POV: Haruki Yamashiro
Demonic power is... interesting. Not in the "whoa, sick fireballs bro" way that Issei might say. No, I mean philosophically interesting. At its core, demonic energy is fueled by imagination. Yes, really. The same thing responsible for fanfiction, conspiracy theories, and the global success of gacha games is also the metaphysical engine of Hell.
It's imagination-powered nonsense given structure by sheer force of will and thousands of years of cultural inertia. Think Green Lantern rings, but with more Victorian drama and less color coordination. Yes, that imagination. The kind you used to summon anime swords and explosion spells in your backyard at age eight. Turns out, devils just made it official.
But of course, nothing that sounds that vague can ever be that easy.
According to Akeno, resident sadomasochist priestess and my tutor, demonic energy operates on three pillars: control, willpower, and creativity. Which is basically a polite way of saying, "We only hand out the cheat codes to people who can pass a vibe check and survive a Dark Souls tutorial simultaneously."
Naturally vague, wildly abusable, and totally in line with the "rule of cool" that governs most supernatural systems.
All devils can use demonic energy. It's our racial perk. But just because you can doesn't mean you're good at it. Like how everyone technically has abs, but most are buried under decades of poor life choices and cheese fries.
It's in the fine print. You die, get reincarnated with bat wings and a family crest, and boom—congrats, you're now a spellcaster powered by daydreams and attitude.
But here's where the fantasy breaks down: imagination isn't enough. You can't just want a fireball and have it appear. That would be too easy, and if there's one thing devils hate more than holy water, it's simplicity.
First, you need control. Real control. Meditative monk-meets-micro-surgeon kind of control. You have to feel the energy inside you, like some kind of internal current, and then coax it out like you're charming a radioactive snake. Control is everything. Without it, you're basically a toddler with a loaded bazooka.
The devils have an entire system for this, naturally. They've been doing it for thousands of years, and if there's one thing immortal aristocrats are good at, it's bureaucracy and dramatic naming conventions.
Case in point: the first technique they teach you is called Crimson Surge.
Yes, really. Crimson Surge. Because devils, as it turns out, are goth theater kids with a flair for naming things like rejected Yu-Gi-Oh cards.
Functionally, it's a power burst. You flood your body with demonic energy, enhancing strength, durability, and magical potential. In the wild, it's used for intimidation, kind of like a flex, if your biceps screamed existential dread while glowing red. It's also used in fights, especially when you want to signal that you're about to do something stupid and dramatic.
I mastered it quickly. Too quickly, judging by Akeno's shifting expressions. From teasingly smug to quietly impressed, then to stunned, and eventually to just... resigned.
Not because I'm the chosen one. (I'm not. God, I hope I'm not.) But because I actually pay attention, unlike the rest of this hormonal anime ensemble cast.
The trick to Crimson Surge isn't output, it's stability. Most devils flare up like a fireworks show and then collapse like a freshman after four vodka shots. I, on the other hand, paced myself. Controlled burn. Long duration. Minimal waste. Akeno's expression shifted from smug amusement to vague concern in about two hours. By hour six, she was muttering to herself and contacting Rias.
By the end of day three, they called me a prodigy.
Which, again, flattering, but let's not pretend I reinvented fire. I just treated their ancient demonic arts like a system with exploitable mechanics. Because that's what it is. A closed system. Learn the rules, master the interactions, optimize the build.
Min-maxing isn't cheating. It's just literacy.
Akeno mentioned that my natural reserves are quite large for a reincarnated devil. Mid-class level, apparently. I was proud for about 0.3 seconds before she smugly added that her reserves were higher when she started. Typical. But then she also admitted, albeit with a bit of a pout, that my innate control is better than hers was. That one I savored.
After that came a set of techniques with names that sound like rejected metal albums:
Take Wrathlash: you funnel energy into a specific body part, eyes for enhanced perception, hands for hitting harder, legs for anime-tier speed dashes. High risk, high precision. One slip and you accidentally vaporize your own kneecap. Charming.
Or Domain of Dread. Essentially sonar, but evil. You Extend your demonic energy outward like a detection field. High-level users can detect emotional states, energy types, even threat levels. Same mechanism as barriers and wards.
Then there's Anointing of Power, which sounds religious but is actually the devil's version of enchanting. You infuse objects with your energy: swords, shields, even a stick, if you're feeling minimalist, and Weapons become stronger, more durable, sometimes even sentient. Familiars too. I used it to cut a tree in half with a wooden stick. Felt very anime.
Oblivion Fang is the nuclear option. Concentrate all your power into a single point and release it. Think spirit bomb meets self-immolation. Great if you want to punch a hole through reality. Terrible if you want to survive the next five seconds. The glass cannon of devil techniques. Highly cinematic, utterly reckless.
The hard part isn't learning the techniques. It's refining them. Stretching your energy reserves. Holding the surge longer. Learning how not to implode mid-cast. That's what I've been doing for the past three days. No sleep, minimal food, just endless repetition. Akeno looked concerned. Rias tried to convince me to rest. Cute of them to care, but devils don't need sleep the way humans do, and I've got a schedule to keep. Power first. Questions later. Freedom... eventually.
Three days. That's all it took for me to internalize, replicate, and refine these techniques. Akeno's expression over the last few days evolved like a time-lapse meme. From smug amusement to impressed surprise, then stunned silence, and finally, resignation.
Rias came running. Literally.
Her expression, upon seeing my energy manipulation firsthand, was something between awe and desperation. She called me a genius. Declared it, actually. Loudly. Akeno nodded solemnly beside her. I didn't correct them. But I did notice the way Rias looked at me, like she'd just found the answer to a long-standing problem. The kind of problem that usually wears a blond wig and smug grin.
I vaguely recall Issei interrupting a marriage or duel or something. Honestly, I skipped most of the actual plot in favor of the "plot." A choice I now regret.
POV: Akeno Himejima
"So how does the whole supernatural world actually work?" Haruki asked, without even looking up from the stick he was casually using to slice through a tree. Demonic energy flared around it, like a lightsaber possessed by an angry spirit.
I sighed.
I suppose Rias's luck remains ever-surprising. When you observe her peerage from a distance, it would be easy to assume she's some kind of Machiavellian genius, recruiting lost souls at their most desperate to cultivate loyalty and power, pulling strings, orchestrating downfall, swooping in with perfect timing to collect powerful allies like trading cards.
It's even a running theory in certain underworld tabloids.Some say she's an evil mastermind manipulating lives to manufacture loyalty. Others think her brother, Sirzechs, is the real puppetmaster, rigging fate to ensure his sister's success.
Both are incorrect, of course. But amusingly so.
The truth is much simpler.
Rias is kind. Too kind. Joyful. A touch naive, perhaps. Lazy, most definitely. But her heart is genuine. She doesn't see servants, she sees friends. She treats her peerage like family, not tools. Her flaw isn't cruelty, but idealism. She procrastinates, she avoids conflict, and she assumes everyone else is as decent as she is.
Which is why I volunteered to train Haruki. Someone had to.
He's... unique.
Polished. Erudite. A man of intellect with a gaze that rarely rests. Football and philosophy. Combat tactics and magical theory. He devours new knowledge like a starving scholar. The moment he learned about devil magic, he became an obsessive student. Three days without rest, without sleep. Even Rias tried convincing him to pause. He refused.
Devils don't need rest the way humans do, but even we feel fatigue. Not Haruki. He's too enchanted by the mechanics of magic to care.
His enthusiasm is, frankly, adorable.
"What do you mean?" I asked, watching him channel demonic energy into a simple stick and slice through a tree.
"Just that if all the myths are real, why hasn't the world fallen into chaos? Why don't humans know about us? Why aren't they enslaved or worse?"
He speaks with a curious detachment, like a scholar interrogating a theory. He seems to find everything fascinating, so long as it allows mastery.
When he's invested in something, he devours it. His visualization and control are extraordinary. I've never seen anyone learn Crimson Surge in hours. Or refine Oblivion Fang on the first try. He's creative, analytical, and disturbingly good at visualizing complex magical structures he's only just learned about. His learning curve is vertical. I stopped being shocked around hour fifteen.
Rias was stunned. I was stunned. At some point, I just gave up and started watching in awe.
"Well, there was a lot of chaos in the past," I began softly, watching as he infused a simple wooden stick with enough energy to slice through a tree trunk. Anointing of Power, executed flawlessly. "Especially before the birth of Christ. Evil gods, dragons, devils... They roamed freely. Humans suffered. But then, benevolent gods intervened. Chief among them, the God of the Covenant."
I paused. The word "God" sent a sharp stab of pain through my skull. We both winced. Saying the name of you-know-who is like chewing on holy napalm. A dull, familiar punishment for speaking of holiness with devil lips.
"You mean…"
"Please don't say it out loud."
"Got it."
"Anyway, the benevolent gods decided to flood the world. Literal flood. You'll find echoes of it in every myth. After that, they laid down rules, cosmic ones, to restrict supernatural interference."
Haruki frowned, still concentrating as he transferred demonic energy into a rock this time.
"But why would the malevolent ones just listen? That seems... unlikely."
"They didn't. Not at first. But the benevolent gods, particularly the God of the Bible and Shiva, began patrolling Earth. They were stronger. So the evil gods resorted to subtlety, cloaking themselves, manipulating from shadows.That's when the gods looked for a permanent solution.And one of them—that one—proposed a ritual. Can you guess what it might be?"
He nodded slowly. " Jesus Christ."
Another flash of pain. Worth it.
"Exactly. He would become human, live without sin, and die for mankind. By being born human, suffering temptation, and still sacrificing himself, he completed a ritual that split the material and spiritual worlds. It sealed supernatural access. Limited it. Created boundaries."
He frowned. "I thought Christ's sacrifice was meant to redeem humanity's sins and reunite them with God."
"Perhaps it was both," I whispered. "Sometimes myths are layers, not contradictions."
He nodded thoughtfully. "But the Great War happened after Christ, right?"
"Yes. The reasons are still debated. Some say Lucifer was enraged by the sacrifice and launched the war in defiance. Others believe it was inevitable. Regardless, the war was mostly fought in the spiritual plane. The material realm was rarely affected"
Haruki remained silent for a while, practicing Crimson Surge while seemingly lost in thought.
I couldn't help myself.
"Why did you help Rias?" I asked, watching him. "Did you not know you could've died?"
He blinked at me. "So just because it might inconvenience me, I should abandon someone in danger?"
That... shook me. Not his words, the way he said them. Like death was merely a scheduling conflict.
We had researched him. We usually don't bother with ordinary humans, but Haruki Yamashiro was different. Excelled in everything: academics, athletics, arts. Flawless record. No signs of magical heritage.
Naturally, both Sona and Rias investigated. We found nothing. His family line was completely mundane.
And yet… here he is. A devil. A prodigy. An anomaly.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the one who will change everything.
AN: Another chapter drops! Yes, this one leaned heavy into worldbuilding and character development. Now, I know some of you might be thinking: "Is this guy just good at everything??"
Let me just say, have you met that one annoyingly talented friend? You know, the one who runs marathons, plays Chopin, writes poetry, cooks like a pro, and still has time to be emotionally available? Yeah. Now give that guy a second life, full memory retention, and no student loans. Boom. That's the level we're talking.
Humans can be terrifyingly capable with time and motivation. That said, he's not flawless. He does dumb things, like recklessly risking himself for Rias when he maybe didn't need to. So yeah, he's got issues. More flaws will pop up as we go. Let him cook.