I sat in the center of the subterranean training chamber Mephisto had constructed for me after my deal with the Grigori. The walls were lined with heavy, enchanted fire-proof plating, designed specifically to withstand high level outbursts. I was hovering a few inches off the reinforced floor in a perfect lotus position.
I was meditating, but not in the traditional sense. I had my Sovereign powers fully active, letting my Banshōman energy bleed subtly into the atmosphere. I was learning that when I synced my absolute frequency with the world around me, the universe tended to talk back.
Which was exactly what I needed because my memories of the central plot was getting extremely murky. In my original life, the source material only reached a certain point, so I'm basically living through new events.
So now, I tried to focus my mind on the Illuminati and the True Cross Order, digging for the plot details I wouldn't have known from my past life.
Instead of getting what I needed, a torrent of random, overwhelming information flooded my brain. The sheer influx of data was staggering. Flashes of premonitions hit my retinas like strobe lights: I saw the Exwires screaming. I saw a man in a pristine suit radiating blinding, suffocating light. I saw pink hair, and a lot of blood.
My internal temperature began to violently spike. The air inside the fire-proof chamber warped with intense heat waves, the specialized metal walls groaning under the sudden thermal expansion.
That's too much data at one time, I groaned mentally. My brain might overcook itself.
My skin began to blister, the familiar smell of burning flesh filling the room. But just as quickly as the burns appeared, my absolute adaptability kicked in. The searing heat stabilized, my biology forcibly evolving in real-time to cool my igniting core and heal the damage instantly.
I cut the connection to the world's information flow, breathing heavily.
Alright, premonitions are too messy for now. Looks like I gotta focus on more practical applications.
I held out my hands, palms facing each other. I focused my intent, applying my Conceptual Manipulation to the physical space between my fingers. I wasn't just heating air; I was burning the fabric of reality to carve out a new space.
A small, three-dimensional cube materialized out of thin air, hovering between my palms.
I pushed my hands further apart, forcibly expanding the cube until it stretched into the shape of a doorway—just big enough for a child or a small animal to walk through. Inside the frame was a pitch-black, terrifying void. It looked like a tear straight into an abyss.
I hovered one hand over the dark threshold. My hair instantly ignited into a roaring crown of white-blue fire, signaling a massive drain on my Sovereign core.
I have no use for a void right now, but a space I can enter at any time is just the practical thing that I'd love to get my hands on.
I poured more power directly into the abyss, forcing the slow, but steady creation of light and unlimited, expanding space. The resistance of the universe fighting back against my current body was immense as the output of heat skyrocketed.
Within seconds, the skin on my hands and forearms began to char and blacken, literally burning to a crisp as I expelled astronomical amounts of power. The pain was blinding, but I held the construct steady.
Adapt. Evolve. Overcome, I commanded my vessel.
The charred flesh flaked away into ash, immediately replaced by new, pristine, hyper-durable skin that glowed with divine heat. The darkness inside the doorway shattered, replaced by an infinitely expanding expanse of pure white space.
I had just created my own pocket dimension.
I cut the power feed, dropping to my knees and panting. The white-blue fire in my hair died down. I looked at the hovering doorway. With a flick of my wrist, I commanded the space to shrink, compressing the pocket dimension down until it was the size of a coin. I pressed it against my inner forearm.
The doorway sank into my flesh, leaving behind a sleek, black, square-shaped tattoo.
I'll continue to refine the interior later, I thought, admiring the mark. With each practice, my abilities adapt and evolve into something even the most intelligent of minds might not be able to comprehend.
The next morning, I was sitting in my regular, non-cram school homeroom class. The Exwires weren't in this block, meaning I was surrounded by completely normal, painfully mundane teenagers.
The class representative was standing at the chalkboard, slapping it with a ruler. "Alright, everyone! The School Festival is this weekend! We need to vote on what our class is doing!"
"Okumura is a professional chef!" a guy in the back shouted, pointing directly at me. "He made that bento last week that smelled like actual heaven! Let's do a food stall!"
"Yeah! Make Okumura cook!" the class chimed in, suddenly extremely brave now that high-quality food was involved.
I didn't even look up from my desk. I was too busy staring at the black square tattoo on my inner forearm. I was contemplating if living objects could survive when I transformed the dimension into its tattoo-like state. Calculating how much oxygen I needed to synthesize inside my pocket dimension so I could eventually breathe in it. Or if I could just create the dimension's own oxygen to work around the problem.
"Mmhmm, that's nice," I let out absentmindedly, resting my chin on my hand.
The class erupted into cheers.
Later that afternoon, I was down in the cram school classroom. The Exwires were all gathered around a cluster of desks, discussing the upcoming festival.
"So, the festival dance," Renzo sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling like a condemned man. "It's couples only. And we need dates, desperately."
We?! Damn, I didn't know he was part French?
"You need a date," Izumo corrected without looking up from her textbook. "Some of us have standards."
I leaned back, crossing my arms behind my head. "I'm on food stall duty all night. Doesn't make sense for me to even think about a dance."
"Are you kidding me?!" Renzo slammed his hands on my desk, looking at me like I had deeply offended his ancestors. "Rin, you have to be my wingman! If you come with me, getting a date will be a cakewalk!"
"Why the hell would me being there, help you?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Because a massive majority of the girls at this academy think you're insanely hot!" Renzo whined, exasperated.
I blinked, genuinely surprised. "Huh?!"
"He's not lying," Bon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Girls ask about you on a weekly basis."
"What? Why?" I asked, completely baffled.
"What'cha mean why?!" Renzo snarled. "You're tall, well built, and make amazing food. They're practically lining up for ya!"
"Then why do they always steer clear of me in the hallways or avoid making eye contact," I questioned.
"They avert their eyes because you're intensely intimidating and they're blushing, you idiot," Izumo scoffed.
Well I'll be damned, I thought trying to remember reactions. I thought I was just asserting my dominance properly.
"Fine," I said, standing up. "I'll walk around with you just for an hour, Pinky. If that'll shut you up."
That hour turned into the greatest comedy show of my current life.
I leaned casually against a row of lockers, watching as Renzo systematically approached group after group of girls. Every time he spoke to one, her eyes would instantly dart past his pink hair and lock onto me standing silently in the background.
"Hey there," Shima smirked, leaning against the wall next to a pretty third-year. "Are you going to the dance? Because I happen to be—"
"Is he single?" the girl interrupted, pointing a manicured finger directly at my bored face. "The tall one with the blue eyes?"
"I... what?" Shima blinked. "I mean, yeah, but I'm asking—"
"Does he like older girls? Tell him I'm free!" she squeaked, grabbing her friend's arm and speed-walking away, both of them giggling and looking back at me.
Shima slowly turned around, his soul practically leaving his body. I just shrugged, only now realizing the type of power I truly had.
"Sixty-four," Shima groaned later that afternoon, banging his head against the cafeteria table.
"Sixty-four what?" Paku asked as I took a bite of a burger, trying not to laugh.
"Rejections," Konekomaru whispered, adjusting his glasses sympathetically. "He's asked almost every single girl in the second year."
"I just want love!" Shima wailed, looking up with teary eyes. "Is that so wrong?!"
"You want a warm body," Izumo corrected, walking past with her tray. "There's a difference."
"Don't worry, Shima!" Shiemi smiled brightly, taking a seat next to us in her brand-new uniform. She had officially enrolled in the normal academy that morning. "I'm sure you'll find someone nice eventually!"
"Your pity only hurts me more, Moriyama," Shima wept.
The night of the True Cross Academy Festival arrived. The campus was lit up like a sprawling, magical carnival. Lanterns, music, and thousands of civilians flooded the grounds. The energy was infectious—a mix of joy and chaos.
And I was trapped in a booth.
"Order up! Two extra-spicy yakisoba!" I yelled, tossing a container onto the counter.
I was working the grill like a machine. I used minimal bursts of Thermal Searing to make the noodles perfectly crispy in seconds without burning them. The sauce caramelized instantly. The food was so good that the stall became an instant hit. The line stretched around the block.
The problem? I was all alone.
Those bastards from my homeroom were supposed to be handling the register, prepping the veggies, and bagging the food, but they had all left to go meet their dates for the dance.
Ain't this a bitch? I thought, glaring at the endless line of the hungry savages that were called customers.
I wanted to leave early too, I thought, thinking back on how Shura teased me about her festival outfit. How could I miss that?
I instantly pulled out my phone with one hand while flipping noodles with the other.
RING...RING...RING...
"What?" Izumo's voice snapped over the line.
"I need your help," I said bluntly. "My staff deserted me. Come to my stall and handle the register."
"Hah?! Why should I—"
"I'll owe you one," I cut her off, plating three orders at once. "A big favor. Anything you want. Just get over here."
She went silent for a second. "Tch, fine. But you owe me big time, Okumura."
Ten minutes went by. The rush was getting worse. I kept glancing down the illuminated path, anticipating Izumo's arrival.
Instead, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket. It was an emergency alert code.
SENDER: SHURA
MESSAGE: CODE RED. KAMIKI IZUMO IS MISSING. SHE WAS TARGETED BY THE ILLUMINATI. FIND HER.
Missing?! She's supposed to be right here getting control over these hungry animals!
I slammed my spatula down onto the hot grill. "Stall's closed!" I shouted at the groaning line.
I ran towards a concealed area and activated my Sky Step, taking to the rooftops. I tracked the residual demonic signatures on the campus, moving at breakneck speeds.
I landed in a secluded courtyard near the back of the academy.
The other Exwires were already arriving, panting and drawing their weapons. In the center of the courtyard stood Nemu Takara, his weird puppet in hand.
And standing opposite him was Renzo.
He wasn't smiling. He had his monk staff loosely in his hand, while carrying the unconscious body of Izumo in his arms. Next to him was his Yamantaka familiar—a dark, skeletal spirit of black fire.
"Renzo?!" Bon yelled, freezing in his tracks. He lowered his staff, his face twisting in absolute disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?! Put Kamiki down!"
"Is this a joke?" Konekomaru whispered, stepping back.
"Oh," I said, my boots touching down on the pavement. "So this is your doing, Pinky?"
"Not exactly," Renzo shrugged, his eyes cold and devoid of the warmth he usually faked. "Strict orders, from someone way above."
Above? I questioned as the premonitions from my meditation flashed in my mind. So this is what it was alluding to.
I momentarily thought back to the other details of the premonitions.
Ah, now I remember, this idiot was some kind of double or triple-agent spy. But the influx of knowledge had made me briefly forget the details on why he betrayed the Exwires in the manga.
"You with the Light?" I probed, my eyes locking on him. "The group that's referred to as the Illuminati."
"Looks that way," Renzo said as some kind of signal flared behind him.
BOOM.
A massive explosion rocked the sky above us. The festival decorations caught fire in the distance. Students screamed as the Protection Barrier—the one meant to keep the school protected from higher-level demons—shattered like fragile glass.
From the smoke, a sleek, high-tech transport ship with the Illuminati crest emblazoned on the side descended into the courtyard.
Out came a couple illuminati officers wearing pristine, teal military-style uniforms. In the middle was a young lady with green-colored glasses and shoulder-length brown hair with blonde dyed bangs.
Homare Todo, the emotionless, clinical prodigy of the Illuminati.
"Adequate," she stated, her gaze fixed forward. Her voice held a note of clinical detachment. "Move out. The Commander's arrival is imminent."
Before Bon could even scream Renzo's name again, the air in the courtyard simply... stopped.
It wasn't a time freeze. It was absolute, crushing pressure. The gravity in the courtyard seemed to multiply tenfold. Bon, Konekomaru, and Shiemi all hit the pavement instantly, gasping for breath as an overwhelming presence descended from the ship.
A figure stepped out onto the landing ramp.
He wore a pristine white mask and a crisp suit. He didn't emit demonic energy or hellfire. He radiated pure, unadulterated, blinding Light. It was so intense it completely washed out the shadows in the courtyard, turning night into absolute day. The sheer density of his existence felt like a black hole wrapped in holy fire.
Lucifer. The King of Light.
He didn't speak yet. He just slowly turned his masked face down toward the courtyard.
Towards me.