Bloodstained Fate

I do not own Highschool DxD or The 28 Series. They are the result of their respective makers, and the credit for the borrowed characters and the other elements taken from the original source material belongs to that people.

-Prologue: Out of the Pit of Blood-

Hey there.

I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but I have no idea who or what you are, so might as well just begin with a simple greeting. With formalities now out of the way, let us begin this meeting with some simple inquiries.

If you are me, then I guess it is time to add a new page for this travel diary. Hopefully it's not the last one.

If you are someone else, perhaps one of the few friends that I still have or even an unknown character, you may be looking at this piece of writing in hopes of gaining information.

About me?

About others that I met?

About the world and its darkest secrets?

Or simply out of curiosity?

In any case, let it be known that this diary began as a joke challenge between me and my very first friend, who I hope has found sanctuary from all the events that have taken place.

Our homeland was Kuoh Town, a place not too big nor too small found in the country of Japan, far away from my current location (If I am in the same place that is). "It is always important to remember your own roots", my grandpa used to say; "no matter where you are now, never forget the place where you were raised, whether your first memories are good or bad, for it is where you began your life as who you are now. And so, my story begins in my birthplace, as the only child of a common family.

We were neither rich, nor poor, Intelligent or stupid. My family was never known for its connections with important people, a great lineage in the country's history, or even some kind of tragedy or quirk that would allow anyone in the city to remember us. We were simply one more family in the neighborhood, with my parents having enough money to pay for a more or less comfy life for us. I, on the other hand, became infamous for my own particular likes as I grew up: from energetic kid to a shameless pervert, focused on the beauty of the female body, particularly boobs.

Hey, everyone got their fetishes, and I know mine. Besides, is not like boobs are the only thing that makes a woman.

And I am not the same person I was since my last days in my hometown.

You see, while my family was not that especial, my neighbors, the Shidou, were known for being one of the few Christian families living in Kuoh. My parents had been friends with them for some time, and I myself found my first friend in their daughter. Although at the time, I really thought she was a 'he'.

In my defense, Iri was the first tomboy I had ever met and I was convinced that girls always dressed to show… well their girliness. And I was sure that girls had "boobs" while those kids without them were boys.

…

Selena would probably hit me in the head if she ever reads this comment.

…

Back to the past, Iri and I became very good friends, doing everything together: from football, hide and seek and playing knights defeating evil demons, to even going to eat and sleep in the house of each other from time to time. How I did not find the truth about her gender earlier was probably dumb luck, but let's just say that when I did it was a very awkward situation for her and a very confusing one for me.

Oh, and I got slapped in the face for commenting on her lacking something, twice.

I am a pervert, mind you, but ever since then I learned that just because a girl doesn't have a big rack it doesn't make her less of a woman. It would later on help me see more than just a killer body on those of the opposite genre whenever I met them (meeting the girls in here would solidify this new way of mine).

After making amends with Iri (and accepting that yes, girls can also be heroes) we had only some more months to play together. As we both reached ten years, Iris told me that her parents decided that they had to move to England due to a new promising job, or something along those lines. We only had a day to bid goodbye to each other, but we promised to stay in contact even if we lived far from each other.

And we did.

The Shidou called our family back some time after they moved into the UK, and since then we kept in touch every few months until I was sixteenth. During this time, three important events took place.

The first one was a discussion I had with Iri on how "unmanly" was to have a diary and she somehow ended up convincing me that if she could still be called a knight even being a girl, I should be able to have a diary without feeling less of a man. This happened when we were fourteen and fifteen, with me being the older of the two; in fact, these introductory notes are actually some of the latter ones I wrote in the diary, since I didn't bother to make a presentation when I first got it.

The second one was a problem of mine. I had become so engrossed into the marvels of the "World of Boobs" that I had ended up losing interest in anything else. While I found some friends that would become my infamous comrades in arms in embracing the pervert within, I ended up isolating myself from all those that saw us as different, even creepy; and I let my grades go down due to dedicating myself to this passion of mine. Things reached the point that my family ended up losing hope in me turning into someone respectable, and they only continued to insist in my education because I managed to score high enough in my tests and make up exams so I was able to graduate from Middle School.

My parents tended to comment in a hopeless and disappointed tone how the Hyoudou (my family) were doomed since there was no way someone so lazy and with such an open lecherous behavior as me will ever find himself a wife, not even a date. Iri, on the other hand, was convinced that, while shameful, my behavior could be fixed if I was shown the path of rightfulness in the Lord's light. And because a knight's responsibility was to help the misguided to find their way, she was going to make sure I did not go astray after she graduated from her studies abroad.

I never told my parents how it hurt me when they looked at me and spoke of me like that.

I never bothered to tell Iri that I was not a Christian believer, so her way of "rightfulness" was probably something different from mine. But I did not mind speaking with her because, just as I had embraced the way of the pervert and was proud of it, she had found her own passion and was living it to the fullest; though still disagreeing with me, Iri never stopped treating me as someone worth of her time, and she actually listened to me in our conversations everytime we talked.

Still, with this project of hers pending, there was a last event that involved all of the Hyoudou family. Our families were on very good terms with each other but we, the Hyoudou, hoped to speak face to face with the Shidou for some time. So, when the chance was given to us due to a lucky shot at the lottery, we cheered together as family when we heard the price: a trip for a month stay in London, capital of England, the country where our friends were living in.

While Iri and her father were unable to receive us due to being busy on a trip of their own, her mother welcomed us and explained that the other two would be back as soon as they could, probably in no more than a week. Given a roof and in the company of someone who had been living in the country for almost 6 years, my parents hoped this would be a very enjoyable experience.

But they were wrong.

They were oh so terribly WRONG.

Because what awaited us was not a journey through the most famous places in England and the rest of the UK. Neither was it the warm company of the missing members of the Shidou Family.

What we found not soon after we have arrived at London… was hell.

April 24th, London Underground.

Never thought I would be taking this whole deal with the diary seriously.

But what I saw today has made consider that at the very least I should keep some record of the events to come, just so I can know from where I come and to where I go.

Some 29 days ago I got myself into some stupid accident. I have always been good at riding on bicycle, in fact you could say that it is one of the few things that my parents respect me for since I decided to embrace the Way of the Pervert. But when I got the money to rent one the day after we arrived, I got hit by some drunk idiot driving a truck appearing out of nowhere just a block after I had begun riding, and then everything went dark, though I briefly remember some kind of voice and a pair of big reptile-like eyes in the darkness.

The first thing I see when I'm back to my senses is that I have been asleep for almost a month! The truck driver apparently sent me into a coma and I awake naked in a solitary room inside a hospital, no idea how I got there or where everyone I knew was.

Because apparently London decided to say' 'go fuck yourself Hyoudou, this is the month everyone goes nuts! '. I walked through the city perhaps for half an hour after getting dressed, and there was no one, absolutely no one. As if all the people had decided to go on a wild party and somehow they all ended completely slept and wasted at their home, not even making a noise.

But that was but the beginning for me.

When I did find people inside a church, the priest went at me like a mental patient. I hit him with the bag carried in my right hand, and the guy still crawled trying to get me!

And then more people started going at me, and then they chased me as I was running away from the church.

The ones that rescued me killed the crazy people, however. They threw some Molotovs, I think they are called, and ended up blowing up the gas station as they dragged me into this store.

I was scared. I still am.

They presented themselves and when I did the same they explained to me what was going on. Fortunately for me, I have always been good with English, especially needed when I wanted to get myself some foreign material from the Western side of the world. At least it worked for something more than my hobbies.

Some days after my accident, rioting and violent attacks took place everywhere in the country, but they were something else. Days later, people as the ones that almost got me were attacking everyone on their sight and turning those they didn't kill into new enraged killers.

When I asked about the government they told me that by the time the ones in charge got serious in dealing with the disaster, it was already too late. Too late to contain the spread of whatever was causing people to go mad, too late to evacuate the cities and villages in order.

Selena, the woman in the group of two, told me that it was believed this happened because some kind of virus got in the blood of the victims and tuned them into the monsters that stopped at nothing until they either killed or infected others.

I know of the Biohazard games, but this is ridiculous!

I asked them if it was possible to go for my parents as well as Shidou-san, at Deptford.

I am worried about them.

We may have been distant since I turned the way I am now, but that doesn't mean I don't care about my parents. And I know they do the same for me, as they did this trip with me included, all of us forgetting about our differences for the sake of having fun in London.

I'm also worried about Iri's mother. She was kind enough to give us a place to stay while we remained in the capital city, and I wanted to find her as well if possible, for Iri's sake as well as her own.

Tomorrow we leave for Deptford. I hope they are all right.

April 26th, Frank's flat

So many things happened today.

Selena said that there was no point in having a diary when all that matters is living for another day, and that if I happened to die tomorrow nobody would probably bother with reading it.

I know she is still upset by Mark's death, having been forced to kill him as he got infected by the daughter of Bridges-san after they tried to rescue me from my own stupid mistake while I was moping around with a candle in the middle of the night.

But I need to keep track on all this, to never forget what mistakes I made, what I still have… and what I have lost.

Shidou-san was missing, never found her body, hopefully she is not an Infected.

My parents are dead.

They committed suicide in the main bed, holding a photo of a younger me in their hands, and leaving me a message of goodbye. They hoped I never woke up from my coma, to find myself alone in this mess.

I couldn't even have a proper day with them as a family since I got here. And even if I ever manage to return to Kuoh, I never will be able to see them ever again.

Mark died because I couldn't handle the pain, the guilt of never making them proud of something, that I could never make amends with them. And I got lost in my memories, before the Bridges came through the window as Infected and tried to kill me.

I know I was being childish, that I cannot just hope that things just get better and that the world will allow me to cry, or even pretend everything was a just bad dream. And when Selena warned me about even considering becoming closer to her, I think i began to understand why everyone older than me always said that it was important to grow up.

No time to worry about boobs and porn, or even for that which I no longer have when the only person that I know is more concerned with being able to live another day, and is willing to chop me if I get myself infected as well. I may be the younger of the two, but that will not excuse me for putting her in risk once more.

I am scared of her, who would not after seeing her kill Mark while he just got infected and still remained reasonable. But I cannot deny that it had to be done, and had she refused to do that any of us could have followed him, perhaps both of us. So for both of our sakes, I decided to look further the killer and into the woman that looks out for us both.

We only have the company of each other among the city of monsters, and I don't want my last moments with Selena to be filled with rejection and regret of never making amends.

I followed her quietly, not questioning her and doing my best for not making something that would attract new trouble.

…

On another more positive note, our wandering in London looking for refuge seems to have given good results. While Selena and I were being chased by two Infected upstairs in an apartment complex, a big old man wearing a police riot gear came to our rescue. He pushed those bastards to their dead out of the stairs.

Frank, as he presented himself, lives with his only daughter, Hannah, in this apartment, and he built a flat for them to survive the disaster. Before all this, Frank used to drive a taxi in London; now, he and his daughter collect water from the rain, food from some of the stores that still have provisions, and keep their flat bright with some Christmas lights in hopes of getting some other survivors.

It seemed to have worked for all of us.

I didn't question Selena for running ahead and not waiting for me despite my pleas, while we were running from the Infected. She told me of her way of life, and if I cannot keep up with the dangers ahead, I will not be saved by some miracle.

Perhaps it's good that Frank was there to save us, not just because he offered food and home, but also because I didn't have to find out if Selena would have abandoned me.

I end this note hoping that things can get better between the two of us, at her own pace for now.

I also need to remember to try cardio whenever I got some free time from surviving.

April 27th, Frank's Flat

We decided that it is better to leave soon.

According to Frank there hasn't been any rain for a week now so both water and food will be scarce soon, and the building itself carried sound in a way that alerted the Infected often. We were lucky to have arrived yesterday, but at the same time our arrival has made vitals more limited,. We told Selena, and we all came to the conclusion that we had to leave soon.

Frank suggested that we traveled to Manchester, following a radio recording from the British Army that promised not just cover and food, but also a way to look for an actual cure for the virus. Even with the valid doubts, we had nothing else to bet our luck on, so we decided to make preparations for departing tomorrow.

Once more Selena comments on the diary, but perhaps with less disdain.

Hannah finds the idea interesting, if a little obsessive.

Franks jokes about the dark secrets that I am probably hiding in here, from my secret feelings for Selena (a comment which earned me a slight glare from her, thanks old man) to perhaps another person speaking to me through the diary who wants to use me for his or her own biding.

At my confused look, Hannah explained that her father had enjoyed the first books of Harry Potter and they seemed genuinely surprised by my lack of knowledge about the series.

Guess I was more of a fan of what my country made than whatever foreigners have done.

...

I should stop using that word, foreigner. For better or worse, I have not been treated differently for my nationality and appearance, since all this happened. It would be disrespectful to those helping me that I keep thinking of them as strangers just because we are from different parts of the world.

And I can't help but think that these people, including Selena, have found a place in my life after my parents left it.

April 28th, Ruins of some castle between London and Manchester.

On our journey to Manchester, we almost got caught by a horde of Infected inside a tunnel while Hannah was changing the tire of Frank's taxi, our only working mean of transportation to our destination.

Later, we entered a supermarket and got anything we could into the car, from the most basic stuff to the especial delicacies that they loved to eat. Frank proceeded to give me some free trials of these, which included even some expensive candies among other things, and we somehow ended up speaking about my life back at home along the trip to the countryside.

And I told them of my family, and of my childhood friend that used to be my neighbor and then lived in London for some time before the outbreak. This, of course, included my own embarrassing experiences with them, from finding out about Iri's genre to my own hobby and how my relationship with my parents had deteriorated because of it.

He never judged me as a failure, even laughing and commenting how he himself was also a man who liked breasts, though he had different criteria than mine. Though he still said that if I lagged behind in my studies and work there was no hope for me to even gain the attention of the girl with the least expectations.

A man, he says, has to sell himself. Not as a whore, but in a way that he presents an image that is interesting and charming, and this does not mean just looks. One can simply, as he did, listen and offer support through company as well as a stable job. Anything else that I wished for the future could be tried once I had achieved these first steps.

Hannah was content with listening, though she asked me if I had considered her for a date after Frank finished his piece. I received a rather strong palm on my back while the old man wore a more strained smile. Guess he is an overprotective father, though we are both happy that she has become comfortable enough around Selena and me to make these kind of jokes.

And then there was Selena, of course. In a matter of days it seemed even she had been caught into the nice atmosphere that Frank and Hannah had brought into our lives. She smiled in the supermarket when we were picking delicacies and candies, and as we managed to escape the Infected in the tunnel, she actually laughed with us as we celebrated in loud voices.

I like her smiles and her laughs.

Later, in the ruins, she told me that her way of seeing things was actually mistaken, that there was more to surviving than just getting to another day.

After apologizing for not waiting for me the last time, I merely rubbed the back of my head nervously in acceptance telling her to not dwell in that any longer.

And then she kissed me, a quick peck on the lips.

…

I don't feel right writing this, but I have been able to express myself more honestly with Frank, Hannah and Selena that I could in the last years with my parents. The fact that Frank acts as some kind of father figure looking for all of us and always showing hope in the midst of the ruined country reinforces this feeling of mine, especially when he offers comfort.

You see, I killed a kid.

I killed a kid while we had stationed the taxi to refuel it in a cheeseburger shack.

I got separated from the group looking for some cheeseburger for myself, and ended up finding a bunch of corpses, just like the time I awoke alone in London. I found the situation humorous in a dark sense, and just as before I said hello in a clear voice, expecting something to come at me.

And the kid did, appearing from behind me.

I was alone, with no one to help me in time, with only a bat in possession and the adrenaline pumping in my body as I faced the kid. When the kid jumped at me, I reacted the same way I did with the priest and hit him with the closest object I had at hand, which happened to be my bat.

The kid didn't go down just like that, however. He tried to jump at me once again and in my fear I hit him once more. And again. And again. Until he was dead.

When I got back, Selena asked twice if something happened and I merely replied in denial. She probably saw the blood tha i had not properly wiped from the bat which would explain her nod of approval before our later talk and the following kiss. This fisrt gesture was perhaps the first time on years that somebody had aproved of me for doing something, even if this involved beating a kid to death. Had I been all on my own I don't think I could have handled my own actions.

Then, at night and while everyone was asleep, I dreamed of what I fear the most.

Not the Infected and their restless chasing, which came second.

Not dying suddenly tomorrow, which would simply end things for me unless I got attacked by the Infected.

My worst fear was being left alone, abandoned by those I had become close to.

And Frank woke me up from that nightmare and offered both company and a shoulder to lean to if I so wished. He also teased me with the whole kissing deal, changing the topic to something more relaxing until I fell sleep once more.

This time I think I can sleep one night devoid of shadows.

April 29th, Worsley House, near Manchester

Frank is dead.

We arrived at the military blockade in Manchester, just to find it abandoned. No people, no shelter or food, and not weapons that could be used to defend ourselves.

Just more corpses, and buildings still burning after almost five weeks since the outbreak of the virus.

Frank took it worse than any of us, while Selena was more or less accepting of the situation, but the hopelessness was also visible in her face.

Just a mere drop of blood when he tried to scare a crow in show of a bad mood, and he was done for.

We were forced to watch as Frank first apologized to Hannah while swearing that he loved her, and then tried to get her away from him as the mad rage from the virus took over his being.

I was unable to kill him when Selena asked me too, and we were saved by the fire of the military.

The same military that were nowhere but a few moments ago and that suddenly arrived when Frank was coming to us now as an Infected.

After Frank was fell down by bullets, we were taken under the protection of Major Henry West and his soldiers, who informed us that they were currently stationed in the Worsley House, a mansion in the countryside not too far from the city.

In there, we were promised safety and the Major revealed to me their solution to the problem of the Infected: wait until they starve to death.

They even had one former comrade of them, Mailer, chained next to one of the houses annexed to the mansion, as an experiment to determine how long this waiting would take.

I cannot help but distrust those guys.

I am not as dumb as some people think. I am naïve, yes, but I can still feel that something is not right with all this. The looks some of the soldiers give Selena and Hannah when they think they aren't looking, their sudden appearance from hidden places just after Frank turned and the whole idea of attracting more people to wait for the starvation of the Infected. Something is missing.

Still, for now we have to trust. If we feel is not that much of a good idea, I hope we can talk to West-san to allow us to leave the mansion.

I finish this note with the invitation extended by West for having dinner with the soldiers tonight.

And yet I feel as if I am walking into a spider web, from which we may not be able to escape.

May 27th, West Cumbria

Talk about déjà vu.

I found myself in an unknown location at first, just like that 24th of april 28 days ago.

At least this time I am not naked.

To follow the proper routine, I will recall what happened at the dinner with the soldiers.

Alarms in the form of explosives alerted all of us that a wave of Infected was running toward the mansion, so the soldiers went to their positions and defended Worsley House.

But at their return, one of them, Mitchell, tried to force himself to Selena and was only stopped by one of his comrades, Farrell, who forced him instead to step back.

Afterwards, I went to West, telling him about the situation and asking him to do something about it. The bastard didn't idle around the issue for long, and proceeded to reveal the truth behind the radio broadcasting and the waiting strategy.

He wanted to attract women survivors, so his soldiers would have a hope for the future while they fought the Infected; the hope of having a companion to repopulate their homeland, even if unwillingly.

I tried to run to my friends, to take them away from this nest of madness. But West and his men subdued us, and even Farrell was unable to help us this time.

The next day, while the girls were escorted to be made ready, Farrell and I were taken near a mountain of bodies, not too far from the mansion. There we were to be killed, ensuring there were no more obstacles to the promise West made for his men.

But Farrell did me one last favor, and whether he knew or not what I could do, he distracted his former comrades for a moment, long enough for me to hide among the dead. Farrell was probably killed, and the two idiots ran in circles like headless chicken , looking for me and shooting at random directions, perhaps at the bodies.

When I realized that I was not being chased by the soldiers, I knew it was my chance.

I had to be fast, or Selena and Hannah would suffer in the hands of those monsters.

I had to fight dirty, for I knew there was no way to succeed in their rescue if I just tried to get inside, even in secret.

I had to be ruthless, for I wanted them to pay for the dead of Frank, for what they were trying to do with my friends, and for what they did to the only one guy among them that still refused to give up his humanity.

There was no way back. Behind me, there were the rain and the upcoming night, the perfect environment for the Infected to hunt me. I would not survive even one night outside.

There was no way back. If I lost them I would loss what little I still have.

There was no way back. What Farrell said and what I saw in the skies revealed that there was still a world outside these islands. We were all getting out of this place and out of this hell.

And so, I played dirty and ruthlessly.

Dividing their forces, disabling their vehicles, killing soldiers with my own hands, releasing Mailer upon them to spread panic. I probably looked like some kind of hero from tv, but I didn't feel like one; everything I did was fueled by desperation and rage, done in hastiness and with very little chances of achieving the outcome I desired. Still I did it.

I opened my way to Selena and Hannah, and killed the bastard that tried to get away with Selena to have his way, by gouging out his eyes.

Selena almost kills me thinking I am an Infected, but she stopped her machete halfway.

Hannah still hit me in the head thinking I was biting Selena when we kissed again. She was so strange at that night, though Selena explained today that she had Hannah high on Valium in hopes of making her uncaring if the bastards went for her.

It was West, that a-hole, who actually made the lucky shot in the chest that almost kills me, when he returned from my little trap.

Hannah took care of the car, and Selena took me inside while West was thrown back and left to be done by his former soldiers.

By that time everything had gone black, and for a long while I was left with myself in the unconsciousness.

Or so I thought.

This time, my dreams were filled with the returning big eyes and the unknown voice, but this time they had a body.

A freaking ginormous red dragon was looking at me, and he only spoke briefly about how impressed he actually was with my will to survive as well as my ruthlessness to those that dared to take something precious from me. That there was hope for me as a wielder and, finally, that it was a pity that I had not grown this far earlier.

He gave his name before bidding me goodbye, hoping to meet me again without me being close to death's door again.

…

And so I returned to the Real World, saved by the medical skills of Selena and the quick driving of Hannah.

When I woke up the first time my old hair style was lost by a messy growth during my stay in the hospital, and it was only the night we arrived at Frank's flat that I found time and a place to shave it, though I went too far to make it to my liking.

Now, luck smiled at me, as my hair was just the desired length for trying my old haircut.

Now, we three are making something big, a sign for those planes flying above from time to time in hopes that they can send someone to pick us.

Soon we will be out of this hell, out of the pit of blood.

I guess it is time to finally write an entry for this diary.

...

"And here is the proof that we need to find this little monster guilty. His own personal record of how he got nuts and decided to murder those British patriots that offered them shelter in good will."

The Lieutenant Colonel Blackburn did not need to hear anything more from the confiscated diary. They had enough evidence, even proof that the young boy's handwriting and that of the diary were the same.

The woman and the girl had protested, but after some slight threats they had managed to convince them both to not testify in his favor against the official version of the events.

It needed to be done.

Otherwise their credibility would go down even lower and they could not risk the remnants of the British Army to lose more face than they already had.

After the trio were picked in Cumbria by a helicopter, they were checked to make sure they were not infected and, once the scans had yielded negative results, they were sent to France along other survivors. But their story was perhaps the most famous of all those aboard the ship.

The Manchester Three, they were called, and soon some parts of their tale were circulating all around the World. And yet the thing that worried the soldiers the most was the three people glaring mistrust of being separated or left in the care of the military in a closed facility. When they were looking into their belongings they found out why.

The boy's diary may have seem like a dutiful record of the events that transpired in England during the Outbreak, but they also risked the ire of the public opinion should the parts dealing with the behavior of commander West and his squad get out into the light. Whether or not it was truth it was of no concern to the media, they would rip apart the army. Word of a plan to recover and then start repopulating the United Kingdom was spreading already, and the army needed to keep an important role to avoid NATO turning the project into something detrimental to the public interest of the British.

Trust from international and survivors opinion was a must.

So, for the sake of the good of the United Kingdom, of their future as a sovereign nation with dignity and order, both necessary to rebuild what was lost in the Outbreak, this diary could not come into the light as it was, and the boy had to be discredited if he ever decided to speak. Someone had to say something, still, and someone needed to be made guilty of what happened in Manchester.

The boy, Issei Hyoudou of sixteenth years old, was to be made a scapegoat.

They arrested him a week after their arrival, put the girls under their custody, and proceeded to speak with each of them separately to make his point clear.

While the girls' behavior was defiant and even spiteful at first, they were later more willing to cooperate. He suspected that something had happened in the brief moments they were allowed to see each other.

Hyoudou was distraught at first, but the next week he was willing to not say anything during the trial by the military so long as the other two survivors were given sanctuary in the European mainland and not tried for the same charges.

Blackburn conceded.

They were already playing with fire here, as the boy was a foreigner, a Japanese in fact, so they risked an escalation of the incident if the trial got out of hand and lasted too long. If the trial was done in the shadows or even aroused suspicion with the public due to the refusal of the boy to accept the charges, executing him would not gain them anything in public image. With his silence, some would be suspicious but charges could be quickly confirmed to ensure he was retained in there.

Besides, it was the least he could do for the kid, who was already being sacrificed for the good of a country not his own.

Sending the girls to a refugee camp and foster care in Germany (under surveillance) and keeping the boy under arrest before his execution, as it was the supposed verdict for the trial, the situation should have been under control for the Lieutenant Colonel and the Army.

But Blackburn did not take into account the possibility of a third, or even a fourth party.

A/N: Well, greetings to all who are reading this.
This is my newest project, another idea born from the mess of possibilities that used to be a part of the notes for Demon Who Wished to Become a Hero. In this case, we have a crossover between an already famous anime and light novel and a series of movies (with supplementary comic stories) that innovated the Zombie genre. I wanted the first part of the story to be in first person, from Issei's perspective, as it is suppposed to be what he registered from time to time into his personal diary; the second part, dealing with my OC Blackburn, is written in third person and will be the dominant way of writing the story from now on.

The next chapter will begin to introduce the supernatural elements that make the world of DxD, though the most known characters will appear only in later chapters. I will be using some references to other of my favorite Zombie Movies and offer some apologies in advance for any who feel that Issei is going to be out of character. All I can say is that things are going to change for everyone in DxD canon thanks to the Outbreak and Issei not being in Japan to begin his first year in Kuoh Academy.

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and please comment.