Disclaimer: Just in case nobody realized I don't own nor do I claim ownership of Highschool DxD, all characters and worlds belong to their real world respective owners. I'm just having some fun, that's all.
Warning sexual content disclaimer: All characters and actions are above 18+
Highschool DxD: The Cursed King of Kuoh
S1 Ch 18: A Pervert's Summoning
The Occult Research Clubroom was far from quiet when Sukuna finally arrived.
Voices drifted through the heavy wooden door before he even touched the handle—Akeno's soft, melodic laughter layered over Kiba's calm baritone, punctuated occasionally by the faint, unmistakable sound of plastic crinkling and something crunchy being bitten cleanly in half.
He opened the door without knocking and the conversations immediately stopped.
The room itself was bathed in the warm amber light of late afternoon, sun filtering through tall windows draped in crimson curtains that matched the hair of the devil seated proudly at the center of it all. The polished wooden floor gleamed faintly beneath the glow of arcane sigils etched into the far wall—ritual circles layered one atop another in delicate symmetry.
At the large wooden desk sat Rias, her posture regal even in a school uniform. To her right stood Akeno, violet eyes half-lidded in amusement. Kiba leaned casually against the wall, arms folded. And near the couch by the window sat Koneko, legs tucked neatly beneath her as she focused intently on a small mountain of packaged sweets spread before her.
The faint scent of sugar and strawberry cream filled the air, as Sukuna made his way inside, no greeting or announcement. Just a slow sweep of his blue eyes across the room as he took in the scenery.
"Well," Akeno hummed lightly, "look who decided to join us."
Sukuna ignored the comment and walked straight to the long leather couch opposite Koneko. He dropped onto it without ceremony, stretching out as though the clubroom belonged to him. One arm draped across the backrest, one ankle resting over his knee.
Koneko glanced at him once, then immediately returned to her snacks. The crinkle of plastic resumed filling the otherwise silent club room.
Rias watched him intently.
"You're late," she finally said.
"I wasn't aware I had a curfew."
A faint twitch touched Kiba's brow, while Akeno covered her smile with her sleeve.
Rias folded her hands neatly atop the table. "We were discussing Underworld politics."
"That sounds boring."
"It's important."
"Same thing."
Kiba sighed softly through his nose.
Rias ignored the interruption. "We were speaking of the new devil's current pillars of power. My brother, and Lord Ajuka."
Sukuna's eyes shifted toward her, mildly interested. "Ah yes, you said before they were the two strongest devils."
"Yes," she replied. "The strongest devils in Underworld history."
Her tone carried hints of pride as she continued. "My brother, Sirzechs Gremory who now holds the title of Lucifer, possesses overwhelming destructive capability. There are few beings in existence who could stand against him directly. And Ajuka holds the office of Beelzebub and is a genius beyond comparison. His mastery over demonic formula theory reshaped our entire society. Together they are the two of the four satans that rule the underworld."
"They ended the Old Faction," Kiba added calmly. "Through strength and reform."
Sukuna gave a faint hum. "So they crushed the previous rulers then?"
"Yes," Rias nodded. "They replaced a corrupt hierarchy."
"Then they were strong enough to take it," he replied simply.
Kiba straightened slightly. "It wasn't that simple."
"It always is."
All eyes shifted to him.
Sukuna tilted his head back, staring lazily at the ceiling.
"If your old rulers lost, they were weak. If your current ones stand at the top, they're strong. Everything else is justification."
Kiba shook his head. "That's not how society works."
"It is," Sukuna said flatly. "You just dress it up with pretty words like ethics and justice."
Akeno's smile widened, clearly entertained.
"And what about loyalty?" Kiba pressed. "Honor? Bonds?"
"Temporary," Sukuna replied. "All of them. Strength is the only constant."
Rias studied him carefully. "So in your world, might makes right."
"In every world," he corrected. "The strong impose reality. The weak rationalize it."
Kiba frowned, clearly unhappy with the newest member's ideology.
Akeno giggled softly. "How refreshingly direct," she mused.
Koneko reached for another cookie, crunching quietly, golden eyes flicking toward Sukuna again with something unreadable in them.
Rias shifted in her seat. "And what of pleasure?" she asked, tone thoughtful remembering his reactions to a woman's assets. "You speak of strength as if it is the only pursuit."
Sukuna's lips curved faintly. "Strength is pleasure."
A faint silence followed.
"Combat and pleasure are two sides of the same coin," he continued, voice low and steady. "The moment before impact. The feeling when someone stronger than you tries to crush you and you refuse. That's real."
Kiba's jaw tightened slightly. "And when you lose?" he asked.
Sukuna's grin sharpened. "Then I either learn, or I die entertained and fulfilled."
Akeno laughed softly under her breath.
Rias held his gaze. "You truly believe that?"
"Yes." He responded without hesitation.
Kiba shook his head again. "That's reckless."
"I'd prefer you call it honesty."
The atmosphere shifted subtly, tension coiling in thin threads through the air. Then Rias changed direction.
"And your attendant?" she asked smoothly. "How did she react to your… new position?"
Sukuna didn't blink. "She wanted to kill all of you."
Koneko stopped chewing, while Kiba's posture straightened, and Akeno's eyes gleamed.
Rias managed to keep her expression composed. "I see."
"I calmed her down," he added casually.
"How?" Kiba asked.
Sukuna gave him a slow look. "Privately."
The answer did nothing to ease anyone's mind. Kiba's jaw twitched. Koneko resumed eating. Akeno's smile grew more knowing.
Rias inhaled slowly through her nose. "We will address your attendant later. For now, we have other matters to attend to."
She rose from her seat, posture shifting fully into that of a King addressing her peerage.
"As my pawn," she began, "your first assignment will be assisting with flyer distribution."
Sukuna blinked once.
"You'll distribute flyers throughout the city and explain the purpose of the Occult Research Club to anyone who might be interested in becoming a client.Then you'll—"
"No." The word landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Rias stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said no."
Kiba blinked. Koneko paused mid-bite again. Even Akeno's smile flickered.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Rias asked carefully.
Sukuna didn't move from the couch.
"I said I'd join your little fan club until I help you with your problem," he replied evenly. "I never agreed to be your package boy."
Akeno let out a small, delighted hum.
Kiba stepped forward slightly. "It's not about that. It's about supporting the group—"
"Hey pretty boy, shut your mouth no one's talking to you." Sukuna said without looking at him.
The air tightened, as Kiba's polite composure threatened to crack at any second. Rias closed her eyes briefly. This was not how she imagined this going.
She had assumed—naively—that once he joined her peerage, the structure would assert itself. That the bond between the King and her piece would enforce a natural hierarchy as it had with the others.Then again Sukuna was far from a regular recruit.
"You are my pawn," she said, voice firm now.
"And?" he replied.
"You will fulfill your duties."
"I will help you solve your engagement issue," he corrected calmly. "Beyond that, I'm not interested in marketing your ridiculous club."
The bluntness was suffocating. Kiba looked between them, clearly unsure whether to intervene again. Rias felt an irritation rising up beneath her composure, but before she could escalate Akeno stepped forward.
"Perhaps," she said lightly, "we're thinking too small."
Rias glanced at her.
Akeno's smile returned—playful but thoughtful.
"Koneko is overbooked with summoning requests this week," she continued. "We could have him respond instead."
Sukuna's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Summoning requests?"
Akeno clasped her hands behind her back. "We answer the calls of mortals. They perform rituals, request assistance, and in exchange, we fulfill their wishes."
Rias watched them carefully.
"And what kind of wishes?" Sukuna asked.
"Oh," Akeno said sweetly, "it varies."
He leaned forward slightly.
"If they ask me to destroy something?" The grin that spread across his face was openly sadistic.
Akeno, mirrored his smile.
"If that is their wish," she replied smoothly, "we must fulfill it."
The room felt warmer suddenly. Sukuna stood in one fluid motion.
"Fine."
Rias blinked. "You agree?"
"I'll answer a summon." His eyes flicked briefly toward her glasses on the desk. "At least this way four-eyes won't complain about paperwork when I wreck some things."
Rias inhaled sharply, while Akeno suppressed a laugh.
She handed him a small slip of paper.
"Mr. Hiroshi," she said innocently. "A regular client."
Sukuna took it without reading closely.
The summoning circle near the back of the room began to glow faintly as Akeno activated it. Scarlet light spread across the polished floor, intricate lines illuminating in sequence.
Sukuna stepped into the circle without hesitation. Energy coiled upward around him.
He glanced once at Rias.
"Try not to miss me."
Then the circle flared—
And he vanished in a pulse of crimson light.
Silence lingered in his absence. Rias turned slowly toward Akeno.
"What," she asked carefully, "were you thinking?"
Akeno laughed softly, the tension evaporating from her posture.
"Relax, Rias. I gave him Mr. Hiroshi."
Kiba blinked. "The cosplay enthusiast?"
"The very same."
Koneko swallowed another bite. "The 'save the princess' one?"
Akeno nodded.
Rias stared at the empty circle for a moment. Then, slowly, she began to chuckle.
"He's going to be furious when he gets back."
Kiba allowed himself a small smile, while even Koneko's lips twitched faintly.
o-O-o
The summoning ended with a violent snap of displaced air.
Crimson light collapsed inward, smoke spilling outward in thick spirals that smelled faintly of sulfur and burnt incense. The sensation of transit—of being pulled through a narrow space between realities—faded quickly, replaced by something far more mundane.
Dust, paper, and a very cheap air freshener.
Sukuna opened his eyes. He was standing in the center of a cramped apartment living room.
Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, stacked with manga volumes in meticulous rows. Plastic figurines posed mid-battle, frozen in dynamic arcs of heroism. Posters covered nearly every exposed surface—bright colors, exaggerated expressions, bold Japanese lettering announcing limited editions and anniversary prints.
Collector's items. Rare prints. Box sets that were still sealed in plastic.
The air was warm and slightly stale, thick with the scent of instant ramen seasoning and old cardboard.
The smoke from the summoning circle eventually thinned, and directly in front of him stood a dark haired, middle-aged man in sweatpants and an oversized graphic t-shirt depicting a magical girl mid-transformation.
The man blinked a couple of times before speaking. "…Where's Koneko-chan?"
Sukuna stared at him. A long, very uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
"She's busy," Sukuna said flatly. "You got me instead."
The man's expression fell immediately, shoulders slumping in visible disappointment.
"O-Oh… I see…"
Sukuna glanced around again, blue eyes scanning the room with growing disbelief. He stepped out of the fading circle, his shoes crunching lightly on stray snack wrappers near the futon.
"So," he said, voice turning pointed, "who do you want dead?"
The man blinked. "W-What?"
"Your ex-wife?" Sukuna continued casually. "An annoying boss? A rival for a promotion? Spit it out. I don't have all night."
The man flailed his hands frantically. "N-No! I don't want anyone killed!"
Sukuna's brow furrowed. "Then why summon a devil?"
The man swallowed nervously. "I-I just… I really like anime. And Koneko-chan looks exactly like one of my favorite characters…"
Sukuna just stared at him blankly.
"You summoned a devil," he said slowly, "because she looks like an anime character."
The man nodded sheepishly.
Sukuna's hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Why couldn't you be normal?" he muttered. "Money. Power. Prestige. Revenge. No none of that. All you wanted was an anime girl."
The man shuffled awkwardly.
Sukuna let out a long, suffering exhale.
"Then," he asked through clenched teeth, "What do you want?"
The man brightened suddenly and hurried toward a nearby chair, grabbing something folded neatly atop it. With trembling enthusiasm, he presented it.
A cosplay magical girl uniform. Frills. Ribbons. Short skirt. Pastel colors.
"My usual request," the man said eagerly. "Dress up and we play save the princess like Koneko-chan does!"
Silence fell again as he stared at the outfit.
"No." His refusal was immediate.
The man recoiled slightly. "B-But—!"
"No."
"You're obligated to fulfill my wish!"
Sukuna turned away from him entirely, wandering toward the shelves instead. His gaze lingered on several pristine collector editions. His fingers trailed lightly along the spines.
"…Limited release…" he murmured quietly.
He pulled one volume free. He flipped it open. The pages were crisp and without any creases. It was actually an edition he had desperately wanted in his last life.
The man's voice rose anxiously behind him. "You have to comply! I'll file a complaint with your boss!"
Sukuna paused mid-page.
Slowly he closed the manga and set it down carefully. The apartment suddenly felt smaller as he turned toward the summoner and slowly made his way toward him.
The man misinterpreted the movement entirely. "Oh good! You'll put it on—"
Before the man could finish Sukuna seized him by the throat. The man's words cut off in a choked gasp as his feet lifted clean off the floor.
Sukuna held him effortlessly, arm extended as though the middle-aged man weighed nothing at all. His legs dangled uselessly, toes scraping helplessly against the wall as Sukuna carried him backward and pressed him flat against it with a dull thud, making the framed poster behind him crack.
Sukuna leaned in slightly. "Here's what's going to happen," he said calmly.
The man's hands clawed weakly at Sukuna's wrist.
"You're going to sit in that seat," Sukuna continued, nodding toward the futon, "and you're not going to move until your hour is up while I do some reading and raid your ice box." His voice remained completely calm.
The man's eyes bulged.
"And if you don't…" Sukuna's smile widened.
The skin around his eyes split. A second pair opened beneath the first. Black markings crawled across his face like living ink, jagged lines stretching over his cheeks and forehead. His presence shifted violently, oppressive and monstrous. The air itself felt corrupted.
"I'm going to do some very painful things to you."
His mouth stretched wider than human anatomy should allow. Rows upon rows of jagged, needle-like teeth filled the darkness within.Then—
A long, black tongue slid outward and traced slowly up the side of the man's trembling face.
"…Then," Sukuna whispered softly, "you can really play a princess."
The man nodded frantically, tears welling instantly in his eyes.
Sukuna released him, dropping him like a sack of potatoes, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of sweat and fear. Without another word, Sukuna turned away, and made his way to the refrigerator.
"Cheap beer," he muttered as he opened the fridge, grabbing a six-pack.
Returning to the futon, he dropped down heavily, cracking one open with a sharp hiss. Foam bubbled over the rim slightly before he took a long sip. He then opened the collector edition again and flipped the page.
The man scrambled shakily into a seated position across the room, hugging his knees and staring in mute terror at the monster lounging in his apartment.
Sukuna however ignored the insect as he read, drank, and occasionally chuckled at a panel.
o-O-o
Across the street, on a rooftop of a neighboring building, two figures watched the pair.
One was dressed in standard clerical clothes, his eyes narrow and smile distorted. A manic energy radiated from him as he peered down toward the apartment window.
"Found you," he sang softly.
Freed cracked his neck lightly from side to side. Beside him, the fallen Dohnaseek frowned.
"Don't be careless," the Fallen Angel warned. "He killed Lady Raynare."
Freed snorted. "Stand back, featherhead. I'll handle this monster myself."
He reached behind his coat, retrieving two sawed-off shotguns. One double-barreled, which he tucked behind his back. The other—a pump action—he held loosely in one hand. With the other, he summoned his Sword of Light, its holy radiance flaring brilliantly in the dimming dusk.
Dohnaseek's wings rustled uneasily. "This is not a game."
"Everything's a game." He activated his touki, energy surged around him in jagged pulses. "Just watch."
Before Dohnaseek could respond further, Freed leapt forward.
Dropping down from the rooftop with gleeful abandon, coat flaring dramatically behind him, manic laughter echoing down the narrow street.
"Let's see what kind of monster you are, pink-haired freak!"
o-O-o
Below inside the apartment Sukuna sensed the incoming enemy stopping mid-sip, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
"Well," he murmured, flipping the manga page and taking another sip of his beer. "Isn't that interesting."
Above the apartment, a blade of light descended. The window split apart in a burst of shattering glass.
A blade of brilliant white light cut cleanly through the frame before the rest of the structure gave way. Metal warped and snapped, curtains tearing loose as a figure stepped through the opening with theatrical precision.
Glass scattered across the floor in glittering fragments.
On the futon, Sukuna slowly turned to another page, not looking up.
Freed Sellzen landed lightly amid the debris, coat settling around him. The Sword of Light in his hand hummed with radiant energy, its glow washing the room in stark white illumination. The air immediately filled with the sharp scent of sanctified power.
The summoner shrieked, while Sukuna just sighed.
Freed straightened and leveled his blade toward the lounging devil.
"Prepare to be exorcised devil filth!"
Sukuna lowered the manga slightly and regarded him with mild curiosity.
"…And who are you supposed to be?"
The lack of fear grated instantly against the exorcist nerves.
Freed's eye twitched as his smile sharpened. "I am Freed Sellzen, former exorcist of the Church. And I will cleanse you where you stand."
Sukuna closed the manga halfway.
"Oh," he said lightly. "Thank God I was so bored."
A faint pulse of discomfort ran behind Sukuna's eyes at the mention of God's name. Holy energy in close proximity irritated his devil body like static beneath the skin.
He clicked his tongue. "That glow is annoying."
Freed's grin widened. "It'll do more than annoy you."
Sukuna glanced toward the trembling summoner. "You. Get lost."
The man scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door without hesitation, slamming it shut behind him. The apartment fell silent.
Freed moved first. His blade flashed toward Sukuna's neck in a swift, decisive arc.
Sukuna tilted his head. The strike cut nothing but air.
Freed pivoted immediately, pressing the attack with a flurry of disciplined, practiced swings. The blade carved glowing streaks through the dim room as it passed inches from its target.
Sukuna rose lazily to his feet. He stepped aside from one strike, leaned back from another, twisted just enough to avoid the next.
"You've got decent form," he commented casually. "Less than the redhead's knight, but more impact."
Freed's expression twitched with outrage at the devil's nonchalant attitude.
He leapt backward and dropped the Sword of Light for a split second to draw the pump-action shotgun from beneath his coat. The blast thundered through the apartment. Holy rounds tore through the space Sukuna had occupied a fraction of a second earlier, shredding shelves and figurines instead.
Sukuna reappeared to the side, brushing dust from his uniform's shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "That can't be your best."
Freed pumped and fired again. Another explosion of sound.
Sukuna dipped beneath the shot with ease. "Come on, I'll give you one more," he added.
Freed snarled and fired a third time, but this time Sukuna stepped forward.
His hand snapped out and seized the barrel mid-discharge, twisting it aside. The blast erupted harmlessly past his head, scorching the wall behind him. Smoke curled between them.
"Strike three." With his free hand, Sukuna grabbed Freed by the collar and hurled him through the apartment's wall.
Concrete cracked. Dust erupted.
Freed crashed into the neighboring empty apartment, rolling across the fractured tile. Sukuna stepped through the breach calmly, picking up the fallen shotgun along the way.
"Uh oh," he muttered happily, as he pumped the shotgun. "White guy with a gun."
He fired. The blast forced Freed to dive aside as chunks of wall splintered.
"I can see why you like this thing."
He fired again. And then again. Each shot echoed violently through the hollow apartment space. Freed moved with desperate agility, avoiding direct hits as debris scattered around him.
When the weapon finally clicked empty, Sukuna examined it briefly before tossing it aside. Freed lunged again with his Sword of Light.
Sukuna stepped inside the arc of the swing and caught his wrist mid-strike. Holy energy crackled against cursed power as their strengths collided. With a sharp twist, the blade flew from Freed's grasp, and Sukuna seized him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
Freed clawed at his arm, boots scraping against the fractured wall behind him.
"Any more tricks?" Sukuna asked coolly, drawing his free hand back ready to pierce his skull and end play time.
Freed's grin returned, strained but unbroken.
"Of course." Then something cold pressed beneath Sukuna's jaw.
He glanced down. A second sawed off shotgun pointed under his chin.
"…Crap."
The blast erupted at point-blank range, taking off half of Sukuna's face. The force knocked Sukuna backward, releasing Freed as he hit the ground hard. Freed dropped to his knees, coughing and struggling to catch his breath.
Sukuna lay motionless across the broken tile.Silence settled, thick and heavy. Freed staggered upright, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Should've taken me more seriously bastard," he muttered rubbing his throat.
He turned to leave.
Behind him—
A low, distorted sound, and Freed froze.
Sukuna's fingers twitched. His body shifted.
Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself upright.
The damage mended before Freed's eyes—not instantly, but steadily. Bone reset. Skin reformed. The marks along his face reappeared as though drawn back into existence by unseen hands.
Within moments, he stood fully restored. He rolled his neck once, his four crimson eyes locked onto Freed.
There was no amusement left in them.
"Now," Sukuna said evenly, "I'm pissed."
The air in the apartment seemed to grow heavier and more oppressive. Freed took a small step backward without meaning to. Slowly Sukuna outstretched his claws, the moonlight gleaming off of them from the hole in the roof, while a wide distorted grin grew across his face.
A/N: If you like this story and what to read ahead chapters 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 and 27 are already available for Patrons.
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