[Isaiah's POV]
The air inside the chamber thrummed with power—a discordant symphony of divine, demonic, and fallen energies clashing against each other like invisible tides. Each presence with the weight of eons-old grudges forced into temporary submission beneath a veneer of diplomacy.
I stood rigid against the wall, my back pressing into cool stone as I watched history unfold before me.
Michael's golden halo shimmered with ethereal light that painted dancing shadows across the vaulted ceiling. Behind him, Xenovia and Irina stood at attention, their eyes wide with reverence—believers witnessing their god's regent in the flesh.
Azazel lounged with deliberate casualness, fingers steepled beneath his chin. But I caught the way his eyes tracked every movement, every breath, cataloging threats with the instinct of someone who'd survived countless wars. Behind him, Vali radiated barely-contained violence, his silver eyes gleaming like polished blades hungry for blood.
Sirzechs, Grayfia and Serafall represented the demonic contingent, one group exuding terrifying power wrapped in noble appearance, the other forcing cheerfulness over layers of calculation.
This was it. The peace summit that would reshape supernatural politics.
And my system was offering me three character cards just to survive it.
Three.
The mental notification had materialized the moment Sirzechs called the summit to order, its presence a cold knot of dread coiling in my gut. The system had never been generous. Every reward was proportional to danger. If Kokabeil was worth two in one.
So what the hell warranted six in three?
My mind raced through possibilities, each more horrifying than the last. Canon had this summit proceeding smoothly—minor interruptions by Old Satan Faction and Khaos Brigade assault, but ultimately successful. But canon also had Issei stumbling through life with oblivious protagonist energy while girls threw themselves at him.
This wasn't canon anymore.
I'd derailed that train the moment I woke up in this body, and now I was riding the wreckage downhill with no brakes and a growing certainty that something catastrophic was barreling toward us like a freight train made of explosives and bad decisions.
The system knew something I didn't. Something dangerous for sure.
"—which brings us to the matter at hand" Sirzechs's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I blinked, refocusing on the present. Politics first. Existential dread later.
"Isaiah kun"
Every eye in the room swiveled toward me with the weight of avalanches.
"Come forward, please."
I pushed off the wall, boots clicking against polished marble as I walked toward the massive round table. Each step echoed in the sudden silence. Grayfia shifted almost imperceptibly, creating a path for me. I could feel Rias's surprise radiating from behind me, Akeno's curiosity, Koneko and Asia's concern.
I stopped before the table where mythological legends sat, where beings who could reshape continents with idle gestures discussed the fate of entire races. The wood grain swirled beneath my palms as I gripped the chair's edge, ancient and weathered, probably older than most countries.
Four pairs of eyes locked onto me with varying degrees of interest.
Sirzechs smiled, warmly "You were the one who subdued Kokabiel. This meeting would be incomplete without your participation."
He gestured to the empty chair beside him.
"Please. Sit."
My brain stuttered. Sit? At the roundtable? With the faction leaders?
But Sirzechs's expression said no argument, so I pulled out and lowered myself into it.
Surprised murmurs rippled through the room. I caught Irina's gasp, Xenovia's narrowed eyes. Even Vali's perpetual smirk had shifted into something more speculative.
The leaders, though? They didn't even blink.
Sirzechs nodded as if I'd merely confirmed something obvious. Serafall shot me a quick wink that somehow managed to be both playful and curious. Michael's serene expression never wavered, though I felt his attention settle over me like warm sunlight.
And Azazel... Azazel grinned like he'd just won a bet.
"Shall we get to the peace already?" The Fallen Angel Governor's voice dripped with amusement "We all know what we aim for with this meeting." His amber eyes flicked to me, sharp and knowing "That's what you want as well, don't you?"
Before I could formulate a response, Michael leaned forward, his voice resonating with harmonics "Even after what Kokabiel did to the Church, to the faithful who trusted in Heaven's protection... I wish for peace." His gaze found mine, full of kindness "Violence begets only more violence. We have bled enough"
He lifted his arm and a magic circle blazed to life in the table's center—complex geometric patterns rotating within patterns, holy symbols I didn't recognize pulsing with white-gold light.
The air shimmered.
Power gathered, condensed, crystallized. Light erupted upward in a pillar of radiance that forced me to squint. When it faded, a sword hovered above the table, suspended by threads of luminous energy.
The blade gleamed silver-white, its edge sharp enough to cut reality itself. The crossguard curved like dragon wings, and along the fuller, ancient script glowed with dormant power. Even sheathed in Michael's magic, I could feel its presence—holy energy so pure it made my demonic nature recoil instinctively.
"Ascalon" Azazel breathed, genuine appreciation coloring his voice. "Now that's a sight I didn't expect today. The Dragon Slayer, forged from the fury of a saint" He shot Michael a look "You're being unusually generous"
Michael's smile was gentle "Isaiah retrieved the Excalibur fragments. More importantly, he protected people of church when they ventured beyond our reach" His gaze returned to me "I would like to offer this as gratitude for your assistance."
The sword drifted toward me, light trailing in its wake like morning mist.
I stood carefully, reached out. My fingers closed around the hilt, and oh—
Holy power surged up my arm, not burning but present, coiled potential waiting to be unleashed. The weight was perfect, the balance exquisite. I could feel the dragon-slaying enchantments woven into every molecule, ancient hatred for scaled tyrants compressed into steel.
"I accept this gift with gratitude, Michael-sama" The words came formal and respectful, because you didn't fuck around with the Archangel who'd led Heaven's armies since before humans learned to write. "I will ensure it's used to protect those who cannot protect themselves."
Michael inclined his head, seeming satisfied.
I channeled magic through my storage seal, crimson light enveloping Ascalon as it vanished into my personal dimension. The holy aura winked out, leaving only the memory of its weight.
"Might not be needing that sword though, eh kid?" Azazel's tone was light, but his eyes were calculating "What with your Sacred Gear being able to create such weapons yourself?" He leaned back, fingers tapping an idle rhythm on the armrest "A Satan-class Devil wielding holy and demonic swords simultaneously. A true terror for any opponent, indeed"
That last sentence held not quite fear, but acknowledgment. Azazel had seen enough power to recognize when something could genuinely threaten his peace and order.
Sirzechs cleared his throat, a diplomatic smile firmly in place "Now then, we should shift our attention to what we are here for." His gaze settled on Azazel "Were you truly unaware of Kokabiel's actions?"
The Fallen Angel Governor simply crossed his arms "I knew Kokabiel was planning something with the Excaliburs. He had been obsessed with restarting the Great War for centuries, not exactly subtle about it." He sighed, running fingers through his hair "But I didn't know his specific intentions until after Isaiah had already dealt with him. I was about to send Cadre to clean up the mess, but..." He gestured at me "Kid beat me to it"
Rias strode forward, her crimson hair seeming to burn with inner fire as her power flared—subtle, controlled, but unmistakably present. Her blue-green eyes blazed with barely contained fury as she faced down the being who'd lived for millennia.
"And what about the Fallen Angels who repeatedly tried to assassinate my Knight?" Her voice cut like a whip crack, sharp and unforgiving.l "Should we even consider your words of peace after what happened to him again and again?"
Pride surged through my chest. Rias held her ground against someone ten times—a hundred times—stronger than her, unflinching in defense of her peerage. She was the King that every peerage member wishes to serve, the leader who'd go to war for her people without hesitation.
This was what loyalty looked like.
Azazel met her gaze steadily, no deflection or excuses "You're right to question me, Rias Gremory. I acknowledge my negligence in controlling my subordinates" He straightened, dropping the casual facade with a firm nod "I give you my word, no such thing will happen again from my faction. Any Fallen Angel who acts against agreed-upon terms will face consequences severe enough to serve as warning to all others. Even Kokabiel has been facing punishment in the freezing depths of the Underworld. So let's have peace"
His amber eyes found mine across the table, holding my gaze with uncomfortable intensity.
Then Sirzechs turned to me, his expression unreadable "What is your opinion on this, Isaiah? After all, you were the one dealing with Fallen Angel attacks again and again"
Silence crashed down once again.
Every eye in the room locked onto me. Michael's serene patience. Azazel's sharp interest. Serafall's forced cheerfulness hiding genuine curiosity. Sirzechs's measured calm. Grayfia's stoic observation. Vali's predatory anticipation.
The weight of faction politics balanced on my next words.
I drew a slow breath, let it out and replied "I agree with Azazel-san"
Rias's eyes widened fractionally.
"What happened in the past shouldn't stop us from making decisions for a better future ahead" I kept my voice level, meeting each leader's gaze in turn. "We've suffered enough losses on all sides. Continuing this cycle of violence will only lead to more bloodshed, more orphaned children, more families destroyed" I paused, letting the words settle "Peace isn't a weakness. It's choosing to be stronger than your hatred. So why not now? Why not here?"
Azazel chuckled with genuine amusement "I was expecting resistance, arguments, maybe some righteous fury about justice and vengeance" He shook his head, grin widening "But you're a calm and reasonable person, kid" His gaze shifted to Vali "What do you think about peace, White Dragon Emperor?"
Vali shrugged, silver eyes gleaming with barely-restrained violence "As long as I have powerful individuals to fight, I don't care about it"
"You won't have to worry about that" Azazel assured him "Even with peace, there will be plenty of strong opponents to test your strength" His attention returned to me "I can't think of anything to adequately compensate for all the trouble my accomplices caused you, Isaiah. But if you ever need a favor, anything within my power, I won't hesitate to fulfill it."
A favor from the Fallen Angel Governor was worth its weight in miracles.
I affirmed with a respectful nod "I appreciate that. I'll remember your generosity."
Sirzechs smiled, tension easing from his shoulders "Alright then, we can conclude this is pea—"
Then the world stopped.
Not metaphorically. Not gradually.
One instant, air moved and hearts beat and existence flowed forward.
The next, everything froze mid-motion like reality had been paused.
Rias stood motionless, her hand still raised from her previous gesture. Akeno's lips were parted around an unfinished word. Koneko's eyes were locked on me, concern crystallized into stillness. Asia's gentle smile had become a statue's expression. Across the room, Sona and Tsubaki were equally frozen, caught in temporal lock.
The leaders, Grayfia, Vali and exorcist duo remained unaffected.
Azazel stood slowly, his eyes narrowed. Vali's Divine Dividing manifested in a pulse of azure light, twelve wings of crystalline energy spreading behind him.
And I remained seated, my own temporal resistance keeping me mobile when others couldn't move.
"What happened?!" Irina's voice cracked with panic, her hand reaching to Excalibur Mimic at her waist.
"Time manipulation," I said flatly, my gaze sweeping the frozen forms of others "Someone's holding Gasper hostage, using his Sacred Gear against us"
Xenovia drew Durandal, holy energy crackling along the legendary blade "Can we free others?"
"You can't" Sirzechs' voice was grim as he moved toward the window, power radiating from him in barely-contained waves. "Forbidden Balor View stops time itself. Only those with sufficient power or specific resistances can move." He gestured at Irina and Xenovia. "Your Excaliburs provide holy protection that partially negates Sacred Gear effects. The rest of us have raw strength to push through temporal stasis."
"Hm?" Azazel paused mid-step, his gaze locking onto me.
I must have looked like I'd seen a ghost. Or worse.
Because I had.
My eyes were fixed on the window, staring at the sky beyond with dawning horror that turned my blood to ice water and my thoughts to static screaming.
"Kid?" Azazel moved beside me, following my line of sight "What could possibly be so—"
He stopped.
Just... stopped.
"What the hell?" The words fell from his lips like stones, disbelief making them heavy.
The others joined us at the window—Sirzechs, Michael, Serafall, Grayfia, Vali, Xenovia, Irina—all pressing close to see what had stolen our voices.
They saw.
And like us, they froze.
Above the academy, painted against a sky turned crimson as fresh blood, a massive magic circle rotated with ponderous inevitability. The formation was enormous—easily a kilometer across—etched with symbols so ancient and terrible that looking at them made my eyes strain. Purple-black energy crackled along its perimeter, dimensional barriers tearing.
From the center, something emerged gradually adding terror with its added presence.
The upper body appeared first, which was massive beyond comprehension, humanoid but malevolent. Fallen angel features, but twisted, corrupted, fangs jutting from a mouth that split too wide. Six wings of molten darkness spread from its back, each feather dripping shadows that evaporated into screaming whispers before hitting the ground.
The lower body was of an Asian dragon's serpentine form, scales black as murdered suns, each one the size of a manor. The body coiled and writhed with muscular grace that belonged to apex predators, to things that sat at the top of food chains which included gods.
But it was the cross that made it truly horrifying.
The creature was crucified.
Nailed to a massive cross of blackened wood with spikes driven through wings, tail, arms, chest. Ancient chains wrapped around its form, glowing with a sealing script that pulsed like dying heartbeats. A blindfold covered its eyes, but beneath it, tears of blood streamed down in endless rivers.
The sight was like a depiction of Shiva Ganishka from Berserk.
The thing radiated pure evil energies which were even high class Devils won't dare to step in. Power that made my Sacred Gear scream warnings. Malevolence so concentrated it had weight, pressing down on reality like a thumb crushing an ant.
"This can't be..." Sirzechs's voice was barely a whisper, his composure shattered "Why is it here?"
Even Grayfia—stoic, unflappable Grayfia—stared with undisguised shock "A monster sealed in the deepest parts of the Underworld. Who could possibly summon it?"
Beside that monster were the magicians.
Hundreds of them.
Scattered across the crimson sky like stars, each standing on personal magic circles that burned with sickly green light. Their chanting rose in discordant harmony, words in languages that predated human civilization, calling forth more and more creatures from the dimensional tear.
Lesser dragons. Chimeras. Things without names.
An army pouring through the gap in reality.
"Who on earth thought bringing Samael here was a good idea?" Azazel's voice shook—not with fear, but with fury barely held in check "And those malevolent beings as well, what's going on here?"
Samael.
The Dragon Eater.
The Curse of God.
The being so dangerous that all three factions had cooperated to seal it away because letting it roam free meant extinction for dragon-kind.
This was so far beyond the original timeline's events that I couldn't even see the plot from here. Was it really Old Satan Faction or Khaos Brigade who decided it was a good idea for apocalypse-level threat to be dropped on our heads.
Three character cards.
Yeah. Now it all makes sense.
"This is perfect!"
Vali's voice cut through the horrified silence like a blade, vibrating with barely-contained ecstasy. Azure wings blazed to life behind him, twelve appendages of crystalline power that lit the room with cold fire. Divine Dividing's presence roared to life, hungry and eager.
"I can't wait to fight that thing!"
He shot forward before anyone could stop him—a bullet of blue light that punched through the window in an explosion of glass and frames. The CRASH echoed like artillery as he rocketed toward Samael with a battle cry that was half laugh, half scream.
"Vali, you idiot—!" Azazel lunged forward, but his host was already gone, a shrinking point of azure light arrowing toward certain death.
Michael's wings dimmed. "What should we do?"
Serafall's hands clenched into fists. "I can't fight our enemies while my sister and everyone else are frozen in time." Her voice cracked on 'sister,' revealing depths of protectiveness beneath the magical girl persona.
Sirzechs turned from the window, his expression carved from stone. "Teleportation magic isn't working either. Someone planned this meticulously—layered barriers, temporal stasis, dimensional anchors." His crimson eyes blazed. "We're trapped in a cage of our own making."
"We must reach whoever's controlling the time stop," Azazel said grimly. "Free them. Without that, we can't fight and protect our people simultaneously."
"Gasper's in the old school building," I said, my mind already racing through angles, calculating distances and obstacles. "But that's on the opposite side of campus. We'd have to go through..." I gestured at the window, at Samael and the army of magicians and summoned monsters. "All of that."
Sirzechs's jaw tightened. "Someone has to rescue him."
A tentacle erupted from Samael's lower body—thick as a building, lined with suckers that leaked poison. It whipped through the air with horrifying speed and slammed into Vali's barrier, the impact sending shockwaves rippling across the sky.
BOOM!
The sound hit us a second later, rattling windows and shaking foundations.
Vali twisted midair, wings folding and spreading in complex patterns as he dodged a second tentacle, then a third. Divine Dividing's power halved Samael's strength—once, twice, three times in rapid succession—but the Dragon Eater just kept coming, regenerating faster than Vali could damage it.
He was being overwhelmed.
And he was laughing.
"I'll go," I said.
Every head swiveled toward me.
"Kid." Azazel's voice was flat. "Did you hear what Sirzechs just said? We have to go through Samael first." He pointed at the window where Vali was currently being battered by tentacles the size of trains. "You see him? The White Dragon Emperor, one of the strongest beings in existence, is getting his ass kicked. And you want to use him as a distraction to slip past?"
His amber eyes bored into mine. "That's suicide."
I stood, chair scraping against marble. "I'll be fine."
My hand moved, magic circle flaring to life on the floor in complex geometric patterns. Crimson light erupted upward as I reached into my storage dimension, fingers closing around familiar leather wrapping.
Yamato emerged in a whisper of displaced air.
The katana's sheath was midnight blue, simple and elegant, with white cord wrapping the handle. But the moment it materialized, the temperature dropped five degrees. Reality itself seemed to lean away from the blade, recognizing something fundamentally other.
I drew it slowly.
Sssssshhhhhhhhhing.
The sound was steel singing, a note of pure lethality that resonated in the bones. The blade gleamed silver-white, its edge so sharp it appeared translucent. Along the length, faint blue light pulsed in time with my heartbeat—spatial magic resonating with the weapon's intrinsic nature.
Yamato.
The blade that could cut space itself.
I raised it vertically, then horizontally, slashing in two precise movements that carved reality like tissue paper. The air screamed where the edge passed, space splitting along invisible seams with sounds like tearing silk and breaking glass.
SLASH.
SLASH.
A tear opened before me—edges crackling with unstable energy, revealing swirling void beyond. Not a portal, not teleportation. A cut in the fabric of space that led exactly where I wanted.
"I'll be back in a moment."
I stepped into the spatial tear.
Behind me, stunned silence reigned as the rift sealed itself with a sound like thunder played backwards, leaving no trace I'd ever been there.
"....."
. . .
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