Hi everyone,
Long time no see!
I'm happy to announce that none of the original authors of Demon Lord's Hero or Dragoon fanfiction have expressed any dissatisfaction with me using their words and systems as inspiration to create a story like this.
So, it looks like I'll be continuing to upload new chapters of this fanfiction.
Thank you all for your support!
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A red blur tore through the sky, moving so fast it shattered the sound barrier with a deafening roar. To most, it was just that—a flash of crimson light vanishing in an instant.
The Red Blur. That was the name the world had given him. No one knew his true identity, or even what kind of being he was. He had no known origin, no face, no voice. And yet, wherever he appeared, people felt an overwhelming sense of safety—like nothing could touch them while he soared above.
In this modern age, he and another figure—Black Shadow—had become more than myth. They were symbols. Guardians. Heroes.
If you asked someone what the world was talking about right now, you might hear the usual answers: global politics, a trending TV series, the latest blockbuster, or a scandal involving a global superstar. But almost everyone, somewhere in the conversation, would mention the Red Blur.
He was among the most talked-about phenomena on Earth.
When reports first began trickling in a year ago—stories of a red figure rescuing people across the globe—they were dismissed as the delusions of children or the ramblings of conspiracy theorists. Online forums lit up with blurry photos and wild theories, but few took them seriously.
That changed six months ago, when a news helicopter flying over Europe accidentally captured him on live camera—soaring through the clouds like a comet of fire.
That moment shattered the wall between rumor and reality.
The footage went viral within hours. Conspiracy theories exploded across the internet. Some believed he was a weapon created by a secret government program. Others thought he was a god—sent to protect his followers. Many argued he was alien in origin, a being beyond our understanding.
But the media—never ones to ignore a story this massive—shifted into overdrive. Investigative journalists and news agencies across the globe began digging into every sighting, every witness report. And in doing so, they uncovered whispers of a second figure: Shadow Walker.
Unlike the Red Blur, Shadow Walker had never been caught on camera. There were only eyewitness accounts—frantic, breathless stories of a man made of shadow who appeared in times of crisis and vanished just as quickly. He was dismissed at first, written off as an internet myth riding on the Red Blur's popularity.
That changed too—when he was first seen in Germany, stepping from the darkness to save a family trapped in a burning building… and then dissolving back into the shadows as if he were never there.
The world erupted with curiosity once again.
This time, questions were directed squarely at the world's governments. Were these beings theirs? Experiments? Weapons? Protectors?
Every government denied any affiliation with either figure. But that didn't mean they weren't trying to capture them.
First came peaceful attempts—diplomatic messages broadcasted into the skies, efforts to communicate. None succeeded. The Red Blur never stayed long enough to speak. Shadow Walker never lingered.
Then came the traps—ambushes and snares, built with cutting-edge technology. They failed.
Finally, military intervention. They used their most powerful weapons.
And still, they failed.
Eventually, the news began to die down. The world adjusted. The two mysterious beings became part of the global mythos—unreachable, untouchable.
Until a month ago.
The skies over Germany trembled again—but this time, not with crimson or shadow.
This time, it was white.
At first, it went unnoticed. A silent shape drifting among the clouds. Then it let out a roar—a sound so primal and deep it shook windows across three cities. Eyes turned to the sky.
There, above the world, was something unlike either of the two before. A gleaming, white figure—its entire body glowing, with massive, blue wings that shimmered with light and crackled with energy like living lightning. People would later describe the air itself bending around him, as if reality couldn't decide what he was.
It didn't take long for the world to give him a name too.
But even as they searched for it—one truth became clear.
The age of myths was returning.
And this time, they walked among us.
Scene
"Why are you staring at them so intently?" Sona asked, a slight frown creasing her brow.
Shirou Emiya didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on one figure in the courtyard, a mixture of confusion and something far more unsettling flickering in his expression.
"I'm only looking at him," he finally replied, his voice low, uncertain.
Sona followed his gaze, curious now. But when her eyes landed on the person Shirou was pointing at, her confusion only deepened.
Issei Hyoudou.
A member of the infamous Perverted Trio. A student known more for his antics than his achievements.
She blinked, then looked again, trying to see what Shirou saw.
He wasn't particularly handsome. He didn't possess the presence of a warrior or the intellect of a strategist. His posture was relaxed—almost lazy—and everything about him screamed average.
Mediocre grades. Average looks. No remarkable talents. Just another teenager.
Turning back to Shirou, she asked, genuinely puzzled, "What's so interesting about him that you're watching him like that?"
Shirou's expression didn't change. He met her eyes and spoke with quiet certainty.
"He gives me the feeling… that he could kill me without even trying."
Sona's gaze snapped back to Issei.
She stared at him longer this time, as though trying to peel away layers of illusion to uncover the truth beneath. But there was nothing—just the same, ordinary boy laughing with his friends.
And yet, she couldn't shake the unease Shirou's words had stirred.
Almost involuntarily, she muttered under her breath, "Looks like Rias is going to have another strong member."
Shirou blinked, glancing at Sona with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean? Rias is going to get another strong member?"
Sona's face remained composed, but the slight twitch in her brow and the way she averted her eyes didn't escape Shirou. Her voice took on a more clipped, displeased tone as she responded, deliberately ignoring the way he'd phrased the question.
Despite her usual serious demeanor, those who knew her well—like Shirou—could see it.
She was embarrassed. She hadn't meant to speak her thoughts aloud, and now she was trying to regain control of the conversation.
Still, after a brief pause, she gave him a proper answer. "Rias has been eyeing those three for over a year now. The so-called Perverted Trio. They're still at this school for a reason. If it were up to me, I would've expelled them long ago for their… antics."
Shirou nodded slowly, piecing the situation together. He'd seen those three in action—always causing a scene, always chasing trouble. If Sona hadn't tried to defend or explain them, he might've been more concerned that something was wrong with her.
He tilted his head, curiosity getting the better of him. "Don't your family run the school? Can't you expel them if you really wanted to?"
Sona sighed, her usual stoic calm tinged with weariness. "My family does manage the school. But we're not the only ones. The Gremory family also has a stake in its operation. I can't just overrule their influence whenever I want. It would cause… complications."
Shirou leaned back, thoughtful. "Still, is Rias really planning to recruit one of them? I mean… their behavior is incredibly inappropriate."
Sona's expression shifted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but was unsure if she should. After a brief hesitation, she finally replied.
"You need to understand one thing about the Gremory family, Shirou… They're completely nudist."
Shirou stared at her, stunned.
If he had been drinking something at that moment, he was certain he would've spat it out all over the floor.
They're complete nudists—all of them," Sona muttered, her voice trembling. "Do you have any idea how traumatizing it was to attend a sleepover at Rias's house? I saw Lucifer himself. Naked. Lucifer. Do you know what that does to a poor girl like me?"
Her voice pitched higher as she finished, and she began to hyperventilate, struggling to control her breathing.
Shirou looked at her in mild alarm, not used to seeing the usually composed Sona in such disarray. After a pause, he said gently, "You really needed to get that off your chest, didn't you… Sona?"
She straightened up immediately, brushing invisible dust from her uniform and clearing her throat.
"As precise as ever: yes," she said curtly. "And as long as you're here, please refer to me as Kaichō."
Shirou raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.
Instead, he gestured toward the courtyard again. "If you're friends with Rias, then why didn't you try to persuade her not to recruit one of them?"
Sona's expression faltered. She looked tired—defeated, even. "Because Rias is… stubborn," she admitted. "Once she sets her mind on something, no amount of persuasion or logic can change it. She's like a force of nature when she decides something. Even I've given up trying."
Shirou didn't press the matter further. He could tell it was a losing battle, and besides, there was something else on his mind.
With a casual shrug, he changed the subject. "So… how did I do on my test for school enrollment?"
Sona perked up slightly, her composure returning. "You did quite well," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Based on your performance, I'd say you could graduate with a B average across all subjects."
Shirou blinked, surprised. "Seriously?"
She nodded. "Yes. Even without formal study here, your understanding and logic are already above high school level. It's impressive, considering your... circumstances."
Shirou rubbed the back of his neck, clearly taken aback. "I didn't expect that. Honestly, I thought I'd bomb it."
Sona gave him a rare, amused glance. "Well, apparently you're better than you give yourself credit for."
Shirou chuckled softly. "Guess so… though I'm not sure if that's comforting or just raising expectations I wasn't planning on meeting."
But then, Sona's voice turned serious, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.
"I want to know why you're really here," she said, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "I made an agreement with my sister and our family. I was allowed to live in the human world for three years—three years—without interference. So tell me… why is that promise being broken now? Why did she send you here?"
Shirou leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think your sister sent me? I could've just come here for my education, you know," he said, trying to joke, though the smile on his face didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Don't try to joke with me," Sona said sharply, shutting him down. "I've observed you. You don't care much about formal education, and certainly not enough to go through the trouble of enrolling here. So don't feed me that excuse—I'm not interested in made-up stories people tell when they're lying through their teeth."
Her tone made it clear—she wanted real answers. No diversions, no half-truths.
Shirou sighed inwardly. He understood then that if he wanted to remain here peacefully, he couldn't dodge her questions. But he wasn't going to hand over the truth so easily either—not without getting something in return.
"Alright," he said after a moment, folding his arms. "I'll tell you why I'm here… but first, you need to answer one of my questions."
Sona's displeasure was evident in the tightness of her jaw, but she also knew that if she wanted answers, compromise was necessary. After a pause, she nodded.
"I agree to your condition," she said firmly.
Shirou leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable, then asked calmly, "My question is simple: Why are you still in this school? From what I've gathered, you already have the qualifications to graduate college with top honors. So why stay?"
Sona hesitated—but not because she didn't know the answer. Rather, it was because it wasn't something she usually shared aloud.
"I want to learn everything this school can offer," she said at last, her voice calm and resolute. "Not just from textbooks. I want to learn about social life, people, relationships… the things no book can truly teach. Experience matters. And this is where I've chosen to gain it."
Shirou blinked, visibly surprised by her answer. He hadn't expected that kind of perspective from her—he always thought of Sona as someone who lived and breathed structure and study. But clearly, there was more depth to her than he'd assumed.
Then again, he reminded himself, her sister had once said that when it came to intellect, no one in her generation could rival Sona Shitori.
"Fair enough," Shirou said, nodding slowly. "Now, I suppose it's my turn."
Sona leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "Yes. Why are you here?"
Shirou didn't flinch. "I was sent on a mission by the demon lods."
Sona froze.
Her first thought went to her sister—Serafall Leviathan. Was she the one behind this? Had she sent Shirou to monitor her, to spy on her activities under the pretense of education?
She narrowed her eyes. "Then tell me this," she asked coldly, "Why would someone like you be sent here for a mission?"
Shirou immediately picked up on the doubt hidden behind Sona's question. Her suspicion wasn't subtle, and he knew he had to address it directly.
"First of all," he began, his voice shifting into a deeper, more resolute tone, "you need to understand something important. The mission I've been assigned… it's a top-secret operation. And it wasn't ordered by just one of the Demon Lords."
He sat up, abandoning his previously relaxed posture. His eyes met hers with an intensity that made the air feel heavier, the playful glint in them now gone—replaced by something sharper, colder. A seriousness that Sona hadn't seen from him until now.
"It was assigned to me by all four Demon Lords."
Sona inhaled sharply, the weight of those words sinking in instantly. She'd thought—feared—that her sister had sent him to spy on her under the guise of a harmless student. But that look in Shirou's eyes, the unwavering calm in his voice… she knew then.
He wasn't lying. And this wasn't one of Serafall's games.
With a touch of unease, she asked, "Can I know what the mission is about?" Her voice trembled slightly despite her best efforts to keep it composed. She understood what it meant when all four Demon Lords sanctioned a single mission—it wouldn't be anything simple. It wouldn't be anything safe.
Shirou looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to her.
"The truth is… I can't reveal anything about the mission. Not to you, not to anyone," he said, his tone firm. "What I can tell you is why I'm staying here."
He leaned back slightly, giving her room to process, then continued, "My mission is long-term. It'll take time to fully execute, and I'm certain that completing it will require me to remain in this region. But here's the issue—someone like me, with my background, draws attention."
Sona nodded slowly, already understanding where this was going.
"The supernatural factions in this country are already monitoring me closely," Shirou said. "So staying with you—under the pretense that I've been sent by your sister to watch over you—gives me the perfect cover. Most people already believe that Serafall is obsessed with your well-being. Her 'first subordinate' suddenly enrolling at your school just reinforces that idea. No one will question it."
Sona let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple in frustration. "Using me as cover… Of course."
But even she had to admit—it was a flawless excuse. With her sister's reputation for doting and meddling, no one would think twice. Not the school. Not the Devils. Not the other factions.
And more importantly… it kept Shirou where he needed to be.
But even after all his explanations, there was still something that didn't quite add up. Sona narrowed her eyes and asked, "Then why are you attending the school?"
Shirou glanced up, his expression calm. "That's actually part of the cover. Your sister instructed me to enroll here so we'd have more chances to interact. She believes it's important that we… get to know each other better. And, she also asked me to assist with your training—since you're participating in the Young Devil Gathering this year."
Sona blinked.
It wasn't the part about the gathering or the training that caught her off guard—it was what he said about her sister wanting them to get closer. That implication alone left her stunned.
Serafall… trusted him. Enough to involve him in something as personal as her younger sister's development. Enough to place him close, not as a guardian, but as a potential ally. Or even a friend.
Sona had lived under her sister's watchful eye for years, but never had Serafall allowed anyone outside her inner circle such access—until now.
The thought of being trained by one of the strongest Devils currently active in the world was, admittedly, tempting. But Sona still had her pride. She wasn't going to accept help so easily—not without considering the implications.
If she accepted too quickly, it would make her look desperate. Weak. Especially in the eyes of others.
So she composed herself and answered with polite refusal. "Thank you for the offer," she said smoothly, "but I'll have to decline. Even with your help, I don't see my peerage performing any better than what I've already prepared them for."
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "You think you can win this year's Gathering?" he asked, genuine curiosity—and a hint of doubt—in his voice. He had read the profiles. He knew just how brutal this year's competition would be. It was said to be the most talent-packed lineup since the days of Ajuka and Sirzechs.
Sona let out a dry snort. "Only an idiot would think they can win this year's Gathering. Especially with Sairaorg Bael entering the stage."
She leaned back slightly, her tone turning analytical. "And let's not forget other monsters like Risar who are joining just to prove they're not afraid of Sairaorg Bael. This year's event isn't about winning—it's about surviving with your dignity intact."
Shirou gave a small nod, thoughtful. "So… you're still going to compete, knowing it's a losing game?"
Sona's eyes sharpened, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yes. Even knowing that I will likely lose, I'll still participate in this year's Gathering," she said, her voice steady with determination. "If I choose to back down now, it won't just reflect poorly on me—it will cast doubt on everyone connected to me. I have no other choice."
She let out a quiet breath before continuing. "If I had it my way, I would've waited another two or three years before stepping onto that stage. Given more time, I could've prepared better—refined my peerage further. But the circumstances won't allow that now."
Her gaze hardened. "Still, I'm confident that I'll finish with a respectable standing, even if I don't win."
Shirou understood exactly what she meant. Serafall had told him explicitly—Sona had to participate. Sitting out this year's Young Devil Gathering would be political suicide for any eligible heir. Especially this year.
Because of Sairaorg Bael.
He was the reason the stakes were so high. A Devil born without a trace of demonic power, written off as a cripple by the standards of Devil nobility. And yet, through sheer effort and unrelenting will, Sairaorg had risen—through fists, through pain, through relentless training—to stand at the top of the young generation.
He had declared himself the strongest of their generation.
And the world had started to believe him.
So this year's Gathering wasn't just another tournament—it was the proving ground. Everyone wanted to test themselves against the one who had defied every expectation and forged his own legend.
Sona knew this. And she knew what it meant to stand among such giants.
But her pride… that was the problem. Sona Shitori was proud. Too proud to ask for help, even when she needed it most.
That was exactly why Shirou made a decision right then and there.
If she won't ask for help—then I'll break through that pride myself.
Because if she was going to walk into the lion's den, then she would need every edge she could get. And Shirou Emiya had never been one to stand by and do nothing.
Shirou suddenly burst into laughter.
Sona frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why are you laughing right now?" she asked, her tone sharp with irritation.
Shirou gave her the simplest reply he could muster, a grin still tugging at his lips. "Because you think you'll finish the Gathering with a good standing. That's why I'm laughing."
The room fell silent. Except for Shirou, every member of Sona's peerage looked visibly offended. Their expressions hardened, some even rising to their feet. It was only natural—they had just watched someone mock their King to her face.
But Sona remained the calmest among them.
She didn't rise. She didn't flare with anger. Instead, she looked at Shirou directly and asked, "Why do you think I won't finish with a good standing?"
Shirou's laughter faded, replaced with a cool seriousness.
"Because of your weakness," he said plainly. "That's why."
The tension in the room shifted. The anger faded into confusion. Now, all eyes were on him—not in outrage, but in curiosity.
And Sona, unflinching as ever, asked evenly, "And what weakness would that be… if you don't mind me asking?"
Shirou pointed toward the chessboard on the table in front of her.
"That," he said. "That is your weakness."
Her brow furrowed slightly, as did those of her peerage. Confusion rippled through the room. Before anyone could speak, Shirou raised a hand and continued.
"Let me ask you something simple. Just one question," he said, his voice steady and calm. "What do real war and chess have in common?"
The room was quiet again, but this time with confusion. All of them were thinking about the question that .
Shirou was just about to give them the answer when a new voice spoke up, cutting through the silence.
"The game is too one-dimensional," the voice said. "It doesn't truly represent the countless variables present in real life. In war, both sides rarely have equal manpower. The terrain is never uniform. One side might have overwhelming firepower, while the other relies on strategy or guerilla tactics. Chess assumes balance—real battles don't."
Everyone's attention turned toward the source of the voice.
It was Saji Genshirou—the newest pawn in Sona's peerage. He had just entered the room, a small stack of documents in hand. Without missing a beat, he walked to Sona's desk, placed the files neatly in front of her, and then casually joined the other members.
Shirou's eyes locked onto him.
He felt it instantly—an unnatural chill creeping down his spine, sweat beginning to form at the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him like an animal sensing a predator. It was the same feeling he had felt when he first laid eyes on Issei Hyoudou… except this time, it was ten times stronger.
He didn't know what Saji was yet—but he knew danger when he felt it.
His thoughts were broken by Sona's voice.
"Is what Saji said the correct answer?" she asked calmly, her gaze turning back to Shirou.
He didn't want to take his eyes off the newcomer, but he forced himself to respond.
"Yes," Shirou replied, his voice quiet but firm. "That's the most accurate answer you could give to that question."
He took a breath, then continued, "And the reason I connect chess to your weakness… is because you let the game dictate the way you lead."
Sona's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, and her peerage looked at one another, processing his words.
Shirou pressed on. "You model your peerage around chess strategy—around formation, structure, balance. But in real war, nothing stays balanced. Nothing stays predictable. If you keep treating every battle like a match of chess, eventually… someone who doesn't play by the rules will shatter your board."
Sona's hands clenched ever so slightly beneath the desk.
She wasn't the type to lash out easily, but Shirou's words had cut deep—too deep. The implication that she saw her peerage as mere pieces on a chessboard... as tools to be sacrificed for strategy...
It was infuriating.
They weren't pieces.
They were her family. Just as important to her as her sister or her parents. Each of them had placed their trust in her, and in turn, she had vowed to protect and nurture them—not use them like game tokens.
Yet despite her rising anger, she didn't speak.
She listened.
She let his words echo in her mind and turned them over, analyzing them as she would any tactical flaw. And slowly, an unsettling realization began to form. Aside from the newest member—Saji—her entire peerage did rely heavily on reaction-based strategy. Counterattacks. Defensive traps. Chessboard thinking.
Predictable thinking.
And that made them vulnerable in a battlefield that wouldn't play by the rules.
While she wrestled with that uncomfortable truth, Shirou's attention remained fixed elsewhere.
His eyes hadn't left Saji since the moment the young man entered the room.
It wasn't just a glance, or even simple curiosity—it was focused, intense, predatory. His posture had subtly shifted, his body tensed like a coiled spring. He wasn't just watching Saji…
He was measuring him.
Sona noticed it almost immediately. At first, she felt a flicker of offense—had Shirou really tuned out their conversation entirely just to glare at her pawn?
But then her strategic mind clicked into place. She noticed the way Shirou's body was angled, the subtle twitch in his fingers, the rigidity in his shoulders. This wasn't disregard.
This was instinct. Readiness.
He's preparing to attack.
The realization made her eyes widen slightly. Why? What did he sense in Saji that had put him so dangerously on edge?
Not wanting to test that tension any further—not in a room full of her people—Sona made a swift decision.
"I think it's best we continue this conversation another time," she said smoothly, rising from her seat. "I have some matters to attend to right now."
Shirou blinked as if snapping out of a trance. Her words had broken his focus, and now he could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on him. The tension in the air had grown thick—far too thick for comfort.
But more than that, he didn't like the feeling he got from standing in the same room as Saji. His instincts were screaming at him, louder than before.
He gave Sona a small nod, masking his unease with his usual calm.
"Of course," Shirou said, his voice level but clipped. "Let's talk another time then."
And without another word, he turned and exited the room—quietly, quickly, but not without glancing at Saji one last time.
There's something wrong with him, Shirou thought as the door clicked shut behind him. Something I haven't felt in a very long time.
Fear.