Red.
A deep, pulsing red. Like the heart of a dying sun. It floods everything. The sky, the air, the ground beneath my feet—it's all soaked in crimson.
I stand in the middle of it, breathing slowly.
It doesn't feel like blood. It feels like heat. Like something boiling just beneath the surface of the world.
"Ddraig," I call into the haze.
The voice comes quickly, like he was waiting for me.
"Yes."
He sounds calm. Always calm.
"I have a doubt," I say. "You once told me I had the potential to become the strongest Red Dragon Emperor. Why?"
Silence.
I stare forward. I can't see him, not fully. Just the outline of those massive wings in the crimson fog.
"You know I'm not the original Issei," I continue. "You know I was reincarnated. So what made you so certain? What did you see in me?"
There's a pause. Then:
"Your soul, Ise."
"My soul?"
"Yes." His voice echoes around me now. "Souls carry truth. Power. Destiny. But they are simple things, normally. Most souls only have one color. That color changes throughout life, reflecting the karma one builds—good, evil, twisted, or pure. But still, only one color at a time."
The heat intensifies. The red pulses, alive.
"But your soul," Ddraig says, "has three."
I blink. "Three?"
"Yes. Three distinct, coexisting colors, layered over each other. A phenomenon that should not be possible."
He says it like a revelation. Or a warning.
I try to picture it. My soul… colored in layers?
"What do they mean?" I ask.
"I'll tell you."
The red pulses again.
"The first color is gold. Gentle, impulsive, emotional. It reflects the original Issei—the one who laughed, protected, and perved. That piece of him still lingers in you. Maybe not his thoughts, but his emotions. His wishes. His fear. His hope."
Alright, which explains some of my perverted actions.
"The second color is gray. Not dull, but controlled. Determined. You. The new soul layered over the old. Calculating. Struggling to stay grounded in a world where power tempts you from every side. A survivor's soul. A man who came into this world not by choice but adapted without hesitation."
I lower my head slightly. Huh, so my past self, which I don't have any recollection of other that the fact that I used to read 'Highschool DXD,' I also remember its story.
"And the third?"
Ddraig is silent for a long moment. The air thickens.
Then he says, slowly,
"The third is red. Not the red of love. Or of passion. Not even the crimson of dragons."
His voice rumbles deeper.
"It's blood red. War red. The red of conquest. The red that follows the footsteps of those who burn the world to take what they desire. This is not from Issei. This is not from you. This is something older, buried within your soul like a scar. You may not remember it. But I see it."
I don't speak.
My own soul… carrying war? Carrying a bloodlust older than me? Sounds so cool. Man, I might have been some badass in my previous life. Here I thought I was some kind of Neet or 'shut-in' in my previous life.
"Whether you were a warlord, a tyrant, or a conquerer in a past life, I cannot say. But that red glows brighter each time you sacrifice for victory. Each time you embrace pain like a weapon. You don't back down. You break yourself to win. Someone who wins no matter the cost. A monster, if left unchecked."
"Hey, I'm not a monster." I said.
"You're not," Ddraig agrees. "The potential is there. But know this: the blood-red hue, that thirst for victory, and refusal to kneel—that is why I chose you. That is why you can surpass all Red Dragon Emperors before you."
•••
After I opened my eyes and looked around, the room was quiet.
Soft breathing. Slow movements. Shadows stretching peacefully under the dim light of the infirmary.
"It seems everyone is resting," I murmured to myself.
A brief silence settled in.
Then came the thoughts—unwelcome, yet inevitable.
Does knowing that my previous self is still with me change anything?
My gaze drifted upward, to the ceiling.
No. Absolutely nothing. The memories, the instincts, the habits—they're Faint. Flickering. Not loud enough to control me, but just enough to influence me when my emotions spike.
It's not like I'm being puppeteered. I'm still me.
But it does change things if my past interferes with my present. Doesn't it?
Well… yes. But…
It's not something I asked for. And there's no button to switch it off. I'm stuck with it. With him. With that part of me that lunges when I feel cornered, that flirts when I should think, that screams in rage when I need calm.
But what can I do?
"…Ah, damn." I sighed and let my head fall back onto the pillow.
Since there's nothing I can do, I guess I just have to continue with what I've been doing until now.
Keep pushing forward. Keep adapting. Keep fighting.
Because no matter who I was—this life is mine now.
~~~
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