The morning sun filtered through cheap curtains, casting pale strips of light across the cramped hotel room. I stood near the doorway, watching Issei Hyoudou process what I'd just told him—his expression cycling through confusion, disbelief, and then landing squarely on an excited pervert.
"Wait, wait, wait—" Issei held up both hands like he was physically trying to stop the conversation from moving forward without him. "You're telling me that a beautiful lady with big oppai wants to meet ME? Specifically me? Issei Hyoudou?"
Of course that's what he focuses on. Not 'powerful Dragon King' being who could vaporize us.' Nope. Big oppai. That's the selling point for this breast fanatic
I nodded slowly, already regretting my word choice. "Yes, but not like this."
Issei's face scrunched up in confusion that would've been comical if I wasn't still processing my near-death experience from yesterday. "What do you mean 'not like this'? I'm perfectly presentable! I showered this morning and everything!"
Deep breaths, Yuuto. You survived Tiamat. You can survive explaining Sacred Gears to a hormone-driven teenager.
"Her request," I said carefully, "is to see you with your awakened Sacred Gear."
The confusion intensified. Issei tilted his head like a confused puppy. "Sacred Gear? I mean, you mentioned it before when you saved me from that crazy bitch Raynare, but I don't even know if I have one. I've never felt anything weird inside me or whatever."
I pulled out the chair from the small desk—one of those flimsy hotel furniture pieces that felt like it might collapse if you looked at it wrong—and sat down. This was going to take a while.
"Sacred Gears," I began, channeling every ounce of patience I possessed, "are items created by the God of the Bible. They're embedded in the souls of certain humans at birth, gifts that house powerful abilities. Some are common, some are rare, and some—" I paused meaningfully, "—are classified as Longinus-class, capable of killing gods."
Issei's eyes went wide. "Kill gods? That's insane!"
"It is," I agreed. "Most Sacred Gears are dormant until a strong enough desire or emotion awakens them. The power manifests based on the user's will, their deepest wants. Some people go their entire lives without awakening theirs."
I watched recognition slowly dawn on Issei's face—that particular light that appears when someone realizes they might have something special inside them.
"So... I can awaken it with my desire?" His voice carried a hint of excitement that made warning bells go off in my head.
"Theoretically, yes. If you have one, focusing on what you want most should—"
I didn't get to finish.
Issei's expression turned into something that could only be described as 'max pervert mode.' His eyes glazed over slightly, a grin spreading across his face that would've gotten him arrested in several countries.
Oh no. Oh god. I know exactly what he's thinking about.
Red light erupted from Issei's left arm—sudden and brilliant enough to make me squint. When the light faded, a red armored gauntlet covered his left hand and forearm.
The bracer gleamed crimson with yellow accents, a green jewel embedded in the palm area catching the morning sunlight. The fingers remained uncovered, allowing for normal movement.
Issei stared at his transformed arm like it had spontaneously grown a second head. "What the-?!"
He waved his arm around frantically, the gauntlet catching light as he moved. "It just appeared! There was this warmth in my chest and then BAM! Arm glove! What is this thing?! Is this my Sacred Gear?!"
Well. That confirms it. Though I already knew from canon knowledge, seeing Twice Critical manifest in person hits different.
I stood up, examining the gauntlet with practiced interest. "That's Twice Critical. A relatively rare Sacred Gear among the Dragon-type variety."
"Dragon-type?!" Issei's voice cracked slightly. "There are types?!"
"Multiple categories," I confirmed. "Yours falls under Dragon-type specifically. Twice Critical's ability is straightforward—it temporarily doubles your power. During the duration of the boost, your strength, speed, and overall capabilities multiply by two."
I watched understanding and disappointment war across Issei's face in real-time.
"Wait, that's it? It just... doubles stuff?" He looked down at the gauntlet, then back at me. "No offense, Yuuto, but that's nowhere near as cool as yours. You've got those awesome sword techniques and that Mist Breathing thing and you can create swords out of thin air!" He waved the gauntlet again for emphasis. "This is just a fancy power-up!"
If only you knew, Issei. If only you knew what's sleeping inside that 'fancy power-up.'
"Don't underestimate it," I said firmly. "Doubling your power might not sound impressive now, but in combat, that difference can mean life or death. Plus, Sacred Gears can evolve. What you have now is just the beginning."
That perked him up considerably. "Evolve? Like Saiyan?!"
...Sure. Let's go with that comparison. Why not.
"Something like that" I muttered.
Issei's excitement returned full force. "So now we can go see her?! The beautiful lady with big oppai who wants to meet me?!"
Straight back to that. Every single time.
*How the hell does the author think he would be a perfect protagonist"
"Not yet," I said, and watched his face fall like a puppet with cut strings. "Right now, your Sacred Gear is at base level. To meet her, we need to awaken the next form."
The disappointment vanished instantly, replaced by manic excitement. "Next form?! There's a next form?! What are we waiting for?! Let's do it! Let's get this power-up train rolling!"
He started shadow-boxing with the gauntlet, throwing punches at imaginary opponents with all the grace of a drunk giraffe.
This kid has no idea. Absolutely no clue where this path leads. When he finds out the fruits of his labor involve meeting a pissed-off Dragon King who wants to barbecue the dragon living in his soul...
I sighed internally, already feeling the migraine forming.
"I have some important tasks I need to take care of first," I said, which was technically true. Devil contracts wouldn't fulfill themselves "We'll work on achieving the next form of your Sacred Gear after I'm done."
Issei's face fell again, disappointment clear as day. But then—to his credit—he recomposed himself with remarkable speed. That grin returned, slightly manic around the edges.
"Oppai," he muttered to himself like a mantra. "Big, beautiful oppai waiting for me. A gorgeous lady who specifically wants to meet Issei Hyoudou. This is it. This is my moment. My time to shine. I can wait a little longer. Just a little longer for those magnificent—"
"I get it," I interrupted before he could continue that thought process into territory that would make me regret having ears. "I'll contact you when I'm ready to help with your training."
You know it's serious when even a devil prays for someone. And right now, I'm praying for you, Issei. May whatever devils are listening have mercy on your soul.
I stood to leave, pausing at the door to glance back. Issei was still admiring his gauntlet, muttering about oppai and destiny and how his life was finally turning around.
The meeting between the Chaos Karma Dragon and the Heavenly Dragon... When Ddraig realizes he will not be as almighty as he claims to be. When Tiamat gets her confrontation after centuries of waiting. And Issei, poor bastard, caught in the middle.
This is either going to be the most epic moment of my second life, or the most catastrophic mistake I've ever made.
Possibly both.
I left the hotel room, letting the door click shut behind me as Issei's excited muttering faded into background noise.
One month. I had one month to get Issei's Sacred Gear to evolve to Boosted Gear, convince him to meet a Dragon King, and somehow survive the encounter without getting incinerated.
When did my life get so troublesome?
---
The devil contract client lived in a modest apartment on the outskirts of town—the kind of place where the wallpaper was trying to peel itself off the walls and the hallway smelled like old cooking oil and broken dreams.
I completed the contract efficiently. The woman wanted her ex-boyfriend to feel guilty for cheating on her. Simple enough—a minor curse that would give him vivid dreams about his actions, forcing him to confront his guilt. Nothing permanent, nothing damaging. Just enough to make him think twice about his life choices.
The whole time, my mind kept circling back to today's events.
Meeting with Issei: Check. Sacred Gear awakened: Check. One step closer to fulfilling my contract with Tiamat: Check. Chances of this all blowing up in my face spectacularly: Approximately 99.9%.
My phone buzzed as I teleported back near Kuoh territory. A message notification lit up the screen—Akeno's name appearing with that distinctive elegance even in digital format.
*From: Akeno Himejima*
Can you visit me at my shrine by the evening? It's important, Yuuto-kun. And please don't tell Buchou about it. I'll be waiting.
I stared at the message, reading it twice more to make sure I understood correctly.
Akeno wants to meet. Privately. Without telling Rias. And specifically calling it 'important.'
This is it
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. Part of me—the part that remembered the light novels—knew exactly what this meeting would entail. The emotional vulnerability, the fear of rejection, the weight of secrets carried for too long.
But another part—the part that was genuinely Yuuto Kiba now, who'd fought alongside Akeno, who considered her a precious friend—that part wanted to be there for her regardless of meta-knowledge.
*To: Akeno Himejima*
I'll be there. What time?
The response came almost immediately.
*From: Akeno Himejima*
6 PM. Thank you, Yuuto-kun.
I pocketed my phone and checked the time. Three hours. Enough time to complete another contract or two, maintain my cover, and make it to the shrine by evening. Then there is a date with Roygun as well, which is yet to be decided when and where it would happen.
Too many girls. Such luck.
Please, Tiamat, don't decide to kill Issei before I can even bring him to you. Or worse—don't decide to kill both of us just for the sake of it.
One crisis at a time, Yuuto. One crisis at a time.
---
The evening painted the sky in shades of orange and deep purple as I approached the shrine. The path leading up wound through old-growth trees, their branches creating natural archways overhead.
The main shrine building emerged from the trees like something out of a period painting. Traditional architecture—curved roof tiles, wooden pillars weathered by time, paper screens glowing softly with interior light. Wind chimes hung from the eaves, their gentle ringing mixing with evening bird calls.
I climbed the stone steps, each one worn smooth by countless visitors over the years. The wood of the porch creaked slightly under my feet—not rotten, just old.
Before I could knock, the door slid open.
Akeno stood in the doorway, backlit by warm interior light. She'd changed from her school uniform into a traditional purple kimono with floral patterns, her long black hair loose instead of her usual ponytail. Her violet eyes met mine with that familiar smile—except this time, I could see the nervousness hiding behind it.
"Yuuto-kun," she said softly. "Thank you for coming. Please, come in."
I stepped out of my shoes at the entrance, following her inside. The interior matched the exterior—traditional, well-maintained, deliberately simple. Tatami mats covered the floor, their woven texture familiar under my socked feet. A low table sat in the center of the main room, cushions arranged around it. Shoji screens divide the space, their rice paper panels filtering light into something soft and golden.
"Please, sit," Akeno gestured to one of the cushions.
I knelt in the proper seiza position—something Muichiro's muscle memory made automatic. The formality of it felt appropriate somehow, given the weight I could feel in the air.
Akeno disappeared briefly into what I assumed was the kitchen. I heard water being poured, the gentle clink of ceramic. When she returned, she carried a tea tray with practiced grace—elegant teapot, two cups, small sweets arranged on a plate.
She knelt across from me, pouring tea with the kind of precise movements that spoke of years of practice. Steam rose from the cups, carrying the rich aroma of green tea.
I could never have enough of her tea. Best in both lives, hands down.
"Thank you," I said, accepting the cup she offered. The warmth seeped into my palms, comforting.
We sat in companionable silence for a moment, both drinking tea. But I could feel the tension coiling tighter, the unspoken words hanging between us like a curtain waiting to be pulled back.
Finally, Akeno set down her cup with deliberate care. Her hands folded in her lap, fingers interlacing—a small gesture of nervousness.
"Yuuto-kun," she began, then paused. Took a breath. Started again. "Is everything alright with you?"
Smooth redirect, Akeno. But we both know that's not why I'm here.
"I should be asking you that," I said gently. "You're the one who called this meeting."
Her smile flickered, faltering at the edges. She struggled visibly, composure cracking slightly before she forcibly reconstructed it.
"What..." she started, voice quieter than usual. "What do you think about fallen angels?"
There it is.
My chest tightened—not from surprise, since I'd known this was coming, but from genuine emotion. She was scared. Terrified, even. Worried that I'd hate her, reject her, look at her with the same disgust and fear she probably directed at her own reflection.
She's revealing her past to me. Trusting me with the thing she hates most about herself.
I set down my own cup, considering my words carefully. This moment mattered. Not just for the plot I remembered, but for Akeno herself.
"If you're asking about those three fallen angels," I said firmly, meeting her eyes directly, "then I'm going to say I hate them. For using Asia like a tool. For trying to kill me. For their cruelty and callousness."
Akeno's hands tightened in her lap, shoulders tensing.
"But," I continued, tone shifting to something calmer, "if you're asking me about all fallen angels as a species? Then I have no hatred for them."
Her eyes went wide, surprise breaking through the carefully maintained composure.
"It's about time I let you know about me, so it will help you understand it much better" I said, words flowing easier than I expected. "Also, About why I became a devil. About what happened before Rias-buchou saved me."
I told her about Valper Galilei. About the Holy Sword Project. About being taken as a child, experimented on, pushed beyond human limits in pursuit of creating the perfect holy sword wielder. I described my friends—their faces, their names, the small kindnesses we shared in that hell. How we'd supported each other through the pain, the fear, the knowledge that we were expendable test subjects.
And then I told her about the disposal. How the Church decided we were failures. How they killed everyone I'd cared about, tossed aside like broken tools that had outlived their usefulness.
Akeno's hand flew to her mouth, genuine shock and horror crossing her features.
"Despite all that," I finished with a small smile, "I bear no hatred for humans. It was that particular human—Valper—who did evil things to me and my friends. Not all humans. Not the entire Church, even though they sanctioned it." I paused. "Just like I don't hate the Church for kicking out Asia. I hate the people who made that decision. The individuals, not the institution."
I looked directly into her eyes, letting sincerity color every word. "This is my past, Akeno-san. And you're the other person aside from Buchou who knows this. So please wait to share it until I tell Koneko-chan. She's just as important to me as you are."
Silence settled between us—not uncomfortable, but weighted with shared understanding.
Then Akeno spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
"My mother was killed when I was young."
I stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.
"She was gentle. Kind. Everything I wanted to be." Akeno's hands trembled slightly in her lap. "She was a woman who fell in love with someone she shouldn't have. Someone from a completely different world."
Her voice grew tighter, pain threading through each word. "My father... he couldn't protect us. When the enemies came, when they attacked because of what I am, he wasn't there. My mother died defending me. And my father..." Her jaw clenched. "He failed us. Failed her. I was left alone, hating the blood that runs through my veins. Hating what I am."
Akeno stood abruptly, turning her back to me. Her hands moved to her kimono, and I realized what she was about to do a second before it happened.
She pulled the top of her kimono down, exposing her bare back.
And then wings emerged.
Black wings. Fallen angel wings. They materialized from her shoulder blades—one pair, dark as midnight, with feathers that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. They spread slightly in the confined space, trembling faintly.
"I hate this fallen angel's blood, within me" Akeno said, voice cracking "I hate these ugly wings that mark me as something impure. Something wrong. They remind me every day of why my mother died. Of what I am."
She thinks I'll be revolted. Thinks I'll see those wings and remember Raynare, Dohnaseek, Kalawarner. Think I'll reject her like she rejects herself.
I stood up smoothly, and I heard her breath hitch—probably expecting me to back away, to leave, to confirm every fear she had about being unacceptable.
Instead, I moved closer.
I sat down right next to her, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. My eyes focused on those wings with genuine interest and curiosity.
"Your wings are completely different from those three fallen angels"
Akeno's head turned slightly, confusion mixing with her distress.
"Theirs were dull and trash. " I studied the wings before me with honest appreciation. "But yours? They're beautiful. The feathers look soft, well-maintained. They shine when the light catches them just right. They're elegant."
I smiled—bright and genuine. "They look even more beautiful because they're yours, Akeno-san."
For a moment, absolute silence.
Then Akeno made a sound between a sob and a laugh. She turned, and suddenly I had an armful of emotional Queen as she threw herself into a hug, wings wrapping partially around us both.
"Thank you," she whispered against my shoulder, voice thick with relief and gratitude. "Thank you for accepting me. For not hating me. I was so scared—"
"I could never hate you," I said firmly, returning the hug. The wings around us felt surprisingly warm, soft feathers brushing against my arms. "You're precious to me, Akeno-san. Your heritage doesn't change that."
We stayed like that for a long moment, her happiness almost tangible in the air around us.
Finally, she pulled back slightly, though she didn't move away completely. Her smile had returned—genuine this time.
"Akeno san, Can I touch them?"
"Hm?"
"Your wings" I clarified, because my brain briefly short-circuited. "Can I touch your wings?"
"Ara ara" The Akeno I knew returned in full force, that dangerous smile playing across her lips "Asking to touch a lady's wings so directly~"
I walked right into that one. Completely set myself up.
"If you're uncomfortable—"
"I didn't say no" She extended one wing toward me, feathers rustling softly. "Go ahead. You accepted me, so I'll let you touch them. As much you like~"
I reached out carefully, running my fingers along the edge of one wing. The feathers felt impossibly soft, like touching black silk that had been spun from shadows and starlight. They were warm—warmer than I expected.
"They really are beautiful," I said honestly.
Akeno's expression softened into something genuinely happy, the teasing falling away to reveal pure contentment.
And then—
*[Hidden Quest Completed!]*
*[Quest: Help Akeno accept her fallen blood]*
*[Reward: 1 Character Card]*
The notification appeared in my vision, glowing softly with that distinctive system interface I'd gotten used to.
Oh you've got to be kidding me. NOW? While she's still literally in my arms and I'm petting her wings like she's some kind of exotic bird?!
The system has the WORST timing. Actually the worst. I'm having a genuine emotional moment here and the universe decides to interrupt with achievement notifications. Not, that I am hating it, but give me a moment
"Congratulations, you've unlocked emotional vulnerability! Here's your prize! Would you like to save your progress?!"
I fought to keep my expression neutral, not wanting Akeno to think my sudden internal screaming had anything to do with her.
At least it confirms she'll be able to use her Holy Lightning now without hesitation. That's going to be crucial for the Rating Game against Riser. Silver lining and all that.
"Yuuto-kun?" Akeno tilted her head, studying my face. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about how glad I am, that you trusted me with this."
Her wings folded back, and she finally pulled away, readjusting her kimono with practiced ease. The vulnerability from moments ago had transformed into satisfaction and contentment.
"Thank you for coming, Yuuto-kun," she said smiling brightly "This meant more to me than you know."
---
Later that night.
I dropped onto my bed face-first with a heavy sigh, the mattress catching me with familiar softness. My entire body felt heavy—not physically exhausted, but mentally drained from the emotional weight of the day.
*Akeno finally accepted her past. That means she won't hesitate to use her Holy Lightning anymore. With some proper encouragement, I should be able to convince her to use it in the Rating Game against Riser. That's a massive advantage, fallen angel power combined with devil power.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling where shadows from the window played across white paint.
What a day. And it ended without any major trouble. No sudden attacks, no unexpected crises, no Dragon Kings appearing to vaporize me for trespassing her territory —
Red light bloomed in my peripheral vision.
Why. Why do I keep tempting fate like this.
A magic circle materialized in the center of my room—crimson and elegant, the Gremory clan symbol rotating slowly within the pattern. Power pulsed through the air, familiar and unmistakable.
The light intensified, and a figure stepped through.
Rias Gremory emerged from the teleportation circle, her crimson hair seeming to glow in the dim light of my bedroom. She wore her usual school uniform, but something about her expression made warning bells go off in my head.
Her blue-green eyes locked onto mine with unusual intensity—determined, nervous, desperate, all swirling together into something that made my danger senses scream.
Guess I spoke too soon about the day ending without trouble.
"Buchou?" I sat up quickly, concern overriding my exhaustion. "Is everything alright? Did something happen?"
Rias stood there for a moment, hands clenched at her sides. Her jaw set with determination. She took a breath—deep and deliberate, like someone about to jump off a cliff.
Then she spoke, voice carrying absolute resolve:
"Yuuto. I need you to take my virginity"
. . .
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