Rewritten 19 Sep 2023
Changelog: tweaked funne, culled bad grammars
Hey hey people, danzy here
fast update cuz i felt cute. might delete later
don't get used to it.
NEW COVER for MAXIMUM ? ﾝﾔﾻ? ﾝﾔﾼ
pt2 if you came here from "Quit Staring at Me, That's Rude"
i'll change the cover as the story progresses between arcs so get used to it. i'm considering we're entering the second 'arc' and such
Thank you for the feedbacks. It's been wonderful. Let's pray that i can keep up at it, because i do greatly enjoy writing this story atm, hence the frequent updates as opposed to my other series. Not that i don't enjoy writing them; i do, i swear. Source: trust me. But this story is just… idk, easier to write? Like i can pull off so many bullshit here because of Shadow's unapologetic edginess and accidental badassery
And look, while I am grateful for you all entrusting me to write your ideas into new stories — please keep in mind I haven't watched DxD or read the godawful light novels (not the plot, just the way it's written) or even finished reading the manga. I've no idea what happens in EX, and I can't say i care enough to do my research
I've mentioned this before in my other stories long ago; but for you new fans (ello C:) ; i rely solely on the wikipedia and expand (my bullshittery) from there. It helps that dxd doesn't have the deepest of characters and all their villains are more basic than hydrogen, and that i've been doing this for… what, since 2015 or something…? Holy fuck im old
Watched TEiS and read its manga in one sitting tho, so there's that
So. yeah. I'm just doing this for the hobby. Dxd is a huge sandbox and i happen to like building sandcastles and creating new ones before the old ones are finished. so thanks for the offer, but no can do, mister/missy
Enjoy Mr. Shadow's wild ride, shadowbros
〖 Chapter 6 〗
⦕ I Am… NOT A SHEPHERD ⦖
As the weirdly bipedal cat and masked weirdo engaged in their tense conversation, the nocturnal creatures of the night carried on with their own activities, blissfully oblivious to the drama unfolding among the humans and Devils.
Perched on a spot where a certain someone had been prowling like a thief, a pair of wise old owls exchanged hoots in their secret nocturnal language. Their conversation might have sounded something like:
"Hoot, hoot," said the one on the left, swiveling its head to peer down at the peculiar scene below.
The other owl, perched on the opposite side, responded with an amused, "Hoot, hoot, hoot," as it observed the back-and-forth between Kuroka and the mysterious figure called Shadow.
Meanwhile, a mischievous raccoon, emerging from a nearby trash can, decided that the commotion was the perfect opportunity to snatch a half-eaten hotdog bun. With a triumphant chitter, it darted into the shadows, bun clutched firmly in its tiny paws.
High above, a squadron of bats swirled in chaotic patterns against the backdrop of the moonlit sky. They appeared to be practicing their aerial maneuvers, paying little attention to the ground-bound spectacle.
And in the distance, a lone tomcat, indifferent to the affairs of both humans and Devils, stretched lazily before resuming its solitary nocturnal prowl.
These creatures of the night continued their activities, unaware of the complexities of the world of Devils and their enigmatic savior. After all, in their world, the night was simply a canvas for their own nightly adventures, and they had no time for Cid's inner turmoil.
How could this happen to me?
I've made my mistakes, got nowhere to run, the night goes on as I stand here, not alone.
Was that how the song goes? I don't know. Don't care.
What in the seven circles of the abyss did I just get myself into? I mean, I was just playing cool, swooping in not to save the day, but to announce Shadow's presence. Instead I'm stuck with Kuroka like a cursed shadow. And not the cool, mysterious kind of Shadow I like to be—more like a hapless, clueless one. I can't even decide what cereal to eat in the morning, and now I'm supposed to decide the fate of a Stray Devil?
Somebody please give me a sign. Someone? Anyone? God? Are you there? Buddha? Jesus? Zeus? The Prophet Mohammed? This world still has religions, right? Surely a god is watching over me— or are you guys there but just laughing at me?
…Wait, does this mean I've unwittingly become the designated babysitter for a powerful, wayward Stray Devil? One with bounty hunters hot on her trail? …Wait, hold up… isn't this... kinda bad?
"I didn't sign up for this," I find myself muttering to myself…
Except I guess I kinda did, now that I think about it.
Damn.
Way to go, Cid.
But I never expected her to take up on my offer! I thought she was gonna be 'yeah right, screw you' and fucked off! I didn't realize I'd clobbered her so hard she couldn't even stand! It's not my fault! I swear! I got way too caught up in that battle!
But goddammit, as Shadow, I can't rely on anyone but myself. Me and my big mouth have roped me into this, and I'm going to own it, even if it's the last thing I do.
…Well, let's not get too dramatic here. I've got a lot more to check off my never-ending bucket list.
Alright, Shadow, pull yourself together you fuckup. You're in this now, whether you like it or not. You're in this now, whether you like it or not. Sure, I'm about as qualified to guide a Devil to redemption as a cat is to operate heavy machinery, but hey, life's all about those unexpected adventures, right? Right…?
…Maybe a little help from a higher power wouldn't hurt right about now.
…
Let me think for a moment.
…
Alright, maybe a few more moments.
…
What the heck do I do with her? I mean, 'guiding her' sounds all vague and cool and everything, but does that mean she's gonna be like my sidekick or something? Was that just a spur-of-the-moment thing? What the hell was I thinking and who am I kidding?
I'll figure it out as I go along, right? At least, that's the plan. But seriously, assuming she's gonna stick around, what's the game plan here? Man, I've been going in circles with these questions, haven't I?
Okay, let's calm down and break this down. You got this Cid. You have to got this. You ain't got much choice, buddy.
First things first: where on God's green Earth do I even take her? Definitely can't bring her to my apartment – that's Cid's turf, not Shadow's. And let's be real, I don't exactly have a super cool underground hideout ready to go. Not yet, at least. I mean, I only discovered my magical mojo a week ago, and there's a whole lot about this world I still need to wrap my head around. Plus, there's school tomorrow.
Right now, take her somewhere.
Where exactly is this somewhere? Good question. No answer yet.
Hmmmm.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Think, think, think. Why is thinking so hard? Seriously, who's the asshole that designed this whole brain thing, and why did they make it so darn complicated? Where's that lightbulb moment when you need it? Come on, inspiration, where are you hiding? Ugh, think, Cid! Uh, I mean, Shadow! Yeah, Shadow, that's the ticket.
Oh.
Oh right.
Lightbulb status: activated.
I don't have a hideout…
But I know someone who does.
The tricky part is how am I gonna explain why I'm strolling around with a wounded cat-eared girl in my arms while dressed like a discount Zorro? I can pass off her cat ears as cosplay, I guess, but what about her injuries? I can't perform magical first aid, and I certainly can't conjure up some mystical band-aids. Am I supposed to be a magician now? Heck, I can't even cast offensive spells – my magical prowess is all about coating things! Just like me! Coating stuff with bullshit!
Alright, let's take a breather. Hang tight and wait for her to wake up. Ugh, this place smells and my stomach's staging a revolt. Maybe I should've grabbed a snack before this whole wild adventure.
And speaking of waking up, I'm suddenly feeling a shift in my arms. Oh, fantastic, she's awake. And wait, is it just me, or is she glowing? Uh-oh, this might be a twist I didn't see coming. Again.
Time to roll with it, Shadow, you got this... I think.
Break
The abandoned warehouse hung heavy with the weight of recent events, an eerie silence settling over the space like a dense mist, refusing to disperse. It was as though the building itself was trying to catch its breath after witnessing the supernatural showdown between Devils and an enigmatic LARPer who went by the name Shadow.
In a mesmerizing display of arcane energy, Kuroka's transformation began. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a mystical aura. As if in response to some hidden command, flickers of midnight purple flames materialized in the space around her. The flames danced and swirled, weaving a spectral tapestry that enveloped her form.
The violet flames swirled and cavorted, casting an enchanting, almost otherworldly glow within the dimly lit warehouse. The intensity of the flames ebbed and flowed, mirroring the intricacies of the transformation process that was taking place that led Cid into thinking she wasn't a catgirl, but a magical girl instead.
Amidst the tongues of purple fire, Kuroka's features began to shift, her silhouette warping and reforming. Her once graceful stature receded, and her contours softened. It was as if the flames themselves were sculpting her, reshaping her identity from the inside out. And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the flames converged at the center of the spectral display, a culmination of energy and arcane.
In that fleeting moment, the flames dissipated, leaving in their wake a startling new form—a sleek black cat, her fur as dark as the shadows themselves, still clad in her tattered black kimono, now bundled within the protective embrace of Shadow's arms.
Shadow blinked.
The cat looked up at Shadow and returned the blink, her eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. It was a stark contrast to the Devil she had been, a reminder of the fragile nature that existed beneath the surface of an angry Devil.
He noted that she didn't carry her wounds over to this feline form of hers. Fancy that.
Shadow's gaze locked onto the feline figure before him, his mind racing to process the visual spectacle that had just unfolded. The transformation, marked by those mesmerizing purple flames, had been nothing short of a testament to the supernatural forces at play, that this world was indeed built for him. If she could turn into a cat, then surely he could find a way to transform as well. Not into another creature or animal, not even a dragon, but transforming from an ordinary getup to a sleek dark outfit sewn by shadows itself, complete with violet tendrils that covers his 'transformation'.
Cid contained his excitement, but just barely.
Her muted purr and the way she blinked up at him were enough to leave him momentarily baffled. She shifted slightly, as if trying to get comfortable. Her response was a soft mutter, almost as if she were conserving energy. "Cat... form. Need... rest..."
'...Well at least this makes it easier to get around.'
"Very well, Kuroko. We'll take it slow."
"It's Kuroka."
"My apologies, Kuroka," Shadow muttered gallantly. "Consider me your... guardian for now."
"Nyeh…" she purred in a manner that seemed to combine a huff and a meow, clearly unimpressed with the term 'guardian.' Nevertheless, she settled against his arm, eyes nearly closing as exhaustion weighed her down. "...Where are you taking me…? I can't walk, just so you know."
"An acquaintance," he replied, his tone confident and assured, as if he'd already mapped out the entire plan. "They happen to be Fallen Angels."
"Oh. Great idea. Why don't you just dump me in holy water while you're at it."
"They will help," he said, sounding poised instead of hopeful, as if already certain of the outcome. "You simply must not unveil your true self."
"...Pft… Been doing that since ages," she meowed her words, punctuating them with a lazy yawn. She found herself surprisingly less resistant to his plans because his words just dripped with confidence. Exhaustion and desperation had a way of dulling one's defiance, however.
But…
Now that she thought of it…
This might have been yet another of his calculated moves.
Her hunters were predominantly Devils.
The fragile non-aggression pact that existed among different factions in the supernatural world should give them pause before they ventured into the territory of the Fallen Angels. But as with everything involving this masked bastard, there was always an undercurrent of strategy and cunning that left her wondering about his true intentions.
Perhaps she had misjudged him. Perhaps he indeed knew what he was doing. Perhaps he could really guide her to the 'right path' or whatever. As long as it would reunite her with her baby sister; Kuroka couldn't care less.
"Fine, fine…" she conceded, her voice laden with exhaustion as she hid her awe at his calculated maneuver. "I'm gonna need days to recover anyway… No thanks to you."
"Apologies for your kimono."
"...It's fine," Kuroka grumbled. "I can fix it."
"Did you sew it yourself?" Read: does this mean you can make my fantasy outfit?
"...It's...my mother's... urgh, shut up, my body hurts. Everything hurts. I'm sleeping."
With that, she seemed to will herself back into slumber, seeking refuge in her dreamworld where her mother still existed to prattle and nag her for hurting her baby sister. Probably… In her dreams, at least, she could imagine and pretend.
'Drat,' thought Cid, his plans for a fantastical outfit momentarily thwarted. But perhaps the possibility of creating his very own 'Shadow Outfit' in the future was a not so distant dream.
AND THUS, with Kuroka's weakened form cradled against him, Shadow returned to his earlier decision. The abandoned church, hidden away like a secret in the forsaken edge of the city, seemed like the best option for providing her temporary shelter.
Break
Raynare shifted uneasily in her seat, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the armrest. Before her stood a mahogany desk, an imposing centerpiece in the dimly lit chamber of the Grigori's hidden sanctum — Penemue's office. Just being there had made her feel like a convict about to receive their verdict. As she should.
Penemue's wine-colored tresses held in a messy yet elegant ponytail, a striking contrast to her composed demeanor. The pince-nez sunglasses rested casually atop her locks, a single pearl earring glinting from her ear. A white dress shirt along with a black jacket that hung off her shoulders. There was a silver butterfly pin on its left lapel, and on the back a large, spider-like pattern in the center, along with webs on both shoulders and a burgundy inside. Wine-colored straps with golden accents decorated both her jacket and thighs, and gloves of a similar shade. She wore black, high waisted shorts and nylon tights, with a thigh garter on her right leg. Black boots to top off her looks with two different lengths: the right goes over her knee, while the left goes slightly over her ankle, a testament to her stylish fashion taste.
Raynare's heart raced as she awaited the conversation that would inevitably follow.
Her pupil-less gaze bore into Raynare, a combination of intensity and ease that never ceased to captivate. Her lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. And her voice, when it finally emerged, carried the air of someone who was both in control yet approachable.
"Well. I'm sure you know why I brought you here again."
Her voice was a haunting contralto, hiding a world of enigma beneath its surface. Its allure concealed a reservoir of strength and expertise that resonated with every word. A gentle authority threaded through her words, a testament to her role as the Grigori's Master of Whisperers, aptly nicknamed the Spider. Her melodic tones hinted at the corrupted celestial grace of her twelve black wings.
Raynare swallowed hard, her eyes fixated on the floor. "...Not debriefing, I hope…"
Penemue giggled lightly, but Raynare knew better than to relax. "That's only after you've done your job, Raynare. Have you done your job?"
"Partially, Mistress Penemue," Raynare stated, trying to gather her courage. She knew she needed to tread carefully, to present her actions in the best possible light.
Penemue leaned back in her chair, her smile retaining its composed charm. "Partial answers are often incomplete, but I'm listening."
Raynare took a deep breath, her resolve bolstered by the gravity of the situation. "Kokabiel is in Vatican City. He's stealing the Excaliburs for some... purpose." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I've been entrusted to remain in Japan, in his hideout. He recognizes me as his second-in-command."
Penemue's gaze remained steady, her smile unchanging. "Interesting. That means he's planning to return... And it seems you've become quite indispensable to Kokabiel, Raynare."
"I... I've proven my loyalty… To Kokabiel. By eliminating a potential threat—Hyoudou Issei, alongside discovering a slew of the Devils' Contractors for his hired men to kill."
Penemue's expression seemed to flicker, a subtle shift in her enigmatic demeanor. "Even though he's now become Rias Gremory's Servant?"
"...I...met a hitch before I could dispose his body completely, Ma'am..."
"He's a loose thread nonetheless," Penemue smiled a smile that made Raynare's skin crawl. "Have you confirmed what Sacred Gear he carries?"
"Twice Critical, I believe."
"Then have you considered that the Dragon Booster or Boosted Gear in its dormant state, retains the shape of a Twice Critical, Raynare? This would explain as to why Rias requred eight Pawn Pieces as opposed to one or two in bringing him back."
The possibility hit Raynare like a crashing wave, causing her stomach to sink. Her gaze dropped, a pang of guilt settling heavily in her chest. She understood the implication. Her impulsive action had led to Issei's transformation into a reincarnated devil, a Pawn within Rias Gremory's peerage. It wasn't a development she had anticipated, and the repercussions were starting to weigh on her. Each word she had spoken, every step she had taken, had shifted the pieces of an intricate puzzle she was only beginning to comprehend.
"I didn't... I didn't realize the full extent of my actions," Raynare confessed, her voice laden with regret.
Penemue's gaze held a mixture of understanding and expectation. "The ripples of our… interruptions can lead to unforeseen tides. This is the nature of our organization. This is why we tie up our loose ends, Raynare."
Raynare's jaw tightened as her internal struggle continued. "My primary goal was to secure my position within Kokabiel's plans, to gain his trust. I… didn't consider the broader consequences. I'm… sorry…"
"I know," Penemue simply smiled. It was an easy smile, yet Raynare couldn't read a shred of it. "...But perhaps this can be mutually beneficial…"
'Very well,' the Fallen Archangel mused, her mind a whirlwind of calculations and possibilities. No use crying over spilt milk.
The revelation that the Boosted Gear might have found its way into the hands of the Devils was a complication she hadn't foreseen. Ripping it from their grasp would undoubtedly ignite a conflict, a war that her Lord Azazel had tirelessly worked to prevent. It would be nice to have both Heavenly Dragons under their watch, but then again, Vali wasn't exactly the easiest to oversee. Adding Albion's rival would have caused unwanted conflicts to start between the two. Or perhaps, a healthy rivalry instead?
Doesn't matter now.
As Raynare spoke of her impulsive action and its unintended aftermath, muttering her weak apology, a calculated plan began to take shape within Penemue's mind. She realized that the situation could be manipulated to their advantage, the threads of deception woven carefully to achieve their goals.
The Boosted Gear, a coveted Longinus, held immense power. Taking it forcibly from the Devils' possession would be catastrophic. But what if they could redirect the perception of its acquisition? What if they could craft a narrative that painted the Boosted Gear's transfer as a calculated move, a strategic play? If they (she) could manipulate the narrative successfully, they could sow seeds of distrust within Rias' peerage, particularly Issei, its potential possessor. The boy didn't strike her as someone peculiarly resistant to hints and suggestions. Subtle pushes to redirect him towards the wrong direction.
The revelation of the staged murder and subsequent reincarnation as Rias' Pawn would plant the seeds of doubt, causing Issei to question the motives behind his reincarnation.
"I-I swear I'll make this right—"
"No need," Penemue's smile deepened, a glint of intrigue in her eyes as she gazed at Raynare. "You've done well, Raynare. Your dedication is appreciated. Continue doing what you are doing. Kokabiel is still your primary concern. Leave the matter regarding the boy to me. Can't have you do everything now, can we?"
Raynare's eyes widened. "Th-thank you very much."
Her shoulders eased, relief washing over her. Penemue's assurance was a balm to her guilt-stricken conscience. She had feared Penemue's reaction to her impulsive actions, the potential consequences of her choices. But Penemue's strategic mind had already spun the situation into a calculated advantage, and her confidence bolstered Raynare's own resolve.
Penemue leaned back in her chair, intertwining her gloved fingers, her calm gaze never leaving Raynare's form. "Let's move on to another matter… it appears your 'temporary' master has hired several Rogue exorcists."
"Yes, Ma'am," Raynare nodded. "He's using their service to hunt down Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri's Contractors, using them as scapegoats once the Devils are aware of it."
"I see… Not as clean as he'll hope, but I'll clean up his mess." As per usual. "For now, the less they have; the better. Let them be."
"Understood."
"What about Freed? Freed Sellzen," Penemue muttered as her eyes gazed down at a specific dossier of the white-haired exorcist. "Were you able to confirm his heritage?"
"Yes, he carries the blood of Siegfried, as you've expected. He's far more agile and skilled compared to other rogues. I daresay he's the best out of everyone, second only to Kokabiel but purely because of his raw strength."
"Hmm... Why do I sense a 'but' here..."
"His personality is… well… twisted," Raynare summarized. "He's… uncontrollable, Ma'am. A wild card. He acts as he pleases, kills more than necessary, but he's better at combat. He's now by Kokabiel's side. Regrettably, my information regarding him is limited."
"Hmm…" Penemue's eyes narrowed. The Church had been making progress with their attempts at bringing back fallen heroes — before Earth had fallen under the control of the supernatural orders. Freed's twisted personality might hint at their imperfections, but this was nonetheless a glaring matter. Humans nowadays had been declawed. Those Heroes? Not very much so.
Their existence would shake the very balance all had strived to maintain.
For now, she should leave Kokabiel to do his business, let him do as much collateral damage to the Devils and the Church, before reeling him in and branding him a traitor, or throwing him to the Devils' as a peace offering. Either way, Kokabiel had been considered as expendable by Lord Azazel, and that was all there was to it. The end of his story had been decided; he simply wasn't aware of it yet.
"Your information is sufficient. Thank you," she finalized. "Is there anything else you wish to report, Raynare? "
Raynare hesitated for a moment, her thoughts flickering back to the enigmatic figure known as Shadow. The Lost Person who had crossed her path, his presence a puzzle she couldn't quite decipher. She took a deep breath, deciding to share her encounter.
"There's... someone else. A Lost. He calls himself Shadow, and… he has some unusual abilities of his former world."
Penemue's interest seemed to spike at the mention of the Lost Person, recalling the escape of a certain Lost who had escaped their containment.
"Shadow?" she echoed, her eyes broadening slightly, "Tell me more about him."
Raynare, with a mix of trepidation and excitement, began to recount the unexpected encounter with the mysterious figure known as Shadow. She recounted the intense confrontation, her futile attempts to match his enigmatic demeanor, and her eventual realization of the vast gap in power between them. Penemue listened attentively, her expression betraying no emotion as she absorbed every detail.
Raynare's words flowed as she described Shadow's nonchalant evasion of her attacks, his unnerving ability to appear and disappear without a trace, and his enigmatic responses. She conveyed her interactions with him, from their initial clash to their conversation in the abandoned church. She explained how Shadow had revealed himself as a "Lost Person" from another realm, his story of a dying world devoid of a sun, and his apparent fascination with her explanations of the supernatural aspects of their own world. His entire deal about 'hunting shadows'.
Penemue listened intently, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.
"Interesting…" she muttered. A faint smile on her lips. "He intends to stay here rather than finding ways to return, as opposed to most of the Losts..."
"Should I try to capture him?"
"No. Attempts at recruiting them have only led to unwanted results and… regrettable losses… Not all of them are readily helpful as the one you've brought here," for a flash of a moment, her eyes showed deep regret. The losses could've been avoided, and the Grigori would have one more active base if it weren't for her miscalculation. But nonetheless, Penemue couldn't let this bother her more than it should.
"Asia Argento…" Raynare recalled the name, and the image of the young blonde girl immediately appeared in her head. "Silly of the church to banish her readily after her eight years of service— recruiting her was simple."
"Hm? Those who banished her acted out of order, much like you did, Raynare. I imagine their superiors are planning to banish them as well as their just punishment."
"..." Raynare quieted down, saying nothing in her defense.
"But you've done well. Spiriting her away from Kokabiel is no small feat, and putting the blame on Freed is an exceptional move. Lord Azazel made it his point to congratulate you personally, once your work is finished, that is. He is quite the busy man. You have my personal admiration as well in how you dealt with this matter."
In that moment, Raynare's eyes gleamed with insurmountable glee. "Th... thank you very much, Mistress Penemue. Your words mean a lot."
Penemue simply smiled, but she let out a rather melancholic sigh. "Speaking of which, Lord Azazel has decided to take a new approach regarding the Lost… so while he's ruminating a way so they can be more… willingful, to join our cause— you can interact with them to gain information, but avoid 'directing' them to anywhere. Ours, Devils', or the Church's. They're considered loose cannons for now. If you encounter more, simply report back to me, and we'll handle it from there."
"Understood, Ma'am."
"And I repeat; do not stick your leg any deeper. Whether this 'Shadow' is a potential asset or a threat, you are to keep an eye on him should he appears — and this time keep an eye on him, Raynare. Learn his motive if possible, but do not overstretch your main priority that is Kokabiel and his plot to reignite the war. Is that clear? "
Raynare's response was immediate and respectful, but her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. "C-crystal."
"Good." A subtle nod. "Do keep up the good work. You are dismissed."
Break
Alas, I am lost.
Here I stand as Shadow, a phantom in the middle of this forest, surrounded by more trees than my brain can process. It's like I've stumbled into a nature-themed funhouse, but without any of the fun.
How the hell can I "guide those who are lost" when I'm shit with directions. Every tree looks the same, and the ground under my feet seems dead set on tripping me up at every step. If I ever wanted to prove that I'm a "Lost Person," I've nailed it. Bravo, me.
Oh, and let's not forget my new baggage, Kuroka the cat. Every time I glance at her, she's got that condescending feline look even when her eyes are closed and she's asleep. It's like she's saying, 'You're supposed to be the smart one here, buddy.'
But hey, I've got a plan.
Or at least I've got a plan to have a plan.
I project an air of unyielding determination, a look that says I'm always in control, even when I'm not. That doesn't make sense but whatever.
With each step, I act as calculated as can be despite my internal compass pointing all over the place. Kuroka's tail flicks against my arm, a reminder that she's right there, trusting me to lead the way to some frickin vague 'path'.
Her soft purr-like snores reverberated gently, almost like she was trying to lull me into a false sense of direction.
.
.
.
But then, it hits me… a branch.
Falling from the sky, as if to make fun of me. Curse you, mother nature.
But then it hits me.
I forgot I can use my learned magic to float.
It didn't take him long to reach the abandoned church.
The building, a remnant of forgotten faith, had a certain solitude to it—a place where shadows held dominion and secrets found refuge, and the place where a flock of rogue Fallen Angels had designated that place to be their base of operations, unbeknownst to Cid. But even if either Shadow or Cid knew that these bands of Fallens were the designated baddies of this first arc of Issei's rise to dragonhood, it wouldn't make a difference.
Raynare was the only viable plan he got.
What if she refused? Well, Shadow does not bother with being refused, because he is 100% certain his 'plans' will always work out, even if he is rejected.
Did that make sense? No? Good. It shouldn't. Cid really was just winging it and praying for anything but the worst.
"Why did you walk most of the way here?" the cat suddenly said, Kuroka had roused awake, but her conscience hovered between dream and reality. "Aren't you extremely fast or sumthing…"
She slurred her words, a clear sign of her exhaustion.
Shadow did not. "I can't risk it."
In truth, Cid hadn't the slightest clue how to take someone else into the Shadow Dimension. He tried it earlier. He couldn't move people. Not even cats. Anything that carried Mana with them wouldn't budge even a single inch. It was as if he was in a higher, or lower, or the plane beside the corporeal realm.
And the moonlight stroll did wonders for his mental gymnastics, helping him sort through the jumble of puzzle pieces that had been tossed into the air.
Kuroka huffed, shutting her actual feline eyes. She did not like being reminded that he was better than her. Miles ahead that she had to be this inferior and patronized after all the shit she had been through. She refused to feel happy that someone she just met would walk miles for her in order to put her in danger. No, she wasn't happy. No, no "feelings" were growing inside her. She was sleepy, tired, and upset, and totally not considering him to be her mate and make strong shadowy babies with him.
Nope, no emotions here.
Just tiredness. A touch of irritation. A dash of perplexity about how someone could be this dedicated. Definitely not a sprinkle of warm fuzzies. Her fur-covered face didn't show it, but there was an internal turmoil akin to a soap opera cliffhanger.
One thing to note was that it was fortunate her current form didn't have a reflective surface to betray the burning blush she would have undoubtedly displayed.
As he crossed the threshold into the once-hallowed halls of the abandoned church, his footsteps were a hushed whisper against the layers of undisturbed dust that covered the ground. The atmosphere was thick with an odd mixture of solemnity and decay, an embodiment of the history that clung tenaciously to the stone walls. Shadows played their enchanting dance, a silent welcome that reverberated through the dim light.
Nobody was home, it seemed like.
Of course they weren't. The Fallen Angels were using the Devils' Stray Devil hunting activity to do their work: taking down their Contractors.
He settled onto one of the pews that hadn't completely succumbed to time's wear and tear, the wood creaking in protest beneath his weight. Oddly enough, for a place that had been abandoned for so long, it was in reasonably good condition, at least as far as abandoned buildings go. His thoughts flitted back to reality, momentarily distracted from his surroundings. In a situation like this, checking the time was a reflex, but of course, he couldn't. No phones, no watches, no connection to Cid's world. It was Shadow's world now, and the rules were different.
The creaking of a door drew his attention. His gaze shifted to the entrance, located at the left front part of the chapel, supposedly where the religious folks like the priest and his church boys do churchy stuff like preparing wine and bread and such.
At the door, there stood the exhibitionist whose name he had completely forgotten. Mayweather or something.
Except this time, unlike their previous encounter, she now sported an outfit that wouldn't raise eyebrows in a professional setting. No more hints of the "very lost stripper" vibe; instead, she appeared to be on official business, or at least she was trying to give off that impression.
"S…Shadow?"
Shadow leaned back in the pew, regarding her with a smooth, well-practiced nod, like that of a master bullshitter. He didn't say anything immediately, intentionally letting a pregnant pause hang in the air. It was a pause that served multiple purposes, one of which was adding another achievement to his mental checklist of 'stuffs Shadow would do'.
As his name left her lips, Raynare widened her eyes.
To her, he was just as enigmatic as the last time she saw him. His dark attire now elevated to a new level, adorned him like a shroud of mystery. A black trench coat billowed over a black turtleneck sweater, matched with perfectly tailored black pants and shoes that seemed to absorb the shadows around him. It was a visual statement of his ability to not only adapt to this world but also to rise above financial constraints.
Unbeknownst to Raynare, the evolution of his wardrobe had come at a cost. Cid had expended his entire biweekly salary to acquire this ensemble, a testament to his commitment to maintaining his enigmatic façade. As he stood before her, a figure of allure and intrigue, his appearance belied the behind-the-scenes struggles—like a disgustingly pricey trench coat with custom hood that concealed more than just his silhouette and a fresh set of red eye contacts.
A week had passed since their last baffling encounter, but their first meeting had seared a permanent memory within her. Not to mention her recent discussion with Penemue.
"Shadow," she addressed him again, this time her voice carried a hint of familiarity; an attempt to not be shocked by his sudden arrival. "Didn't expect to see you again. Thought meeting you was an accident, I'll be honest."
"Is that what you believe? The convergence of our paths— you simply shrug it off as mere accident?" Shadow replied, his voice a measured blend of calm and mystery and untold bullshittery. He regarded Raynare with an unreadable expression, his gaze holding a hint of intrigue as he took in her composed demeanor.
Raynare's heart raced; there was something about him that both terrified and excited her in equal measures.
"What, so you think you appearing out of nowhere is destiny or something?" Raynare chuckled, forcing herself to act composed as she approached him closer. "You didn't strike me as someone who believes in all that bullcrap."
"I'm not a pawn of fate; I'm the architect of my own reality," Shadow said, with a flourish that was one part dramatic and two parts mysterious. Raynare couldn't help but stare, equal parts amused and perplexed. There was a charm to his nonchalant responses that bordered on ridiculous, and yet, strangely, it worked.
She found herself secretly admiring his ability to sound poignant while not making a lick of sense. Go figure.
Raynare's gaze shifted briefly to the black cat in his lap, bundled in some weird rag that used to be a kimono. To her, the sight was simply that of a stray cat finding temporary refuge in the hands of a kind samaritan — a kind trait she didn't really expect from him. Little did she know that Cid thought she knew of the cat.
"So… what brings you here?" she asked, slightly hating herself for sounding so awkward all of a sudden. She'd just been chewed and reasonably held her own against the third highest ranking Fallen Angel, how did her confidence falter against this guy? A pretty much nobody in this world?
"I was hoping to provide some temporary respite for our feline friend here."
"...Huh?"
His casual response only added to her bewilderment. "I was hoping to leave my feline friend in your care for a short while. A temporary arrangement, if you would. Unfortunately, my current endeavors leave her safety compromised. The path I tread is... treacherous."
Translation: Please, for the love of all things normal, take care of this cat. I've got school tomorrow and my landlord would probably flip if she knew I brought a cat home, not to mention my identity as Cid is in crisis of being exposed. Take her take her take her take her.
"I see… Those 'shadows' you mentioned before, is it?" Raynare inquired, trying to regain her footing in the conversation.
But the mental circus in Cid's mind was in full swing—pet logistics, secret identities, and the sudden strangeness of it all. But despite the whirlwind in his head, Shadow managed a cool nod.
She let out a dark chuckle, her tone carrying an edge of skepticism. "I hope you don't come here expecting I'll just agree to everything you ask from this Raynare, do you? Give and take— what can you offer in return for this… little favor?"
"Raynare…" as Cid repeated her name to make sure to write that down in his memory, Raynare shuddered.
A shiver ran down her spine as the sound of her name left his lips, his voice carrying an irresistible resonance that seemed to linger in the air. A voice that commanded attention, its timbre laced with a magnetic quality that drew one in, a mesmerizing cadence that beckoned them to listen intently.
Still, she remained stalwart. She'd rather be on his good side, make no mistake — he was a Lost Person and the Losts tended to be worth more than the trouble they occasionally carried along with them, but her opportunistic side refused to simply agree to his demands, no matter how much she thirsted for him right now.
"...Yeah…?"
"The shadows themselves are my allies, and their secrets are my currency." His response was poised, the words carefully chosen to sway her without making any commitments.
Raynare's inner monologue took a more personal turn. 'Mary's tits. If you were just a brat, I'd be cringing right now, but you're the real deal, and you sound as daunting as you look. You're putting me in a difficult spot here, Shadow… I might be reserved for Lord Azazel, unfortunate for you… but maybe a little indulgence won't hurt…'
Raynare's gaze held steady, her own intentions hidden beneath a facade of intrigue. She understood the game they were playing, the delicate balance of power and negotiation that danced between them. While his voice had stirred something within her, a thirst for more, she refused to let it cloud her judgment entirely.
Her smile held a glint of amusement, a challenge masked as playful banter. "Allies with shadows, hm? But didn't you say you 'hunt' them down? You're being contradictory here."
"A hunter must know their prey intimately, must they not?"
Raynare's smile returned, a mixture of amusement and interest. But just as her amusement deepened, for a fleeting moment, a thought raced through her mind.
She'd encountered enigmatic bastards like him; their words and actions always carried more depth than they appeared. She thought Penemue was the only one she couldn't decipher but here he stood. Well, sit.
Perhaps his request for her assistance was more than it seemed. After all, why would he bring a seemingly random stray cat to her if not to test her? Was he implying that he didn't necessarily require her aid, but instead was assessing her worth as an ally? Was this a small beginning, a precursor to something larger? Could this be his way of indirectly revealing his true intentions? And in the process, she could enhance her value in the eyes of Penemue, positioning her to work directly under Lord Azazel…
Meanwhile in Cid's mind: 'please just say yes.'
"Alright then…" Raynare muttered, and inwardly, Cid's jubilation was akin to a victorious touchdown. Externally, Shadow remained as composed as ever, his demeanor giving way to the faintest of smirks. "I'll take care of your… friend… Just— don't expect I'll be your cat sitter, alright? You lucked out since I do have soft spots for felines… but don't you start bringing more or dogs over. This is a hideout, not a pound."
'FUCK YEAH.' "Understood."
Raynare gulped. She could listen to his dusky voice all day long. But that was probably just her innate trait as a debauched Fallen Angel speaking..
"...Well," she sighed, "hand her over."
With a final nod, Shadow extended his hand, his movements graceful and deliberate as he held out Kuroka, the sleeping cat cradled gently in his grasp. Their fingers brushed briefly, a fleeting touch. And then, as if a wisp of smoke caught in the wind, Shadow began to fade. The shadows seemed to embrace him, swallowing his form as they cascaded like ink spilled across parchment.
His gaze locked onto hers, his smoldering crimson eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very layers of her being. In that moment, Raynare felt a flutter of something deep within, a rush of emotions and sensations that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. His eyes held a magnetic quality, drawing her in and stirring thoughts that she struggled to put into words.
A flicker of something unspoken passed between them, a connection forged in the depths of his gaze. It was as if the air crackled with a palpable tension, an invisible thread that bound them in that suspended moment. Her heart quickened, her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself ensnared by the enigmatic figure before her, understanding that underneath this seemingly meaningless exchange was the passing of trust.
As for the real reason as to why he was staring at her? Well, Cid was busy rummaging through his arsenal of quotes from all the action movies and anime and games he'd watched and deeply immersed himself in. An assortment of 'badass' quotes were being hastily sifted through, as he sought the perfect thing to say next.
'Shadow will remember this.' Yeah right.
"I appreciate this," he finally decided, a note of John Wick's iconic coolness seeping into his words. There was even a touch of Slavic accent thrown in—unintentionally, of course.
Sometimes imitation could carry more clues than intended. Was this a hint of his true identity? Raynare couldn't help but marvel, her curiosity piqued. But before she could question him further, as her fingers closed around the slumbering cat in his lap, he vanished.
Again.
He was gone. No lingering afterimage, no explosions of black feathers, no surge of magic, no trace of his presence—just an empty seat where he had sat moments before.
Raynare released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, a soft sigh escaping her lips. A dreamy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, reluctant but undeniable. Her mind buzzed with the aftermath of their conversation, his voice reverberating like a haunting melody in her thoughts.
The way he had navigated their exchange, the layers of meaning hidden behind his words—it all left her both intrigued and impressed. He reminded her a lot of Penemue, except Shadow was much more, if it was even possible, mystifying. At least with Penemue, she could always tell every intricate plan she hatched and every move she commanded was for the benefit of the Grigori.
Unbeknownst to Raynare, Kuroka had roused from her slumber just before Shadow's departure. She watched the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement, sensing the shift in Raynare's demeanor. A wry smirk tugged at her lips as she observed the Fallen Angel's swooning reaction. She understood the allure that Shadow seemed to possess, very ruefully.
He had bested her in combat, exposing the cracks in her perceived strength. The sting of defeat, the realization that she wasn't as invincible as she believed. Her shameful defeat remained a lingering wound. And while she acknowledged her own role in the situation, she wasn't willing to forgive him for the humiliation he had brought upon her. He had shown her that there were forces beyond her control, things she couldn't protect her little sister from. Shattered her beliefs.
Kuroka's pride wouldn't easily allow her to dismiss that reality. As such, the idea of simply forgiving him, even if she recognized her own mistakes, was far from her intentions.
Nothing harmful… Just a little prank on him. After all, Kuroka was a bona fide Yōkai through and through — she had abandoned her Devilly bullcrap. She didn't die when she was forced to consume her old master's Evil Pieces. Once she got rid of him and her subsequent pursuers, learning that they could track her by those accursed Pieces, she had found ways to spit the Pieces out. Forced those two Bishops out of her body. The pain was beyond anything she could imagine — not even her recent beatdown could hold a candle to it, but Kuroka was her own master and no one else could take that away from her.
'…Guardian… huh…?'
The concept of a guardian figure, someone to guide and protect her, stirred memories of Yasaka, the revered Guardian of the Yōkai. And she really did guide her… In fact, if it wasn't for her, Kuroka wouldn't be able to act as freely like this. Her pursuers would've tracked her down. Hunted her to the very edge of the earth, because Devils were so anal about getting bested by those they saw as Servants.
The mere memory of the pain and struggle she endured to liberate herself from those cursed Pieces lingered in her mind. It was an agonizing journey. But it was worth the price. She couldn't reconnect with her sister with bounty hunters breathing down her neck.
And that journey brought her here… the reality of her circumstances had led her down a different path, one that intersected with the enigmatic figure known as Shadow.
That as it may, Shadow could have chosen to be her master and she wouldn't be able to refuse. Instead, he settled as her protector. Guardian or whatever… No. Kuroka was not swooning over him. She was not that easy. Unlike this Fallen Angel here that looked like she wanted to sit on his chair just to feel his lingering warmth.
Gross.
But Raynare didn't do any of that. For now, at least.
While a part of her felt a bit miffed by Raynare's gushiness, Kuroka knew better than to make her presence known. She had her own reasons for lying low, for biding her time until Shadow's return. And so, she remained silent, an observer in the shadows, as Raynare reveled in the aftermath of their encounter.
Raynare stood there, still holding Kuroka in her arms, the weight of his disappearance settling around her like a shroud of mystery. As she patted the cat, with Kuroka purring in response (she really did purr. She had little to no control of her 'cattiness' as a cat) the abandoned church stood in quiet solitude once more, carrying with it the enigma of his vanishing act.
"Hmm… you're pretty cute and docile for a stray cat," she then said to the assumed stray cat. "...He never did tell me your name, did he… Did he just pick you up from the streets?"
Kuroka meowed, the irony of the assumption wasn't lost on her. She really was a Stray Devil. Believed to be a Stray Devil anyway. She did her part as a normal, unassuming cat with a sleek black coat and a fuzzy tail.
Raynare chuckled. "I can't just call you Cat, can't I…? Hmm…"
'If you give me weird names, I'll scratch your face.'
"Smokey."
Kuroka's reaction was less than pleased, resulting in a snarl that was a bit more intimidating than she had intended.
Raynare arched an eyebrow. "Oh? You can understand me? Don't tell me you're a Nekomata in disguise," she teased, fully indulging in the fanciful idea. She then realized that the possibility was not entirely outlandish, given the nature of the mysterious individual who had brought the cat to her. "...Are you? If you're a Nekomata playing around, you better tell me right now, missy."
Kuroka paused, her feline mannerisms perfectly timed. She tilted her head in a gesture that was both comical and oddly convincing. Then, she let out a meow "Prrreow?" followed by a gentle purr, nuzzling her tiny face into Raynare's palm.
"Hah… guess not. Well… your master is one weird guy… So what about… Twilight? This should be fitting enough, hm?"
Kuroka considered it briefly. She didn't care much, but at least it sounded better than her previous name.
She meowed agreeably and nuzzled her palm.
"Twilight it is… Now let's see if I have some cardboard boxes lying around…"
"…" Kuroka meowed weakly, resigning her fate. Cardboard box yet again… Perhaps one day she could lie down on an actual bed, instead one she must conjure through magic. Strays couldn't be choosers, she supposed.
As Raynare took in her temporary pet into the sacristy that had been turned into her temporary office, a single question lingered in their mind: who was behind the enigmatic figure known as Shadow?
Break
In the heart of her intricately designed office, Penemue sat in contemplation. Her fingers delicately traced patterns upon the obsidian surface of her desk, the very embodiment of her calculated and strategic nature. Raynare's account of the mysterious being called Shadow had woven a thread of curiosity in Penemue's mind, and like a spider drawn to the vibrations of an interesting prey, she found herself entangled in his enigma.
"Shadow, hmm…?" she whispered the name, savoring its syllables as if tasting the essence of a rare delicacy.
The name held a resonance, a resonance that echoed the secrecy and allure that often surrounded her own activities within the Fallen Angel hierarchy.
As the Master of Whisperers and Secrets and all sorts of intrigues, Penemue was well-versed in the art of weaving plots and pulling strings, much like the intricate webs of a spider. She had spent centuries navigating the intricate balance of power and alliances, her reputation as the "Spider" a testament to her ability to ensnare and manipulate. Yet, here was a being, a Lost Person named Shadow, who dared to pique her interest.
With a hum, Penemue reached for a crystal orb nestled among the trinkets on her desk. Runes etched onto its surface glowed faintly as she invoked a scrying spell, tapping into the arcane currents that flowed through the universe. The orb shimmered with an otherworldly light, responding to her touch. As her fingers traced the intricate patterns etched onto its surface, she invoked a spell of scrying—a technique that allowed her to perceive distant events and locations, though limited within the Fallen Angel's territory. Devils and the Angels tended to be hindrances, as per usual.
The orb's surface rippled like water, and the image of a small chapel appeared within. There he sat in the abandoned church. The play of shadows around him seemed to dance in response to his presence, further emphasizing his connection to the elusive realm he hailed from. Her spy Raynare appears to have done chatting with him, now holding a cat in her arms.
Penemue wouldn't mind her having a pet, as long as it didn't distract Raynare from her duties.
But then, in an instant, it happened. Shadow vanished, not in the expected way—enveloped by shadows—but as if he were a mirage dissipating into thin air. A phantom, gone in a blink.
"...Oh?" A hushed sound escaped Penemue's lips as her eyes widened in a mix of astonishment and curiosity. It was as though reality itself had opted to erase him from existence at that precise juncture.
With a thoughtful frown, she rewound the scrying image, observing the scene again. As the sequence replayed, as he materialized and dematerialized in an instant, realization crept into her mind. It wasn't sheer speed that allowed Shadow to vanish so abruptly—it was as if he were manipulating the fabric of reality itself. The pieces clicked together, and Penemue understood that this Lost Person didn't rely solely on swiftness; he wielded a power that circumvented the laws of the observable world.
With her gaze fixed on the scrying orb, Penemue uttered a single word that seemed to encapsulate Shadow's essence of being, "Interesting…"
Penemue's thoughts led her to action as she approached an ornate mirror tucked in a corner of her office. Its glass seemed to shimmer with a hint of enchantment, and with a purposeful step forward, her hand extended to touch its surface. The mirror responded like a liquid pool disturbed by a stone's throw, its depths swirling with an otherworldly luminescence.
In an instant, Penemue stepped into the mirror's embrace, the sensation akin to being drawn through a tunnel of shifting reflections. When her surroundings solidified once more, she found herself within the chapel—the very space Raynare had left after her small discussion, and where she currently stood, slightly surprised at her appearance.
"M-Mistress Penemue?"
Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she pressed a finger between her lips, and she motioned for Raynare to keep her composure. "I think I'll play an active role for a while, Raynare," Penemue whispered with a playful wink.
Raynare's unease was palpable, her posture stiff as she struggled to maintain a sense of normalcy in Penemue's presence. "R-right... of course," she stammered. Her gaze flickered to the cat, then back to Penemue. "Shadow, I'm guessing? He just… sort of disappeared."
Penemue's smile deepened, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Mhmm, I know," she confirmed, her tone a melodic purr. "Carry on with your new feline companion. Pretend that you two never saw me."
With a graceful nod, and a knowing glance followed with a smile at the black cat, Penemue exited the sacristy, her footsteps echoing softly in the space. She left Raynare standing there, her curiosity piqued and her heart racing, and with one perplexed cat in her arms.
'...Well…' Kuroka mused silently, fully aware of who that person was and fully cognizant of the fact that Penemue knew about her true identity but had chosen to keep quiet—an artful move worthy of a mastermind. As to be expected. 'This might be bad…for him, anyway.'
He likely had known about her. Maybe dragging the Spider out of her web had been in his plan all along. Who knows. Kuroka couldn't care. Being enigmatic was more his bread and butter.
Supposed enigmatic character was within the underwhelming confines of his bedroom. A surroundings that screamed "average Joe" louder than a car alarm at 3 AM. Inside his unbelievably lackluster bedroom that was morbidly average. A single unremarkable bed accompanied by a standard bedside table and a dresser that served its purpose without flair. A study desk was thrown into the mix, accessorized with a potted fake cactus plant that clearly had zero ambitions beyond its fake existence.
The pair of windows let in light that was almost as unenthusiastic as the room itself, offering up a view that screamed "same old, same old." And, as if to complete the pièce de résistance of mundane, a tiny bathroom squeezed itself in, displaying all the extravagance of a plain paper napkin.
In this laughably ordinary setup, Cid Kagenō—more famous as "Shadow" for reasons known only to him and maybe the cactus—sat perched on his bed. But, let's be honest, there was nothing enigmatic about him at this moment. No, he looked more like a college student cramming for finals or a squirrel trying to remember where it buried its nuts. You see, Cid was currently wrestling with the Herculean task of "guiding" Kuroka.
C'mon… Cid, think… Think. There's something to gain from all this… Can't let the unexpected crash in your life and suddenly you're clueless about everything. Be the Shadow you want to be. Man up. Man the fuck up. Shadow the fuck up. You can do this. I can do this.
Let's pretend that this is going to plan and go from there...
So what if I've accidentally become the 'Sherpa of the Lost'? It's got a certain ring to it. Plus, now that I think about it: being hunted down by bounty hunters? Badass. That's like the ultimate cool factor. That's in my top ten list in my bucket list. It's like starring in your very own action-packed, edgy movie. People will be writing epic ballads about the devil who took on redemption and lived to tell the tale, and they'll make an anime movie adaptation of it and it will bomb.
Picture this: a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness, armed with nothing but a crowbar (well, technically a rebar at the moment), blazing through the shadows, dodging bullets—
…
Shit. I didn't think of this. Can I dodge bullets? I need to look at the guy that's firing it so I can read it from the twitch of their fingers, or I'll just sneak in the Shadow Dimension and jam their gun or unload their magazine. And do they even have guns here? I've never seen one, I'll be perfectly honest. I know they have flintlocks but that's dated as hell. Maybe they use magic guns with magic bullets? Because I so want one.
Excuse me, the chance to replicate those Assassins and that one Templar guy from Assassin's Creed? The game series that further inspires me to practice my parkour and mastering counters instead of being the aggressors? Sign me the fuck up. If there are such magical pistols in this world, you bet your ass I will grab four for myself. Maybe even six. Four holstered on my chest, one each on my waist. Yes. Nice. Very nice.
And there's outwitting those pesky bounty hunters. They'll be like, "Nani the fuck? Who is this enigmatic force that tangoes with danger? Is he a hero or an anti-hero?" Well, I am neither of course! I walk my own path! I flip the bird at Fate and spit at Destiny!
Sure, right now I might feel like a duck trying to balance a flaming rubber ball on my beak, but remember: every legend has a beginning.
So, what's next in my wild and crazy misadventure? Guiding a Devil (more like a snappy catgirl, but who's counting?), championing redemption, and proving that even the most unlikely heroes can step up to the plate. Just imagine the looks on everyone's faces when I, Shadow—cool, collected, and possibly slightly deranged—casually stroll through the chaos. I'm not just some LARPer living out fantasies; I'm becoming a freaking legend in the making. Those bounty hunters won't know what hit them—they'll be chasing shadows, trying to catch the guy who dances on the edge of darkness. Seriously, if that isn't the epitome of badass, I don't know what is.
But here's the thing: I don't want to be the center of attention. I want to be the puppeteer, the one pulling strings from the shadows, enjoying the show from the sidelines. Sipping on my totally non-pretentious grape juice, maybe like Don Cornelo petting a cat that's not there... yet. Kuroka can be that cat. Wait, was it Don Cornelo or Corleone?
Whatever. Details.
The redemption gig might not be in my script, but every grand symphony needs its interludes. That doesn't mean I can't turn this setback into a golden opportunity.
Let's assess what I've learned from this world so far.
Basically, it's like a supernatural circus, with Devils, Angels, and probably some other craziness waiting in the wings, not to mention the Lost Persons and whatnot. Everyone's got their own agenda, their own drama, and their own dose of "lost and found."
These major factions—Devils and Fallen Angels—are doing their thing, and I'm guessing the Angels might want a slice of the pie too. And Risa, or whatever her name is, mentioned she won't tattle on me to her higher-ups.
That brings the question: why do Lost guys have to be reported?
Control.
My guess is because they want to have control over us lost dudes. I'm guessing I'd be totally clueless if I'm a Lost Person — wait I am one.
Well I'm guessing other Lost Person would be totally clueless when they got spat out here. I'm betting my ass that they're probably itching to control us "lost" souls, like we're some kind of puppet show they can manipulate. They want to spin our stories, manipulate our agendas, and mold us to fit their narratives… I may have got myself fierce competitors here.
Where does Shadow fit into this crazy puzzle? I've gone from being just another random guy with a hoodie to a key player in a story I didn't even sign up for.
Oh… hang on a minute…
I might have just bumbled upon something huge here. A chance to rewrite the script, flip the narrative, and take my place as the wildcard in this supernatural drama. They want control? Well, guess what, I'm the guy who's not just gonna dance to their tune. I'm the one who's gonna take the stage, jam to my own beat, and turn their puppet show into a spectacular metal concert.
Sure, right now I'm just trying to keep my cool while dealing with a girl-turned-cat who's pretty much my accidental responsibility. But there's more to this than just being a glorified cat sitter. I'm diving headfirst into a world of Devils, Angels, and who knows what else. I've got a chance to forge my own path, make my own rules, and give those big shots a run for their money.
And here's the kicker, my masterpiece, my Coup de Grace; I'll start an underground organization.
A safe haven for those who are lost. A place where I can chillax while everyone loses their head. And it'll be purely voluntary. That way, if those big players up there tries to interfere, they'll lose face. In the meantime I'll think up of some bullshit reason, so that being a haven is just a surface of a calm water hiding an entire ocean.
Yeah, you heard me right, those quirky Devils, those moody Fallen Angels, those sassy Catgirls, and whoever else wants to jump on this wild ride. My underground organization will be a safe haven for those that want to live their own lives… Yes… YES! YESSSS. This is it… this is it.
This perfectly fit my bullshit earlier.
Sometimes, my genius is almost frightening.
Just let that sink in for a moment. It's like a secret club for all us rebels who want to live life on our terms. It's not just about redemption anymore; it's about throwing a massive curveball at the norm and seeing where it lands.
Picture it: a safe haven where Devils can plot their devilish schemes, Fallen Angels can nurse their grudges, and Catgirls can strut their stuff without a care in the world. Maybe some Vampires and Werewolves too. Who knows. It's like a playground for the supernatural misfits, the ones who refuse to be pigeonholed by the big shots.
The name? Bah, I'll figure it out later once I actually built it. But you can bet your ass it's going to be the epitome of cool.
With this revelation, with a sense of renewed purpose and a plan taking shape, I raise my cup of coca cola I bought at the store for 150 Yen as I wait for my instant ramen to done cooking. Here's to embracing the chaos, to tossing out the rulebook, to throwing a spanner into the machinations of this world, and to creating an underground haven that's gonna leave everyone scratching their heads. My organization (name pending) won't be just an organization; it's a ticket to a wild ride, a party for the "lost," and I'm the hype-man leading the charge. Let's go, let's roll, and let's give this crazy world a run for its money!
Who would've thought I could figure this out on my own? But hey, that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Life is all about rolling with the punches, and I'm about to throw one hell of a haymaker. The world may be a chaotic mess, but I'm about to waltz into the chaos and leave my mark.
As I take another swig of my cola, I can practically feel the excitement coursing through my veins, or maybe that's just the soda and sugar and the creeping diabetes.
Now what do we say to those who want absolute power and control!?
Not on my watch.
…Alright that's great and all. Now I need to Googul how to wipe these blood off my trench coat.
But before I browse the web in incognito and delve into the mysteries of stain removal, I've got another agenda on the table. I'm feeling the itch to practice some moves in the Shadow Dimension. After that showdown with Kuroka, I've come to realize that not once did I yell out my attack like they do in all those epic anime battles. A true missed opportunity, I must say.
So, next time Mr. Shadow steps into the thunderdome of battle, you better believe I'll be armed to the teeth with a catalog of attacks that'll make your head spin faster than a cat chasing its tail. No more of those cringy battle cries; oh no, we're going for full-on symphony mode. Shadows, mystique, and a bit of voice-changer magic to make sure my attack names land with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Forget yelling – we're all about whispering now. Class and elegance over brute strength, my friends.
But hey, speaking of Kuroka, that showdown was like a crash course in the "You're Not Invincible" manual. One good swipe from her, and I'd be looking like a smushed bug on the pavement. Hoping all my enemies go all Me-Smash-You mode isn't exactly a solid strategy. Not everyone loses their marbles when I toss a sassy remark their way. Shocking, I know.
Actions speak louder than words. Hmm yes. Shadow shouldn't be someone that rambles on. He doesn't give impromptu monologues that could put even Shakespeare to shame. No talk-no-jutsu, no rambling sagas. Just a swift kick to reality, or maybe a crowbar, whichever fits the occasion. I am flexible.
Here's the scoop. I'm not sitting back and crossing my fingers anymore. Nope, that ship has sailed. Sure, I'm getting the hang of this Shadow Dimension thing, and I'm feeling more mystical than a fortune-telling cat, but I'm not falling into the comfy trap. Complacency is the kryptonite of progress, and I am no Superman. I am Shadow.
So, off I go into the shadows, to train, to adapt, and to ensure that if I ever face a threat like Kuroka again, or worse, I won't just survive—I'll thrive.
After all, we can't have a true Eminence in Shadow stumbling and fumbling now, can we?
No, don't answer that. That was rhetorical.
To be continued…
The irony of his stumbling and fumbling when Shadow has been doing nothing less than stumbling and fumbling into dxd's supernatural bullshit, bullshit crafted by yours truly
What sort of 'badass' 'not edgy' 'totally original' 'donut steal' attack name will Cid's mind concoct? Well, it's nothing close to I Am Atomic just yet, but it's going to be pretty rad. Yes, I am biased.
And thus, Cid smoothly transferred Kuroka into the Fallen Angel's care, where she can scratch as many pews as she pleases, whereas he has bullshitted his mind into starting a cult
And thus, he gained himself his first formidable "foe", an actually competent Fallen Angel that can put his secret identity at risk. I'm snatching Kafka from Honkai Rails as Penemue. Yes, I'm allowed to do that too. i'm sorry Scathach, but your time's up. I don't wanna play with you anymore.
I had mixed feelings using "Mistress" but it is better than Mastress.
Yes I could've used Master but they're Fallen Angels. Mistress is more raunchy, whatever the fuck, so I went with Mistress anyway. Besides! More reason for Cid to speculate all sorts of ridiculous things
Bit of a 'breather' chapter, but there are buttloads of information here that i'm spoonfeeding you all forcibly because i want to move on with the plot
if you wanna read my story days before I update it, and giving me ideas of how bananas Shadow can be, join this server
Discord. gg / yrh4pSePxr
It's a fanfic server. mostly.
Next chapter is 70% done btw. I'll post it in that discord server in my channel, soonish
Yes, you can say that i am extremely motivated. You can praise me for my work, it is allowed. It is encouraged. Hand over your review. This is a robbery. The hostage? this fic
also how did you guys find my stories? do you guys look for it or mainly wait the front page? Does cover matter? Do you read summaries or just glaze it over and your eyes just go straight to the tags and if your 'best girl' isn't there, you scoff at the author's lack of taste and scroll away. yes this is important.