerate a mistake too long until it could form a new tactic and monsters to teach them being stagnant is the quickest way to the grave.
But, I have to defend them a little, the Arena's adaptability scales to my power as I am its sole target, so them being overwhelmed is something expected, almost inevitable. They are still very young, they can't adapt as fast as I do, that's something you can't learn by days, so I can't blame them for not being good enough at improvising or being panicked when a Chimera breaks their line.
Then why am I still letting them in? Knowing they will lose, knowing I will have to carry more weights and wounds to keep them alive in that simulation, why do I keep opening the gate to the Dark Arena for them? I don't know, but from the moment I met them, I don't want to be alone again, being the Void for thousands of years is enough solitude for me, and I want to hear voices, even if it's cries for help, as long as it means someone is there.
The sunlight finally breached the curtains, painting gold streaks across the duvet. It was the signal for the end of the truce. I took a deep breath and tried one last, desperate maneuver—a slow, methodical slide. I managed to free my left arm, then my right, moving like a thief in the night. Just as I thought I was clear, a pair of eyes snapped open.
"Trying to escape again, Arto?" Akeno's voice was a playful purr, her eyes wide and gleaming with a mischief that should have been impossible for someone who had just woken up. She didn't let go; instead, she arched her back and pressed herself firmly against me, her skin warm and supple. "You know the rules. No leaving until the 'Koala' is satisfied."
Beside me, Rias stirred, her crimson hair fluttering as she blinked. She didn't move as quickly as Akeno, but her grip on my arm tightened, pulling me back into the center of their orbit. She looked up at me, her expression soft and drowsy, but her eyes held a stubborn glint. "He thinks he's a strategist," she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep. "But he's failing to realize he's completely surrounded."
I sighed, the sound rattling in my chest before lying down again, my fate is sealed and there is nothing left to do about it. I had faced legions of void-beasts and calculated the political currents of my own world, yet I was currently being outmaneuvered by two teenage girls with a penchant for morning cuddles. The "strategic surround" Rias mentioned wasn't just a joke; it was a tactical lockdown of my physical autonomy.
"The school bell doesn't wait for 'Koalas' to be satisfied," I pointed out, though my voice lacked any real conviction. "And if I'm late on my first official day of enrollment, it creates a profile of inconsistency. A student who is late is a student who is noticed. A student who is noticed is a student who becomes a target of curiosity."
Akeno giggled, the sound vibrating against my ribs. She shifted, her leg hooking over mine with a possessive ease that would have made my former commanders at the Abyssgard Legion have a collective aneurysm. "Let them be curious. It'll be fun to watch you try to explain your 'mysterious aura' while we're the ones holding the leash."
Rias finally sat up, the sheets sliding down to reveal the curve of her shoulder, though she didn't seem to care about the lack of coverage. She leaned in, her forehead resting against mine. Her eyes, usually so commanding and sharp, were hazy with a lingering warmth that felt far more dangerous than any spell. "Just five more minutes, Arto. The world won't end if the 'model student' arrives a little late. Besides, you're the one who taught us about the importance of recovery. Think of this as... mental fortitude training."
The logic was flawed, biased, and entirely manipulative. It was a masterpiece of psychological warfare, and I can't fight them any longer, maybe I've given up to the sensation, or I've grown to spoil them to gain their smile, something a trainer shouldn't get with their students, yet here I am, giving them what they want for their positive emotions.....no, I need to regain my control in this relationship, or else I'll be their dog before I know it.
"Ahem, listen up, you two, while I must admit your performance in the Dark Arena have been....decent..." I know, I must tone it down, and I know their faces are showing doubts, "I must remind you of where the result you achieved came from and what should be improved in the future before the Arena catches up to you."
Rias blinked, her sleepy expression shifting into a focused pout. "Wait, are you trying to use 'tactical lecture' as a way to get us to let go? That's a very poor distraction, Arto."
"It's not a distraction; it's an analysis, warning and guidance" I countered, my voice hardened enough for them to know I am not joking around anymore. "The Arena doesn't care about your lineage or your raw power. It only cares about the holes in your defense. You both rely on your magic as a shield, but in a real combat scenario, if your mana is depleted or your casting is interrupted, you are as defenseless as newborns. If you want to survive the next tier of simulation, you will stop treating your training like a hobby and start treating it like a necessity."
For a moment, the room went still. The playful air evaporated, replaced by the sudden, sharp tension of a commander addressing his troops. That's exactly what I need, I can't let them spinning me around any longer "I am not saying this to get you off me or anything, I am saying this to you as participants of Dark Arena's battles, the past week has been a lot of growth for both of you, I'll give you that, I'll even praise you in front of the others if that's what it takes, but what you have to realize is the base of your constant victories....me."
Rias's gaze sharpened. The sleepy haze vanished, replaced by the fierce, competitive spirit of the Gremory heir. She didn't move away, but her grip on my arm shifted from a cuddle to a hold. "You think we're relying on you too much, don't you?"
"You are," I replied flatly. "Because you were fighting as the backline while I carried the front alone, while I can manage that, it's not a healthy process for you because of a fact that you should realize by now, the Arena scales its power up to my level, a 3000 years old living weapon. If the simulation determines that the 'shield' is the only thing keeping the 'swords' alive, it will simply create a monster that ignores the shield to eat the swords."
"Do you both remember that swarm of small flying monsters that stung like hellfire the other day? That's the Arena's attempt to get to you" I asked, my voice now devoid of the morning's softness. "If I hadn't stepped into the breach, you would have been shredded in seconds. You're learning to hit hard, but you aren't learning how to be the fight."
Rias let out a soft, contemplative hum, her fingers tracing the muscle of my arm. The competitive fire was there, but it was tempered by something else—a growing realization that my "shield" wasn't just a tactical position, but a manifestation of the protectiveness I felt for them. She shifted, pulling herself up so she was eye-level with me.
"Then stop being our shield for a while," she proposed, her voice regaining its authoritative edge, though a playful smile lingered. "If the simulation is too easy because you're doing the heavy lifting, then we'll just have to force you to take a step back. We'll refine our close-quarters combat, and you'll be the one relying on us for once."
Akeno giggled, finally sliding off my chest, though she didn't move far. "Oh, I love that idea. Imagine the look on Arto's face when he actually has to wait for us to save him. He'd probably have a panic attack from the lack of efficiency."
I looked at them—two powerful, stubborn, and utterly chaotic individuals who had decided that the best way to handle a tactical deficiency was to simply out-will the problem. "If you're saying so, then I will start adding physical training into your regimen from now on, it's a mandatory to survive an arena that learns from every movement for counter."
I turned to Rias first, her eyes, while harboring some worry, but determination is dominating "Your physical power is overwhelming from your birthright, you pack more power inside your body than you realize, so I will guide you through Abyssgard soldier's training regimen to build your core power and hand-to-hand combat drills under my guidance"
"And for Akeno," I continued, shifting my gaze to the violet-haired girl who was now stretching like a cat at the foot of the bed, "you are not as strong as Rias when it comes to physical power, but you have the fluid movement, precision and grace of a dancer, so a light, polearm weapon should be just the right one for you, something like a....."
"Sakhar/Naginata" We said at the same time, again, and what came after is something everyone could expect "What are you talking about? What is a Sakhar/Naginata?" We asked the same question with the same confused look on our faces.
"It's a pole weapon with curved blade mounted on a long shaft" We explained the same concept, it seems we are talking about the same thing with different names. "That should do it, we both know what we are talking about, what do you think about this 'Naginata', Akeno?"
Akeno's eyes lit up, a predatory spark dancing in her violet pupils. She shifted her weight, her hand instinctively mimicking the grip of a weapon she had never held, but whose utility she intuitively grasped. "A reach advantage paired with the ability to pivot and strike from blind spots," she mused, her voice dropping into that silky, focused tone she used right before a lightning strike. "It sounds elegant. And devastating. I love it."
Rias watched the exchange, her expression softening from the competitive heir to a proud partner. She leaned back on her elbows, the sheets pooling around her waist. "You're surprisingly passionate about weaponry for someone who claims to just be a 'strategic partner,' Arto. I suspect you've already mapped out exactly how our silhouettes should look on a battlefield."
"Mapping the assets is part of the strategy," I replied, finally managing to sit up and create a few inches of breathing room. "A weapon is only as good as the person wielding it, and right now, you two are like master musicians playing instruments they've only touched once. You have the talent, but you lack the calluses."
I stood up, the cool morning air hitting my skin, and finally stepped out of the orbit of their warmth. The transition felt abrupt—like stepping out of a heated sanctuary into a cold wind—but it was necessary. The moment I stood, the soldier in me took over. The softness of the morning dissolved into the discipline of the day. I looked at them, not as the 'weights' who had pinned me to the bed, but as the potentials they were.
"If we are doing this," I said, my voice now a steady, rhythmic cadence, "we are starting soon on a rushing process for you both to master what I designated to you, Rias, I can be certain about teaching her, but Akeno, on the other hand"
I summoned my own sword-spear "I am more familiar with this, which leans more on thrusting instead of slashing, my teaching wouldn't work well with something like a Sakhar, I mean Naginata. So while I can teach you basic things about wielding a pole weapon, deeper training should be handled by a true master, and apparently, I don't know one"
Rias tilted her head, her crimson hair shifting as she looked between me and Akeno. "A true master, huh? You're the most experienced warrior in this city—possibly this country—and you're telling us you aren't enough?"
"Specialization is the difference between a survivor and a corpse," I replied, the sword-spear humming faintly as I rotated it in a precise, tight arc. "My style is built on the lethality of the point—linear, explosive, and absolute. The Naginata is a weapon of arcs and rotations; it requires a different kind of breath, a different center of gravity. If I try to force my logic onto Akeno's movements, I'll break her form. I won't risk her efficiency for the sake of my convenience."
Akeno's smile widened, a flicker of genuine excitement crossing her face. She loved the idea of a challenge, but she loved the idea of me being meticulously careful with her development even more. "And I have just the right person for that....Tsubaki Shinra," she murmured, her eyes gleaming.
Rias's eyebrows shot up. "The Student Council Vice-President? Sona's right hand? Akeno, she's barely more than a student herself."
"She's a master of the naginata, Rias," Akeno corrected, her voice humming with anticipation. "The precision she maintains in her forms is legendary among those who actually pay attention to the kendo club's elite. If anyone in this town understands the geometry of a polearm, it's Tsubaki. She doesn't just swing the weapon; she commands the space around her."
I lowered my weapon, the hum of the blade fading as I looked at the two of them. "And that's settled, training will be in due, I will set up the training regimen for you, and before you say I am being harsh" The weapon disappeared as I pulled them into a hug
"I'm proud of both of you, I said what I said so that you can grow more safely and all-roundedly inside my dream arena, I know it's too much to ask you to learn what too me centuries to learn, but I am proud that you're not dishearted by the threat, but more determined to face it to stay by my side,"
The emotional speech by a kiss on each of their hair "I am lucky to have you both as my comrades in this new life, and I will do anything to keep you safe, either it's protecting you, or training you, because you're important people to me now, and I have a long record of using my own legion's resource to protect those I care about, this will be no different" I've've grown fond of them, and the warmth of their bodies against mine had left a lingering sensation of security that I couldn't ignore.
Rias leaned into the hug, her head resting against my chest, the fierce Gremory heir replaced by a young woman who simply wanted to be held. "You're getting too good at this, Arto," she murmured, her voice muffled. "The 'cold strategist' act is crumbling. If you keep being this sweet, we might actually start believing you're not just a weapon."
Akeno squeezed my waist, her laughter soft and genuine. "Oh, he's definitely crumbling. I can hear his heart racing; he's probably panicking because he can't find a tactical counter for a hug."
I sighed, gently releasing them as the reality of the clock began to press in. "The sentimental quota for the day has been reached. Now, get dressed. If we are late, I will be forced to add ten laps of stamina training to your morning routine for the next month."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto being pinned down by chibi Rias and chibi Akeno]
3rd Person POV
The morning air in Kuoh was crisp, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms that still clung stubbornly to the last days of spring. The four of them walked the familiar path toward Kuoh Academy: Rias leading with her usual confident stride, Akeno beside her humming softly, Arto a step behind, and Kiba bringing up the rear—head already buried in a thick, leather-bound book titled Fundamentals of Alchemical Transmutation: Principles of Equivalent Exchange.
Kiba's pace had slowed to a crawl. He walked in an almost perfectly straight line, eyes never leaving the pages, completely oblivious to the world around him. Twice already Rias had tugged him back from veering into a flowerbed; Akeno had giggled and looped her arm through his to steer him straight for a full minute before he wandered off course again.
Now it was Arto's turn. He sighed—long-suffering but fond—and reached out, placing one large hand firmly on Kiba's shoulder. The contact was gentle but unyielding, guiding the blond knight back onto the center of the sidewalk before he could collide with a lamppost. "I shouldn't have gotten that alchemical book for you," Arto muttered, half under his breath.
Kiba blinked, finally looking up from the page, eyes slightly unfocused as though surfacing from deep water. "Hm? Oh—thank you again, Arto. This text is remarkable. The chapter on mana-to-matter conversion ratios is particularly—"
Arto's hand squeezed once—lightly, but enough to make Kiba's words trail off. "Eyes on the path, Kiba. Not the book." Kiba gave a sheepish smile and closed the volume with a soft thump. "Right. Sorry." Arto exhaled through his nose, keeping his hand on Kiba's shoulder like a living leash.
[Flashback – Yesterday Morning]
The backyard behind the Occult Research Club was still damp with morning dew. The sparring session had just ended—Kiba breathing hard, sword dismissed in a shimmer of light, sweat gleaming on his brow. Arto stood across from him, arms crossed, expression calm but expectant. "Kiba," Arto said quietly, stepping closer as the others began drifting back toward the clubhouse. "Have you thought about my recommendation of looking into alchemy?"
Kiba desummoned his blade completely, letting the last traces of holy-demonic energy fade. He leaned back against the grass, hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. "I have," he admitted. "And I want to give it a go. It might help me... change my concentration. Broaden my horizons beyond Sword Birth."
"But..." Kiba sighed, sitting up slowly. "There are so many learning materials out there. All revolve around the core of the Law of Equivalent Exchange, but each one is executed and perceived in a different way. It's hard to pinpoint which one to follow."
Arto nodded once—understanding. "I see. So that's your situation." He crouched down beside Kiba, elbows resting on his knees, voice low and serious. "But I ask you again, Kiba. Are you serious about pursuing alchemy?"
Kiba met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes. I am." Arto studied him for a long moment—searching for doubt, for hesitation. He found none. A nod of approval was given "Right," Arto said after a long moment, giving a single, decisive nod. "I'll help you get the best learning documents for your alchemy study. You just need to name me one author—or source—you think is the best."
Kiba exhaled slowly, looking off toward the distant school building as though gathering his thoughts. "After looking into it... I think I like the duo professor brothers Elric the most," he finally answered. "Edward and Alphonse. They're considered the best in the field of this generation. They run a prestigious alchemical academy together—Ametris."
Arto's expression didn't change—not a twitch, not a blink. "Yeah," he said flatly. "I don't know who they are." Kiba blinked, surprised for a second, then smiled faintly—clearly remembering that Arto had been in this world for only a handful of days.
"Right... of course you wouldn't know them yet," Kiba said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Edward and Alphonse Elric are basically legends in the modern alchemical community. They're only in their early forties now, but they're already considered the most brilliant duo of this generation."
He sat up a little straighter, voice taking on the tone of someone recounting a well-known story with genuine respect. "They didn't just refine the laws of alchemy; they practically rewrote them. The way they handle the transmutation of organic matter without losing the essence of the target is considered the gold standard. If you want to expand your versatility, their methodology is the only place to start."
Kiba's eyes lit up as he continued. "Then there's the Ametris Alchemical Academy they founded eight years ago. It's the most prestigious school in the field right now—people from every continent apply, and the acceptance rate is under 3%. They don't just teach classical alchemy; they integrate modern chemistry, quantum theory, material science, even some sacred-gear-compatible mana-flow principles. Graduates from Ametris are basically guaranteed positions in any major research institute, military alchemy division, or private guild."
He paused, then added with quiet admiration: "Edward is the more aggressive innovator—the one who pushes boundaries and creates new arrays that sometimes scare the older generation. Alphonse is the stabilizer—the one who makes sure the theories are safe, reproducible, and teachable. Together... they're basically the reason alchemy is experiencing a renaissance instead of slowly dying out like it was fifty years ago."
Kiba looked at Arto earnestly. "So yeah... if I had to choose one source to start with, it would be anything written or endorsed by the Elric brothers. Their textbooks are considered the current gold standard." Arto listened in complete silence, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
After a long moment he gave a single, slow nod. "Understood. But, if you know which author is the best, why didn't you get studying materials from their academy? They surely have some channels for outsiders to approach, right?"
Kiba rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah... that's the thing. They don't have such channels"
Arto raised an eyebrow. In his experience, everything had a channel. Every fortress had a breach, and every secret had a price. "Explain. How does a 'prestigious academy' with a global reputation manage to remain inaccessible to the very public that funds its research and recognizes its prestige?"
"They aren't exactly... traditional," Kiba explained, his voice dropping to a respectful whisper. "The Elric brothers are notorious for their eccentricity. They don't believe in applications, interviews, or tuition fees. Rumor has it they only accept students who possess a specific kind of 'will'—or those who can present a problem that the current laws of alchemy cannot solve. They don't want students; they want puzzles. To get a book from them, you don't buy it from a store; you have to find a way to get their attention."
Arto was quiet for a long moment, processing. Then he uncrossed his arms and straightened. "Interesting." Kiba looked up at him curiously. "You're... not discouraged?" Arto's lips curved—just the faintest hint of a smile. "Nope, in fact, I will make you the first outsider to have internal studying documents of Ametris."
Kiba's eyes widened. "Internal documents? You mean... the restricted manuscripts? The ones only full academy members and approved researchers can access?"
Arto gave a single, calm nod. "All I need now is..." He turned toward the clubhouse entrance, where Koneko had just appeared—small, white-haired, expression as blank as ever, happily munching on a fresh bar of chocolate. "Koneko," Arto called, voice steady and polite. "Can you come into the clubhouse and ask Rias for me if there are any published articles of Edward or Alphonse Elric regarding alchemy? I would love it if it's posted on some prestigious magazines."
Koneko stopped mid-bite, chocolate bar hovering near her mouth. She stared at Arto for two full seconds—long enough that the silence became noticeable—then gave the tiniest nod. "...Fine."
She turned on her heel, chocolate still in hand, and disappeared back inside without another word. Kiba stared after her, then back at Arto. "You're really going to...?" Arto shrugged, almost casually.
After a short while, Koneko came back with a magazine, Magic, and hands it to Arto. Arto accepted the magazine from Koneko with a polite nod, flipping it open to the cover page.
Magic Journal of the Institute of Magic • March 2000
The cover featured a stylized illustration of a complex mana array superimposed over a starry night sky, with the tagline in elegant silver lettering: "Where Arcane Meets Empirical: Bridging the Supernatural and the Observable"
He tilted his head slightly, studying the publication like one might examine an ancient artifact. "Okay? How prestigious is this?" Kiba, who had finally closed his own book and was now standing beside him, answered immediately, voice carrying the quiet reverence of someone who understood exactly what he was looking at. "It's the most prestigious academic journal in the supernatural world. The Institute of Magic has been publishing Magic continuously since the late 14th century—long before the equivalent human journal, Nature, even existed."
His eyes brightened "Having your work posted here is like receiving public recognition as a top scholar in the field. Even the most renowned human scientists would kill for a citation in Magic... though most of them don't even know it exists."
He pointed to the list of featured articles on the cover. "Look at the names: Archmage Seraphina Voss, Grand Alchemist Thaddeus Crowe, Dr. Elara Nightshade from the Grigori Archives... and there—" Kiba tapped a name near the bottom, "—Professor Edward Elric, co-authored with Alphonse Elric. 'Refinements to the Xingese Rebound Mitigation Matrix: A Quantitative Analysis of Equivalent Exchange Safety Thresholds.' Published just last year."
Arto's eyes narrowed slightly—not in skepticism, but in the focused way he used to assess battlefields. "I don't know any of these people, but this is the real thing. Not watered down. Not censored for public consumption?"
Kiba nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Magic is where the truly groundbreaking, dangerous, and paradigm-shifting research gets published. The kind of work that can rewrite entire fields... or get you quietly disappeared if you're not careful."
Arto flipped to the table of contents, scanning the titles and authors with the same intensity he once used to study enemy formations. After a moment, he closed the magazine with a soft snap and handed it back to Kiba. "Perfect," he said simply. "This is exactly what I needed."
Kiba took the journal, brows furrowing in confusion. "You... needed Magic specifically?" Arto gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "Nope. I just need an article that the author poured their heart and soul into—one they would fight to the death to prove right."
He sat down at the nearby table with deliberate calm, the old wooden chair creaking slightly under his weight. Without preamble, he raised his right hand. A soft silver-blue shimmer gathered in his palm, then coalesced into a neat stack of crisp, cream-colored paper and a sleek black fountain pen that looked centuries old yet perfectly maintained.
"I will write a rebuttal letter to Edward's work here," Arto said, voice level, almost conversational. "To challenge everything he wrote in the way he would turn this world upside down to find the one who wrote it."
Kiba blinked, stunned. "Wait... so you know alchemy?" Arto nodded once, already uncapping the pen. "There are little this old man doesn't know, Kiba. And alchemy is one aspect I found quite interesting."
Kiba stared at him for a long second, then asked the obvious follow-up. "And you know how to challenge Edward Elric's work posted in Magic?" Another nod—calm, certain. "I can turn every word he wrote against him."
Kiba's face twisted into pure confusion, the weight of the two books suddenly feeling much heavier in his arms. "Then... why don't you teach me yourself? Why waste your effort provoking Edward Elric? He's known for his hot head—people say he once blew up half a lecture hall because someone questioned his rebound calculations."
Arto dipped the pen in an invisible well of ink (a tiny mana construct that appeared only when needed), the nib gleaming briefly before touching paper. "Because," he said without looking up, "I am focusing on magic and technology at the moment, so I have no time to teach you alchemy properly. That's why I will give you what's best for you to learn."
The first stroke of the pen was smooth, confident—words forming in sharp, elegant script that somehow managed to look both ancient and razor-modern at once."Now, come back in an hour and help me send this to Ametris's address under the name of 'A', okay?"
He took one step back, then another, still clutching the Abyssgard text and the copy of Magic like sacred relics. Arto didn't look up again. His focus was absolute—pen flowing across paper, line after line of surgical critique, each sentence a perfectly aimed thrust designed to provoke, to challenge, to demand attention from the one man who hated being proven wrong more than anything.
Kiba turned and walked toward the clubhouse door, mind spinning. Behind him, the soft scratch of pen on paper continued—steady, relentless. A single sentence stood out on the first page, already written in Arto's unmistakable hand: "To Professor Edward Elric: Your rebound mitigation matrix is elegant, but incomplete. Allow me to show you where the equivalent exchange truly fails."
[End of flashback]
Kiba had finally closed the leather-bound tome in his arms, though his fingers still lingered on the cover like it was made of glass. He looked up from Edward Elric's personal notes—handwritten margins filled with crossed-out theories, furious scribbles, and triumphant annotations—and fixed Arto with a stare of pure awe.
"Senpai," he said quietly, almost reverent, "what did you say to Edward to get him to give you this? This thing contains the entire alchemy field with personal notes from Edward himself."
Akeno, who had been walking arm-in-arm with Arto, pressed closer to his side, violet eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Yes, darling," she purred, voice sweet but edged with playful demand. "What did you talk about? I heard from Koneko that the elder Elric arrived in Kuoh one hour after the rebuttal was sent. One. Hour. That man doesn't leave his home for anything less than a national emergency... or a personal insult."
Arto kept walking, gaze fixed straight ahead, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a mischievous little grin. He said nothing. Rias, leading the group, glanced back over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You're really not going to tell us?"
Arto's grin widened—just a fraction. "It's a secret." Kiba blinked. Akeno pouted dramatically. Rias rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave away her amusement. "You provoked the most famous alchemist alive, got him to personally deliver his own annotated masterwork to our doorstep, and you're just going to call it 'a secret'?" Rias asked, half-laughing.
Arto shrugged one shoulder, casual as if he'd only asked for a cup of sugar. "Some things are better left unsaid." Akeno leaned in until her lips were almost brushing his ear. "Even from your darling~?"
Arto's grin turned positively wicked for half a second before smoothing back into innocent neutrality. "Especially from my darling." Kiba stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You really wrote something that made Edward Elric drop everything and come here in person..."
Arto finally glanced sideways at him, expression calm but eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "I challenged him. Properly. Not with insults. With logic. With equations. With questions he couldn't ignore."
He paused, then added softly: "People like Edward Elric don't respond to flattery. They respond to someone who sees the flaws in their masterpiece... and cares enough to point them out."
Kiba swallowed. "And he... just gave you this?" Arto's smile faded into something quieter, more thoughtful. "Well, yes... something like a compliment for proving him wrong," he said softly. "And for showing that those peer reviewers left something unchecked when looking at his article."
He gestured at the tome—its cover worn but still bearing the faint gold imprint of the Ametris seal. "This book was the first version written by Ed," Arto continued. "It has many things he didn't put into the final version, he intended to put more into it but that effort was stopped by Alphonse. Then this version was split into 3 books. I think this is the version he prefers because it's the most 'raw' version."
Kiba's breath hitched as he carefully flipped through a few more pages. The annotations weren't just corrections; they were dialogues. Edward had argued with himself in the margins, questioning his own assumptions and then violently striking through the doubt. It was a window into the mind of a genius at war with his own limits.
"To think," Kiba whispered, "that you managed to bridge the gap between us and the Ametris Academy with nothing but a few pages of ink."
"That's my promise of helping you get stronger, and I am keeping it," Arto said, his voice regaining that steady, rhythmic cadence of a commander. He stopped walking as they reached the edge of the training grounds, the morning mist still clinging to the grass. "Now, enough with the history lesson. Kiba, put the book away. I'm tired of keeping you on track like a shepherd"
"Do you even know what a sheep is, Arto?" Akeno asked teasingly, from many prior incidents with Arto's language, this might trigger another joke "Simple, lives on desert, big, light brown fur, has this hump on their back, drinks water like crazy"
"That's not a sheep, Arto, we call it a camel," Rias corrected, her voice ringing with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. The she showed him a picture of a sheep "What is this animal to you?"
Arto looked at the picture, narrowing his eyes "We call this thing mae-shii," he answered without a hint of irony. "It is a fluffy, stubborn herbivore that provides wool and mutton. Why are you showing me a picture of one? It is obvious."
Rias paused, her hand still holding the phone screen in front of his face. "Mae-shii? You're not joking when saying we have some language confusion when it comes to names of stuffs, we might be referring to the same thing but how we call them are different,"
Rias stored the picture away while squeezing the bridge of her nose "We do need a few sessions to clarify everything to avoid confusion, do you remember last time when you called a fork 'trivide' and a spoon 'muang'?
Arto stared at her, his expression genuinely perplexed. "You're right, we do need time to clarify things, maybe putting labels on stuffs will do, I seriously don't want people to wonder which country I come from, because with my geography knowledge, I can't avoid further awkwardness when mentioning a country that doesn't exist on this planet."
Rias sighed, though her eyes were sparkling. "We'll get you a dictionary and a tour guide if we have to. Just promise me you won't call the Student Council president a 'high-shiin' or whatever you call a leader in your homeland."
"No promises," Arto replied, his voice returning to its steady, military cadence as he pivoted toward the school gates. "Now, focus. We have a schedule to keep, and I can still see Kiba vibrating with the urge to read that book."
[Kuoh Academy]
The front gate of Kuoh Academy stood wide open, iron bars gleaming under the morning sun. Students streamed through in waves—laughing, gossiping, rushing to beat the first bell—forming a colorful river of navy blazers, red ties, and pleated skirts.
Arto stopped just inside the entrance, boots planted on the stone path, dark blue eyes wide with quiet wonder. So many people. Hundreds of them. All moving at once. Voices overlapping. Footsteps echoing. Laughter rising in bursts.
The sheer life of it—the chaotic, ordinary, human energy—hit him like a wave he hadn't expected.
He had fought armies numbering in the tens of thousands. He had stood on battlefields where the ground ran red for miles. He had watched cities burn and legions fall. But this...This was new. This was alive in a way war never was.
In front of him, Rias and Akeno walked side by side—Rias with her usual regal confidence, Akeno with that subtle, swaying grace that turned heads without trying.
And right behind the 2 ladies is a mountain of 1.9 meters tall, he towered over most of the student body. Raven-black hair fell in slightly tousled waves across his forehead. Dark blue eyes scanned the crowd with the calm alertness of someone who had spent millennia reading battlefields.
Slightly pale skin contrasted with the sharp, dark fabric of the school uniform, which he wore with a precision that made the standard attire look like a dress uniform. On top of that skin is the prestige features of a vampire prince but can walk comfortably in the sun.
The face he used is the nonchalant one, not paying a single glance to others, but his mind is one of a baby duck, his focus is on Rias and Akeno in front of him for direction and he is trying to hide his own bewilderment of arriving in a new place by being intimidating.
Rias glanced at him over the shoulder, she noticed Arto's attitude, 'It seems the tough shell is hiding a softie underneath' she thought to herself in amusement, she is only one thought from taking his hand and lead him into Kuoh Academy like a mother taking her child to school for the first time.
"Stay close, Arto," Rias said, her voice laced with a soft, teasing warmth. "The student body here can be... intense. If you keep that 'thousand-yard stare' going, the girls will think you're a brooding model and the boys will be too terrified to speak to you. Which, depending on the goal, might actually be useful."
Arto let out a huff, his gaze flickering toward a group of first-year students who had stopped walking just to stare at him. He felt their eyes on him—not the predatory gaze of a scout or the hateful glare of an enemy, but simple, raw curiosity.
"I'll try to be more friendly" Arto's attitude shifted immediately from a soldier to a negotiator, his face turned to the one of a friendly new arrival as he turned to meet the curious gazes with a smile and hand waving a greeting to the staring students.
The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. The transition from 'brooding, dangerous warrior' to 'beaming, friendly giant' was so abrupt that the group of first-years collectively gasped, several of them blushing a deep crimson.
The sheer contrast of his sharp, princely features paired with a wide, genuine expression of welcome acted like a physical shockwave. One girl, clutching her bookbag, actually stumbled backward, her eyes wide as she whispered something about "gap moe" to her friend.
"Oh no," Rias murmured, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Now you've done it. You've shifted from 'terrifying' to 'approachable,' and in this school, that's a dangerous game to play."
"Ehh, I'm not some edgy, cold-faced boy type I saw the other day in a movie with Akeno, I am a negotiator, I can talk, and I will talk my way out of things, and into things, like.....uhh...." A sudden confusion of goal came as quickly as when his friendly side was brought out "Akeno, give me a goal, something grand for me to prove my point to Rias!"
Akeno paused, her eyes dancing with a mischievous glint as she looked from Arto's eager, slightly bewildered face to the sea of students around them. She leaned in, her voice a melodic whisper that promised chaos. "Hmm, let's see. If you're such a master negotiator, Arto-ku...no, Arata-kun, why don't you try to get into the school's basketball team on the first day~"
"Don't dare me, Akeno...." his mouth came closer to her ear "Because you will see me in that jersey by the end of this day." he let out a rare, confident smirk.
[Class 2-B]
The bell had rung only moments ago, but the classroom 2-B already buzzed with the low, anticipatory hum of a new term. Students settled into familiar seats, whispering about summer gossip and club sign-ups, when the sliding door opened with a soft shhk.
Arto Abyssgard, now in his alias of Arata Akihiko, stepped inside. At 1.9 meters tall, raven hair slightly tousled from the morning breeze, dark blue eyes calm yet bright with genuine curiosity, and the Kuoh uniform doing very little to conceal the physique of someone who had once carried shields the size of doors—there was no way he could have entered quietly.
The room reacted in two perfectly synchronized waves. The boys collectively deflated. Shoulders slumped. Smiles vanished. Several exchanged glances of pure, wordless despair. One muttered "We're so screwed..." under his breath. Another dropped his forehead onto his desk with a quiet thunk.
The girls, on the other hand—A wave of excited whispers and barely-suppressed squeals rippled across the female half of the room. "Oh my god, who is that?" "He's tall..." "Is he a model? He has to be a model." "Look at his face... he looks like he walked out of a drama..." "The uniform is literally fighting for its life—"
Aruto felt every pair of eyes on him at once. He didn't flinch, he bowed like a knight with one hand over his heart "Good day to you all, my future classmates and comrades of class 2-B, my name is Arata Akihiko, it's an honor to study with you at Kuoh Academy, I hope my time here will be unforgettable for you all and I" He shot a smile down the class before him.
A few girls in the front row were staring at him with glazed eyes, their faces flushed a vivid pink. One of them let out a small, strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a deflating balloon. To Arto, the reaction was calculated, the trip to the mall with Rias has shown him how people, especially females percieve him using his magical facade, while it hides his true self, which he doesn't like, this prestine look of a prince will help him get by in school without too much suspicion.
The teacher, a middle-aged man with thick glasses and a tired expression, cleared his throat loudly to regain control of the room. "Alright, alright, settle down. Mr. Akihiko, thank you for the... enthusiastic introduction. Please take the empty seat next Rias-san in the back. Miss Gremory, please raise your hand for our new student to know where to be."
Arto navigated the aisles with a measured stride, his presence acting like a wake in a pond as students instinctively leaned away or leaned in. He felt the weight of a dozen different expectations settling on his shoulders—curiosity, jealousy, and a few looks of genuine intimidation.
As he slid into the chair beside Rias, he leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur, playing his role as the new student "Thank you for having me, Gremory-san" he sat down next to her, trying to keep thing professional between them in the eyes of the class.
Rias beamed, her eyes shimmering with a mix of affection and amusement. She didn't just raise her hand; she gave him a small, welcoming wave that felt far more intimate than the social norms of a classroom allowed. "Welcome to Class 2-B, Arata-kun," she whispered, her tone leaning into the teasing warmth she had used at the school gates.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto reading basketball manual he found somewhere]
By when the bell rung, the teacher left the room, the entire class turned their focus on the new arrived student, especially on the interaction between him and the most powerful girls in the school sitting around him.
Rias Gremory next to him, Akeno Himejima directly in front of him and Souna Shitori next to Akeno—the sheer gravitational pull of the school's "Untouchables" centered entirely on Arto's desk. He could feel the air in the room thicken with a mixture of jealousy and intense curiosity. For the boys, it was a strategic nightmare; for the girls, it was a puzzle they were desperate to solve.
As for Arata he can feel the gaze of Souna, or Sona, the president of Student Council, being the most intense, like he is her target of a carefully crafted assault. Sona's eyes didn't sparkle with the dreamy haze the other girls possessed; instead, they were sharp, calculating, and narrowed in a way that suggested she was trying to dismantle his entire existence through sheer observation. To Arto, it felt familiar—the gaze of a commanding officer auditing a soldier's reports.
"You certainly have a unique way of introducing yourself, Arata-kun," Sona spoke, her voice a cool blade that cut through the buzzing chatter of the classroom. She didn't lean in like Akeno or beam like Rias; she remained perfectly upright, her posture a mirror of his own disciplined rigidity. "Though your greeting was... remarkably archaic. 'Comrades of class 2-B'? I wonder where you learned such a formal manner of speaking."
Arto didn't blink, his expression shifting back to that of the polite negotiator. "A modest upbringing in a very traditional environment, President. I believe in treating one's peers with the respect their position deserves." He offered a small, practiced tilt of his head. "Is it not common for a student to aspire to be a reliable asset to his classmates?"
A collective sigh echoed through the room. The boys groaned—he was too perfect—while the girls leaned in closer, captivated by the rhythmic, deep resonance of his voice. Akeno, however, couldn't resist. She turned around in her seat, her chin resting on her palm, a playful glint in her violet eyes. "He's quite the charmer, isn't he, Sona-san? Our Arata-kun is just naturally polite."
Sona's expression didn't soften, but a flicker of annoyance crossed her brow at Akeno's teasing. "Naturally polite, or naturally practiced? There is a difference between sincerity and a performance, each you laid was unnaturally precise." She adjusted her glasses, the lenses glinting under the fluorescent lights "it's only seen in seasoned politician who is used to crowd manipulation."
Arto's face remained calm, but his mind was startled a little before the girl's analysis, her intelligence matches her look, this puts her on a higher rank in terms of mind than Rias's emotional approach. He didn't let the surprise show, instead, he leaned back slightly, the movement fluid and devoid of tension.
"You're giving me more credit that I actually deserve, Souna-san, I've just been practicing my own entrance speech for a while before coming to class, you know, we have to make good impression in the first encounter," Arto replied, his voice carrying a hint of a chuckle that felt human and humble.
He didn't fight her analysis; instead, he reframed it as a relatable anxiety of a new student. It was a classic negotiation tactic—agree with the premise of the accusation but shift the context to something harmless.
Sona stared at him for a long moment, her analytical mind searching for a crack in the facade. For a second, the silence in the room became deafening, as if the rest of the class were holding their breath to see if the Student Council President would dismantle him.
Then, slowly, her shoulders relaxed, though her gaze remained piercing. "A calculated move to appear vulnerable. Impressive. Very well, Arata-kun, we shall see if this 'reliability' translates into your academic performance."
Rias let out a soft, triumphant giggle, leaning closer to Arto as if to shield him from Sona's scrutiny. "I think you've already made an impression, Arata-kun. Though, you might want to be careful. If you continue to be this charming, the Student Council might start auditing your every move just to keep up with you."
Akeno's gaze drifted toward the door, her mind already leaping ahead to the challenge she had set for him. "Now, about that 'goal' we discussed," she murmured, her voice a sultry, teasing lure that only those in their immediate circle could hear. "The basketball try-outs are held during the lunch break. The coach is known for being quite... traditional. He doesn't take kindly to those who think they can glide into the team on looks alone."
Arto's expression didn't change, he shrugged, smirking.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto trying on basketball jerseys]
By lunch time, Arata was walking towards the basketball try-outs with a basketball manual in his hand as he read while walking, his mind is running countless calculation to determine the fitting position for him, a 1.9 meters superhuman, his physique could put him in basically any position on the field and no one could stop him 'But that's gocmin boring' he thought.
The gymnasium was thick with the scent of floor wax and nervous sweat. A crowd of students had already gathered in the bleachers, lured by the rumor that the "Giant Prince" of Class 2-B was actually attempting to join the team. At the center of the court stood Coach Tanaka, a man who looked like a leather glove that had been left in the sun too long, clutching a clipboard like a weapon of war.
"You're the new kid," Tanaka grunted, not even looking up from his notes. "Height is one thing, kid. But the court doesn't care about your vertical if you don't have the discipline. We're doing a five-on-five scrimmage to assess the newcomers. You're on the blue team. Get in there and try not to get in the way."
Arto stepped onto the hardwood, his presence immediately shifting. He looked at the other 4 members of his team before saying one sentence "Hi, my name is Arata Akihiko, newcomer, both at school and at this sport, before we go, let's talk a little on how we are going to play."
The other four players stared at him, blinking in confusion. They were regular high schoolers, most of them just hoping to make the cut, while Arto looked at the court as if it were a topographical map of a fortress he was about to siege. "I see," Arata nods, looking at his team "I've come to know your strong points, let us position ourselves on the course. There are 2 rules,
1. Don't let them score.
2. Whenever you have the ball, pass for me and run, wherever you are, I will pass it to you to score.
Got that?"
The teammates exchanged glances of pure bewilderment. One of them, a wiry second-year named Sato, scratched his head. "Uh, sure? But we usually run a zone defense, and passing the ball to a guy who doesn't even know the rules—"
"Trust the process," Arto interrupted, his voice shifting into that low, commanding resonance that had once directed legions. He didn't shout, but the authority in his tone acted like a physical weight, snapping the four boys into a state of instinctive obedience. "Positions. Now."
As the whistle blew, the game exploded into motion. To the observers in the bleachers—and especially to Rias and Akeno, who were watching with amused anticipation—Arto looked like a glitch in the system. He didn't run; he glided.
His movements weren't those of an athlete, but of a predator calculating trajectories. He didn't bother with fancy dribbling; instead, he used his massive frame to seal off lanes, his eyes scanning the court in a constant, high-speed loop.
The opposing team, sensing a lack of experience, tried to push a fast break. Their point guard zoomed toward the paint, expecting to drive past the 'clumsy giant.' In a blur of motion, Arto appeared. He didn't jump; he simply stepped into the path of the ball with a timing so precise it looked like he had predicted the future. Thwack. With a single, effortless flick of his wrist, Arto snatched the ball out of the air.
"Sato, left wing. Move," Arto commanded. The teammate heard the order and before he knew it, the ball is right at the position he was heading to, precise to every milimeter.
The crowd in the bleachers erupted. Arto hadn't even looked at Sato when he threw the pass; he had simply calculated the vector of Sato's momentum and launched the ball into the empty space where the boy would be. Sato, stunned, caught the ball and instinctively laid it up for an easy score.
"Luck," Coach Tanaka muttered, though his eyes were now wide, his clipboard forgotten. The ball was brought back to the middle of course for a reset, the opposing started attacking while Arata prepared for the defense by gesturing his teammates to move with his hands hanging low to avoid attention.
The signs, while used for the first time, was enough for the teammates to know what to do, especially the timing of the pass. The opposition, rattled by the efficiency of the first score, decided to play more aggressively. Their captain, a muscular third-year with a chip on his shoulder, tried to power through Arto with a screen-and-roll. He slammed his shoulder into Arto's chest.
And to hide his superhuman power, Arto pretended to be knocked over, but the defense didn't end with one piece collapsed, as the attack continued, Arata had time to guide the teammates from behind not with using strength, but with something more....sophisticated, timing the ball being thrown into the net and using the momentum of the attackers against them
The tactic sounds simple, using the precise positioning to halt the attack and redirecting the throws, but it requires extreme precise geometry, timing, and center of gravity. But that's exactly where Arata is good at, and wanted to point out, this game is not one of sheer strength, but of timing and precision.
Arto shifted his weight, a subtle pivot of his hip that seemed insignificant until the opposing captain crashed into him. He didn't fight the momentum; he absorbed it and channeled it, sliding like a shadow to the left, leaving the captain stumbling forward into a void of empty space. With a flick of his long arm, Arto snatched the ball mid-air, the transition from "fallen" to "dominant" happening in the blink of an eye.
He didn't even look at the basket. Instead, he stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the court. He saw the confusion in the opponents' eyes and the sudden, frantic realization of his teammates that they were merely pieces on a board Arto was playing. As he said before the match, whenever he has the ball....run.
The other teammates quickly sprinted forwards, their own instinctual fear replaced by a sudden, intoxicating rush of confidence. The other team was half a second behind, leaving their basket in an 4 vs 3 situation. Arto launched the ball. It wasn't a pass; it was a guided missile, arcing high into the rafters of the gymnasium before dropping with a violent, suddenness that seemed to defy gravity, landing perfectly in the waiting hands of the wiry Sato.
What's left is for Sato and the other 3 to do with the time Arata bought for them. 4 agaisnt 3, the odd is on their side, but they must move fast before the rest of their opponent come back. Simple tap and release between Sato and another teammate got one defender out of the play and a little bit of a shift for the other 2, a final pass to the 3rd teammate was just a formality before he puts the ball in the net.
While the audiences are cheering for the score, the players had their eyes on someone else, Arata Akihiko, the true center of the game, the spot where both the teammates and the opponents must look at, one to follow his pass, one to stop it.
The game continues with 2 teams going back and forth, Rias and Akeno stood among the cheering audiences. As they watched Arto's movements, the girls noticed that his approach to basketball was less about the sport and more about the art of war. He didn't play as a player, but as a general, treating the hardwood like a battlefield.
"So this is what happened when you let a legion leader play sport~" Akeno giggles as she whispered to Rias "He would slide back right into his comfortable position, and he is hot leading his team while giving his opponent a lesson on how to manage a game and the coach a lesson on how to scout."
Rias nodded, her eyes tracing the way Arto moved. He wasn't using magic, but his mental processing was working at a speed that would make a supercomputer sweat. He was treating the basketball court as a simplified version of a strategic map, reducing the players to variables and the ball to a payload. To the crowd, it looked like an incredible instinct for the game; to Rias, it was the terrifyingly efficient mind of a man who had spent centuries optimizing the art of winning.
The final whistle blew, leaving the opposing team gasping for air and his own teammates looking at him as if he were a messiah. Arto didn't celebrate. He simply wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and turned toward Coach Tanaka. The coach was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning Arto's calm expression and then glancing back at the scoreboard, which looked more like a massacre than a friendly scrimmage.
"You're in," Tanaka said, his voice gruff but lacking the previous skepticism. "But don't think your 'general' act works on me, Akihiko. In a real game, you can't calculate every variable. One bad bounce, one sudden shift in the wind, and your whole system collapses."
Arto offered a polite, measured smile. "That is precisely why one prepares for the unpredictable, Coach. The chaos is the only constant." Before bowing respectfully and left, his destination was to Akeno and Rias, who are waiting for him at the entrance of the gym "How did I do?" he asked with a smirk, his voice returning to that softer, more personal tone.
Akeno stepped forward, her fingers trailing playfully along the fabric of his sleeve, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of pride and mischief. "Oh, you were absolutely devastating, Arata-kun. I think half the girls in the bleachers are now wondering if you're taking any... private lessons." She chuckled, the sound melodic and teasing. "Though I must admit, seeing you treat a friendly game like a siege operation was quite the spectacle. You really can't turn it off, can you?"
Rias joined them, her expression warm, though there was a thoughtful crease between her brows. "You played it perfectly, but you revealed too much, Arto. Your spatial awareness is... unnatural for a human and your ability to process intels, it could fry anyone's brain while you didn't break a sweat, Sona has noticed it. She's a predator for inconsistencies, and you just gave her a feast."
Arto let out a soft sigh, the adrenaline of the game fading into a comfortable exhaustion. "I thought the 'clumsy giant' act would mask the precision. But the moment the ball moves, the logic becomes visible. I suppose I overestimated my ability to pretend to be mediocre."
"That's the problem with being a perfectionist," Akeno teased, leaning her head against his shoulder as they began to walk away from the gym. "You're too good at being 'bad' at things. It actually makes you stand out more."
The walk back toward the main building was interrupted by a sudden, sharp sound—the rhythmic click-clack of heels on stone. They turned to find Sona Sitri walking toward them, her arms crossed and her gaze as piercing as a winter morning. She didn't look angry; rather, she looked like a scientist who had just found a specimen that defied the known laws of biology.
"The 'chaos is the only constant' line was a touch dramatic, Arata-kun," Sona said, stopping a few feet away. Her eyes shifted to Coach Tanaka, who was still staring blankly at the court from a distance, then back to Arto. "Most players react to the ball. You played with the field, And the ball was just an instrument. To move four inexperienced teammates into a synchronized offensive unit in under ten minutes isn't talent; it's systemic manipulation."
Arto felt a phantom weight on his shoulders—the feeling of being under a military audit. He offered a neutral expression, though internally he was acknowledging the efficiency of her deduction. "I simply believe in the efficiency of clear communication, President. If the objective is shared, the path becomes obvious."
Sona stepped closer, her voice dropping to a tone that was less a question and more a declaration. "You speak of objectives and systems. You move with the economy of a man who has spent years in a high-stress environment where a single misstep meant failure. Your 'traditional upbringing' seems to have included a very rigorous course in strategic warfare." She paused, her gaze intensifying. "Tell me, Arata-kun, what exactly are you protecting with that polite smile of yours?"
The air between them grew tense, a silent clash of wills. Rias stepped in, her presence acting as a gentle buffer. "Now, Sona, don't scare the poor boy on his first day. He's just a bit more disciplined than the average teenager. Is it such a crime to be organized?"
"Organization is one thing, Rias. This is... architecture," Sona replied, though she finally stepped back, her expression softening into one of genuine intellectual curiosity. "However, since you've proven you can manage a team under pressure, I have a proposal. The Student Council is currently restructuring the event planning for the upcoming school festival. Our current 'strategist' is a disaster, and I find myself in need of someone who can calculate variables with...your level of precision."
"That would be....insuffice, Sona" Rias stepped in between the man and her best friend "He will be joining ORC and will be having ORC activities with us. You can't just draft every talented student into your council the moment they show a flicker of competence."
Sona's eyes flickered toward Arto, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "The Gremory clan is as possessive as ever. Very well, Rias. I won't fight a war over a student's free time—at least not today." She turned her gaze back to Arto, her voice becoming a quiet, focused hum. "But remember, Arata-kun, a mask is only effective as long as it doesn't conflict with the environment. You've played the part of the prince and the soldier, but in a school, the most dangerous role is the 'competent' one. People will start coming to you with their problems, their secrets, and their expectations."
Arto watched her walk away, the rhythmic click of her heels fading into the distance. He felt a strange sense of kinship with her; they were both observers in a room full of noise. "She is quite the handful," he remarked, his voice regaining its relaxed, low timbre.
"She's a perfectionist, just like you," Akeno replied, her arm sliding naturally around his as they continued their trek back to the classroom. "Which is why she's so fascinated by you. You're the only person in this school who can match her calculations and actually be more efficient. Honestly, I think she's just annoyed that she can't figure out your 'equation' in one go."
As they entered the hallway, the atmosphere shifted. The initial shock of Arto's arrival had evolved into a buzzing electricity. Groups of girls lingered by the lockers, casting stolen glances his way, while the boys of the basketball team followed at a respectful distance, their expressions a mix of awe and newfound respect. He was no longer just the "Giant Prince"; he was the man who had turned a ragtag group of amateurs into a precision machine.
[Class 2-B]
Sitting in class with the anomaly sitting right behind her, Sona's urge to know more about this man is rising by the second, because she knew Rias hiding lots of things about this man from her.
The Spy's attempts to know more about the man has been failing from the moment he realized someone was watching, but he hasn't known it's her who sent the Spy behind him, from then on, none of the effort worked anymore.
This suggested this man has some kind of magic that she has never seen before, one that the Spy has never seen before, and to top that....Stabilizer, the magical engine that could open the gateway to a new age of clean, endlessly recycled energy pulled from filtered mana flow on industrial scale.
Her hand stopped scribbling and started laying out her analysis about this man 'A highly competent individual....who knows his value very well.....' Sona started, a man like this, every side would welcome him, so loyalty was never anything that could keep him around, only a deal that he likes.
A proof of this is in the phone talk with Rias a few days ago, where she stated Arto's fierce attitude when refusing to be reincarnated into a devil, the reason was sound and noble, he valued this life too much to let it go easily.
That could be the case, but when viewing on strategic angle, that is a move for him to keep his independence, freedom and avoid restraint from any side while steering everything to his desire out of the need for his talents from others.
'A strategist....an innovator....an archmage....a warrior....' the tower of Arto's roles started forming in her notebook, one block on top of another, creating an individual of high competence on every conceivable front. Sona paused, her pen hovering over the page....'To sway something like that.....'
[Flashback]
A pause. Sona's lips pressed into a thin line. She dialed again—this time a secure line. "Mother. Father," she said the moment the connection opened. "Something urgent has come up. We need to have a talk with the Gremory clan about... a classified asset."
"Getting you worked by night like this? It's not something simple, tell us what you found, dear" Her mother's voice came gently, but full of anticipation. Sona leaned back in her chair, looking out at her apartment "It's a person Rias Gremory found a few days ago, a man named Arto Abyssgard, and he is possessing something that could change everything"
"Are you certain?" A low voice of a man came in the background—Sona's father, the head of the Sitri clan. Sona nodded "Yes, the Spy confirmed it...." the woman's voice interrupted "You hired the Spy into such trivial matter? Sona, you usually only deploy such resources for matters of high political volatility."
Sona leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the reflection of the classroom in the window. "Because this isn't trivial, Mother. You won't say so anymore when I tell you what the Spy found before everything went black. This intel, though short, is a political toll that could shift the power balance of the Underworld....."
Taking a deep breathe, Sona finally said "Arto Abyssgard has found a way to solve the ambient mana flow problem, further details were blocked once he noticed that he was being watched, but the preliminary data on the Stabilizer is genuine."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. For the Sitri clan, whose legacy was built upon the mastery of logic, calculation, and the refined application of magic, the idea of an industrial-scale mana recycler wasn't just a convenience—it was a paradigm shift. It meant the end of the scarcity that governed magical hierarchies.
"A stabilizer," her father's voice returned, now stripped of its casualness. "If such a thing exists and is functioning, the King Houses and other factions would tear the Underworld apart to possess it. Sona, this man is currently with Gremory, but what is his relationship between them?"
Sona stood up from her seat, heading to the window as her eyes set on the ORC clubhouse from afar "As Rias told me, he is now an official ally of Gremory clan with simple supports and basic wages, but from what the Spy found, it can't be that trivial, I think Gremory is running a campaign to keep his name out of every archive to protect him... or to keep the monopoly of that technology for themselves."
The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of political calculation. "If what you're saying is true, Sona, we can have a seat in this, or we can be the ones to open the door, not towards Arto, but towards Gremory" Her father said, his voice now a low rumble of ambition. "The state of that clan is dire, economic collapse, destroyed facility and the political power weakest since the Great War, if it's not for Zeoticus, Venelana and our support, Gremory would have been dead by now."
Her father continued "To them, Arto was nothing short from a miracle out of nowhere that could save them a few decades of restoration and many centuries of innovation, and obviously, they are hiding their current state from the boy, appearing weak before him might mean losing him, that's our window, our leverage. If Gremory doesn't let us share this innovation, a sentence from us could put them in a deeper hole where every faction will tear Gremory apart for that Abyssgard"
Sona can feel herself shivering before the cold logic of her father's words fully sinks in. "Father, you're not planning to actually do that, right? You and Lord Zeoticus are best friends, so do I and Rias. To use this as leverage would be...destructive, but they are our ally, father, please, tell me you're not planning to actually do that" Sona says with a hint of worry in her voice.
"Sona, my dear," her father's voice returns, now softened but still carrying the weight of a patriarch who has seen a thousand political cycles. "Do you really think Zeoticus is stupid enough to refuse 'my' offer of help? We've been friends for almost a thousand years. We don't destroy our allies; we simply ensure that the alliance protected. Sitri's political influence can protect Gremory while they accumulate power for a rocket jump, and we can have a seat in that rocket's cockpit. It is not destruction, Sona. It is synergy."
Sona sighed, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She knew that tone. It was the sound of a closed case. In the world of high-tier devils, friendship was a wonderful thing, but leverage was the only language that ensured survival. "You don't have to worry about it anymore, my dear," Her mother's voice came, soothing.
"Tomorrow we will talk to Gremory house about what to come, thank you so much for your intel, remember to eat well and sleep enough, come home once in a while, we love you, good night Sona." Sona's voice cut in, not letting her parents hang up "Wait!"
"Is Arto allowed to know about this? You are striking deals behind his back, would it risk him leaving us?" Sona asked, her voice tight. She knew how men like Arto operated—they valued autonomy above all else. If he felt like a pawn in a game of political chess, he wouldn't stay to be a king; he would simply vanish from the board.
"Letting him know now would put Gremory in a bad position, proving their incapability to support him and his work," her father replied, his voice as steady as a mountain. "So we will invest in him under the guise of Gremory so that he is ensured about Gremory clan's ability to provide for his work. But we will need a deadline for him to give us something to prove his competence. If he fails, we pull the plug."
[End of Flashback]