Hello and welcome!

I'll never get tired of saying 'thank you' to you all. The support, the positive critique and the user suggestions are always nothing short of outstanding. It's funny because years ago, I hated creative writing, but now, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Honestly, I'm surprised with the feedback about what to do with the crossover situation. Some have said 'don't touch it,' others said 'go ahead.' I know it's just one tiny change to things, and some authors wouldn't think twice about going through with it, but it turned out to be a more difficult decision than I originally believed. I thought about it for longer than I probably should have and, in the end, I decided to make the change. Hopefully, I don't get assassinated for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own High School DxD, nor do I own Type Moon, any of its intellectual properties, or any other property used in this work.

Published: November 14, 2022

Updated: TBD

…

Chapter 14 – Adjust

"So how does this all work exactly? Do we just talk like normal?"

At first glance, one would believe that Connor was talking to himself as he walked back to his apartment in the dead of night. In truth, however, his present company consisted of the very phantom he had brought to the realm of the living. Said specter was currently invisible, having gone into what he had called 'spirit form,' while keeping pace with the young magus.

'You don't have to say anything out loud. Just direct your intent to speak toward me and say it with your mind,' Caster replied through their newly established telepathic link.

Understandably, it had come as a shock for Connor to hear the disembodied voice of another person in his own head. His thoughts flew about with the orderliness of fall leaves on a windy day.

'If he can hear my thoughts that're directed toward him, how much else can he hear? Is he listening right now? Is there a test tomorrow? Shit, I gotta study... Was home always this far away? Did Tobio and Jin have a learning curve like this to get over?'

The fatigue factor consistent with waning adrenaline levels made logical thought remarkably more difficult.

"I would, but talking is helping to keep me awake," Connor said, stifling another yawn. "Plus, it's 2:20 in the morning. There's nobody around."

'Tell that to the pair of eyes I see looking at you from the trees to your right.'

Connor tensed as his hand flew to his shoulder, making to draw his sword. His eyes scoured the area Caster mentioned, not realizing that the spirit wasn't doing anything about the perceived threat. It took a couple of seconds, but once he saw the owl perched up in an old Japanese beech tree, he sighed and relaxed.

Apart from bobbing its head to get a different angle at the earth-bound creature before it, the nocturnal bird of prey just sat there and curiously stared at him with enormous, unblinking black eyes.

'You really are tired, aren't you?'Caster asked with a chuckle. 'Well, look on the bright side: Those birds are supposed to be a sign of good luck around these parts.'

"Fuck you..." Connor snarled.

His eyebrow twitched again as he resumed walking. Maybe if he wasn't so exhausted from the ritual, he would at least be smiling, since the man wasn't technically wrong in his observation. Tonight, though, it just wasn't doing it for Connor.

Never mind Moriarty, this guy and Azazel were going to be like two peas in a pod…

Luckily, the apartment wasn't very far at that point, which left little time to dwell on that aggravating prospect. Rounding another corner, the complex came into view.

'This the place?'

"Yeah. It's not much, I know, but… It's home away from home."

Connor ascended the stairs to his modest apartment with mechanical movements; his leg muscles screamed in protest. Approaching the door, he slipped the key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, stepping in, slipping off his shoes, closing the door behind him and turning the deadbolt all occurred in a smooth and practiced motion. Placing all of his materials onto the coffee table, he exhaled loudly in relief and aimed his weary body for the couch.

Safe and secure, now it was time to get some answers!

That was the plan, at least, until Caster emerged from spirit form and put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Not tonight, kid. We'll talk tomorrow morning when you can actually focus. I'll keep watch on things here, so get some sleep before you fall flat on your face." The taller man then spun him around and gave him a firm push to the bedroom.

Had he been more coherent at the time, Connor would have objected and stood his ground, or at least done something more than simply open the door and trudge toward the futon in the center of the room.

Remembering just what it was he had left on the table, however, his head snapped up. Wordlessly, he turned right around, walked past a confused Caster, dug out his grandfather's notebook from the bag, then marched back into the bedroom, putting the book under the futon.

Without another thought on the matter, Connor settled in, falling fast asleep within seconds.

'Well, that happened.'

He watched and waited until the kid's breathing evened out, then smirked and quietly closed the door to the bedroom. It was almost impressive; the boy had just barely pulled the sheets over himself before he was out cold.

Walking back to the living room area, he eyed the bag of supplies on the coffee table. He willed his staff and upper robes to dissipate into magical energy, then sat down on the couch and began looking through the various documents. Maybe something in here would tell him how the kid pulled off what he did. The Caster had some blanks in his own head that needed filling.

'Caster,' he thought bitterly to himself. On any given day, he'd take up a blade and charge head-long into an enemy force with a savage grin and no regrets. Yet, to his chagrin, it seemed the opposite was the standard in his current form. His treasured weapon was not accessible to him, and its substitute wasn't exactly ideal for melee combat.

It wasn't a complete loss, thankfully. While the agility and raw strength that came with his normal form was slightly diminished, his mind was alight with knowledge of the magecraft imparted to him by his mentor. A self-diagnosis on the way to the kid's home also confirmed to him that he still possessed his natural-born talent for evasion, although now it somehow seemed stronger than what he remembered. That would need some testing.

At the kid's behest, he and his newly christened Master had thoroughly scoured the warehouse, picking up and cleaning up everything that had been sent astray by the summoning ritual. It was here that Caster demonstrated the ability to not only pinpoint every runic inscription the kid had placed inside the building, but also negate their effects and erase them with minimal effort. That was a feat other versions of him wouldn't bother doing, and the kid almost forgot how to form complete sentences at the sight of Primordial runes.

The memory made him smile as it had before. While not nearly as fun to him as being a Lancer, maybe manifesting as a Caster wouldn't as terrible as he first thought.

The kid knew what he was doing, as far as his defensive runes. At least two layers of structural reinforcement and one layer of sound-dampening inside this little hole-in-the-wall was evidence of the young man's sense of caution. There was definitely room for improvement –Elder Futhark runes were inferior in every regard to the Primordials– but this healthy start would save a lot of time for the both of them.

By and large, runic magecraft had an edge over most other forms of spellcasting because they didn't require oral incantations. As long as one memorized the runes and what they represented, they could mentally chain the effects and achieve a far greater range of results than wasting time on stupid mantras and speaking your intentions out loud. This meant, however, that while one could effectively reduce time spent on a spell to nothing, the order in which the runes were invoked was proportionately more important.

Not that any of it had helped him against his mentor during his younger years. The old hag would always sweep the floor of her castle with his carcass, no matter how many traps and ambushes he set for her. Both in battle and in magecraft, she had a counter to everything he used.

Make You or Break You; that was how the hag operated. Frustrating and painful as the lessons had been, there was always something to take away from them, so he never stopped trying. Every failure and every beating meant additional knowledge in his arsenal for when he battled her the next time.

Now the tables were turned; he'd never envisioned himself being a teacher of any sort, but this kid was in over his head and didn't even realize it. Any forthcoming relationship depended on the resulting conversation once the kid woke up.

Caster was sorely tempted to go exploring while he had the time, but he told the kid he'd keep watch. He may not have sworn to that, but he was a man of his word, dammit.

He didn't break his oaths.

…

He shook his head, half ready to punch himself to get off those thoughts. That was then, this was now, and this was an interesting opportunity to do things a little differently.

"You're certain that is where your familiar sensed it?"

"Yes, Kaichou. When she looked inside, there was nothing in the factory, but the warehouse has some faint traces of foreign magical energy lingering in the air. I don't know who, but someone was in there very recently." The Bishop reported.

'Of course it's that place. Of course!' The Sitri heiress raged internally as she leaned forward and folded her hands together. 'Why did it have to be there?!'

Sona wasn't normally so bitter or angry about anything, but no less than three times in the last two months had the Ishikawa factory and its neighboring warehouse been the site of a supernatural occurrence within Kuoh. She and her peerage were all still trying to recover from what happened to them last week. Now, there was this unknown subject trying to do Satan-knows-what while evidently being self-aware enough to thoroughly clean up after themselves.

'Maybe I should look into tearing it all down. Nobody will miss it. I certainly wouldn't! It would be better for everyone if that damned place was just gone!'

"Kaichou?"

Hearing the worry in her servant's voice, Sona stopped her brooding and took a moment to calm herself.

"Excuse me, Momo, that… that was… never mind." She sat up straight again and breathed slowly. "Keep your familiar patrolling that area in case this trespasser decides to comes back."

"Yes, Kaichou."

"Now, is there anything more?"

"No, Kaichou."

"Then you are dismissed."

Momo bowed once more before turning for the office door, where Tomoe stood waiting for her. In the wake of last week's ordeal, Sona had reengaged the order to travel in pairs outside of school. Until Rias returned and was informed of the latest events, nobody was permitted to go alone for any reason, either by day or by night.

It was something she should have done to begin with. Yes, she had increased the patrols and limited contract work prior to Rias' departure, but it wasn't enough. While she certainly hadn't been complacent about the added responsibilities, the doubts and the worries that now plagued her mind were like a cloud obscuring the outcome of her every decision.

'What if this were to happen? What if that didn't happen? What if, what if, what if, wha–'

Sona's face formed a snarl as she pounded a fist onto her desk. The cycle was maddeningly endless!

She hadn't told anyone about this new mental onset, least of all her servants. It almost slipped out tonight and that was bad enough. The last thing they needed was for their calm and collected King to be acting on frustration and second-guessing herself at every turn. She didn't know if she could bear the weight of another of her peerage suffering for her mistakes.

What happened to Ruruko was already a nightmare realized.

By the time the girl went under for emergency surgery, the undead monster's flesh-eating bacteria had already consumed over forty percent of the tissues and even bones in her ankle. At that point, there was nothing even the best Sitri doctors could have done to save the foot. Their only option was to amputate everything below the thigh.

While everyone in the peerage was happy for Ruruko's survival, nobody took the news about her leg well, most especially Saji. The poor boy had thrown himself against a wall and started tearing his own hair out in a self-deprecating rage. Tsubasa had to physically restrain him from doing more harm to himself, and his anguished breakdown in the Rook's arms had most of the others following suit.

Later that night, Sona and Tsubaki were forced to meet with the girl's family and hypnotize them into believing that Ruruko had been struck by a speeding car. There was no way to falsify the damage that had been done, so they had no choice but to tell the truth about her leg. Naturally, the two parents were devastated to hear of what their only child had suffered and what she would have to go through later.

In the whole situation with Ruruko, there was only one bright spot: From what she was later told, this strain of bacteria, while aggressive and destructive, had a surprisingly low resistance to antibiotics. Ruruko's foot and leg were well beyond saving, but the rest of her body was still completely free of the disease, and the disease's spread had come to an almost complete halt once the right medications were administered. That bought the doctors the time they needed to perform the amputation and actually give Ruruko a clean bill of health the very next morning.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for her spirit.

–––––

Sona had came alone the following Friday to see Ruruko, now that she was out of surgery and recovering. She didn't want the girl to be overwhelmed by the group's onslaught of concerns. Ruruko would be staying in the hospital for a good number of weeks in order for her body to acclimate and for the specialists to consult with her and Sona about what to do for a prosthetic.

The doctors had told her not to expect a warm welcome, but she held onto the hope that Ruruko would bounce back. With one hand hovering over the door and the other held over her chest, she collected herself.

'You can do this… You can do this… You're the heiress of House Sitri… You can do this…'

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"Ruruko, it's me. I'm coming in," she announced, then waited for a reply. She heard nothing. Worry began to prickle in the back of her mind again, but she forced it away. Slowly, she opened the door and let herself in. Her heart ached at the sight of her Pawn.

The girl was wide awake, but had not even acknowledged her King's entrance. Her head was turned away, letting her quietly gaze out the window as if nothing around her was happening. Her long brown hair was messily splayed out across the back of her bed, no longer kept in the pigtails she normally wore. The papery hospital gown was heavily dotted with wet spots around the collar, indicating that she had been crying for some time after waking up.

And lastly, covered by the bed sheets, was the silhouette of her sole remaining leg. The residual stump of her left leg only made a small rise in the sheets from about mid-thigh up, likely wrapped heavily in gauze and medical tape.

It was still so surreal for the Sitri heiress, and it had to have been even worse for Ruruko. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a vital part of yourself like that in the course of one night. A single cut on the ankle –one little cut, no bigger than a fingertip– and now Ruruko was forced to bear such a horrific physical and emotional burden as most survivors of the Devil Civil War.

Sona took a deep breath, squashing down the nerves that threatened to break her resolve again.

"Ruruko, I…" Sona began to address her servant, "I know you're hurting right now. And… And I am so sorry that you're having to experience this. But I want you to know that I am not going to abandon you or cast you off somewhere. You are my servant, and I'm going to help you through this. All of us will. So if you need to tell the doctors or any of us anything, please don't hesitate."

…

…

No response.

"Ruruko?" she said again, now very concerned by the silence.

…

…

Slowly, the girl turned her head to face her King, and Sona froze. All her mental preparations were destroyed at the sight she was greeted with.

Tears were falling, leaving glistening trails down Ruruko's smooth cheeks and dotting her gown further, yet her eyes were not red and puffy. If anything, they looked absolutely dead to the world. She had been listening to Sona, it seemed, but her reaction was far from what Sona had anticipated.

The light that shined whenever she was on the job and working with her fellow Council members was gone. The only thing that could be read from her expression now was… inescapable despair.

"I..."

Sona tried to start again, but her quivering voice betrayed her. Tears collected in her eyes until finally, her restraint broke and she put her arms around the girl, releasing her woes in streams that added to the dampness of the hospital gown.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

The heiress lost track of time after that. She just continued to utter her fruitless apologies, while what little the young Pawn had to say simply continued to fall from from her listless eyes onto her King's shoulder.

–––––

She could still see that face, and still feel the piercing sting in her heart that it brought. It hurt worse that any physical pain she had ever felt in her life, and there was no way for her to fix it.

At least, not beyond exacting revenge.

House Shax was quickly informed of the damages and, thanks to the evidence left by Carlisle, Demetus Shax was thoroughly disgraced for his part in it. His negligence had led to the deaths of multiple servants from his own house and the mutilation of a servant from another. As such, compensation for Ruruko's surgery and all of her subsequent treatments and therapy was to be paid for out of his personal coffers. In addition, he was forced to surrender his unused Evil Pieces to Ajuka Beelzebub, who also issued Demetus a permanent ban from competing in Rating Games for the rest of his natural life.

Serafall had called for much stronger punishments –much to Sona's unspoken approval– but Ajuka had restrained the furious Maou from freezing every cell in Demetus' body and outright shattering the man like cheap glass. His title and land would remain, but he would never attain more of either; his standing in Devil society was forever tarnished. Now, he had nowhere to go but down.

Fitting for a careless fool like him, as far as Sona was concerned.

Even that wasn't enough, though. There had to be more that she could do, for Ruruko's sake. Something, anything, to make this pain she was feeling dissipate. But what could she do for the girl that wasn't already being done? Who could she turn to?

She didn't know, and that's what scared her the most.

…

…

…

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Connor came awake to the sound of his alarm and the unsettling vibration of his phone in his back pocket. Grumbling a string of incoherent curses, he fished out the annoyance and made to shut it off and sit up.

Very slowly, his mind and the events of the night before came back to him. The trade with Lavinia, the revelation, the ritual, the successful summoning, and most of all, Caster. The self-dubbed 'Hooded One.' (1)

When Caster first introduced himself, Connor had to hide a smile at the impertinence. Sure, the man had access to the first and most powerful form of runic magecraft, but there was no way a simple magus could have summoned the Norse Allfather as a contracted familiar.

'Speaking of...'

Connor slowly got up and popped the kinks in his limbs, neck and back, groaning with every 'crack.' Healthy or not, it always was a satisfying feeling. He then checked to find the notebook right where he'd put it the night before. Slightly more awake now, he opened the door and peered into the living room.

There, calmly leaning back on the couch, sat Caster. Free of the tattered blue cloak, his muscular physique was on full display, now covered only by the black undershirt that extended to just past his pecs and hung from his shoulders by thin straps. A minimalist tank top, basically. His bracer, metal ring and the fingerless sleeves beneath the former two were absent as well, leaving his arms completely bare. From the waist down, he was still clad in robes, only without the armored greaves.

"Morning, kid," Caster smiled and greeted. "Welcome back to the land of the living!"

The irony of that statement was not lost to the magus. Still somewhat drowsy, though, Connor didn't respond beyond a comical blink.

"Hey, kid, you still with me?"

Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Connor finally responded.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just… for a second there, I thought you were a… male stripper or something."

Caster stared at him before he burst out laughing.

"Pfft, HAhahahaha! Wow! Aiming a little low this morning, huh?"

"Gimme a break, you pretty well look the part right now! And–" he started defensively then stopped when he looked at the table. The notes and documents he'd tossed there the night before were organized and set into neat, even stacks. He stepped fully out of the bedroom. "How much of that have you read?"

"Just the stuff about the Graal. I think now I've got a clear picture of what happened last night," Caster replied, settling down from his merriment.

Connor relaxed his shoulders. He could tell from the look in the man's eyes that he was telling the truth.

"Did you not sleep at all?"

"Don't need to." Caster pointed to himself. "Ghost, remember? This body's just a construct of magical energy, so it doesn't need food or sleep."

"Oh… well, that's convenient."

"Sure, let's call it that," the druid snarked, then stood up from the couch. "Can get pretty boring, though, and while I don't technically need either of the two, that doesn't mean I can't partake in meals and naps and such. I've got what's called a Spirit Core that supplies this body's functions with magical energy and acts like legitimate internal organs, so food and sleep can actually restore some energy if I'm in want of it."

How interesting. His false body acted just like a real one, substitute organs and everything. Anyone not attuned to the supernatural would just take him to be a normal guy if he could keep up the act.

"Uhhh-huh… And are you in want of it right now?" Connor ventured.

"Magical energy? No. Food? Sure. If you're offering breakfast, who am I to turn it down?"

"Someone that should be careful of how much he mooches. I'm living on something of a limited budget here," the magus snipped, earning another chuckle.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to splash his face and deal with his morning breath, Connor went about making breakfast. Keeping in mind that he'd be making it for two, he decided upon tamagoyaki, with added ham and cheese that usually helped kick-start his brain in the mornings. It was just as easy to make as omurice, and there was always more than enough for both breakfast and lunch. (2)

"I can help you with that, if you want," Caster offered from the table.

"Maybe next time; this one won't take long," Connor called back.

In truth, the kitchens in this apaato complex were very small, barely big enough for one person and all the necessary equipment, let alone two people. That was one of his few complaints about the place; he was practically rooted to the center of the room while he worked in it. Even so, it was good for what he regularly did.

Another few minutes later, Connor brought out two plates of the local style omelet and set the meal down before himself and his guest.

"Smells good." Caster commented.

"Should taste even better. Dig in." Connor got started right away, taking the utensil and dividing his portion of the meal with the side of the fork, then picking up the pieces with the prongs. Caster began cutting into his first roll as well, following the magus' example.

"You said you had questions for me last night? Before you crashed?"

"Not much. Just short of everything you know." The magus dryly replied.

"Heh, you and me both. I only know what I do because the Graal almost drowned me with information just as soon as this body was completely formed. I've got the basics, though." Taking his first bite of the meal, the spirit nodded in approval. "Mm. Yeah, good stuff."

"Thanks. Okay, then let's start with what you are."

"What I am, huh? I'm what's called a Heroic Spirit. I'm someone who's deeds and accomplishments in life were so profound or widely acclaimed that, after my death, my soul didn't simply vanish into nothingness. Instead, I got myself a place in the Throne of Heroes."

"Throne of Heroes." Connor rolled the name on his tongue. "Sounds like a neat place."

Caster shrugged halfheartedly. "If an afterlife constitutes getting your name inscribed into a dusty ledger for departed souls, then yeah, I guess it's 'neat.' Can't really say much else about it, other than you learn that the world is a lot bigger than you thought."

"And I summoned you from that?"

"Not entirely, no. The real me could never truly be summoned back to life, no matter how strong a ritual or the spellcaster. That would require far more magical energy than what would be available. It might come close in some regards, but there would always be something missing that would keep me from fully incarnating."

Connor thought on that, then his eyes lit up. "Oh, I see. What you are here is just a part of who you were in real life. Since the real you can't be summoned out of the Throne, a smaller piece of you took its place. That's what you meant by calling yourself a 'fragment,' right?"

"Yep," Caster affirmed. "When you started your summoning, it was like a bell went off across the entire doesn't have any kind of constraint over the place, but everything just seemed to stop. Although, if I'm being honest, everybody that goes to the Throne just… stays there, gets their own little spot and that's it. Nothing really happens or changes once you get there, so I was more than happy to hop off the wagon and get out and do something. See the world again, you know?"

"I suppose…"

Connor couldn't help but smile at Caster's attitude. He made coming back from the dead sound like getting out of school for the weekend or going on vacation. And with the way he was digging into breakfast, he seemed to be enjoying the hell out of his second life already. Or whatever the Throne allowed for such.

As much as the magus wanted to know more about this Throne of Heroes, there was another matter he needed a solid answer on before getting to anything else.

"So, what about this thing here?" Connor pointed to the object in question atop his hand.

"Ah, right. Those are command seals; crystallized magical energy that guarantees our roles as Master and Servant in our contract. With them, you can issue a command to me that I absolutely have to follow, and before you ask," Caster held up a finger, intercepting Connor's next question. "it could be anything. Literally anything. Let's say you wanted me to… teleport to your location instantly when I'm halfway across a city from you. Now, normally, I can't teleport or do other stuff like that, but if you issued the command while utilizing the seal, the laws of time and space can be bypassed for a split second so the order can be completed."

The magus stopped mid-bite and stared incredulously at the man, then covered his mouth to keep from spitting food. "You're serious."

"Why wouldn't I be? This is serious business."

Connor looked at the mark again, wondering what kind of new world he'd stepped into thanks to this.

"Oh, another couple bits about those," Caster added. "Be aware of how you word the command. If it's vague and unclear, then it'll actually lose effectiveness. Same thing will happen if I don't like the order and lack the desire to commit. Put those two together, and your order becomes more of a mental compulsion that I can fight against. On the other hand, if you specifically state what it is you want me to do within reason, then I'll be more greatly empowered to accomplish that singular objective."

Connor nodded in understanding. He was reminded of an age-old paradigm in the supernatural world: A stronger incantation equates a stronger spell. Not always true, especially in runic magecraft, but that was the general rule. Depending on the spell itself, perfecting an incantation could result in better focus, range, intensity, duration of effect or even all of that. These seals were essentially a spell set to fire at will, with just a few choice words affecting the focus.

He would be lying if he said that he was getting just a little bit excited over what he was learning now.

"I see. So they aren't as all-powerful as you described them just now?" he continued after swallowing another bite.

"Well, again, as long as you invoked their power, you could order me to do basically anything. Hell, if you wanted me to do something like commit suicide, all I'd be able to do in response was cuss you out while my body moved by itself to carry out the command."

Connor blinked. "Oh… That's… a little extreme, but… good to know, I guess."

"It's an insurance policy. Something to keep me from going off and killing you the moment it suited me. Ghosts aren't known for being friendly, after all." The spell-casting spirit paused and smiled. "That said, I like that you don't sound very keen to the idea. Gives me hope that you don't mind having me around."

"Hey, after everything that happened to get to this point, I'm not about to just toss it out on a whim. Plus, you seem… reliable, not to say that I trust you explicitly right now. Just don't make me reconsider. As long as you don't try to get me killed, we're square."

Caster scoffed. "Tch, you can count on that, kid. I've had my fair share of back-stabbings. And believe me, I have no taste for it."

The bitterness in his voice and the sorrow in his eyes told Connor that this was coming from somewhere deep for the man. He decided it would be best to steer clear of the matter.

Forthcoming and approachable as the man currently was with this contract between them, Connor could tell that Caster was keeping a select few cards close to his chest. Mentioning that he had the ability to resist the absolute order robbed it of the 'absolute' quality, as well as confirmed the necessity for Connor to better acquaint himself with this spirit. If he wanted to make the most of his limited supply, he had to make sure he and Caster were on the same page when the time was right.

"Right, okay. Well, back on topic," he redirected, "I'm assuming there's only so much of that magical energy in there to use these seals, anyway, right?"

Caster nodded, holding up his left hand with three fingers extended.

"Three chances, to be exact. Once all three are used up, the contract between us is complete and it's right back to the Throne for me."

That solved that dilemma, he supposed. This contract, Caster's very existence here, rode solely on the magical energy that had jumped ship from Valerie into Connor. How and why still wasn't clear, but knowing now what it did was a definite step in the right direction. The small number of times this could work was concerning, though. With only three shots –two, ideally– he would have to be careful with his resources.

"It's a good idea to conserve them, yeah, but don't underestimate how useful they can be when your back's against the wall. Certainly would've done me some good back in my last days." Caster grumbled.

"I would imagine so. Alright, now, if these seals are emergency power reserves, how do you maintain your body without me having to use them?"

"That's actually another function of the mark itself; It's filtering your Od and converting it to magical energy that directly supplies my Spirit Core."

"Ohhh…" Connor looked down at the mark again before another thought struck him. "Whoa, wait, hang on. The mark closed off one of my magic circuits when it first appeared."

"Check again. You might notice something different."

The magus complied and sent a pulse of Od to his hand, still half expecting to feel some kind of obstruction. To his shock and delight, he found that Caster was correct; The circuit was open again, and at full strength. It was as if nothing had ever happened to it at started to smile at the incredible development, but then he noticed something else. Something that seemed… off.

He sent a second pulse, focusing entirely on his mark and the underlying circuit this time.

As for what he found…

'It's… bigger… Wait, what?! It's bigger?! How?! What the hell happened?!'

It took a few seconds for Connor to calm down before he started to think it through.

Changing a magic circuit after fully opening the system was supposed to be impossible. The overall nature of circuits was that they couldn't be altered in any way and couldn't be repaired once damaged. Many magi had tried in the past to prove that wrong, and many had become cautionary tales as a result.

Had the Graal actually changed the properties of that circuit upon bonding with it? If it did, then that meant the Graal was capable of altering one's physiology, maybe even permanently. Was the change immediate, or was it a gradual process and he just missed it? Whichever the case, the end result was something that generations of magi had failed to accomplish for more than two thousand years!

And he'd done it by accident!

A discovery like this could shake the foundations of magecraft to its core! Hell, forget magecraft, what would factions and supernatural forces across the world do for something like this?! Did the Grigori even realize what it was they had in their hands? They probably would soon enough. No one in their right mind, not even Azazel, would just sit on a power like this and let it go untested, so–

"Kid?"

Connor blinked and looked up.

"What's going through your head right now?" Caster asked dubiously.

The magus shook his head.

"Uh, it's nothing, sorry, I… got lost in thought. I do that a lot." He did his best to recover from his embarrassment and keep the conversation going. "But yeah, I see what you mean about the mark. Okay, so… if I'm supplying you with energy continually, why do I not feel a difference?"

"Well, you definitely felt it last night because of how exhausted you were. But you're not feeling it right now because of what I did here while you slept. I made some tweaks to your defenses and added a couple of things for my own benefit. I turned the place into a little workshop, so I'm drawing magical energy from the apartment itself. As long as I'm in here, there won't be any kind of drain on your part."

Connor sighed and huffed, his smile betraying any irritation. Ordinarily, Connor would be incensed at the idea of anyone fiddling with his runes. After seeing how drastic the difference in ability there was between himself and Caster, however, he couldn't find any reason to say no. If his home was now more secure than ever, then he had no grounds to object.

"You're… just chomping at the bit with this whole arrangement, aren't you?"

"Just trying to make a good impression on my first day." Caster grinned, quite satisfied with himself.

"Heh, well, it's working." Connor chuckled, then leaned his head into his hands. "Oh, man… This is a lot to take in."

"How d'ya think I felt, kid? I'm still not done explaining everything." The spirit stood up from the table, taking his plate and Connor's to the kitchen. "We haven't even covered the bullshit Class system yet, but that'll have to wait till later. Someone's at the door."

Connor had sensed it, too, and had a good feeling about who it could be. He stood up and passed the kitchen, putting a finger to his lips as he walked by. He opened the door, and was greeted with a blond-haired girl who seemed to radiate happiness from every pore in her fair skin.

"Morning, Asia."

"Good morning, Connor," the former nun beamed. "You weren't at the stairs like you usually are, so I came to check on you. Is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he waved off, now realizing just how long he'd been talking to Caster. "I just got a little sidetracked this morning, that's all. I'll be with you in a minute, gotta get my stuff together."

"Okay."

He closed the door, and not a moment later, Caster peeked his head out from the kitchen with his smirk now bearing a more wry angle.

"A maiden diligently waiting for you every morning? Lucky guy."

"Not every morning," Connor clarified. "I'm usually the one that waits for her because she doesn't like walking to and from school alone."

"Well, aren't you the gentleman?" the druid chaffed. "So, who is she?"

"Her name's Asia. I helped her out a while back with some… problems. Now, she's my next door neighbor and my classmate."

"Must've been some problems, with how tightly wound around you she is."

That actually made Connor stop and think. Asia had been trying to get him to study with her more in the last few days, which he humored a couple of times. He'd also seen her taking sideways glances at him every now and then on their walks to and from school, only to turn red in the face once he caught her doing it. Her childlike innocent nature made it hard to tell if this was a genuine crush, or if her new friends in 2-C were urging her to enact some cliché high school romance story.

"Yeah, it was… quite the conundrum. That's a story for later, though, I need to get going. Do me a favor and wash off the dishes while I get dressed."

"Sure, sure." Caster acquiesced.

Connor sped through his normal morning cleanup routine, at one point doing three tasks at once to save a few seconds. As he slipped on his blazer, he caught a glimpse of the mark again. The sight brought to mind something he meant to ask earlier, so he finished quickly, then went back to the kitchen.

"Hey, quick question, can you..." He stopped when he noticed Caster derisively looking him up and down. "What's wrong?"

"Who died?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, it's just the school uniform. I wanted to ask: Is there any way to conceal the command spells? I can't pass it off as a bruise, and people are going to ask questions."

"What's the issue? You're already going outside in that, so who's gonna care? Just call it a tattoo."

"I would if I could, but students aren't allowed to have tattoos. It's against the dress code, and the school takes the rules very seriously."

The spirit rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of… Kid, in my time, nobody gave a damn about what they looked like unless they were royalty or hideously disfigured. Sometimes both, if one of your parents pissed off the gods hard enough. Scars and markings are badges of honor. But… fine, whatever, give it here."

He held a beckoning hand to Connor, but didn't wait for the magus to take it. Instead, he took Connor by the wrist and quickly traced a single Inguz rune over the mark. Right before the magus' eyes, the blood-red pattern all but disappeared from his skin. He could still feel its presence via Structural Grasp, but there was nary a dot of discoloration to be found.

"There we go. Easy." Caster nodded, allowing Connor to admire his work. "I set it to disappear if you use one of the seals, but I don't see that happening for a while, so you're welcome."

'Huh… never thought to use it like that.'

"Anyway, if you're about to head out, I think I'll go with you today. You know, just so you and the little lady aren't walking alone."

Connor made to refute, but only caught a glimpse of the man's smirk as he vanished once again into spirit form. That could get annoying really quickly.

'Don't think that you'll always get the last word in by doing that.' Connor tested the mental link.

'Yeah, I know. Just wanted to try it at least once.' He could practically hear the smirk that was still present on the spirit's face.

For some reason, it made him smile, too.

Exiting the apartment, invisible guardian in tow, Connor began the usual trek to school beside the exiled nun. The walk to school was largely silent, save for Asia's morning chatter about how God's hand was at work with the wonderful weather. June in Japan hit just the right balance between warm and cool, and was a pleasant precursor to the temperatures encountered in July and August. He wasn't bothered by the increasing humidity, and in fact welcomed it; warm and humid beat cold and dry any day.

Upon arriving at the front gate, he felt Caster come to a stop, prompting him to do the same.

"Connor?" The blonde looked back to him.

"It's nothing, Asia. Just remembered something, go on ahead."

The girl merely nodded and went on her way. Once she was out of sight, he heard Caster give a whistle.

'That's a lot of Bounded Fields. I can barely see the main building.'

'Yeah, those got put up last week,' the Master noted. 'Not sure how effective they'd be against you, but I don't wanna risk you getting detected by any of them. I'm already on the owner's watch list, and she's been going nuts with security.'

'Something I should be aware of between the two of you?'

Connor shook his head. 'That's another story that's too long to tell right now, so let's put a pin in it for after I get back this evening. If you want, you can take a look around town, but be careful if you do. This owner and her group's familiars are on constant patrol now.'

'No worries, they won't see me,' the warrior druid casually dismissed. 'We can still communicate like this in the meantime, so I'll let you know if something comes up.'

'Sounds good. Oh, and Grímnir?'

'Yeah?'

'If you find something to eat that catches your eye, let me know.'

'Heh! Will do.'

Connor stayed still at the gates, his gaze fixed in the direction of downtown Kuoh where his Servant's presence drifted away.

Servant. That word would take some getting used to. For all his criticisms about the Devil's hierarchy of servitude, he now found himself in a strangely similar scenario.

Today was a good day to be at school. He needed time to think on things.

At the Gremory mountain getaway, Issei followed Kiba into the main study.

It was time. The ten days of emergency training were now finished, and it was finally time to send that arrogant fried chicken into the dirt!

Or so he would say to anyone who asked. The truth was that he was scared. And who wouldn't be? Rias' entire future was at stake and, very possibly, the futures of everyone else were as well! So many things could go wrong to jeopardize their chances at any point that it made his hands sweaty just thinking about it.

It seemed like everybody was thinking along the same lines.

Koneko was eating sweets like she usually did, although she did so much more slowly now. She was letting the taste linger to give her some last-minute comfort, he presumed. Kiba went back to the sword cleaning kit he had laid out on the table between the sofas, working one of his demonic blades to a mirror finish. Akeno stood off to Rias' side, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Her own hands were trembling from anxiety, which might have been why there was no tea currently served to anyone.

The tension in the air was so thick, Issei imagined himself cutting it with a blunt knife.

"Good, we're all here," Rias said, standing up from her desk. "Everyone, this is going to be our big debut onto the Rating Game scene. Official or not, all eyes will be on this match. My brother called this morning to inform me that Grayfia will be handling the announcements, so I can imagine that the Satans will be watching as well.

"I won't lie: the odds are horribly against us. We're outnumbered and outgunned, so to speak. But I believe that quality will win the day over quantity. Riser thinks that this going to be another easy win for his 'spotless' record, but he doesn't know everyone here like I do. We've worked ourselves to the bone in order to throw this game back in his pompous face. The impression we'll leave after today will be talked about for years to come."

The confidence in her voice was contagious; Issei felt himself sit up a little taller. He stole a glance to his fellow peerage members, and each one now bore a small smile that helped bring one to his own face.

"And also…"

Rias paused to take a deep breath and give her peerage another resolute smile.

"Just know that, whatever happens, I'm proud to call every one of you my friends, my family. Now, let's deliver the upset of a lifetime!"

"Hai!"

Someone else silently chipped in with a fanged grin.

'An upset, you say? I'm in.'

…

(1):Grímnir, meaning either 'Hooded' or 'Masked One,' is one of the many names used as a guise by Odin in Old Norse poems, particularly in the Grímnismál.

(2): Japanese omelet made by rolling layers of fried beaten eggs together. Normally rolled into squares using a special skillet and cut into thick slices before serving.

…

Voila.

At this point, I'm bending the rules to where they look like pretzels. A lot of lore that I had to cover now that I've gone to the dark side, and still plenty more to go from here. The Type Moon multiverse takes a lot to time to study, so that's part of the reason for this delay. Integrating that into a world not of its own is a mental workout, but I'm getting there.

Won't say anything more about my work schedule. I ended up jinxing myself about halfway through this chapter. So let's just leave it at the assurance that I'll get the goods out once they're ready.

If you enjoyed what you read, leave a favorite, a follow or a review to let me know. Any advice or support that you could give would be greatly appreciated. If you'd like to take a shot at the challenge listed in chapter 1, send me a PM, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

As always, thank you for reading!