It's pretty late, but I suddenly decided to write this. I haven't done any real proof-reading or editing because it was a sudden whim, but let me know if any of you would be interested in me continuing this piece, and possibly making it into a lengthy series. This is my first FanFic, so it might be a little iffy, but I'm doing this for fun so it's cool.

Criticism is more than welcome, as well as advice, just don't expect me to bend to your every whim.

I came up with this idea while reading the Type Moon Wiki, so I will give some credit to Type Moon. I was also inspired by The Witcher 3, so I must also give credit to CD Projekt Red.

High School DxD is created by Ichiei Ishibumi, thus the credit extends to them.

As stated above, this is just a totally unplanned snippet and thus is quite short. Consider this a short Pilot episode, or maybe a teaser.

[Some Forest in Scotland]

"Alright Casper let's make this quick, I've got a plane to catch in a couple hours," A handsome young man called out to his ghostly opponent.

The young man was of average height, standing at a respectable 178cm, he had messy medium length blond hair and bright emerald green eyes. His attire consisted of a red T-shirt underneath a black leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans, and white sneakers. Lazily slung over his shoulder was a large sword. It was an ornate, sparkling silver sword adorned with splendid crimson decorations. It gave off a feeling of noble royalty and oppressive tyranny.

His adversary was a horrifying sight to behold, it took the appearance of a pale, withered, rotted woman, in a tattered dress. She hovered slightly above the ground, her image seeming to glow slightly in the light of the full moon. Her sunken eyes gazed across the grassy clearing at the young man, a hateful glare being her only response to his taunting.

The world seemed to be frozen in time, an unnatural quiet looming over the forest. If not for the palpable tension in the air, one could've called it peaceful. Neither monster nor man so much as twitched, until suddenly, they exploded into action.

The young man shot across the field, covering the distance between them in a fraction of a second. With a mighty swing, he brought down his blade, intent on cleaving through the neck of the specter. Unfortunately, he'd find no such luck. Just as his strike was about to connect, his foe seemed to shimmer for a moment and his sword passed harmlessly through her.

She was quick to capitalize on his failure, releasing a guttural growl as she swung her clawed hand towards his face. Her blade-like fingers would turn anything unlucky enough to face them into ribbons.

He reacted with superhuman speed, bringing his sword up to block the attack. Steel met ghostly flesh, and steel won.

She shrieked in pain as she watched her fingers fall to the ground, the blade had sliced through her like butter. She shimmered out of existence for a moment, and reappeared nearly 10 meters away.

The man watched her retreat and sighed, "Goddamn Wraiths, why can't they make it easy?"

He quickly corrected his stance, before launching himself at her. He raised his sword above his head as he descended upon his target, he unleashed a frightening war cry.

"FUCKING DIE!"

The Wraith didn't have time to turn immaterial, instead choosing to glide out of the way from the attack. She barely escaped as the blade made contact with the forest floor, shattering the ground where she had just been. Seeing the large crater caused by the swing seemed to instill a feeling of dread in her undead heart, her instincts screamed at her to run. She complied.

Or at least she tried.

The young man was not pleased when he saw her begin to flee, his eyes hardening in anger. He growled as he bent his knees, lowering himself into a low charging stance. A red spark flickered on the tip of his blade, before erupting into a massive current of red lightning that covered him entirely. He disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the sound of thunder in his wake.

"Crimson Execution!"

The Wraith never had a chance to process his cry, before lightning cloaked steel cleaved through her abdomen and bisected her. She cried out for a final time, her shrill wail filled with anguish and… relief. Her form began to fade into blue motes of moonlight.

The young man watched her fade away, his angry snarl transforming into something almost solemn. This was always his least favorite part of these jobs, but it was his duty to give this unfortunate soul its second death. He stuck his blade into the ground and kneeled before her, his emerald orbs filled with understanding.

"It's alright now. It's time for you to rest, I'm sure a better place is waiting for you. If they give you any trouble at the pearly gates, tell them Mordred Lothus sent you. I'm sure even God himself has heard of my amazing self."

The smug look he wore as he finished speaking was infuriating, but at the same time seemed to fit his face perfectly. Nevertheless, it was the last thing the Wraith saw before it passed on.

Mordred stood up and pulled his sword from the ground, before sheathing it on his hip. He turned his gaze towards the sky, or perhaps something beyond, his eyes carrying a deep sense of loneliness.

"*Yawn* You did good my friend," a tired voice resounded from within the depths of Mordred's mind.

He raised an eyebrow at the voice's appearance, "When did you wake up, Red?"

"Around the time you started telling the ghost to die. Real classy, considering it was already dead."

He rolled his eyes at the voice's jab, and began to make his way out of the forest. He wasn't about to start a pointless argument over semantics and technicalities, he knew he'd never win an argument against his sharp tongued opponent. The rest of the trip back to his hotel room was spent in a comfortable silence.

When he arrived, Mordred practically threw himself onto his bed. It had been a very long week, and the likelihood of it changing anytime soon was low. He looked over at the small digital clock sitting on his dresser and saw that it was almost 3:00am, which gave him less than three hours to sleep before his flight.

"Goddamnit. Why can't Wraiths pick fights a little earlier?" Mordred complained, causing his constant companion to chuckle.

"You'll have plenty of time to sleep on the plane." the voice offered.

Mordred sighed and rolled over onto bed, deciding to end the conversation at that. He would need all of his strength for the days to come.

"Goodnight, Mordred." the voice said as his partner began to drift out of consciousness.

"Goodnight… Ddraig."