Ards forehead was pressed so hard against the floor of his apartment that he was genuinely concerned he was going to fuse with the architecture. But what else could a man do against an angry super cute necromancer.
"I'M SO SORRY, so, incredibly, deeply, profoundly sorry," He chanted to the floorboards, his voice echoing pathetically in the empty dining room.
He was currently executing a textbook, flawless, ninety-degree dogeza. His hands were flat, his face was buried, all while sweating bullets. His newly acquired Level 2 stats were doing absolutely nothing to protect him from the sheer, crushing aura of disappointment radiating from the girl sitting in the wooden chair in front of me.
Eucliwood Hellscythe wasn't yelling, not that she could. She was just sitting there, perfectly silent, while the heavy steel tip of her armored boot tapped rhythmically against the floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was the universal countdown timer of a woman who was one hundred percent done with your garbage.
"I know I said I was just running to the convenience store," I babbled, my heart hammering like a trapped hummingbird. "And I know I promised I'd be back in fifteen minutes. I fully understand that vanishing into the sketchy night for almost an hour, leaving you all alone, is seriously uncool behavior!"
The tapping abruptly stopped.
I heard the rapid, aggressive scribbling of a pen on paper. A second later, a small white notepad was dropped right in front of my nose.
Explain
I swallowed hard, slowly raised my head, and shifted from my prostration into a kneeling position. Eucliwood was glaring daggers at me. Her stunning blue eyes were narrowed into icy slits, and she looked like she was actively debating whether or not to turn me into a lawn ornament.
She wasn't actaully, it's what he's seeing. In reality she's really just looking at him with that same emotionless look but with her eye brows slightly crooked and her eyes slightly narrowed.
"Okay. Okay, here is the absolute, one-hundred-percent truth," I said, holding my hands up defensively. "I went to the store. I got the milk. I got the snacks. Everything was perfectly fine. I swear! But on my way back, I took a shortcut through an alleyway and I pulled the aggro of a mini-boss."
Her eyes widened slightly, the anger faltering just a fraction.
"It was a Fallen Angel," I explained rapidly, bracing myself for her to call me an idiot. "A guy named Dohnaseek. Long story short, he's this creep who tried to murder me a little while before I... well, before I got shredded. He threw a literal spear of light at my head! I had to fight him! I ended up punching his magic spear into confetti and cutting him in half with a sword I made. I swear I didn't mean to be late!"
Eucliwood didn't blink. She didn't write anything.
Instead, she practically teleporter herself out of the chair, dropping to her knees right in front of me with a massive CLANG of gothic armor. Her pale hands shot out, gripping my shoulders with startling strength.
"Eu, wait, I'm fine, really—"
She completely ignored me. The icy glare vanished, replaced by sheer, frantic panic. Her hands darted across my chest, aggressively patting me down for puncture wounds. She ran her hands down my arms, checked my ribs, and then physically grabbed my jaw, turning my head side to side to inspect my neck for magic burns.
Oh my god, a beautiful girl is touching me, my inner otaku screamed, my brain totally short-circuiting. She's touching my face! Act natural, Ard! Don't sweat! Stop sweating! Finding absolutely zero injuries on my stupidly resilient body, her shoulders instantly slumped. A massive, silent sigh of relief escaped her lips. She let go of my face, pulled her notepad from her dress with trembling fingers, and scribbled furiously.
She shoved the pad against my chest.
I am so glad you are not hurt
You reckless idiot
I stared at the heavily underlined words, then up into her crystal-clear blue eyes. The sheer care radiating from her hit me like a truck. She had known me for less than 2 days, and she was looking at me like I was something incredibly precious that she had almost lost.
My chest felt ridiculously warm. Without thinking—bypassing every single social anxiety protocol in my brain—I reached out and gently placed my hand on top of her head. A massive blush on my face, but I couldn't help it, it had been years since anyone's cared about me so much.
Her silver hair was impossibly soft. I gave her two light, reassuring head pats.
"I promise, I'm okay," I smiled gently. "It takes a lot more than an overgrown crow with a glow stick to take me down. But... thank you for worrying about me."
Eucliwood froze entirely. She didn't swat my hand away, but she went rigid as a board. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a bright, rosy flush crept across her pale cheeks, dusting the very tips of her ears. She kept her eyes glued to my collarbone, absolutely refusing to make eye contact.
CRAP! Did I just pat her on the head?! I mentally panicked, yanking my hand back as if I had touched a hot stove. What is wrong with me?! I'm gonna get cursed! She's gonna summon a zombie dragon to eat me! AND I'M NOT A ZOMBIE TO HEAL FROM IT !!!!!
She quickly flipped to a fresh page on her notepad, scribbled two words at lightning speed, and held it up to hide the lower half of her blushing face.
I'm hungry
I blinked, the tension snapping instantly, and I burst into genuine, booming laughter.
"Right! Of course!" I chuckled, leaping to my feet before I could embarrass myself any further. "One delicious feast, coming right up! Take a seat, Eu. The master chef is gonna blow your mind and taste buds!"
I practically sprinted into the kitchen, incredibly grateful for the distraction.
Several miles away, nestled deep within the encroaching, shadowy forests on the outskirts of Kuoh Town, stood an abandoned church.
It was a decaying, rotting husk of a building. The stained-glass windows were completely shattered, the wooden pews were splintered and covered in thick layers of grime, and the grand cross that once hung above the altar had long since plummeted to the stone floor, shattered into a dozen jagged pieces.
It was a place left behind by the church. Which naturally made it the perfect clubhouse for a bunch of edgy, fallen angels.
Sitting casually on the edge of the broken altar, her legs crossed elegantly, was Raynare. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that was undeniably stunning but permanently twisted into an expression of arrogant disdain. She was absentmindedly twirling a small, condensed javelin of pure pink light between her fingers, illuminating the darkness.
"He's late," Raynare stated, her voice sharp and dripping with annoyance. "Dohnaseek was supposed to report back from his patrol over an hour ago. I despise waiting."
"Oh, please, the guy is an absolute moron," a bratty, high-pitched voice echoed from the rafters.
Mittelt dropped down from above, her twin blonde ponytails bouncing as her heavy black boots slammed into the stone floor. She adjusted her gothic Lolita dress, crossing her arms with a petulant huff. "He probably got distracted by some human woman, or he decided to play with his food again. You know how he gets when he finds a stray human to torture. Total ego trip."
"Overconfidence is a flaw that gets you killed in this territory," a third voice chimed in from the shadows.
Kalawarmer stepped out from the gloom near the confessional booths. She was tall, incredibly imposing, with long blue hair flowing over the collar of her dark trench coat. Her expression was completely stoic, a stark contrast to the dramatic whining of her subordinates.
"This is Kuoh Town," Kalawarmer continued, her heels clicking against the stone as she walked toward the altar. "It is the undisputed territory of two high-class Devil heiresses. Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri. We are here on a stealth mission to eradicate human Sacred Gear possessors before the devils can recruit them. If Dohnaseek gets careless and draws the attention of the Gremory girl, our entire operation is compromised."
"Let him get caught," Mittelt scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If those devil brats show up, I'll just skewer them! They're just spoiled high schoolers playing house!"
"Do not underestimate the sister of the Crimson Satan, Mittelt," Kalawarmer warned coldly. "But regarding Dohnaseek... his absence is highly concerning. I attempted to track his mana signature fifteen minutes ago."
Raynare stopped twirling the light spear, her eyes narrowing. "And?"
"And nothing," Kalawarmer stated flatly. "It is completely gone. Vanished. Not masked, not fading. Erased. It is as if his existence was wiped out."
A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the dilapidated church. The sheer impossibility of the statement hung in the dusty air. A Fallen Angel did not simply disappear without a trace unless they were completely, utterly eradicated.
Raynare's grip on the light spear tightened until her knuckles turned white. "If a stray devil managed to catch him off guard... fine. We will heighten our patrols. No one travels alone from this point forward. If the devils want a war in the shadows, we will give them one. But our primary objective remains unchanged. Find the Sacred Gear users. Kill them. Extract the gears."
"Whatever," Mittelt smirked, unfurling two massive, leathery black wings from her back. "Just means more fun for me."
Back in the heart of the commercial district, the narrow alleyway where I had fought for my life was completely dead silent, save for the dripping of water from a broken pipe.
Suddenly, a brilliant, blood-red magic circle illuminated the dark asphalt. It spun rapidly, complex demonic runes glowing with intense heat, before erupting into a pillar of crimson light.
When the light faded, two figures stood in the center of the alleyway.
Rias Gremory stepped forward, her vibrant crimson hair flowing behind her like a cape in the night wind. Her blue eyes, sharp and commanding, swept over the absolute devastation surrounding them.
Beside her, Akeno Himejima, dressed in her traditional shrine maiden attire, placed a hand softly against her cheek. "Ara, ara," she murmured, a hint of genuine surprise lacing her usually playful tone. "It seems someone had quite the intense disagreement here, President."
"Disagreement is an understatement, Akeno," Rias replied, her voice tight with authority and deeply masked concern.
Rias walked carefully toward the center of the alley. The concrete pavement was entirely pulverized. Two massive craters, wide enough to swallow a compact car, marred the ground, the asphalt splintered and spider-webbed from an impact of terrifying, force. The adjacent brick wall was shattered, and the heavy wooden telephone pole had been snapped clean in half.
Akeno knelt down near the edge of a puddle. Her slender fingers reached out, picking up a single, jet-black feather floating on the surface of the dirty water. It was slowly disintegrating into faint particles of golden light.
"Fallen Angel," Akeno stated, her playful demeanor vanishing into a cold demeanor. "The residue suggests it belonged to a low-to-mid tier operative.There's nothing but his feathers left, he was completely destroyed."
Rias crossed her arms beneath her chest, her brow furrowing deeply. She closed her eyes, extending her magical senses outward, sweeping the entire alleyway for traces of energy.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes, looking genuinely baffled.
"This doesn't make any sense," Rias muttered.
"Did a stray devil attack him?" Akeno asked, standing up beside her master. "Or perhaps a stray exorcist from the Church?"
"No," Rias shook her head slowly. "That's exactly what's bothering me. There are traces of holy magic from the Fallen Angel's light spears. But there is absolutely zero demonic energy here. There is no magic residue. Nor a sign of Senjutsu."
Rias walked over to the crater where I had launched myself into the sky. She crouched down, running her perfectly manicured hand over the pulverized concrete.
"Look at the area around. Whoever fought this Fallen Angel didn't blast him with magic. They fought with raw strength and crushed him with raw, terrifying physical power"
Akeno's eyes widened slightly. "A human? But that's impossible. No normal human could match the strength required to shatter concrete by simply jumping, let alone out-muscle a Fallen Angel."
"Exactly," Rias said, standing back up, her gaze sweeping the Kuoh skyline. "Someone—or something—incredibly powerful is operating in our territory. Someone who doesn't rely on demonic power. We need to find out who this is immediately, before they disrupt the balance of Kuoh. Contact the familiars. I want eyes on every street in this district."
"Yes, President," Akeno bowed respectfully.
With Ard:
The relaxing hot water slid down against my head and shoulders, filling the small bathroom of my apartment with a thick, heavy cloud of steam.
I leaned my forehead against the cool, wet tile of the shower wall, letting the water wash the sweat, grime, and lingering adrenaline of the day down the drain. I closed my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.
The high of the fight had finally, completely crashed, leaving my brain to do what it did best, overthink absolutely everything.
I had won. I had literally punched a light spear into dust. I felt like an absolute anime protagonist out there in the alleyway. But as I stood under the water, the harsh, cold reality of my situation hit me like a bucket of ice water.
"I beat the tutorial boss," I muttered miserably into the steam. "I'm celebrating beating the Goomba of the High School DxD universe."
I opened my system interface with a thought, staring at the holographic blue screen hovering in front of my face.
[Strength: 19]
[Speed: 16]
With my buffs—Enhanced Arm Strength and Enhanced Leg Strength—my physical output jumped to nearly 38 and 32 respectively. It was enough to decimate a low-tier scrub like Dohnaseek.
But I wasn't dealing with low-tiers forever. This was a crossover of different anime universes, some of which I haven't seen yet.
Dohnaseek was an ant. What happens when Kokabiel, a Fallen Angel Cadre who survived the Great War, decides to show up and level the city because he's bored? What happens when Vali Lucifer, the literal White Dragon Emperor, flies by? A Strength stat of 38 wouldn't even scratch Kokabiel's pinky shield! Vali could vaporize my entire zip code by sneezing! I haven't focused on this world enough to understand its dangers, not because I wasn't interested but because I didn't have the resolve to face them.
"I am still a squishy meat sack, inside" I groaned, dragging my hands down my face and looking down at the puddle of water near my feet. My reflection was the ugly face I had 2 days ago, not my new look today. "Nothing's changed, i'm not strong enough. Not even close."
If I wanted to protect myself, if I wanted to protect Eucliwood, and if I wanted to survive in Innovate Clears sub-dimension next week... I needed a trump card. I needed an absolute, guaranteed, victory-in-case-of-apocalypse weapon.
I turned off the shower, the sudden silence ringing in my ears. I grabbed a towel, dried off roughly, and pulled on a comfortable pair of grey sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. I ran a towel through my damp hair and walked out into the living room.
The apartment was perfectly quiet. I glanced down the hall; the door to Eu's new room was shut, and I could barely hear the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing. She was asleep and safe.
I walked over to the small, lumpy couch that had become my permanent bed, tossed my towel over a chair, and collapsed onto the cushions, staring up at the dark ceiling. Right now I didn't feel like sleeping.
'System,' I called out mentally.
[Common Skill Creation: 1 Charge Available]
[Common Item Creation: 1 Charge Available]
Because I had used my points twice on the night before last to make the arm/leg buffs and the matches/canteen, and because I had desperately burned one of today's skill points to create that heavy broadsword mid-air to kill Dohnaseek, my resources were incredibly tight tonight. Exactly one of each left.
I didn't need another attack skill. I needed to solve the problem of my ultimate weapon.
I raised my right hand, calling upon the magical weight of the All-Purpose Farming Tool. The familiar, sturdy wooden handle materialized in my grip, humming with a warm, ambient power in the dark room.
The APFT was undeniably incredible. It could transform into a hoe, an axe, a saw, a hammer, a broom, any tool I could think of. But that wasn't the reason I chose it...I chose it cause it had one hidden, final combat form.
The Replica of the Holy Lance Gryme.
It was a weapon of absolute, divine, reality-breaking destruction. If I summoned it, it would grant me enough apocalyptic attack power to instantly annihilate practically anything standing in front of me, entirely ignoring their defensive stats. Well most things actaully, after all even the king and queen of dragons in the anime said they didn't have the power to block a strike from it.
But there was a catch. A massive, terrifying, practically hilarious catch.
Activating the Holy Lance Gryme didn't consume MP. It consumed Vitality. Using it even once completely, instantaneously drained the life force of the user to absolute zero. If the protagonist in the original story hadn't possessed insane, god-tier passive regenerative abilities, drawing the weapon would have killed him on the spot.
If I transformed the tool into the Lance right now, I would swing it once, obliterate my target, and then immediately drop dead on the floor like a sack of potatoes with 0HP.
I needed a workaround. I needed to use the system.
I couldn't use a Common Skill charge to create a skill like [Immortality] or [Total Vitality Negation]. The System would laugh in my face and block it instantly for being an Ultimate or Extra tier concept. I couldn't cheat the cost of the weapon itself.
"If I can't cheat the cost..." I muttered, a slightly manic, gamer-logic grin spreading across my face in the dark. "I just have to cheat the math. I need a Focus Sash. I need the 'Sturdy' ability from Pokémon."
If the weapon drains Vitality to zero, then I need a skill that alters what "zero" means for my body. I don't need to negate the drain; I just need to survive it. I need a safety net.
'System,' I thought, focusing every ounce of my newly reset Innovation stat's ingenuity into the request. 'I request the creation of a Skill: [Vitality Buffer]. A common-tier support skill. When activated, it cordons off and reserves exactly 1 single point of my Vitality in a separate, completely untouchable mana pool. If my body experiences a catastrophic, lethal life-force drain, this skill forces my Vitality to floor at exactly 1 HP instead of 0, keeping me alive and conscious, albeit critically injured.'
I held my breath, clutching the wooden handle of the APFT. The logic was completely sound. I wasn't asking for healing. I wasn't asking for invincibility. I was asking for a basic, low-level life-insurance policy that cost MP to maintain. It was fundamentally a Common-tier concept. It was just a threshold lock!
The blue interface spun, the loading circle glowing brightly in the dark living room, casting a faint blue light over my face.
[Processing Request...]
[Analyzing System Constraints...]
[Warning: Skill parameters involve high-risk life-force manipulation...]
Come on, come on, let me cheese it, I chanted internally, sweating again.
[...However, function strictly acts as a bottom-tier threshold lock. Request falls within maximum limits of Common Tier boundaries.]
[Skill Synthesized.]
[New Skill Acquired: Vitality Buffer (Lv.1) - Cost: 10 MP. Duration: 1 Hour.]
"YES!" I violently whispered, pumping my fist in the air and immediately wincing as I almost smacked my knuckles into the wall.
I let out a massive, shuddering breath of pure relief. I had done it.
I had successfully jury-rigged a safety net for a god-tier weapon. It would cost me a massive chunk of my total MP pool just to activate, and if I actually used the Lance, I would still instantly drop to 1 Vitality point. I would be completely incapacitated, agonizingly weak, and probably unable to move a single muscle. It was a true, desperate, do-or-die last resort.
But I wouldn't die.
If Kokabiel, or a high-tier devil, or a monstrous mutant beast from the Forest of Death pushed me to the absolute brink, I had a literal nuke in my back pocket.
I willed the Farming Tool back into my Item Box, the golden light fading from the room, leaving me in the peaceful darkness of the apartment.
Feeling tired I got up and walked over to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and laying down. I pulled the thin blanket over my chest, shifting my shoulders to find a more comfortable spot on the lumpy matress. My muscles were completely relaxed. My mind was sharp, and my gamer paranoia was finally satiated.
Tomorrow, I had a cafe to run. I had a silent, beautiful necromancer to feed pancakes to. And I had exactly eight days left to prepare before my sacred gear forcefully pulled me into the Forest of Death.
Bring it on.
.
.
.
" After I buy a softer matress tomorrow, my poor back."