I still do not own the dark souls series, or the highschool dxd series.
Commissar Carl: M/C is not a human.
While traveling the land in search of herself, a dark witch had encountered a young boy with a crestfallen heart. Eager to share her knowledge of the dark arts, the youth became her first apprentice.
Those who weren't human, yet attuned to darkness yield much more power than any regular man. Thus they were incredibly rare, so the witch just couldn't pass on the opportunity.
"Do you understand?" Karla held her only student close, fearing that his future in Lordran jeopardized with the dark power he now held. The witch knew only how to create a pyromancy flame, past that, spells which used a dark flame. She didn't think that a citizen of Lordran, a young squire no less, had grown enough to use sorceries of the darker nature.
"...I do. I will be careful when I use it...and...thank you for teaching me." Tristan slowly reached around to return the hold, having felt comfortable enough around Karla. Despite being a younger age, he was just as tall as his teacher, and her dark hair nestled around his forehead.
"You best be careful as well." The hat she wore jiggled when she scoffed. "I can take care of myself, Tristan." She placed her hands on his, and placed them together in front of her.
The pyromancy flame she so gently placed into his hands surfaced, and a small fire floated just above his palm. Karla looked on in amazement at how far he had progressed in the short time that they had been together.
Truly an apprentice she was proud of. Yet the squire-turned-pyromancer had his own duty to bear. So it is with deep-seated grief that their path's alignment must end.
With a gentle union of bodies, she gave him one last message, a heartfelt message direct to his ear, full of prudence.
"Don't stir up and trouble." She started.
"You're my apprentice...don't forget." The rim of the witches' hat fell upon Tristan's black hair when Karla buried her face in her students shoulder, words laced with crucial truth.
When they had regrettably seperated themselves, she gifted him a small tome. Saying that he would understand it's words someday in the future.
As they waved goodbyes from the opposite sides of the dirt road, they parted with their heads held just a little bit higher, having learned something important from each other.
"Are you ready to give up yet? Surely the sight of my peerage would crush you by now." A taunt was thrown the squire's way, attempting to get a cheap(er) win.
From behind his wall of women, Riser was subjected to an intense stare. One of a darker nature, suddenly his peerage didn't feel as strong.
It most definitely would not be.
Of course, the devil faction had kept this battle under wraps to their people, for whatever reason.
Only the devils affiliated to the combatants were able to watch. The match would be fought on open ground, no high point, no cover. Just a flat surface of dirt in a far-off forest they were transported to. However, the battle would likely escalate enough to involve the forest surrounding them
The referee, a devil most likely, spouted what happens should one side win and the other lose.
"Healing Riser Phenex." Tristan caught, impressively focused on the opponents.
"-nex's death." That was the greatest part of his speech, the visions of the noble's death came with the word.
All was interrupted however, when a familiar howl screeched and multiplied around them. Everyone frequently turned to ascertain the origin of the noise. Rias' peerage, Riser's peerage, Ravel and the referee, everyone turned to the forest that surrounded them all, save for Tristan himself.
He knew what the howls were, being the one who requested their aid. He was the first to see their eyes.
The first pair, seen only by Tristan, was an elderly golden hue.
Slowly and threateningly, low forms emerged from the brush, ignoring Rias' devils, even walking right through them.
Myth-wolfs.
They growled at their targets, eyes never left them while they grouped with Tristan, their summoner for the event.
Their feeding.
Tristan felt his palms touch a wet nose, turning around to see the same three wolves that allied with him that day. The ones with the blue eyes took their place at his sides. The last one became lost in the crowd of grey that was all his other allies.
Tristan knew the three and where they were, he remembered the distinct pattern on each of them. The two beside him were like his own little battle-buddies.
Finally acquiring a grasp on the situation, the referee began to raise his hand.
Deciding that lighning would be his ally, the talisman was taken from a pocket, and sat tightly within his right hand, the knight shield's handle grasped in the left.
The devils that opposed him readied themselves. Fists and swords were brought up.
They blinked in confusion when a swarm of magical circles completely enveloped the pack in dull silver light. Across all circles, a recurring symbol was at the center. The center sword was the only bold decor on the circles, as it was pure white against their grey background.
It was bright enough to force all to cover their eyes with their arms, or look away entirely.
Now I am sure you know where this is going.
The light faded, revealing a surprised Tristan. But most importantly, in their jaws, rests a hilt, past the hilt, a steel blade extended outwards, just short of the one beside them. Among the swords, a few blades curved backwards, foretelling their wielder's dexterous ability with just a simple curve. The rest, however, were simple straight swords.
A few in Riser's peerage stumbled backwards upon the sight. The rest bit their lips in vexation, there had to have been at least twenty grey-wolves all together, and now, every single one clutched a sword in their mouths.
A woof was released beside Tristan, and he looked to his right, to his closer ally.
With her blue eyes, she gave a look that he already knew the meaning behind, it was a 'get ready' kind of look. Because of his friendship with Eria, he was able to spot her black lips curve upwards, forming a grin.
The referee finally sped his hand downwards and disappeared with a magical circle, starting the battle.
The wolf pact moved separately, majority of which hoofed quickly to the devil vanguards. All teams were within a stone's throw from each other, so little strategy was required. Just strength.
Some strategy would be used by the wolves here, but it's more of instinct. The hounds that strayed from the main force, a measly four, scattered to the surrounding forest before the devils could discover they had disappeared.
Tristan swung his sword hand, and a lightning spear burst to life, the same size of the sword he normally wields, but it's effects were so much more powerful. The three started in the battle at front, their legs fell to the ground as they moved together.
Unknowingly, the lightning spear's streaks of stray light landed on his wolf-guards blades. Through conduction, their swords harbored lightning of their own.
Though they never flinched at the shock, resistance to lightning was in the blood of all myth-wolves. Their prolonged affiliation with the land of Lordran had ensured that. Even the great wolf remained unfazed by the sight of sparking yellow.
When they had reached the wall of battle, Tristan thrust the spear at a familiar pawn, the one with the peculiar hairstyle of blue.
Though Mira was warned of the effects of the lightning, it was not fully registered in her instincts as 'dangerous', but it was hard to miss a line of yellow. So she got away with only a graze.
With her attention to the squire, she was caught by a sly wolf and it's sword, now alight with sparks.
Mira was slashed with it's straight sword, and now understood the importance of avoiding the lightning. Too late however, as another wolf, one with a curved sword leaped at her.
It twirled in the air, scratching her once before landing on it's feet. With a twist of it's body, the wolf leaped into the air again, slicing her entirety with an upwards slash.
The devils were delicately fragile when in contact with lightning formed from faith, due to this, it would only require a few hits to warp them away, killing them would require a few more.
It was this strength that predicated the cease-fire between the races, and because of the old Phenex hunts, the First Flame would remain kindled eternally.
Their burning souls had become like a giant coal for the flame, keeping it alive through their own torture. No fire-linking required. The souls were enough.
Mira had fallen to the dirt, and become victim to a kill-squad, writhing as they heaved their combined weight on the devil, stabbing her with their thundering swords all the while.
The kill-squad fell when Mira disappeared into a wash of blue. The squad disbanded to join the main force, acutely dodging every attack, be it chainsaw or ultra great sword, no devil managed to catch a single wolf.
They were dexterous, able to strafe past every swing of the fist, every swing of a sword, and even each other.
The devils are helpless. Even if they would coat themselves in fire (Thats a skill i know that), it would mean nothing if they could not make contact.
So they would strike at the one thing they could. The only thing that wasn't evading everything that came their way.
Tristan pulled his shield up between himself, and the ultra that Siris held. The imposing force behind the over head swing caused him to bend his legs.
A common trait shared with the ultra greatsword class was their absurd weight compared to a more quicker sword.
But because the one this sword belongs to is a devil, she was given great strength. Enough to swing the large sword like it was a regular sword, of course, it was a tad slower, since she had to stop momentum, then restart it.
When he saw a weakness in Siris' form, he reached from under his shield to pierce her with the spear. Being the user of an ultra great sword, her range was far greater than that of a normal straight sword, which is the length of his spear.
The reach fell short by what felt like a mile, and Tristan let her sword slide off by angling the shield to the side, causing the blade to smash the grassy surface.
Tristan back-stepped, causing his wolf guard to leave the fray to join him. The squire put the shield away, now strapped to his back, and began to hold his precious talisman with two hands.
The air around it began to bend.