Jeanne stretched her arms high above her head, letting out a long, languid yawn that echoed through the stillness of her room. The warmth of her blanket clung to her skin like a lover's desperate embrace, refusing to let her go.
Her eyelids fluttered open, only to squint immediately at the soft glow of morning light spilling through the thin curtains. It painted the room in hues of gold—but Jeanne found no comfort in its warmth.
The digital clock on her nightstand blinked mercilessly in harsh red digits. 7:15 AM. Far too early for any civilized soul to be awake.
"Ugh…" she groaned, collapsing back into the mattress like a fallen soldier, wrapping her arms around the pillow as though it were someone she'd lost long ago. Her limbs sprawled across the bed in silent rebellion, entangled in the chaos of wrinkled sheets. A sigh escaped her lips—resigned and lazy. She was far too comfortable to care.
This was how her mornings always began.
Sleep. Wake. Glance at the clock. Stare at the ceiling. Question the meaning of existence. And, almost always, surrender once more to the sweet, dark abyss of sleep.
But today… something felt off.
A quiet murmur, faint but persistent, stirred at the back of her mind. Get up. A voice that did not belong to sloth or fatigue, but to something unshakably resolute. It told her that today, she couldn't afford to sink back into the sheets.
Dragging herself upright with all the grace of a cat forced to abandon its sun-drenched perch, Jeanne groaned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The moment her feet touched the icy floor, she flinched, shivering—but pressed forward, muttering under her breath as she shuffled toward the bathroom like a prisoner walking to her fate.
The mirror greeted her with an unflinching honesty. A disheveled mess stared back—bed hair, shadowed eyes, and a weary gaze dulled by routine. And yet, despite the sleepy haze clinging to her face, there lingered a beauty that couldn't be concealed. The kind that was effortless, almost sinful in its elegance.
"School," she murmured, her voice flat and deadpan. "Right. That's a thing I'm supposed to do."
She reached for her toothbrush and began brushing with the dull efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times too many. The rhythmic motion of bristles against teeth felt detached from reality—so painfully mundane that it could've been anyone's morning. Yet there was an almost absurd contrast in the image.
Jeanne d'Arc. The hallowed saint of legend… now brushing her teeth in a dim bathroom, eyes still half-closed, dreading a day filled with adolescent drama and tedious lectures.
Her thoughts drifted to the letter on her desk. Kuoh Academy. A place teeming with Devils, Exorcists, and Fallen Angels, all coexisting beneath the same roof like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She groaned inwardly.
She'd thought about moving—fleetingly—but lacked the motivation to follow through. The letter had already laid out everything. All she had to do was sit at the table and exist. She wasn't going to let that convenience go to waste.
A place where she was to play the role of a student.
Well… technically, she was a student now.
This strange new world she'd stumbled into—filled with unfamiliar rules and unseen forces—was already overwhelming. And Jeanne? Jeanne wasn't ready. She was barely holding together the illusion of normalcy.
The Joan of Arc within her, the warrior who once inspired entire nations, looked forward to the challenge. But the saint was unaccustomed to peace—to mornings without battle or the weight of reverent eyes.
Letting out a sigh, she rinsed her mouth and shuffled back into her room. Her eyes fell on the school uniform draped neatly over a chair. It was plain. Standard. Something she'd once mockingly called cosplay. Now it was a requirement.
She had worn it once for fun before being a lazy bum—and with Jeanne's ethereal beauty, she was practically a fanfiction waiting to happen.
But today?
Today, she only wanted to be normal.
There was no joy to be found in homework or tests. With Metatron's knowledge—omniscient, divine—she could excel in any subject without lifting a finger.
Still, her body slumped against the bed again, her eyes heavy. Metatron's sacred laziness mingled with the very human reluctance to face school.
Her fingers clenched the soft fabric of her nightgown.
A pause.
And then—clarity.
No. No more sleeping.
A deep breath in.
A slow breath out.
With a weary groan, Jeanne finally rose to her feet and reached for the uniform draped carelessly over the chair. Her fingers trembled slightly from the chill, but she slipped into the fabric with the sluggish grace of someone only half-awake. Each motion was slow, almost mechanical, her body still caught between sleep and consciousness.
The tie proved to be her first true obstacle of the day. It drooped awkwardly, far too long at first, hanging off her like a defeated banner. After several half-hearted attempts—each more pitiful than the last—she managed something passable. It wasn't perfect, but at the very least, she wouldn't be mistaken for a delinquent.
"I'll survive," she muttered, casting one last tired look at her reflection. Her expression held no confidence, only quiet resignation, as she shuffled toward the door like a ghost resigned to its haunting.
She descended the stairs with all the energy of a sleep-deprived zombie, one hand gliding along the railing to guide her down. The scent of breakfast lingered in the air—warm, inviting—but failed to stir her appetite. Her stomach growled rebelliously, but even hunger couldn't summon the strength to care. Eating sounded like more work than it was worth.
She reached for the door, hand on the knob—only to freeze. Her eyes flicked toward the slacks by the entrance, still folded, still untouched. A long sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the clock.
7:45 AM. She could still make it… probably.
"Alright, alright," she grumbled, dragging her feet as she slipped on her shoes with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to execution. The mere thought of beginning the day felt like climbing a mountain with no summit.
Still, Jeanne d'Arc—former saint, battlefield legend, and now self-declared queen of lethargy—was not one to abandon her commitments. Especially when that commitment involved maintaining her current comfort.
One last deep breath. The door creaked open. And she stepped outside.
The sunlight washed over her in a gentle wave, warm and golden, like a soft lullaby whispering her back to sleep. She paused, standing in its glow, basking like a plant soaking in divine energy. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as the long-dormant saintly part of her stirred.
Her eyes opened slowly, only to squint at the harsh light. She raised a pale hand, letting sunlight trickle through her fingers like golden threads. There was a quiet beauty in the moment—so soft, so serene—that anyone watching would never guess she once led armies beneath heaven's gaze.
Jeanne exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening. She let her expression shift—peaceful, composed—and began to straighten her uniform with deliberate precision, fixing the tie until it sat just right.
She could've done this indoors, sure. But something about being outside triggered the slothful Metatron within her. The moment she was confined between four walls, her divine laziness flared like a curse.
Now dressed and appropriately solemn-faced, Jeanne made her way to Kuoh Academy.
Despite her earlier claims that being late wouldn't be the end of the world, the letter when she had woke up in this world had been oddly considerate—it had placed her residence within walking distance of a convenience store, a department store, and, of course, the school itself.
As she neared the gate, more and more students came into view. And with them, the stares.
Whispers buzzed faintly around her.
"Is that a transfer student?"
"She's… beautiful."
"Wait… is she a saint?"
That last one hit a little too close to home.
She'd once been revered—worshipped, even. Admiring gazes were something she was long accustomed to. But there were other gazes too—less innocent. The kind that made her inwardly raise a brow.
Sure, Jeanne knew she was beautiful. Even back then, before her transmigration, she had adored her own character. But admiration up close… still made her skin crawl sometimes.
And speaking of skin—
Why was the skirt so short?
The modest village girl buried deep within her was screaming in protest. Her cheeks burned slightly as she tugged at the hem, trying in vain to cover just a bit more leg.
According to the letter, she'd been placed in Class 2-C. Second year. If her memory served her right, that meant Hyoudou Issei—the infamous Red Dragon Emperor—was in 2-B.
She didn't hate him. Not really. Not personally.
She understood his spirit. His drive. It was admirable in its own way.
But still—boobs? That was his motivation? Really?
Jeanne could respect his energy, but the why behind it made her cringe. It was hard to take seriously.
Still… she couldn't throw too many stones.
She wouldn't claim to be some model of restraint when it came to appreciating women. A quick glance here and there? That was only human, right?
Back in her previous life, she wouldn't have claimed to be especially into women… but she could say one thing for sure—
She absolutely wasn't into men.
--+--
Instead of heading directly to her classroom, Jeanne diverted her steps and made her way toward the Faculty Room. She didn't know where her seat was—something so small, yet so important—and rather than wander aimlessly like a lost lamb, it was better to ask the one person who should know: her homeroom teacher.
The hallway was quiet this early, only a few students lingering around. The heavy wooden door to the Faculty Room creaked slightly as she pushed it open.
Jeanne stepped in, her calm, elegant demeanor drawing a few curious glances. She scanned the room, eyes flicking across the various adults seated at desks or pouring over papers.
A warm voice cut through the air.
"Do you need anything, student?"
Turning, Jeanne found herself face to face with an elderly man in a slightly worn tracksuit, his lined face kind and his gaze gentle. There was something grandfatherly about him—comforting, unthreatening.
Jeanne dipped her head politely. "Ah… I wasn't able to attend class the past two weeks due to a health issue, so I was hoping to meet my homeroom teacher."
Her voice was soft, tinged with an embarrassed lilt. It wasn't exactly a lie. The two weeks had passed in a haze of adaptation and divine sloth, but the health excuse worked well enough.
As a saint, Jeanne considered herself an excellent judge of character. …Well, except for that one time. Gilles. But seriously, how could anyone have predicted that sweet companion would turn into that?
The old man's eyes lit with recognition. "Ah, so you're the transfer we were told about. Welcome."
He smiled warmly, then turned and called out, "Hiromi-sensei! Your missing student's here!"
A woman stood from her desk near the back of the room—tall, graceful, with a dignified beauty and air of quiet authority. She adjusted her glasses, her gaze locking onto Jeanne with subtle appraisal before walking over.
"I've already been informed by the Student Council President regarding your situation," she said, her tone formal but not unkind. "Are you feeling better now?"
Jeanne offered a luminous smile that could've outshone the morning sun. "Yes, I'm feeling much better. Thank you for asking."
For a brief moment, the two teachers stiffened, momentarily blinded by the sheer radiance of her expression. It was like being hit by a spiritual flashbang.
"A-Ah, good to hear," Hiromi replied, looking away. "Do you know where you're seated?"
Jeanne shook her head gently, the motion elegant, almost theatrical in its simplicity.
"Then when Homeroom starts, follow me. I'll introduce you to the class and help you get settled."
"Yes, Hiromi-sensei. Thank you for your guidance," she said with a graceful bow. Then she turned back toward the elderly man who had helped her. "And thank you as well, um…"
"Takeda. Takeda-sensei," the old man supplied with a patient smile.
"Takeda-sensei," she repeated, dipping her head once more, her smile soft but dazzling. "Truly, thank you."
He chuckled gently. "It's no problem at all."
"I'll wait nearby until homeroom, then."
Hiromi gave a small nod in response.
As if on cue—perhaps even guided by divine timing—the school bell rang out clearly across the building, signaling the beginning of homeroom.
Hiromi glanced at her watch, lips curving slightly. "Perfect timing. Let's go."
Jeanne nodded, then paused to offer one last glance over her shoulder to Takeda-sensei. "Once again… thank you, Takeda-sensei. May the Lord's blessing be upon you."
She bowed deeply before following Hiromi out of the room, her steps light and composed.
A brief silence hung in the air after her departure, before one teacher broke it with a low murmur.
"She's even religious? Do we have an actual saint in our school?"
Another teacher sighed in agreement. "I wouldn't be surprised if a halo appeared over her head one of these days."
Amused mumbles and quiet laughter rippled through the remaining teachers, who eventually gathered their things and headed off to their own homerooms, still faintly glowing from that divine-level smile.
--+--
As Jeanne followed Hiromi-sensei down the hallway toward Class 2-C, her steps were quiet, measured—but her mind, as always, wandered far beyond the polished floors and humming fluorescent lights.
'Will I see any other characters today…?'
It was a fleeting thought, but one that stirred a subtle unease in her chest. She had only skimmed the surface of this world's lore—the major players, the infamous Red Dragon Emperor, a handful of side characters who danced around the main plot. Beyond that, her knowledge was a shallow tide.
Yet knowledge wasn't the only thing that concerned her.
Her gaze briefly flicked to her reflection in a passing window. Calm eyes. Composed expression. But underneath that fragile normalcy, she could still feel it. A subtle pressure in her chest. An itch behind her skin.
Metatron's grace.
Even if her base form—Jeanne d'Arc, canonized saint and battle-hardened warrior—no longer emitted any divine aura unless she deliberately drew upon Metatron's name or power, the Bestowal of Seven Sins still lingered within her. Like soft embers under ash, waiting to flare.
It was contained—for now. But what about the others?
What if something slipped?
Her thoughts darkened as another memory surfaced.
Jeanne Alter.
Her corrupted counterpart, born from hatred and summoned through desecration. A version of herself whose passive skill—Dragon Witch—originated from Gilles, her former comrade, now a twisted madman whose legacy haunted her.
Dragon Witch.
A title that sounded almost poetic, but it was anything but innocent.
That passive alone granted her dominion over dragons—specifically, the dragons of Fate, apex phantasmal beasts that bent to her will and bolstered their strength under her command. Power. Obedience. Amplified destruction.
She frowned slightly.
The dragons in DxD weren't the same as those of her origin. But that didn't mean they were lesser. Far from it. From what little she had gathered, they were beings of mythic strength and chaotic temperament.
If her Dragon Witch skill merely increased her affinity, then perhaps it would go unnoticed. Harmless.
But if it exerted a domination effect—a spiritual authority that bent draconic creatures to her will—then that was obviously a problem. A very big one.
She had no intention of becoming some hidden threat lurking in a school filled with mythological entities, not when she had been given this one rare opportunity to live as a student. As Jeanne. Not as a saint. Not as a war hero. Not as a cursed shadow of herself.
Just... Jeanne.
Her lips quirked faintly into a dry smile.
"I could pray to God," she thought.
Then paused.
"...But He's dead."
Silence followed the thought. Not the divine kind, but the tired, worldly sort. She didn't even flinch at the blasphemy anymore. It had become something of a personal running joke.
How many times had she told it to herself now?
Jeanne sighed and ran a hand through her hair, letting the motion soothe the nerves that refused to quiet. The hallway stretched on ahead of her, the classroom waiting at the end like a stage before a debut.
If dragons or divine echoes decided to make themselves known today… then she would just have to deal with it when it came.
For now, she had a role to play.
A transfer student. A normal girl.
And with Metatron's Sloth still tugging gently at her soul, she didn't have the energy to be anything more.
When they arrived at the classroom, Hiromi-sensei had gestured for Jeanne to wait outside. She stood there quietly, hands folded in front of her, posture relaxed but eyes thoughtful. A few seconds later, the teacher returned and gave a nod.
"Come in."
As Jeanne stepped into the classroom, a wave of murmurs and gasps swept across the students like a sudden breeze. Admiration, curiosity… and unmistakably, desire.
Her gaze swept the room.
No familiar faces. At least, none that triggered the sense of recognition she'd feared. That was a relief—though not a guarantee. This was still Kuoh Academy, and she knew better than to lower her guard.
As expected of a school that had only recently gone co-ed, the ratio of girls to boys tilted noticeably in favor of the former.
Hiromi-sensei took center stage and spoke with casual firmness.
"This is Jeanne d'Arc. She's not a transfer student—just late due to a health condition. Be nice."
Jeanne stepped forward and picked up the chalk, writing her name carefully in katakana: ジャンヌ・ダルク. It looked odd to her in this form, but there was no helping it.
Turning back to the class, she bowed gently.
"Hello, I'm Jeanne d'Arc. I recently moved to Japan from France at the request of my guardian. I've been looking forward to studying with everyone, but unfortunately couldn't attend school until now. I hope we get along."
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming.
"A beauty's entered the class!"
"She's gorgeous!"
"Is she… a saint?!"
"Do you have a boyfriend?!"
Jeanne froze for a beat, flustered by the wave of cheers and intrusive questions. Before she could say anything, Hiromi-sensei stepped in.
"Hey! Calm down already!"
Order snapped back into place like a rubber band, and the class quickly settled.
Hiromi scanned the seats.
"Hanakai, is anyone sitting next to you?"
Momo blinked in surprise. She had been content with the empty seat beside her, but if Jeanne was taking it… well, she could make peace with that.
She shook her head. "No one's there."
"Perfect. Jeanne—wait, do I call you Jeanne or d'Arc?"
"As a European, I'm more used to being called by my first name," she answered with a smile.
"Then Jeanne-chan, sit next to Hanakai. Hanakai, you're on the Student Council, right?"
Momo nodded again, already sensing what was coming.
"Then during lunch, show her around the school."
Predictably, groans of envy filled the air.
"Yes, ma'am," Momo replied, hiding her own curiosity behind a calm exterior.
"Jeanne, that's Hanakai Momo from the Student Council. Ask her if you need help."
"Yes, ma'am," Jeanne replied politely, her tone warm.
Hiromi checked the wall clock.
"Alright, you're free for the next 15 minutes until math."
The instant she stepped off the podium, Jeanne was surrounded.
Not by the boys—they were trying, bless their hearts—but the girls had already taken formation, boxing her in with excited questions from every direction.
"Jeanne-san, you're from France? Have you seen the Eiffel Tower?!"
"Your skin's amazing! What do you use?!"
"Was your illness serious? Are you okay now?"
"Do you have a boyfriend?!"
"Your name sounds really familiar… are you religious? Related to the saint?"
Jeanne tried to speak, but every time she opened her mouth, another question jumped ahead. It was chaos.
"Hey! One at a time!"
Momo's voice cut through the noise like a whip. She stepped forward, gently but firmly pushing the students back.
"And give her some space! She just got here!"
The group backed off, chastised. Momo turned to Jeanne, eyes concerned.
"Are you okay, Jeanne-san?"
Jeanne smiled, gentle and dazzling.
"Thanks to you, Hanakai-san."
Too bright! Momo looked away, flustered. Her cheeks reddened before she turned a glare toward the nosy classmates, who quickly averted their eyes.
"Don't be too harsh on them, Hanakai-san," Jeanne said with a soft laugh. "While it was a little overwhelming… isn't this the joy of youth? A blessing from the Lord?"
Hanakai flinched. A blessing from the Lord…? She's religious? The phrasing threw her off, but she said nothing.
With grace, Jeanne faced the curious crowd.
"Thank you all for the warm welcome. I'll answer your questions one by one."
She began calmly, with no sign of fatigue.
"I haven't been inside the Eiffel Tower, but I've seen it."
"I don't follow a particular skincare routine—I just try to keep clean."
"I suffer from narcolepsy. This time was especially serious, so I lost track of time. It's embarrassing, really."
"I don't have a boyfriend. And… I'm not planning on getting one either, sorry."
"And yes, I'm named after the Saint Jeanne d'Arc. As a believer, I'm honored to share her name."
By the time she finished answering, the bell rang.
As the class shuffled back into place, Jeanne turned once more to Momo with a sincere smile.
"Thank you again, Hanakai-san. It seems the Lord has truly blessed me with a wonderful class this year."
Momo winced slightly at the religious phrasing but smiled back.
"No problem. Don't forget—we've still got that tour at lunch."
Jeanne nodded.
"Of course. The Student Council President also said I should pick up my makeup assignments, so… could I ask you to guide me to the Council Room afterward?"
"Sure. No problem."
Jeanne gave her a final smile, warm as always.
"Thank you."
--+--
Lunch break arrived before Jeanne had even noticed the time pass. Though the math class that followed homeroom was simple review work, she found herself fielding occasional glances and hushed whispers from across the room. Most were harmless. Some were curious. A few felt... heavier.
But she ignored them. She had dealt with worse than stares in her life—or at least, in the memories of the life she now carried.
As soon as the bell rang, Momo stood from her seat. Jeanne followed her cue.
"Let's go," Momo said, slipping her bag over one shoulder. "We'll start the tour now and swing by the Student Council Office at the end. It's not that far."
Jeanne nodded with a gentle smile. "Thank you for taking the time, Hanakai-san."
"It's fine. I was asked to do it anyway."
The tone was neutral, but the lack of annoyance made it clear that Momo didn't mind. Jeanne found herself relaxing slightly as they walked side by side through the bustling corridor.
Students turned to look—many of them. Jeanne's presence was like a ripple through still water, drawing eyes without effort. Her elegance was quiet, but unmistakable.
"This is the cafeteria," Momo began, gesturing toward the large set of double doors they passed. "You can bring a lunch or buy one here. There's a line if you're late, so keep that in mind."
Jeanne glanced through the glass panes. Rows of tables, steam rising from food counters, students clustered in loud, cheerful groups. The warmth of that scene pressed faintly against the cold detachment she hadn't quite realized she was wearing.
"It's bigger than I expected," Jeanne said softly.
"Yeah. This wing was expanded when they switched to co-ed. Still gets crowded, though."
They continued on, past a small courtyard framed with sakura trees that hadn't yet bloomed. The stone paths were clean, the benches mostly unoccupied.
"This is a good place to eat lunch when the weather's nice," Momo added. "It's quieter than the cafeteria. You can usually hear the wind chimes from the old teacher's lounge."
Jeanne tilted her head, then gave a small nod. "That sounds lovely. It must be peaceful."
Momo glanced at her. "You like quiet places?"
"I do. They give the heart space to breathe."
"…Right."
There was something unusual about how Jeanne spoke. Formal, but not stiff. Soft, yet resolute. It was like talking to someone older—not in years, but in weight.
They passed the library next. Jeanne paused near the entrance, looking through the glass at the neat rows of books and the students reading at their desks. She lingered, just a little longer than before.
"You like libraries?"
"They're peaceful. And filled with knowledge. Places like this are sacred, in a way."
Momo gave her a sidelong glance. "You're really religious, huh?"
Jeanne gave a soft, noncommittal smile. "You could say that."
From there, Momo led her down the second floor, pointing out the science labs, the AV room, and the music wing. The latter stopped Jeanne in her tracks again.
Through the open door, she could hear the tail end of a piano piece—soft, classical, echoing faintly down the hall.
Jeanne's expression shifted subtly. Her gaze grew faraway, as if she were chasing a memory just out of reach.
"…That's Beethoven, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
Momo blinked. "Uh, yeah. Moonlight Sonata, I think."
"A beautiful piece. Lonely, but beautiful."
"You know classical music?"
"Enough to recognize a few souls echoing in ivory keys," Jeanne said, almost to herself.
Momo blinked again.
"…Right."
After a short silence, they resumed walking. Jeanne didn't speak unless prompted, but she listened attentively to everything Momo said, storing each detail with quiet diligence.
"Down this way is the gym," Momo said, her pace picking up slightly. "There's two actually. The old one's for kendo and archery practice. The new one's for PE and volleyball. The track team uses the field outside."
"There's also a Football Field, Baseball Field, and a Tennis court. The school's pretty stacked."
Jeanne nodded. She hadn't seen such a luxurious school, even before her sudden transmigration.
Jeanne looked through the open double doors as they passed. The smell of polished wood and chalk dust hit her senses. A whistle blew in the distance. Boys running drills, girls doing stretches. It was a world that felt completely detached from her previous lives.
But oddly… grounding.
"You don't do any clubs?" Jeanne asked.
"I'm in the Student Council," Momo replied flatly, as if that was explanation enough.
"It suits you."
Momo looked over, brow raised slightly. "You've known me for an hour."
"Sometimes it doesn't take long to see someone clearly."
For a moment, Momo didn't respond. She looked away instead, letting her hair fall over one eye.
"…We're almost there."
Finally, they turned a corner and came to a stop in front of a wooden door with a frosted glass window. Gold letters spelled out:
Student Council Office
"We're here," Momo said.
Jeanne clasped her hands lightly. "Thank you for guiding me, Hanakai-san."
Momo reached for the handle.
"Come on. Let's get your makeup work."
--+--
A/N: Last chapter for the day. All Power Stones are Appreciated.
By the way, if I had to say, the original personality makes up for around... 50% of the mentality of Jeanne, with the specific Jeanne at the time being 50%. However, the Filter is always there for each Jeanne, so while inwardly it's 60/40, outwardly it's around 20/80.
The passive skills effect the Jeanne now to an extent, which is why despite the filter, the Sloth has influence over the 50% original personality.
Good Jeanne is a Lord Glazer, so even if the Jeanne now keeps saying God is dead, OG Jeanne still references the Lord. I find that mad funny though.
No fights or conflict for the time being though, but I am looking forward to Dragon Witch interactions.
Both teachers are made up. I don't know if the teachers are important though.
Also, the club buildings are also made up.
I lowkey just wanted this chapter to be pretty calming.
You see, even though Jeanne is Lawful Good, and so is Metatron, the original personality is one who doesn't really care about much, and adding on Metatron's curse, you got a lazy kind person.
Also, I remember when I first read DxD fanfics, I lowkey hated Rias, but recently I looked at her LN art while researching and I was like: the anime did not do her justice at ALL. Who cares if she's basically useless in like any fanfic? she hot as hell~.
Same for Aika Kiryuu. She looked kind of chopped in the anime, but her LN art makes her look cute asf. Also, idk if it's a hot take, but DxD Hero looked better than the first 3, yall think it looks weird because of the unfamiliarly bias.
Like you cannot tell me that Seasons 1-3 characters look like the LN version.
Rant out. Peace.