Hi.

I still do not own the Dark Souls series or the highschool dxd series.

The day of supposed learning had ended it's daily era. At this point in time, the owner of a formerly abandoned animal read a letter addressed to him. It was kindly given to him by the owner of the block.

The handwriting held a messy familiarity similar to his, the lines of the letters exceeded past where they should, and some words were needlessly boldened than the rest. But...who was it from? The only thing indicating the writer's identity was a single letter.

'A. A'

Other than that, the entire letter was vague information, but he could discern that he would be seeing this person very soon. It said in the letter itself. What's that? You don't believe me?

'Tristan, my friend. I will be seeing you very soon.'

What followed under that was a crooked witches' hat that was shoddily shaded in. These three things formed the entirety of the letter. Apart from the silk-like paper that was the platform the ink was written upon.

So he knew that whoever wrote this was likely from his birthplace, Lordran. Writing material was of a higher mold when compared to the current town's sheets. Houses that teach sorcery or miracles were known for their demand for this. Quite the conundrum how the magic of sorcery was allowed in the Kingdom.

That aside, he had a vague idea of who this person is. If they are from his birthplace, then they were likely a frequent caster of miracles or one who followed the teaching of sorcery. Common knights and messengers of the land used a different quality of sheet for sheets of information, a kind similar to Kuoh.

Yet this handwriting made him think more than he would have liked. He lightly rubbed his thumbs on the message, the texture was just the same as what he used to copy the lightning spear from that great tome. The sheet was in his room, stored in the bedside table. Even if he looked closely, there was nothing that resembled a secret message written a thousand times smaller than the other text, just the obvious message.

Ah yes, he forgot that he was called to a place in the woods that he was taken to before, where the devils of the underworld first viewed his faith as sunlight, mistaken as plain power changed into the form of lightning. Yes, the place in the academy where devils resided. Only the ones that he knew of, the fact that the student council was a collective of devils was not known to him, as of this time.

The small paper was folded as neat as the laws of space would allow, for nothing in existence could completely line the edges of a sheet into a fold, and slipped the message into a little pocket that lived on the chest of the shirt.

His effect on people made itself known, clearing away any students who decided to remain on grounds, out of the room. Of course if anyone saw you with one of those two, then you'd be expunged from the (social) annals of history, and in a school like this, whose beautiful girls were only attainable with a high enough social standing, you would be doomed to a life of darkness all by yourself. What remained was an empty room, devoid of activity. If you think enough, you get a philosophical note on life.

The many seats, and the chairs that were carelessly left out of them.

The afternoon rays that would bring a jovial mood was allowed to exist only in deficient amounts.

The only seat that was filled was the one all the way in the back, furthest from the windows, furthest from gross incandescence.

The room was meant to be filled with boys and girls who laughed along at the teacher's bald head, but was currently unfulfilled. The metaphysical relations to life was that what you expect and what happens are vastly different.

But the entrance door opened. The panel slid. Of course whoever it was had made a mistake and closed it immediately once the person saw who currently owned the place. And the dark-minded student ignored the activity.

Only, the sound of clunking never reached him. Instead, a voice asking something was it's replacement. Looking up, he noticed that the person was a girl with purple hair, a strange object rest in the same hand that opened the door.

"Are you Tristan Fidel!?" She was unnecessarily loud, there was no need for such volume, it was just the two of them, even at this distance, regular speech would travel unabated between the two.

He 'Mmd' in agreement, this student was in fact, Tristan Fidel, a familiar feeling came to him when she finished, she didn't follow the customs of the Japanese that reversed one's first and last names. Did she do it to give him the feeling? Or was she just a rebel? She came closer, leaving the gap open, and pointed the object at him, as if to say something to belittle him.

"My name is Mekada Kuorami! Is the rumor that you molested a fellow student true!?" The volume of the speech was obnoxious to him, he didn't want to attract unneeded attention, and making noise was one of the best ways to do that.

Was she still confused about this convoluted topic? Did the girl at the student council not do what she said? Was this stranger daft? Or was he betrayed?

He shook his head in disagreement, no, the rumors that he molested a student was a false rumor. That was formed as a way to destroy his life as a happy student once someone decided that they didn't like him.

But that was already decided even before a teacher designated his seating placement next to one of the more questionable students in the lot. A person that we currently know as Sleeper, The Exhausted.

He seemed to satisfy her, as the stranger unfolded her fingers, revealing the strange tool to be an eastern fan, it was then brought to her chin, so that the length of the object faced him. Surprised with the writing on the folded edges, and that they were written in English, he discerned that the new stranger had put some time into practicing the art's letters. For on the fanning tool, was the text '!Well Done!'. But before he could inspect the intricate markings on the thing, he was reminded of why he didn't like the stranger.

"Well! Tristan Fidel! As a fellow student, and human being, I would like to help you!" Slightly muffled by the object, yet still obnoxiously loud, she was. But what was most annoying was the nonsense that was spouted. There was no help needed at the moment. Even if there was, he doubted that this girl would sacrifice her student life for helping him. It only took a shifted look into the still-open door, and it would be all over for the stranger.

In fact, in her silence, he heard the clapping of shoes smacking the floor of the hallway. The poor girl was in for misjudgment.

"Oh, Mekada! You're staying back then!" Well, now it was too late for the girl, she was a pariah like him now. She looked away from him, to the sliding door.

"Oh, yes, Shinarui. I'm helping another student." The newer stranger peeked her blue-haired head in the room, and instantly popped out at seeing who she was helping. "Ooh, you really do like helping people then, Mekada? Eheheh~ goodnight then." She waved her hand to the other, a gesture that was returned, she then disappeared into the hallway.

But that was not the kind of animosity that he expected. Now he was confused, was this Mekada girl not bothered, or was the judge who just came in excellent at keeping her inner thoughts from her outer sentences? It was as confusing as deciding what to do when he saw a katana stuck in a tree branch. Nay, even more confusing.

He shook his head once more. No, he did not require help from this person. Yet there was even more questions to be asked.

"You don't? That's a shame... If you need any assistance with anything at all, please ask me." She bit the thumb of her free hand. Again, he doubted that any good will come from her. All that she did was confuse him, right? Even more so when she cemented her abnormality with the words that wanted to co-operate.

"I believe that I was born to help fellow humans, so please...ask me for any kind of help, you won't regret it."

Mekada lightly fanned her tool to her face, imitating a posh Englishwoman from an earlier age. The words 'Well done' became streaks of black ink from the quick motion. In boredom, her hair was flipped with her free hand.

"Do you need help?"

He shook his head. She must have not known who he is, otherwise, why would she even trespass on his grounds. The girl lift her feet in a walk towards the exit, turning her head to him once she was about to exit. "Mekada Kuorami, remember that, Tristan Fidel."

The exit finally bridged it's gaps, and he began to to pack his items away. He'd been called to quite a meeting.

"While I would like to congratulate you in your recent victory against Riser, I'm afraid that we have another matter on our hands, young man."

The squire stood in the occult room, in that meeting that I had mentioned earlier, 'conversing' with a local king on a topic that seems to have stirred the underworld. The student's suitcase rested on it's sides against a leather couch.

There was always something going on with these devils whenever they wanted him for whatever reason. There was a good thing that came out of their interactions, however indirect.

Through contact with the Gremory peerage, he'd been allowed to convey judgement to a sinner, with his own dark hand. Seeking another righteous hunt, he listened closely to the king, ignoring her underlings.

"There are people in the underworld who want to use you." For such a momentous statement, Rias was strangely calm about it.

Use? What?