The quiet corridors of the Gremory estate were still, bathed in the gentle glow of lanterns that flickered faintly against carved stone walls.
The air was heavy with the scent of polished wood, aged wine, and faint traces of demonic aura that clung to the manor like a second skin.
Outside, the night sky above the Underworld stretched endlessly, blanketed with crimson and violet stars—foreign, alien, and yet breathtaking. Twin moons hung in the heavens, pale guardians watching over the silent devil lands.
Far in the distance, the volcanic ridges of the House Gremory territory slumbered, their faint glow marking the borders of an ancient devil noble's domain.
Within these walls lay one of the purest legacies of devil nobility, a family respected not for its political cunning alone, but for its terrifying affinity with magic and destruction itself.
And in one of its many chambers, a boy lay asleep.
Sirzechs Gremory.
The genius child of House Gremory.
A monster born with frightening reserves of demonic power.
Though only six years of age, the weight of expectation already clung to him. His talent had not gone unnoticed. Servants whispered in reverence, tutors marveled at his control, and his parents, Zeoticus and Venelana, smiled proudly at the thought that their son might one day become one of the Maou.
It was a time of fragile peace in the Underworld. The Great War had ended decades earlier, leaving scars on all three factions—Angels, Fallen Angels, and Devils alike. The Old Satan Faction still lurked in the shadows, bitter and restless, unwilling to accept the loss of their leaders and the new direction devil society sought to take.
The Maou who had once ruled with iron fists—Lucifer, Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus—were long gone, slain in the chaos of war. Their names lived on in whispers, in fear, and in reverence. But their thrones? Empty.
It was in this uncertain era that noble families like the Gremory stood as pillars of stability. A new generation of devils was being raised—one that would one day lead the Underworld into a new age.
Tonight, however, something stirred within the young heir.
----
A flood of memories slammed into his mind like a tidal wave.
Stacks of textbooks taller than him.
Endless scribbles of equations that made less and less sense the longer he looked at them.
Cups of instant noodles scattered across his desk like fallen soldiers.
And coffee—so much coffee his veins probably ran on caffeine instead of blood.
Then came the final blow. One all-nighter too many. His body slumped over the desk, cheek pressed against half-finished notes. The last thing he remembered was mumbling, "I'll… just close my eyes for a second…"
And then—darkness.
Wait… I died? Like that?
The boy shot up in bed, clutching his tiny head, his face twisting between disbelief and embarrassment. Out of all the ways to go—hit by a truck, some dramatic accident, even choking on food—he had to die like some overworked, underpaid extra in a college slice-of-life.
I can't believe my cause of death was 'studying too hard.' That's not even cool!
Images not belonging to this body flickered through his mind—cramped classrooms, the glow of video games he swore he'd play "after exams," and the pitiful sight of his bank account balance near zero.
He groaned into his hands. What a miserable way to go. No girlfriend, no dream job, not even a graduation ceremony. Just pure, unadulterated burnout.
When he finally peeked out between his fingers, his gaze fell upon the ornate canopy above him, the lush sheets beneath him, and the heavy, intoxicating aura of power thrumming in his veins.
He froze. Then blinked. Then laughed.
Well… at least this time, I'm not dying from exams.
The relief was short-lived. Because then, the memories clicked together like puzzle pieces. The clans. The devils. The whole complicated mess of politics, angels, fallen, dragons, and a certain redhead destined to collect a harem like Pokémon cards.
This wasn't Earth.
This was… High School DxD.
The boy's small hands trembled as he pressed them against his chest. The name floated up in his mind like a neon sign.
"…Sirzechs Gremory."
His lips moved before he could stop them, and the sound was so surreal he almost choked.
Wait. WAIT. Hold on. Out of EVERYBODY in this world, I reincarnated as HIM?
His mind ran wild. He wasn't some side character. He wasn't a pawn in a peerage. He wasn't even the classic Truck-kun victim turned harem protagonist. No—he was the Crimson Satan, future Maou, a walking nuclear warhead wrapped in crimson hair.
He flopped back onto the bed, face buried in a pillow. God—uhg, Satan?—whatever cosmic thing out there… You're telling me I went from a broke student who couldn't even afford proper lunch to the guy who could one-shot most of the cast?
He peeked up, eyes wide, grin spreading. Pfft… I actually won the reincarnation lottery.
But then another thought hit him, one that made the grin twitch.
…Wait. Doesn't this mean I'll eventually have to sit through centuries of boring devil politics? Ugh, just kill me again.
He groaned, rolling around in his sheets like a kid denied candy. But then, as he felt the raw demonic power humming under his skin—limitless, destructive, his—he couldn't help but laugh.
"Fine, fine… I'll play along. But this time…" His crimson eyes glittered with mischief. "…I'm doing it my way."
[Ding!]
A translucent blue screen shimmered into existence before his eyes, faintly glowing in the dimly lit bedroom.
> [GAMER SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
Synchronizing soul with host body…
…Complete.
Welcome, Sirzechs Gremory.
Sirzechs blinked. Then blinked again. His tiny devil brain stuttered like an old computer.
"…I—what?"
A system. A literal game system. Like the ones from every cheesy light novel he used to binge back in his old life.
His hands reached out instinctively, as if trying to swipe the air. The panel actually moved with his touch.
"No way… No freaking way. Did I just… unlock the Gamer System?"
He sat there, a six-year-old child in crimson pajamas, staring at the glowing interface like it was the holy grail of reincarnation cheats.
So not only am I Sirzechs Gremory—future nuclear-tier devil, Crimson Satan, destroyer of worlds, blah blah blah… I also got handed a SYSTEM?!
He couldn't help it. A laugh bubbled out of his throat. It started small, then grew louder, until he was smothering his face in a pillow just to keep from waking up the entire estate.
"Pffft—HAHAHA! Oh, this is too good! I really won the cosmic jackpot!"
But then, as the laughter died down, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. If this really was the Gamer System, then he wasn't just strong because of Sirzechs' insane demonic reserves. He had stats. Skills. Quests. The works.
Wait… does this mean I can grind EXP by, like… doing push-ups? Or drinking tea? Or—I dunno—reading boring devil law books?
The thought of min-maxing Sirzechs freaking Gremory like an RPG character sent a shiver of giddy excitement down his spine.
He tapped the screen again. A new prompt appeared.
> [Tutorial Quest Available!]
Objective: Open your Status Screen.
Reward: +100 EXP.
Sirzechs' lips curled into a mischievous smile, the kind a child absolutely should not have at midnight.
"…Status."
The screen shifted instantly. Rows of numbers and skills popped up, and Sirzechs' jaw dropped.
"…Okay. Yep. I'm broken."