Hello fellow masters in arm, I'm back, sorry it took too long this chapter took a while to make it flow correctly. Without further ado here is a new chapter. Enjoy. Please leave a comment on what is your thoughts on my story and how did you find it.
*Day 2*
Within the quiet guest wing of the mountain villa, a faint creak echoed as the lid of an ornate, custom-built coffin slid open. The craftsmanship was flawless—Leonardo's work, without a doubt—its polished wood and lined velvet interior befitting royalty.
From within, Vlad III slowly rose, every movement deliberate, dignified, and steeped in an elegance that was more ritual than habit. He straightened his cravat, brushed the cuffs of his tailored coat, and smoothed back his hair. For him, the day did not truly begin until one presented oneself as a proper noble should.
As he dressed, he considered his next steps. Gasper Vladi was his responsibility to train—a dhampir in need of guidance—but also… others in this household could benefit from discipline and refinement. But first, the fledgling.
He emerged from his quarters and made his way to the dining hall. Morning light streamed in through the wide windows, bathing the long table in gold. Kio, Rias, Akeno and everyone else were already seated, plates and cups set before them.
The maids moved with quiet precision, laying out breakfast. Vlad joined them with a polite nod, taking a seat without fanfare.
It didn't take long for him to notice the absence.
"…Where is the boy?" Vlad asked, his voice calm but edged with expectation.
Rias, sipping her tea, glanced toward him. "Gasper stays in his room most of the time. Being surrounded by a lot of people makes him uncomfortable. We usually send his meals to him."
Vlad hummed, though there was a note of disapproval in the sound. "I see. Be careful indulging your subordinates, spoiling them will not end well. Lady Gremory!"
"Spoiling? Would you please elaborate, Mr. Victor? She questioned. Vlad take a bite of his breakfast, "That is for you to figure out, for you are their leader. Leadership is about making others better as a result of your presence and making sure that impact lasts in your absence. In addition, affection and loyalty are admirable… but they are not enough. Until you've faced death, until you've bled and risen again, you are still novice." His words carried the weight of centuries, every syllable pressing down like the authority of a monarch.
The table grew quiet. Rias tilted her gaze downward, her thoughts tangled in the meaning of his words.
It was Issei who broke the silence. He slammed his hand lightly against the table, eyes blazing with earnestness. "President is already a great leader! We have already won a couple of battles with stray devils, and she's a total badass!"
His voice cracked with emotion; his eyes flared with resolve, like he just spoke an epic of old. The others, One by one followed. Akeno with her soft, teasing smile. Yuuto with his quiet nod of affirmation. "Word" Koneko nodded of agreement as she reached for another plate.
The warmth of their trust swirled around Rias, but it was cut by a calm, colder voice.
"That is not enough! "It just means you lack experience. All of you. You've never fought with everything on the line." Kio spoke while setting down his fork. The other looked at him, almost speechless, Akeno shifted her eyes away, as if recalling something painful. Yuuto clenched both his teeth and hand, wanting to respond but couldn't.
The words struck the peerage like a blade.
Vlad's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. He tilted his head toward Kio in approval. "Exactly so. Until you have gained experience of battle, you are still children playing pretend."
The hall grew still, Rias holding her teacup midair, her crimson eyes wavering for a moment before she set it down.
"…I understand," she murmured, though her grip on the cup trembled faintly.
Without needing further instruction, Rias gestured toward one of the twin maids. "Prepare his portion and take it to him."
Breakfast passed in pleasant conversation, but the thought of Gasper's seclusion lingered in Vlad's mind. When the others finished and began to disperse for training, Vlad lingered behind.
He intercepted the maid as she carried a covered tray toward the hallway. "Allow me," he said smoothly, taking the tray from her hands before she could protest.
The walk to Gasper's room was quiet—almost unnervingly so. Reaching the door, Vlad knocked gently but firmly.
No answer.
He tried again, louder. Still nothing.
With a faint sigh, Vlad tested the knob. It turned easily, the door creaking as it opened into shadow. The curtains were drawn tight, sealing away the morning light. The air was still, faintly tinged with the scent of dust and something sweet—snacks, perhaps.
Across the room, a flicker of artificial light illuminated a cluttered desk. The faint, tinny sounds of a video game spilled from the glowing screen, rapid button clicks and digital explosions filling the silence.
In a box sat Gasper, hunched forward, eyes glued to the monitor. The boy didn't seem to notice the door opening… or the tall, aristocratic figure now stepping inside.
Vlad's eyes narrowed slightly, though not in anger—this was the reality he would have to work with. Placing the tray down on a side table. His presence filled the room like a shadow stretching over a candle
"Good morning, young one," Vlad said, his voice cutting through the sound of the game.
"Turn it off."
The words cut like a blade. Gasper jolted, nearly dropping his controller. His crimson eyes darted toward Vlad, wide with fear.
Vlad's gaze was sharp, but not unkind. He gestured to the food.
"Eat. Then we will talk."
Gasper, trembling slightly, fumbled with the power button on the monitor. The screen went dark, plunging the room into near total silence, broken only by the faint whir of a fan. He climbed out of the large cardboard box he had been sitting in—his makeshift sanctuary—and tentatively approached the side table where Vlad had placed the tray. He took a seat at the small desk chair, keeping his eyes downcast.
He began to pick at the food with a silver fork, the silence heavy and awkward. Vlad sat in a high-backed armchair that seemed to materialize from the shadows, observing the boy with a clinical intensity that made Gasper's skin crawl.
"Tell me, boy," Vlad began after a few moments. "Why do you confine yourself to this dark box? The morning light is far more beneficial than this perpetual twilight."
Gasper flinched. He stopped eating and clasped his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers nervously.
"I... I can't," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
"Can't what? Join the others?" Vlad's voice was even, devoid of the irritation a less patient man might feel. "They seem like a boisterous, if inexperienced, group. Surely a little company is better than solitude."
Gasper shook his head vigorously, his long blond hair falling over his face. He pushed his plate away, his appetite gone.
"I'm scared." The words were tight with emotion.
"Scared?" Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Of what? You, who's powers are substantial, a unique ability to stop time itself, a rare and potent gift."
Gasper looked up, his large, tear-filled eyes meeting Vlad's for a moment before darting away.
"Of everything." He swallowed hard. "It started when I was little. They called me a monster, the people of my clan. Being around a lot of people... the eyes, the noise, the feeling of them watching me... it makes my heart pound until it explodes. I freeze up. It's like I'm back there, being hunted." He gestured around the room wildly. "In here, it's safe. It's quiet. I can control who comes in."
Vlad listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable. He steepled his fingers, the picture of aristocratic calm.
"So, you hide," Vlad stated, not as a question but as a fact. "You run from the fear and ensconce yourself in comfort of a box."
"It's not running," Gasper protested weakly. "It's... staying safe."
"Safety is an illusion," Vlad said dismissively. "Especially in this world. The only true safety lies in strength, discipline and trusted allies. You have a profound ability, boy, and you waste it doing nothing."
He stood up and walked over to the window, effortlessly pulling back the heavy velvet curtains. A gasp escaped Gasper's lips as the bright morning light flooded the room, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
"Cowering in fear makes you weak," Vlad's voice was firm now, an undeniable command resonating in the quiet room. You are a dhampir, yes, but of a noble bloodline nonetheless. You have a duty to your abilities, to your Lady, and to yourself."
He turned back to face the boy, who was shielding his eyes from the unaccustomed brightness.
"You speak of trauma, of fear, of being called a monster. These are merely experiences. Fuel for the fire of your resolve," Vlad said. "I have seen entire empires crumble, faced armies of men and demons, and bled for centuries. I know fear, boy. The difference between a man and a coward is that a man uses fear as a tool, while the coward lets it become his master."
He clenched his fists, scrunching his skirt. His heart pounded, but not from fear this time. From something sharper. Clearer.
"...I'll ask you one final time, young Gasper," Vlad's voice cut through the haze, steady and commanding. "What do you want to be? A man who stands, or a coward who hides?"
Gasper looked up, his expression wavering—then firming with newfound resolve. His eyes, still glossy with traces of fear, now burned faintly with determination.
"I… want to be a man," he said at last. His voice cracked slightly, but the words carried weight.
For a heartbeat, Vlad said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face—a rare, genuine grin that softened the sharpness of his features.
"Excellent," he said simply, nodding once. "Then we'll continue your training when you're done with your breakfast. A warrior fights better on a full stomach."
Gasper blinked, caught off guard by the oddly warm advice, and gave a small, awkward nod. "Y-Yeah… okay."
A moment passed before he timidly raised his hand. "Um… while waiting… could I finish my game?"
Vlad tilted his head, curious. "A game?"
Gasper motioned toward the console. "It… helps calm my nerves."
The elder vampire's eyes flicked to the glowing screen, where a pair of pixelated fighters clashed in a blur of color. With a bemused hum, Vlad sat back down, his cloak settling neatly around him. "Very well. Show me this… electronic duel of yours."
Gasper hesitated, then—almost shyly—offered him a second controller. "W-Wanna play?"
For a moment, Vlad looked at the tiny plastic device as though it were some alien artifact. Then, to Gasper's utter disbelief, he took it.
"I see… so this is your modern equivalent of dueling for honor," Vlad mused, turning the controller over in his hand. "Very well. Prepare yourself. I accept your challenge."
Gasper blinked, then grinned faintly. "You're on."
The sound of button clicks soon filled the room, mingled with bursts of laughter and frustrated curses—mostly from Vlad, whose aristocratic dignity faltered every time his on-screen fighter met a swift defeat.
The glow of the television painted the room in shifting blues and reds. The clicking of buttons filled the silence, punctuated by Gasper's quiet giggles whenever Vlad's character tripped over traps and gets surrounded by enemies.
"Blast this infernal contraption! You dare mock me?" Vlad growled good-naturedly, his tone half regal, half exasperated. "These controls are absurd. A warrior should strike, not… press tiny squares!"
Gasper laughed, shoulders shaking. "It's okay, Victor! You're getting better—ah, wait, no! You're walking right into the—!"
The screen flashed K.O., and Vlad sighed, placing the controller on his knee. "So this is what victory through humiliation feels like. Hmph. Barbaric."
They both chuckled softly, the room unusually light for once. Then, as the next round loaded, Gasper glanced toward Vlad with a curious expression.
"Um… Master Victor," he began tentatively, "I overheard you the other day."
Vlad's crimson eyes shifted toward him, silent but listening.
"I heard that you were a master of the spear… right?" Gasper continued, fidgeting with his hands. "I… I was wondering if maybe… you could teach me?"
The controller in Vlad's hand stilled. For a moment, he didn't move—his expression unreadable. Then his gaze softened, the faintest glimmer of nostalgia flickering behind his eyes.
That single request had reached somewhere long buried.
A voice from another time echoed faintly in his mind—
"Father, can you teach me the way of the spear? I want to be strong, like you!"
His hand trembled slightly before he composed himself, setting the controller aside.
"I see…" Vlad murmured, a wistful smile curling his lips. "To think I would hear those words again."
Gasper blinked. "Huh?"
"Nothing," Vlad replied, waving it off gently. He stood, his long coat swaying as he approached the window, the faint sunlight no longer bothering him. "Yes, young Gasper. I shall teach you. Not just to wield a spear—but to carry yourself with pride, as one who bears the blood of vampires and the heart of a man."
The boy's eyes widened, a small, hopeful smile spreading across his face. "Really? You mean it?"
Vlad turned his head slightly, his expression soft but firm. "A true teacher never refuses a sincere request for strength. When we are done, we will begin."
Gasper nodded eagerly, his heart racing with excitement. For the first time in a long while, the darkness of his room felt a little warmer.
Behind him, Vlad sat back down, silently watching the flickering screen—his reflection overlapping with the image of a father long gone and a son who never got the chance to grow.
Gasper stood at the far end of the open yard, his shoulders stiff, hands clenched at his sides. He wore simple training clothes, far too loose on his small frame, and in his grip rested a wooden spear—smooth, balanced, and unmistakably deliberate in its craftsmanship.
Vlad stood opposite him.
Gone was the relaxed atmosphere. The aristocratic vampire stood straight-backed, cloak discarded, sleeves rolled neatly to the elbow. His presence alone pressed down on the space between them like an invisible weight.
"This," Vlad said calmly, tapping the butt of his own practice spear against the stone, "is where your timid self ends."
Gasper swallowed.
"A spear is not just a weapon, it's a part of oneself" Vlad continued. "It demands distance, awareness, and resolve. You do not hide behind it—you face your enemy through it."
Gasper nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, sir."
Vlad's crimson eyes narrowed. "Louder!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
"Good."
Without warning, Vlad stepped forward—fast.
Gasper yelped, instinctively raising his spear high, too late. The wooden shaft cracked against his ribs with a dull thud, not hard enough to injure, but enough to knock the air from his lungs.
He stumbled back, gasping.
"That," Vlad said coldly, "is what hesitation looks like."
Gasper's hands trembled. "I—I wasn't ready—"
"Wrong, that is your first mistake." Vlad cut in sharply. "Battle does not wait for anyone. Always be vigilant."
He lowered his spear slightly, his tone easing—but only just. "Again. Guard stance."
Gasper forced himself upright, feet spreading awkwardly as he mimicked Vlad's posture. His breathing steadied, slowly, painfully.
Vlad circled him like a predator. "Your fear is loud. I can see it in your shoulders, your grip, your eyes. But fear is a part of life." He stopped directly in front of the boy. "Master it!"
Gasper clenched his teeth. His whole body shaking violently "…I don't want to be afraid."
Vlad smiled faintly. "Then advance."
This time, Gasper stepped forward. It was clumsy. His footing was off, his thrust weak—but it was forward. Vlad intercepted the strike easily, redirecting Gasper's spear aside and placing the tip of his own against the boy's chest.
"Better," Vlad said. "You moved."
Gasper panted, sweat already forming on his brow—but there was something else there now. Focus. Determination.
From the villa balcony above, Rias Gremory watched silently. She held a teacup in both hands, its warmth forgotten as her gaze followed every exchange. The sharp commands. Discipline. The way the man corrected without cruelty—pushing Gasper forward without breaking him.
"Gasper!?" she whispered. There was pride in her eyes. And relief. For the first time, Gasper wasn't hiding in the shadows or the comfort of his room. He was standing in the light—shaking, afraid… but standing.
Vlad stepped back and lowered his spear. "This is only the beginning," he said. "If you fall, you rise. If you tremble, you advance anyway."
Gasper nodded, breathing hard—but this time, his voice didn't waver. "…Teach me, Master."
Vlad's smile, small and genuine, returned. "Very well, my student."
*Day 4*
The mountain breeze was calm, almost indulgent, carrying with it the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sugar-laced pastries. Outside the villa, beneath a parasol carefully positioned for optimal shade, a man with salmon-pink hair sat comfortably at a small table. He adjusted his sleeves, humming to himself as he admired the spread before him like a sacred offering.
A perfect afternoon. He lifted his fork—
Something was flying in the air, hitting the villa's chimney stock, bouncing off -CRASH-.
A wooden sword slammed down with brutal force. The table shattered. Porcelain screamed. Wood splintered. Cakes were launched from their plates, splattering across stone and earth in a massacre of cream and sponge.
The man stared. Slowly, the fork slipped from his fingers. He dropped to his knees.
"No…" His voice trembled. "No, no, no—!"
He crawled forward, hands hovering uselessly over the ruined remains.
"The Tiramisu…!, Tres leches…! Strawberry cheese shortcake…!" My Fruit tartare…!"
Each name was spoken preciously. "They were perfect… perfect…"
Footsteps approached from the side of the villa.
Yuuto jogged around the corner, rubbing the back of his head. "It should be around here."
Kio followed beside him, walking with measured steps, his cane tapping lightly against the stone path. He stopped abruptly. "…Something broke and… someone is grieving," he said.
Yuuto blinked. "For real?", looking to the left, the wooden sword was embedded halfway into the shattered remains of the table. "…AH," he muttered. "Our bad, sorry Doc"
The kneeling man slowly lifted his head, eyes red, expression hollow. "Which one of you," his voice low and almost demonic, "threw the sword?"
Kio and Yuuto froze for half a second.
Then, in perfect unison, they raised a finger and pointed at each other.
"He did it."
"He did it."
The Doctor's eye twitched.
Yuuto coughed awkwardly and lowered his hand. "O-okay, so—uh—what actually happened was, we were practicing sword techniques, and Nanashi knocked the sword out of my hand. It flew. Hight. Sorry about that."
Kio nodded calmly. "The decend was… unfortunate."
The Doctor stared at them. His shoulders slumped. Then he slowly curled in on himself, dropping back to the ground and hugging his knees. "…Of course," he muttered, voice hollow. "Of course this would happen. FATE saw my joy… and choses chaos."
A dark aura practically leaked out of him.
Yuuto leaned closer to Kio and whispered, "Is he… okay?"
Kio tilted his head slightly, listening. "…Sounds like he's given up on life."
"I have," the Doctor said flatly.
Kio thought for a moment, then spoke again, tone even and sincere. "*Ehem* There might be some leftovers in the kitchen. If you are lucky."
Silence. Then—
The Doctor shot to his feet like he'd been struck by divine lightning. "…Leftovers?" he repeated. Sparkles practically exploded in his eyes. Without another word, he spun on his feet and bolted toward the villa, coat fluttering behind him like a hero answering the call. "THANK YOU!" he shouted over his shoulder. "GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR TRAINING!" He disappeared inside, laughter echoing faintly. "GOD HASN'T ABANDONED ME YET—!"
Yuuto stared after him. "…What just happened?"
Kio adjusted his grip on his cane. "…I don't even think Little Lion (Leonardo) could answered that."
The Doctor burst through the kitchen door like a man reborn, coat flaring as if applauding his survival. The scent of sugar and roasted beans guided him unerringly to the counter, where salvation awaited in the form of neatly covered plates.
Hands slowly clasped. Eyes glistening. "…It's here," he whispered, reverent.
"Ah—Doctor?" Asia's gentle voice cut in.
He turned. Asia stood near the sink; hands folded in her apron.
"Enjoying your time here?" She asked, curiously. The Doctor, recomposing himself, "Is a little hectic, but its peaceful here. A perfect place to let the stress melt away. I know our meeting yesterday was sudden, but I appreciate the hospitality."
That's good, things here are peaceful, isn't it? Um… by the way, have you seen Issei?" she asked. "He hasn't come back yet, and I'm a little worried…"
The Doctor rest his hand on his chin, thinking. "The dragon kid? Haven't seen him since he when with the cat-like girl and the one with stars in her eyes." He paused, then smiled faintly. "But I don't think there should be anything to worry about. He seems to have a talent for surviving tough situations."
As if on cue—
"AHHHHHHh—!!"
The kitchen door slammed open. Issei stumbled in dramatically, clutching his right arm like it had betrayed him. Behind him came Koneko, utterly unimpressed, and Ane—who looked a little too amused for someone escorting an injured man.
"Ah, speak of the devil, here he is now." *deadpan*
"It's broken!" Issei howled. "I swear it's broken! I felt it pop! I heard my bones scream! This is it—I'm done—I'll never fondle oppais' again—!"
"Stop overexaggerating, dumbass" Koneko said flatly.
Asia rushed to his side. "I-Issei! Please sit down!" She gently placed her hands over his arm, holy light blooming as she focused. "I'll heal you right away!" Warmth flowed. The pain dulled—but did not disappear. Asia frowned. "…I'm sorry. I can soothe it, but something feels… off. It's not responding properly."
Issei whimpered. "See?! Permanent damage!"
The Doctor had already moved. Pulling a monocle out of his pocket and placed it over his right eye, it etched with faint magic and rotating sigils. He leaned in, eyes narrowing as he scanned Issei's arm.
"Hm. No fractures. No tearing." He reached out and gently rotated the arm a fraction.
Issei shrieked. "GYAAAH—!!"
"Dislocated elbow," the Doctor said calmly, straightening. "Simple and clean pop."
Issei blinked. "…Huh?"
"Training injury," Ane mused. "I did warn them not to go overboard."
The Doctor snapped his gloves tighter. "Good news: You'll be fine."
Issei exhaled in relief. "Oh thank Satan—"
"Bad news," the Doctor continued pleasantly, "this will hurt."
Issei stiffened. "…?"
The Doctor leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. "However."
He glanced to the side, then widened his eyes theatrically. "Look over there! A naked lady," the Doctor said with obvious monotone. "With huge oppais."
"WHERE—?!" POP.
Issei's body locked up. The pain shoot throughout his arm, "Ahhhhhh!" rolling around the floor. Slowly getting back up after a while of flailing around "…Eh?" He blinked. Slowly, experimentally, he moved his arm. "…It's… it's back?"
Asia gasped in relief. "It worked!"
The Doctor removed the monocle and wiped it clean. "Of course it did."
Issei flexed his arm a few more times, disbelief melting into awe. "W–wait, hold on. How did you even know what was wrong? Asia couldn't tell, and she's a Saint." (Her face blushes in secret)
The Doctor smiled faintly and tapped the monocle's rim. "Because I created this Mystic Tool (Code)."
He slipped it back over his eye. The lens hummed softly, sigils rotating. "Modified optic lends. Base designed portable—magnification, light filtering. I rewrote it with magic (magecraft). It can peer beneath flesh, trace bone alignment, muscle tension, even minor spiritual interference."
He looked at Issei's arm again. "X-ray in simple terms."
Issei froze. Then his eyes lit up like he'd just glimpsed heaven. "X–X-ray…?" He leaned in, hands clasped. "S-so hypothetically—purely hypothetically—you could, y'know—"
"Hell No," Koneko said instantly.
Issei spun. "I didn't even say anything yet!"
"You were going to," she replied flatly.
The Doctor sighed, tucking the monocle in his pocket. "I will not lend you it so you can fulfill your degeneracy."
Issei dropped to his knees. "Just once—!"
Koneko grabbed him by his shirt with one hand. "Over your dead body."
"WAIT—KONEKO—I JUST GOT HEALED—!!"
She hoisted him like luggage and started carrying him toward the door. Ane followed, smiling brightly.
"Ara~ training isn't over yet, Issei," she said sweetly. "You wouldn't want to disappoint Rias now, would you?"
"Nooooo—!!"
The door slammed shut behind them. Silence returned to the kitchen.
At last. The Doctor exhaled and turned—finally—to the counter. There it was. The last surviving sweet. Pristine. Untouched. A small miracle of cream and sponge. He picked up his fork. Then… paused.
Across from him, Asia stood very still. Her hands were folded neatly. Her posture polite. Her expression is perfectly composed. Her eyes, however, betrayed her completely. They followed the dessert.
Left. Right. The Doctor slowly shifted the plate an inch.
Asia's gaze followed without thinking.
She blinked. "…Ah!" She straightened immediately, face flushing. "I-I'm sorry! I wasn't staring! I mean, I was, but—I didn't mean to! It's yours, Doctor, I wouldn't—!"
The Doctor studied her for a moment. Then his lips curved. "…Would you like to see a trick?"
Asia tilted her head. "…A trick?"
Placing a small metal cover over the dessert. With deliberate flair, he waved the fork above it.
He intoned solemnly. "By cream and by crumb, let sweetness be sung, the way a cookie crumbles."
Asia watched, utterly transfixed.
The Doctor lifted the cover. And then there were two.
Asia's eyes widened. "…E–eh?"
The Doctor slid one plate toward her. "Care to join me?"
She hesitated only a second before nodding, smiling softly. "Y-Yes. Thank you."
They left the kitchen together, stepping out into the gentle mountain light. "That is amazing." Asia spoke with a shine in her eyes. "How did you do that?"
"Its just a simple trick, my dear. I have a vast amount of knowledge of the world." As they walked, the Doctor spoke again, almost casually. "If you want to know, there may be something I can teach you, Ms. Argento."
She looked up at him, surprised. "…Teach me?"
He smiled. "Yes," he said. "Something useful, kind. It would be perfect for you."
***
The training grounds—
The air rang with sharp, hollow cracks as wood met wood.
Yuuto barely had time to reset his stance before Kio was already there.
Despite the difference in height—Kio's smaller frame looking almost fragile beside Yuuto's tall, knightly build—the wooden sword in Kio's hands moved with merciless precision. There was no wasted motion. No flourish. Each strike came from an angle Yuuto hadn't been guarding yet—and that was the problem.
Kio stepped inside Yuuto's range.
*Clack* Yuuto's blade was knocked aside.
Before he could recover, the tip of Kio's bokken tapped cleanly against his ribs, then his shoulder, then his wrist—three strikes in the span of a breath.
Yuuto stumbled back, teeth clenched. "He's fast—no, not fast. He's-."
Kio wasn't reacting. He was deciding.
Yuuto lunged, committing to a full diagonal cut.
Kio ducked under it effortlessly, pivoting on his heel. The wooden sword snapped upward, stopping a hair's breadth from Yuuto's throat.
Silence fell.
Yuuto exhaled sharply, lowering his weapon. "…Point."
Kio relaxed his stance, the sword resting lightly against his leg. "Your form is solid," he said calmly. "But you hesitate after committing. That pause is fatal."
Yuuto gave a wry smile. "Coming from you, that's terrifying."
They raised their swords again. Just as they moved to clash—
"Yuuto~ Nanashi~!"
Akeno's voice floated in on the breeze, warm and cheerful. She stood a short distance away, basket in hand. "Lunch is ready. Before you both collapse."
Yuuto laughed and lowered his sword. "Saved by the bell."
They ate beneath the open sky, the mountain breeze cooling sweat and easing strained muscles. Yuuto stretched afterward, rolling his shoulders. "I think I'll call it a day," he said with a sigh. "If I keep going, it will only end badly."
"Agreed," Kio replied.
Yuuto waved and headed back toward the villa.
Left alone, Kio's hand drifted unconsciously to the inside of his pocket. The letter with Baraqiel's seal was still intact. He could feel it even without sight—the weight of intent pressed into parchment. "Not yet," Kio decided. "The time is… not right."
"Nanashi?" Akeno tilted her head. "Shall we start?"
He nodded and rose smoothly. "If you're ready."
Her smile widened. "Always."
The moment the spar began, the atmosphere changed. Akeno didn't rush in like Yuuto had, planned a way to fight him after watching the fight earlier. She drifted back, fingers snapping once, creating distance between them.
Lightning cracked across the ground—not striking Kio, but fencing him in, forcing his path. The air hummed with restrained power.
Kio stepped forward anyway.
Sword met magic.
The bokken hummed as it cut through the charged air, Kio's movements fluid, his senses stretched outward. Each step avoided where the lightning would be, not where it was.
Akeno raised a brow. He's reading intent…
She sent a bolt straight for his flank.
Kio twisted, the wooden sword sweeping in a tight arc. The lightning dispersed, grounding harmlessly. He closed the distance in an instant.
Akeno laughed softly and vanished in a flash of electricity.
Kio halted, blade raised.
"Behind you~"
A bolt of lightning struck Kio from above
He jammed the sword into the ground, closing the current. The impact sent a tremor through his arms, but his stance held.
They traded blows—wood against thunder, precision against overwhelming force. Akeno's magic is playful but sharp, probing, testing. Kio answered each one with clean counters, never overextending, never chasing.
After several exchanges, they broke apart, both breathing lightly.
Akeno brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're dangerous, really hazardous. Come let me play some more."
A chill went down Kio's spine, reminding him of a certain perverted nun, as they continue their dance.
-
They sat beneath a tree, letting the moment settle.
Kio spoke again, voice thoughtful. "Himejima. Among everyone in Gremory's peerage… who would you say is the strongest?"
She blinked, then hummed softly, thinking. "If we're speaking purely of destructive potential… it has to be Rias. She is a pure blood devil."
Kio frowned slightly. "…That's strange."
Akeno turned to him. "Strange?"
"Yes," Kio said calmly. "Considering your heritage… wouldn't you be the strongest."
The air shifted. Akeno's smile faded just a little. "…What do you mean by that?" Her voice was still gentle—but there was caution beneath it.
Kio stood up, creating a bit of distance between them
"…Because I can feel it," he said.
Akeno stiffened.
"There is a holy energy in you," Kio continued, his tone measured but firm. "It is not faint. It's restrained. Bound. Layered beneath your demonic energy like a second heartbeat."
The air around Akeno prickled. Lightning sparks.
Her smile returned—but it was sharper now. Defensive.
"…Only a few people know about that," she said lightly. "So, I'll ask you. How do you know?"
Kio's grip tightened on the wooden sword. "Because I've been trained to recognize intent and essence. Aura doesn't lie."
Akeno laughed softly, but there was no warmth in it. "Ara~ that very impressive. But perhaps you shouldn't speak about things you know nothing about." Her eyes narrowed. "Some wounds are not yours to pry open. It'll be wise to keep your mouth shut and mind your own business."
Silence. The breeze stilled.
Kio's expression hardened—not angry, but cold.
"You think I'm meddling, that it is none of my business." he said. "This is part of your lesson and a warning."
Akeno stood as well, electricity crackling faintly along her fingers. "Warning me about myself?"
Kio took a step forward. "You are fighting with half a soul. Half your strength. That place a burden on everyone around you."
Akeno's jaw clenched.
"Every time someone holds back," Kio continued, voice low, "it forces others to compensate. Gremory burns herself out. Kiba fights harder to makes up the difference. And Hyodou is still a novice, he doesn't even understand what he fights for." He paused. "That is how you get yourself killed."
The words hit harder than any strike. Akeno looked away.
"…Tell me," He asked quietly. "What does Gremory mean to you?"
Akeno's fingers curled slowly into her sleeves. "…Rias is," she began, voice softer than before, "my light." She looked up at the sky, blinking once. "When I lost everything—when I didn't even know who I was —she took my hand without asking why I was broken." A faint smile touched her lips. "She didn't care where I came from. Only that I stayed." Her shoulders trembled, just a little. "She's my best friend," Akeno said quietly. "My savior. My family."
Kio listened. Truly listened. Then he spoke. "Then why," he asked, "hold back?"
Akeno's breath caught. "I don't want—" She opened her mouth, then stopped. Her gaze wavered. She searched for words that didn't come.
Silence stretched. Kio frowned. "…You refuse to accept it," he said.
Akeno looked away. The air grew heavier.
Kio's jaw tightened. "Do you take this whole situation as a joke?" Not raising his voice. "It's one thing to be weak and want to help a friend. It is another to have so much restrained power and act like you can do nothing when your friend needs help."
Akeno's body went still.
"I know you have a sadistic streak," Kio continued, unblinking, "but this has nothing to do with any of that."
He took a step closer.
"You're not powerless, but you choose to hide. You decide which part of yourself is allowed to exist—and you bury the rest."
The air tightened.
"Don't insult everyone around you by calling that '100%'," he said coldly. "If you were truly doing everything you could, Phenex won't be an issue."
A pause. Sharp. Intentional.
"When Gremory needs you," Kio went on, "you show up as half a person and call it loyalty." His words cut deeper now. "That isn't kindness. That isn't protection." He grounded himself.
"That's choosing your own comfort over her future—and letting everyone else carry the weight you refuse to touch." Kio continued, unable—or unwilling—to stop himself. "Gremory born with power and status." His voice hardened. "Losing to Phenex. Humiliated. Is that something you want? Isn't what you are doing right now, beyond cruelty?"
The lightning explodes near Kio, not moving an inch.
"NO!!!"
Akeno spun on him, eyes wide, breath ragged. Her control shattered. Electricity lashed out wildly, cracking the ground, splitting stone. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling freely now.
"I would never want that!" she cried. "Never!" She pressed a hand to her chest, shaking. "You think I'd wish pain on her? After everything she's has done for me. After she saved me when I hated myself?" Her voice broke Kio's voice cut through the fragile silence.
"Then that is exactly what will happen," he said, calm and merciless, "if you all lose the Rating Game."
Akeno flinched.
"Pride will not save her," Kio continued. "Power left unused is no different from that which never existed."
He turned away, propping the wooden sword over his shoulder. "When Gremory needs you, all of you don't fail her because you're weak." *pause* "You fail because you refuse to be whole…. Let's call it a day."
Akeno looked at him, lips parted as if to argue—but no words came.
"Think about what we discussed," Kio said over his shoulder. "And get some rest." With that, he walked off the training grounds' edge, cane tapping softly against the stone, leaving Akeno alone beneath the open sky.
The villa loomed quietly as Akeno approached. Her steps were slower now.
Outside the front door, Issei limped fowards, dragging his sore body like a veteran returning from war.
"Ahhh… finally… rest…" he muttered. Then he noticed her.
Akeno entered without her usual teasing smile, eyes downcast, and shoulders drawn inward. The electricity that always seemed to dance around her was gone—snuffed out.
Issei straightened despite the ache in his muscles.
"…Akeno sempai?" he called.
She didn't answer. She just kept walking.
Issei watched her go, anxiety twisting in his chest. "What happened…?" he questioned himself. Standing there for a few seconds, watching the space where Akeno was. That wasn't normal, he thought. That wasn't just "bad day" normal. His fists clenched. "…Dammit." A sharp ache flared through his legs as he moved again, his body screaming in protest. He ignored it.
Past the open veranda, he spotted Kio standing alone—still, composed, wooden sword resting at his side as if nothing had happened at all.
Issei's jaw tightened. It's him. Each step hurt. Every muscle complained. But Issei kept going, walking forward until he was close enough to speak. "Nanashi," he called out.
Kio didn't turn. "What is it Hyodou, what to go for a round?" sounding off with a bit of sarcasm.
He clenched his fist. "Cut the bullshit! Akeno-senpai came back looking like someone ripped her heart out and stomped on it. You're the only one she was with."
Kio's head tilted slightly. "Just letting know where she coming up short, as Gremory's queen and the outcomes of her action, if she doesn't overcome them."
Issei snapped. "If you did something to her—if you mess with any of my friends—" He jabbed his finger forward into Kio's chest. "I don't care who you think you are. I'll kick your ass and make you apologize."
The wind passed between them. Kio was silent for a moment.
Then—
"…You can't," he said.
Issei bristled. "Wanna bet."
Kio turned at last, blind eyes settling on Issei with unsettling precision. His eyes of perception, sees what can't be seen. Issei's energy, from the moment they meet till now has grown, but it wasn't enough. Although, He notices a small difference, the green and red aura surrounding Issei is flaring up.
"Of course, how can I forget one of the most important things when it comes to fighting: Emotion." Kio said to himself. "This could be the thing he needs."
Kio stood still, thoughts aligning, weighing outcomes. Push him or let circumstance decide… Before he could act—
"Nanashi! Issei!"
Asia's voice rang out, bright and urgent.
Both of them turned.
She was hurrying toward them, eyes shining with that familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. "Um—there's something I wanted to show you both—"
Then a sound came first. A deep, grinding *CRRRRK*.
Kio's head snapped up.
Issei felt it in his gut.
The chimney. The stone stack—already cracked from the earlier impact—gave way. Mortar split. Rock tore free.
"ASIA—!!" Issei shouted.
The world moved all at once.
Issei bolted forward, pain forgotten, body screaming as he threw himself on to Asia, covering her body from the falling debris, arms wrapped tight.
At the same instant, Kio launched forward, wooden sword discarded mid-stride. His fist drew back, muscles coiling, intent sharpening to a single point—
Shatter.
A translucent wall of pale gold flared into existence above them, trembling violently as tons of stone slammed into it. Cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier, but it held—barely.
Issei looked up, stunned. "…W–what?"
Asia on her knees, eyes shut tight, hands clasped together, lips moving in frantic prayer. Sweat beaded on her brow, her knees shaking as she struggled to maintain concentration.
"A–ah…!" she whimpered.
Kio halted instantly.
"That's enough, Asia," he said firmly. "You can stop."
She hesitated—then released her prayer.
The light shattered into particles.
Before gravity could reclaim its due, Kio stepped forward and caught the chimney with both hands.
Stone groaned.
Then—he lifted it.
With a controlled exhale, Kio raised the entire collapsed mass over his head and turned, muscles tightening just once before he hurled it aside. The debris crashed harmlessly into the ground, dust billowing skyward.
Silence fell.
"…Holy shit," Issei breathed.
Footsteps thundered as the others poured out of the villa—everyone's eyes widening as she took in the scene, Asia swaying unsteadily on her feet.
Issei spun and caught her before she could fall. "Asia! Are you okay?!"
She nodded weakly. "I-I'm fine… I just… wanted to show you something…"
Kio turned toward her, expression unreadable—but his voice was calm, yet proud "…You already did."
Dust settled. Hearts raced. And for the first time that day, no one spoke—because they all understood one thing. There are results.
Day 6
The morning felt deceptively normal. Sunlight spilled across the long dining table, glinting off porcelain cups and silverware. The scent of toast and coffee filled the villa, mixing with the low hum of casual conversation.
Rias sat at the head of the table, composed as ever. Yuuto discussed training refinements with Vlad III. Asia listened attentively to everything, eyes bright with curiosity.
Only Akeno was quiet. She moved with elegance, pouring tea, offering plates—but her laughter came half a beat too late. Her smile lingered a little too long. If you weren't paying attention, you'd miss it.
Kio did not miss it.
A teleportation circle appears, A composed wave of demonic power entered first. Sona stepped inside, posture immaculate, glasses catching the light. Behind her came Tsubaki and the rest of her peerage.
And slightly behind them— Saji. The moment his eyes landed on Kio, he stiffened. Just slightly. Then he subtly shifted—positioning himself farther back, as if instinctively placing distance between them.
"Good morning, Rias," Sona said calmly, adjusting her glasses. "I trust training has been productive."
Rias smiled. "As productive as one would expect."
Sona's eyes flicked across the room, taking in the subtle tension, the faint injuries, the sharpened auras. "Good," she replied. "Because it is time."
Issei froze mid-bite. "Time?" he repeated.
"For the newly reincarnated devils to acquire their familiars," Sona clarified.
Asia blinked. "F-familiars?"
"Familiars," Akeno said gently, "are magical creatures bound to a Devil through a contract. Think of them as partners."
Asia tilted her head. "Partners?"
"Yes." Akeno nodded. "When a Devil makes a contract, the familiar shares a portion of their master's demonic energy. In exchange, the familiar lends its abilities."
"So it's like… friend?" Asia asked quietly.
"Yes, exactly. Akeno reassured her on that statement.
Sona folded her hands. "The gate to the Familiar Forest will open tonight on the full moon."
Rias stood. "Then we'll prepare to depart."
Sona's gaze sharpened slightly. "Correction." Everyone paused. "Only one group may enter at a time. It seem like they double booked us on the same month. So, we need to figure out who goes."
Rias and Sona looked at each other. The air shifted.
Rias's smile turned competitive. "Shall we decide this properly?"
Sona pushed her glasses up. "Naturally."
***
The villa's training grounds was transformed into a makeshift tennis court. Ane volunteers herself as referee, blowing her whistle "Rias and Akeno vs. Sona and Tsubaki."
The whistle blew; the ball soared. Game Start"
Rias spiked with explosive force. Tsubaki returned with flawless precision. Sona's serves were sharp, calculated.
Akeno moved gracefully— But she hesitated. A second too late.
"15 - love—Sitri."
Rias glanced back briefly. "Akeno?"
"I'm fine," she said with a gentle smile.
But her focus wavered again.
Across the sidelines, the match escalated into something far louder.
"GO PRESIDENT RIAS!!!" Issei screamed, waving a towel like a war banner.
"Sitri-sama's strategy is flawless!" Saji shot back.
"Yeah? Well, Rias has bigger—uh—POWER! And BOOBS"
Saji's eye twitched. "President's strategy triumphs over brute force! And she has the perfect ASS"
"Oh yeah?! Issei retorted, clenching his teeth
They were nose-to-nose within seconds.
"You're just mad cause Rias is better!"
"At least my president doesn't rely on a reckless idiot!"
"Say that again!" they grabbed each other by their collars, ready to throw hands.
Yuuto sighed. "Should we stop them?"
Koneko shook her head. "Just ignore the two dumbasses."
Back on the court, the final rally intensified.
Rias prepared—power blazing.
Sona adjusted position—calm, precise.
The ball struck. Whistle. Silence. Then—
"Victory. Sitri," Ane announced.
Rias smirked at the thrill of competition. "One win doesn't settle anything, does it?"
Sona adjusted her glasses. "Agreed."
Thus, naturally— They escalated. The court was redrawn. This time, it was peerage versus peerage. Energy crackled—not magical, but competitive.
Yuuto stretched calmly. Koneko cracked her knuckles. Issei pointed dramatically across the court. "We settle this like men!"
Across from him, Saji narrowed his eyes. "Try not to cry, noob." The whistle blew. The ball launched. It became chaos instantly. Saji caught it and launched first. Fast. Clean. Direct. Issei grinned. "Too slow—" The ball curved. *THWACK*
Time stopped. The impact echoed across the field. Issei's body folded slowly before collapsing onto the grass. *Silence* Then—
"GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
He rolled across the ground, clutching his groin in absolute agony.
Asia gasped and rushed forward, dropped to her knees beside him, hands glowing green. "I'll heal you!"
Issei bolted upright, face redder than Rias' hair. "W-WAIT! NOT THERE! NOT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"
Asia blinked, confused. "B-But that's where you're hurt…"
The field erupted in chuckles. Even Sona briefly covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Rias sighed. "Honestly…"
The game resumed. Yuuto eliminated one of Sona's members with refined precision.
Tsubaki countered with ruthless efficiency.
Akeno caught a ball—then missed the next one she should have easily secured. She apologized softly, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Rias notices as well as Sona. But neither commented.
At the far edge of the field— A cardboard box trembled. Inside it, Gasper Vladi whispered, "S-So scary… flying balls… so scary…" He remained hidden.
A few meters away, leaning against a tree with visible exhaustion in his expression, Vlad III sighed deeply. "…My descendant hides from rubber. One step forward, two steps back."
The match tightened. Both teams were down to a handful of players.
Saji took position front and center, determined to prove himself.
Koneko quietly picked up the ball. She didn't say anything. She didn't smirk. She simply aimed. Quickly imbuing the ball with a bit of spiritual energy. Kio notice the energy buff to the ball, cracking a smirk "She improver a little, nice work Kuroka."
Saji saw her throw and scoffed. "Bring it!" as he conjures magic shield
*THUD*
Another terrible, echoing impact. Direct hit. Exactly the same place. Saji froze upright for one long second. "…Cheap Shot…"
Then he collapsed just like Issei had. Although still recovering, he pointed weakly at Saji from the sidelines. "Karma is a bitch isn't it?"
Saji groaned faintly. "…Why…"
She responds, coldly "A sack for a sack"
The whistle blew. "Victory. Gremory," Ane announced. The score was now tied.
The sun dipped low. The sky shifted to deep violet. Neither president spoke for a long moment. Then Rias extended her hand slightly. "One final match."
Sona nodded once. "Agreed."
No magic. No athleticism. Just fate. They stood face-to-face. Their peerages gathered behind them like armies awaiting a verdict. Even Gasper slowly lifted the lid of his box to watch. Kuroka jumped onto Kio's shoulder, making herself comfortable.
Rias and Sona raised their hands. "Rock." "Paper." "Scissors." Their hands struck forward. Rias — Scissors. Sona — Rock.
A quiet beat passed. "Victory. Sitri," Ane said calmly.
Issei fell to his knees again. "Nooooo…"
Saji, pale but victorious, raised a shaky fist. "Way a go, president, strategic supremacy…"
Rias exhaled—but smiled gracefully. "Very well. We will honor the result."
Sona inclined her head. "You did your best, Rias. Well done." As they shook hands "We prepare to depart."
Night settled gently over the villa.
The earlier competitiveness had long faded, replaced by a quieter anticipation. Silver moonlight poured across the courtyard, bathing the grounds in pale luminescence. The full moon hung high and heavy in the sky.
At the edge of the property, Sona stepped forward, raising one hand, fingers tracing precise geometric patterns in the air. Sapphire magic gathered beneath her feet, forming an intricate teleportation circle layered with demonic script.
Her peerage assembled around her without hesitation.
"We will return once contracts are secured," she said calmly. "Please refrain from causing unnecessary trouble while we are gone."
Issei crossed his arms. "Don't get yourself killed, Saji!"
Saji gave him a tired look but stepped into formation.
Tsubaki stood at Sona's right side, posture straight as ever.
Rias watched silently, arms folded, crimson hair flowing lightly in the night breeze.
Kio remained near the rear of the gathering, saying nothing.
The circle brightened. Magic hummed—steady and controlled. Sona glanced at her pieces to confirm their positions. Satisfied, she completed the incantation.
The courtyard dissolved in a wash of sapphire light. And they were gone. The transition was smooth. No distortion. No turbulence. When the light faded, ancient trees surrounded them—towering trunks stretching endlessly upward, their leaves glowing faintly beneath the moon's reflection filtering through the canopy. The air here felt older. Denser. Alive with quiet whispers.
Saji exhaled. "We made it. Now time for me to get a strong familiar."
A figure leapt down from a tree branch. He landed dramatically in the center of the clearing.
Red cap. Fingerless gloves. Vest. Confident grin. He struck a pose like he had rehearsed it for years. "Yo-ho! Welcome one, welcome all, To familiars big and small! Contracts signed beneath moon's bright ray— You'll catch your partner, Get da ze, today!" He pointed dramatically at the group.
Saji blinked. "…You've got to be kidding me."
The man grinned wider, spun once on his heel. "I am Zatouji, Familiar Master Supreme! Of beast and bird and many things unseen! Sorry, sorry—double-booked the night! Paperwork error—my oversight!" awkwardly scratching the back of his head with a crooked grin.
Sona inclined her head politely. "We accept your apology."
The man gave a thumbs up. "Then step right up, don't be shy— Your destined partner waits nearby!"
Saji muttered just loudly enough— "…Why does he look like a Satoshi reject from Pokémon?"
Several members of the peerage stiffened.
Zatouji froze mid-pose. Slowly, he turned his head. His grin sharpened. "Reject, you say? Oh ho ho! Original flair, don't you know! Gotta catch 'em— Get da ze! That's me! Familiar master royalty!"
Saji immediately looked away. "Sorry."
Zatouji clapped his hands together. "Let's see now, count the crew— Sitri's pieces, tried and true…" He began pacing in front of them, pointing dramatically as he counted. "One, two, three, four…" He nodded. "Five…" Pause. He leaned slightly to the side. 'Six…" Silence.
His eyes narrowed. Then widened. "…Well now." He stepped closer. To the very back of the group.
His grin slowly faded into something else. Something interesting. "Strange indeed, what do I spy? A human boy where devils lie…"
Every head snapped around.
Kio stood there quietly. Still.
Sona's composure cracked for the first time that night. "…Impossible."
Tsubaki's eyes sharpened. "Only members of Lady Sona's peerage can pass through her magic circle."
Zatouji circled Kio slowly. "Long, long time since last I've seen A mortal step where beasts convene…" His voice lost some of its playful bounce. "Young man, tell me true and clear— What brings a human wandering here?"
Sona stepped forward. "Yes. Explain."
All eyes fell on Kio. No words came. Because he didn't know. And even if he tried to explain— He couldn't.
His right hand burned. The sigil flared beneath his skin. Brighter than before. Not wild. But pulling. Calling. Like something deep within the forest had expected his arrival.
Ch End