Obligatory: I do not own DxD or any other copyrighted material I use.

"Hello there." Speaking aloud.

'General Kenobi.' Internal thoughts / Also can be used as 'finger' quotes when referring to something.

{It doesn't concern us.} Sacred Gear Internal Monologue

{It affects us!?} Sacred Gear External Monologue.

The staccato rhythm of gunfire and the distant thuds of explosions surrounded me as I sat on my cot. In this hellhole of a trench, I call home. My mind was only slightly at ease as I read this light novel series called High School DxD. A series of books my unit "acquired" some time ago. It's some popular series of action and ecchi from the 2000s before Japan and the rest of the world powers turned into imperial forces fighting over every inch of land, even space.

'Fuck, man. To be alive during those times instead of being conscripted into the eternal Sun legion. To live the semblance of a normal life.' I muse to myself, annoyed.

'I guess a supernatural world would be interesting and hectic in its own ways. But at least the rest of the world would be at peace. I could sit back and live my life. I have no desire to sacrifice my life for the sake of a royal family and empire.' Chuckling to myself, I reflect on my life so far - constantly away from home, either on different fronts or undergoing training.

Despite being only 22 years old, I find myself in a position where I have experienced and endured more battles and witnessed more death than I have days of peace. Graduated early from the imperial Academy, thrust into the front line legion to fight the federation.

As the eerie quiet envelops the trench, a familiar voice slices through the silence, breaking the monotony of the impending chaos.

"Back to DxD, huh?" Haruto, a comrade-in-arms, grins as he catches me engrossed in the light novel.

I nod with a smirk, "Can't get enough of the devilish tales."

Haruto, sitting beside me on his makeshift cot, flips through the pages of his own well-worn light novel. The dim light catches the excitement in his eyes as he delves into the fantastical world within the book.

"What's on your literary menu?" I inquire, curious about his choice of escapism.

Haruto chuckles, revealing the cover of his novel, "The Testament of Sister New Devil."

A playful grin creeps onto my face. "Ah, indulging in a bit of the sisters, are we?"

"Hush it, you silver-white hair, simp." Haruto rebuts with a quick comeback, fully embracing the banter.

I roll my eyes, feigning exasperation. "Can't come up with anything original?"

Haruto nonchalantly shrugs, his eyes still focused on the pages of his light novel. "Well, let's see. You've got a thing for silver-white-haired girls, a penchant for older ladies, and a soft spot for intelligence. Not much room for creativity there; you're just a simp for your specifics."

A chuckle escapes my lips. "Touché, my friend. At least I have refined tastes."

Haruto grins, ready to defend his literary choices. "You saying my tastes aren't?"

"Is being into pseudo sisters refined?" I raise a skeptical brow, a playful challenge in my gaze.

Haruto leans back, considering his response. "Well, it's definitely refined in its own unique way. Touché, though. We all have our guilty pleasures."

"Wouldn't it be nice to have some of these powers from those light novels, though? Imagine having phoenix regeneration," Haruto mused.

I quipped, "What, your enhanced DNA isn't cutting it?"

Haruto scoffed, "Yeah, sure, enhanced blood cells are great for a healthy immune system and organ production. But just imagine being able to regenerate entire limbs."

I playfully responded, "Guess you'll have to settle for the enhanced version of healing. Or, you know, just don't lose a limb." I shrugged, unable to resist snorting at my joke.

We're pulled from our thoughts as they pass the imperial orders through the communication implants. The bombardment is about to end, and we are to charge up and over the trench like this is the ancient battles of the First World War.

I ready my rifle and exo-suit as I climb out of my dug-out home in the trench. The smell of death and sulfur is in the air as rain drizzles down. The once sprawling city around us was reduced to rubble and ash. Nothing but gray clouds and dust as far as the eye can see.

'Seems everyone knows what awaits us, no jokes or comments this time.' I muse as I look to my left and right, seeing my fellow legionnaires. I am sporting the same stoic face as them, but we know this is a desperate charge of gaining as much ground as possible for the upcoming peace conference.

"Nothing but pawns in the grand scheme of it all," I say aloud with a chuckle as I ready my rifle.

"Takumi, I'll see you on the other side, brother," Haruto says from my left with a grim smile and nods. As he lowers his face plate.

Before I could respond, the order reverberated through the air; a symphony of explosions heralded our advance, each bomb unleashing a heavenly fury that shook the very foundations of the world. The acrid scent of sulfur and the taste of anticipation fill the air as we surge forward, a torrent of determination propelling us over the trench wall with unwavering vigor. With every step, the exo-suit enhances my movements, infusing each stride with a superhuman might that drives me through the mud and mire.

The 200-meter dash feels endless and fleeting, a surreal blur of rain-soaked earth beneath my boots. The whistle of incoming rounds harmonizes with the staccato cracks of gunfire, a deadly symphony conducted by the chaos of war. Bullets whiz past with lethal intent, the air itself punctuated by the razor-sharp hiss of projectiles slicing through the atmosphere.

The world narrows to the stretch of mud-laden ground before me, the distant horizon obscured by the haze of battle. As comrades fall around me, their cries melding with the cacophony of conflict, I press forward with a singular focus, each stride a testament to the resilience forged in the crucible of war.

As I vault over the trench wall, the world explodes into a chaotic panorama of violence. The metallic tang of blood and the stench of battle assail my senses as I crash into the enemy trench, exo-suit absorbing the impact. Without hesitation, I unleash the fury of my rifle, the deafening roar of each shot blending with the sounds of war. Rounds tear through the air, finding their mark in the enemy ranks. The recoil reverberates through my arms, a visceral reminder of the lethal power of simple engineering as I watch my targets reduced to limbs and mist.

My boots hit the muddy ground, and I move with calculated precision, rapidly picking off adversaries. The harsh staccato of gunfire is my symphony, punctuated by the screams of those who dare stand against us. The trench becomes a battleground, a dance of life and death in the muck and filth. With every pull of the trigger, I feel the weight of responsibility. Each life taken a solemn acknowledgment of the cost of survival.

In the chaos, I spot an adversary charging toward me, desperation etched across their face. Without hesitation, I discard the spent magazine, the metallic clatter drowned by the symphony of war. Pulling out my blade from my waistline, I clash with the foe in a whirlwind of blows. Our bodies collide, and the trench becomes a theater of primal struggle, a microcosm of the larger war raging around us.

As I grapple with my adversary, a searing pain lances through my side. The enemy's blade finds its mark, and the world blurs momentarily. Blood mingles with the rain-soaked mud beneath us, and I feel the icy embrace of mortality. Despite the agony, I muster the strength for one final act of defiance. With a surge of adrenaline, I drive my blade into the heart of my assailant, their lifeless body collapsing beside me.

As I lie on the cold, muddy ground, pain searing through my side, I reach into the medic bag attached to my exo-suit. Fumbling through the pouches, my fingers find a small packet of quick clot gel. With a sense of urgency, I tear it open, the familiar metallic crinkle echoing in the surrounding chaos.

The quick clot gel oozes out, and I press it into the wound, wincing at the burning sensation. The battlefield symphony continues unabated, but my focus narrows to the task at hand — survival.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I stagger back onto my feet. The trench stretches before me, a desolate path of mud and destruction. As I stumble forward, each step sends shock waves of agony through my body, but the adrenaline-fueled determination keeps me moving. With my blade tightly gripped in my hand, I was prepared to hack my way through the trench line until exhaustion took over.

The once familiar faces of my fellow legionnaires become distorted masks of war, laid strewed across the trench line. Bodies of friend and foe stacked on each other and hung over objects like decorations. I press on, driven by the primal instinct to escape the trench, to escape the suffocating grip of death.

My eyes scan the surroundings, and dread tightens its grip on my heart. Amidst the chaos, I spot Haruto, his lifeless form sprawled in the muck. Time seems to slow as the realization sets in—a comrade lost, a friend fallen.

I stumble towards him, the taste of bile rising in my throat. Haruto, who moments ago engaged in banter and shared light-hearted moments, now lies motionless. I reach out a trembling hand, fingers brushing against cold, lifeless flesh.

"Haruto," I mutter, the name catching in my throat.

"See you on the other side, brother. Rest easy." I say as I collapse next to him.

The trench echoes with the chaos of battle, but my senses dull as the wounds take their toll. Each labored breath feels like a struggle against an inexorable tide. In the last moments, I cling to the remnants of consciousness, my vision dimming as the trench becomes a distant tableau of violence. War claims another soul, and succumbing to the enveloping darkness, a fleeting ember extinguished in the vast expanse of conflict.

'My eternal peace.'

Darkness, a floating and fleeting feeling, overwhelms me. I am in a state of being alive and aware of my existence!? 'Is this the afterlife? A dark, eternal nothing?'

"You are an interesting one, Takumi." A voice speaks all around me.

"Whose there!?" I speak out, panicked, as I look around this void of darkness but see nothing.

A chuckle fills the air before a deafening silence looms again.

"You cannot see me, young one. You are far too young still." It chuckles again, in its own amusement at my reaction. "Your entertainment has proved amusing. Fret not, young one. I mean, you no harm. I simply wish to continue my amusement." The voice speaks out in a cold yet impassive tone.

'Entertainment? Amusing? What does he, it, or whatever the hell this thing is mean!?' I swallow slightly and listen to this voice speak,

"Most mortals avoid fate once, maybe twice, in their tiny lives. But you? You avoided your fate a stunning 13 times before you finally, all somewhat defiantly, accepted your fate." The voice once again looms over the darkness with its own chuckle of amusement.

"What do you mean?! ... What are you? Where am I?" The questions come out as I try to process what is happening.

"Me? I am all." The voice chuckles again. "You? Are in the void, an endless home of darkness. Where forgotten souls lay, having defied your fate many. You missed your chance of eternal rest. But worry not."

'All? What the fuck does that mean!? Void?!' My mind paces in confusion at these mysterious words.

"I... clearly don't understand. Are you a god, or well, by all, do you mean like the creator? Why are you telling me these things?" Trying to calm my mind and process the meaning of all this.

"I am no God. I am all. You could call me a creator if you so wish. But beyond that, let us talk of the meaning of my visit to your hopeless soul." The voice trails off before a shadowy figure appears in front of me.

"I will use a form to make you more comfortable. Takumi, I rarely find interest in mortals. Especially those who can hold said interest for more than a day, but I have been watching you since you were young."

The shadow form was a humanoid, enigmatic figure, draped in an inky darkness that seemed to swallow all light. However, even in its humanoid form, it lacked any distinct facial features or visible skin. The darkness was absolute, and within it stood a tower-like figure with hands resembling those of a cryptid - long, shadowy fingers that appeared to grow and shrink with each movement of the shifting shadows. Draping curtain-like swirls adorned the form. On top of its head, there was a crown of shadowy spikes that swayed and danced, creating an eerie silhouette.

'If I had to imagine the embodiment of death or darkness… I now know what it looks like.'

"Entertaining you are, so I will repay the value you have given me with a new life." The shadowy figure says in a pompous, gracious tone as if I should kiss its 'feet' for its benevolence.

"What does that mean? You going to rewind time and drop me back into that hellhole?" I huff, slightly annoyed that I somehow ruined my eternal rest by surviving this long. Also, does this thing can create life or control time somehow?

'Maybe I could save Haruto though…'

"No, I will grant you the wish you longed for moments ago. I will send you to the world of the light novel you enjoyed." The shadow figure responds, its words sterner, as if it could read my mind. Its voice was as cold and empty as the surrounding space.

'Can you read my mind?' The figure does nothing shimmer in the darkness... 'Well, shit... The light novel, so DxD?'

"So you are going to send me to the DxD universe?"

My voice is nervous now about what this being is really capable of.

'But then again, I already died once, so should I even fear this thing? Do I really want to live in DxD?' I muse to myself, forgetting something.

"Young one. If you would rather spend the rest of the known universe here alone, losing your sanity. I can take back my gracious offer." The shadowy figure announces in a booming voice that shakes the surrounding void.

I nod my head as I take in the gravity of his words. While I long for my eternal rest, my peace. An endless cycle of this darkness, this void alone ... sounds haunting.

"I apologize for my choice of words... I simply hadn't thought through your gracious offer. What does reincarnating me into the world entail? Do I get powers? Where will the plot be?"

Even in its smokey, featureless self, the shadowy figure somehow curls its face into a smile. One that will give me nightmares for years to come.

"Good, my entertainment will continue. You will become a child of the Hyoudou family through reincarnation. The older brother of Issei, putting you right in the story and plot to provide me with better entertainment."

"It is with great grace I bestow upon you several beneficial things. I will ensure you are born with higher magic reserves than your brother, allowing for you to actual entertain the idea of magic use."

"I will allow your current DNA modifications to follow you to the next life as well. You will have your enhanced blood cells, allowing for faster healing, organ functions and growth. But nothing that should make you stand out too much and become an autopsy for the world's governments. You are not immortal; your bones will still break and require healing time. You can still be killed. Remember that."

The shadowy figure conveys in a stern and bitter voice. My genetic modifications of this life will transfer over, but without my exo-suit armor or battle gear, I will still be mortal and defenseless. Susceptible to all that comes with mortality.

'Maybe I could find that peaceful live, with a family. Issei, the family loving guy he is, would help make sure I was living peaceful and safe right?'

"I wish to make this more interesting, though, so I will give you sacred gear. It's up to you to figure out what it is." The shadowy figure laughs, as it can already see its entertainment value growing.

'Issei's brother?! And a sacred gear?! Crap, there goes my chance at a peaceful life...' I let out a content sigh.

"Okay, what of my memories of the world and the plot line?"

"The plot will remain the same, although changes can happen based on what impact you make in the world. Cause and effect, have it. The world will also be more lively and developed in aspects that were not talked about as it was simply a novel. I suppose keeping your memories intact will also make it more fun."

I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that both the plot of the story and my memories would remain to exist. I can excel early in life; it's best not to mess with the plot too much, at least Issei. I don't want to throw the world into some cycle I can't predict.

"Okay... what of my name and appearance? Is there anything else I should know?"

"You will keep your name and appearance as they are already similar enough. But no more questions, begone. Entertain me, young mortal." The shadowy figure says as it reaches out and touches my forehead, somehow the smokey finger feeling cold yet firm.

In an instant, the void around me and the shadowy figure disappear. I find myself on my back, blinking against the sudden shift from darkness to soft light. Above me is a familiar ceiling, every detail etched in my memory. A gentle hum, like the distant melody of a lullaby, emanates from nearby.

I internally wince as my brain protests, feeling like it's being poked a million times. Memories flood my thoughts, a rapid montage of my past life. Merging and lapping over with my current memories of this child. Of me, Takumi Hyoudou.

Takumi Hyoudou, 3 years old, son of Gorou Hyoudou and Miki Hyoudou, older brother to 2-year-old Issei Hyoudou. Born in Kouh, Japan. In the greater Chubu Region.

'Fuck... that hurts like a bitch. That fucker couldn't have warned me about the headache?!' I think in agony as the pain slowly subsides.

As I lie there, the feminine voice becomes clearer, intertwining with the hum. I shift my gaze to see a towering figure, a younger version of Miki Hyoudou, my Okaa-san, cradling what I assume to be Issei in her arms. Her warm smile and the familiar lullaby wrap around me like a comforting embrace.

I muse optimistically, hoping that this childhood will be filled with love and tranquility as I soak in the moment's warmth.

'An experience I never had.'

But amidst the comfort, panic sets in, 'Going to be interesting learning how people lived back here. No cyber genetics or enhancements. What can I, as a three-year-old, do to not look suspicious? I need a plan to stay fit and intelligent and to jot down plot lines as soon as possible!' An anxious flurry of thoughts races through my mind.

As my feeble body succumbs to slumber, the dreams of the DxD world await.

Time flowed like a river, carrying me from infancy to the shallows of early childhood. Each day brought new discoveries, accompanied by the soft murmurs of my Okaa-san's lullabies and the gentle laughter of my younger brother, Issei. Together, they wove a melody that shaped my burgeoning understanding of this world. From the first clumsy steps to the forging of my tiny voice, the days blinked away, leaving imprints of fleeting moments that would weave my memories.

Pretending to be a three-year-old wasn't as challenging as my mind had expected. The limitations of a child's body persisted, and I often stumbled and grappled to control my limbs, my voice, and, most unfortunately, my bladder.

As time passed, I confronted a peculiar predicament familiar to those who had walked in my footsteps before. My proper childhood unfolded in a world where I was born to be a soldier, sent to the academy and the front lines during an era when mankind conquered planets and flying cities graced the skies. I battled inner turmoil as emotions rearranged themselves and thoughts scattered. Thankfully, my parents appeared preoccupied with Issei and never really muttered about my peculiar disinterest in everyday childish pursuits. It was a convenient distraction using Issei's latest adventure.

As time passed and I grew, so clearly was the boiling pot of emotions I am. I now stand at 6 years old, and Issei is 5. Issei finds himself much of an energetic child with a big heart who is unafraid to show it. This world, my new home, portrays him as you would have expected to see him, having read the series.

'The 'all' was right; my appearance fits.' I still have my appearance from my world. With short, moppy brown hair and brown eyes, I look like a Hyoudou.

Miki Hyoudou looks like she does in light novels. She is younger but has a typical housewife look. Her dark brown hair tied into a ponytail and hazel eyes. She is a little shorter and has a more slim frame.

Gorou Hyoudou also looks like the light novels describe. A standard office worker's appearance. He has short, spiky brown hair and brown eyes. He also wears glasses, which I hope I never have to wear.

Issei, cliche as ever, too, already has wild spikey hair doo growing. No matter how much he gets it trimmed, that thing grows back faster than you can blink.

'I guess cliche moments will still happen since it's built into this world... Fuck...' I digress. Moving on,

Issei considers the typical interests that a 5-year-old boy would have: adventures, drag-so-ball, etc. He is also open with gestures of endearment, giving out hugs like his life depends on it. He constantly hugs me, okaa-san or otou-san, every chance he can.

"Okaa-san and Otou-san huh?' That is still growing on me, but it's becoming more natural. 'But a five-year-old would still say kaa-chan and tou-chan' Ugh, semantics.

I digress; I find my mind mashing between my former and current selves. Trying to weave the two together into one personality.

I have not yet unlocked my sacred gear is something I am grateful for, as it gives me more time to prepare and train. I want to be older and better prepared. Having an aura and target painted on my back as a child does not sound fun.

I've laid out the groundwork for what I should do to prepare for this world. I have done my best to show interest in martial arts to my parents, practicing moves with Issei as we watch Drag-so ball. Also, offering a fascination for any movie or show related to marital arts. I often ask them to show me kung-fu movies or read stories about martial arts and samurai.

I feel sticking to my original plan of not tempting fate regarding the plot is best. Avoiding becoming the spotlight for all the world to see. Being there for Issei when he needs it, but letting him and it hurts to say now that I have bonded with him... Letting him die and be reborn as a devil. It hurts to think about it; even my cold heart winces at the thought of letting my blood brother die. But I know it's what he needs to grow, to grow stronger and find his lovers, too.

'Cause and effect... that's what 'all' said. But how much cause of my being here affects the plot. Fuck...'

I have put little thought into if I want to be reincarnated as a devil myself or not.

'Being Issei's brother, having sacred gear, higher magic reserves, and my DNA modifications. Fuck... I am a fucking winning lottery ticket, aren't I?' Something to fret over later, back to my childhood musings.

The most hectic time of my childhood was putting up with the dynamic duo Irina and Issei, the self-declared 'dual heroes.' They fight me in two-vs-one pillow fights, make-believe, and foot races. It's an interesting friendship between the three of us. It's very me being a third wheel, as I don't fall into the childhood imagination they have. But friends none-the-less.

My parents aren't convinced, despite my best efforts to act like a child. I make lapses in judgments; in that I often enjoy reading books. These so-called 'encyclopedias' are chock-full of so much helpful information about this time period that I often find myself engrossed in them. I discovered that just because they were on the same shelf as the children's books and had pictures, they were not children's books. My parents' reaction to me reading them was overjoyed and concerned.

I overheard them discussing school costs for gifted children and how "children might peak earlier and fizzle out if not nurtured properly." I purposefully struggled when I read aloud. Afraid that if I butchered it, they would take those magnificent intelligence troves away from me. Or if I read it too well, they would send me to some 'gifted' school, throwing off all my plans!

The tranquility of my bedroom betrays the turmoil in my mind. At the tender age of five, nestled under the warmth of my blanket, I find myself ensnared by night terrors that defy the innocence of childhood dreams.

In the hushed embrace of the night, the specters of war resurface, blending with the soft rustle of leaves outside my window. Night after night, my slumber transforms into a battleground where the echoes of the past clash with the serenity of my present.

I jolted awake, my small frame drenched in cold sweat, eyes wide and unseeing as if peering into a realm beyond the bedroom walls. The trench, the symphony of explosions, and the metallic tang of blood play out vividly in my mind, merging with the peace of my current life.

My mind, burdened by memories that do not belong to a child of my age, grapples with the incongruity of past and present. These night terrors are not ordinary dreams; they are fragments of a life lived on the precipice of chaos.

Glimpses of faces, some now lost to the ravages of war, haunt my sleep. Haruto's voice, once filled with banter and camaraderie, now echoes in the corridors of my subconscious.

'Why do I get to live? Why… I pray to whatever truly gods existed in our cruel world. That you are at peace. Haruto, brother.'

Curled under the safety of my blanket, the sanctuary of sleep becomes a double-edged sword. The peace I seek in the embrace of dreams shatters with the relentless intrusion of memories, emotions, and the undeniable truth that I am a displaced soul tethered to a body too innocent to comprehend the burdens it carries.

My family, unaware of the turmoil within my psyche, continues their lives in blissful ignorance. My struggles manifest in the quiet hours of the night, where the war-torn echoes of my past clash with the tranquility of my new existence.

'Huh, I don't know if this is plot-accurate. I know Irinia moves, but was it this early or later?' I muse to myself as I watch Irinia wave goodbye to us for the last time as her family drives away. Issei sobbing into his shirt as he waves.

It feels slightly dramatic for a 10-year-old to cry that hard, but she is one of his only friends. Regardless, I don't feel as torn by this development as all it means to me is that the plot line is still. Though as I watch Issei sob into his shirt, his small frame shuddering with each heart-wrenching sob, I can't help but feel a pang of... Something.

'I guess this is what they call family love, brotherly love. Now I know why the Empire raised us without family concepts and only duty.' I think to myself.

I am torn between the desire to comprehend these emotions and the relentless desire for peace that I yearned for in my past. A realm of emotions and a sense of humanity that I have yet to grasp, but my young mind and body are instinctively doing and longing for. Issei, with his messy hair and tear-streaked face, embodies a purity of feeling that I'm struggling to connect with. The turmoil within me is a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, a storm of confusion and curiosity.

I want to reach out to him, to comfort him in a way that feels natural, but the right words escape me. It's not that I lack the understanding of language; it's the emotions that elude my grasp. The dictionary meanings of words are clear, but the nuances of expressing empathy, love, and comfort are like an intricate dance that I haven't quite learned the steps to.

'Or is that an excuse? Why don't I just reach out and hug him? Plot be damned, why don't I make him a fucking badass red dragon emperor from the get-go!' I find myself thinking before reality crashes into my mind. To do that, I would throw the plot in a direction I do not know. My best way of protecting him...

'Protecting him... theirs that instinctively brotherly love again.' A sigh escapes as the thoughts swell. To protect him, I must let the plot happen so I can be helpful.

Family and brotherhood are concepts I thought I understood. In my previous life, they were abstract notions, words printed on the pages of novels I read during quiet nights. Now, they're tangible, pulsating with life and energy. Issei is my brother, and yet, the weight of that connection feels heavier than I expected.

The bonds I made in the crucibles of war don't align with my feelings. There, it was life or death; I had to protect my comrades, my brothers in arms, to survive. Of course, some relationships grew, but here... It's an instinctive call.

As the plot unfolds around me, with Irinia leaving, I grapple with the conflicting desires within. On the one hand, there's the yearning for a peaceful life, a chance to revel in the simplicity of familial bonds without the looming shadows of destiny and fate. The narrative compels me forward, demanding actions that align with the predetermined course.

'Plus, 'All' sent me here for entertainment. Would it even let me try to live a peaceful life?' I muse and digress.

I want to be there for Issei, to understand the depth of his emotions, but the struggle is real. How do you express something you're not sure you fully comprehend? Like an invisible force, the plot propels me toward an uncertain future.

'Am I truly ready for this world? I know what to expect and am not afraid of the action of violence. But who says it all follows the course? The 'all' said my actions will change canon. Just me being here and having a gear has already set in action things I do not know.' I find myself lost in thought as Irinia's car is finally out of view, and the now-crying Issei is hugging our Okaa-san tightly.

My racing mind can find solace in knowing that the church-affiliated neighbors are moving away, which slightly puts my mind at ease.

So far, everything has been going as well as I hoped. They have enrolled Issei and I in school, with myself being a grade above him as I am 1 year older. Much to no one's surprise, I am excelling at school. Much to my surprise, Issei is, too; I didn't think him to be a bag of rocks. I expected him to be a B-tier student, but he is rocking his elementary lessons. I guess the cliche of him being dumb is when he gets older and starts thinking with the wrong head.

'Ah, crap... we share a bedroom. I'm sleeping in the living room when Issei reaches puberty and not stepping anywhere near that hazard zone. Or asking to take over my Okaa-san's sewing room.'

My shoulders sink and my breath hitches, realizing this world is real. So the alluded to masturbation and other elements of the light novels, it will fully happen here in real time for me.

On other notes, much to canonical expectations, Issei has little interest in anything outside his anime and childish interests. Okaa-san and Otou-san attempted to enroll him in Judo and Kendo with me. But he quit after the first few lessons, much to my disappointment and inner turmoil.

My brain is a mix of concerns following the plot as closely as possible. Still, my brotherly sense of duty has also developed in that I secretly wish Issei to be this strong bastard from the get-go... But even with my slight attempts to get him to follow me in marital arts, he digresses into Drag-so ball. So-be it.

In other news, I have stood out more than I wanted. My enhanced DNA and past training in combat have translated to this life well. As an 11-year-old, I already find myself competing in various competitions for the respective martial arts.

'Guess my competitive mindset and subconscious desire to make my parents proud drove me to stand out.' I need to survive. Though it is not bad, as I will need to survive this supernatural world, knowing Judo and Kendo might be the foundation and excuse for the engrained combat knowledge I need.

'God Damit, to the Emperor, Mars, and back. Stick a grenade in my suit and fucking frag me.' I huff, pissed at the scene that just unfolded.

You jot down every canon detail you can recall in your journal and stash it under your mattress like a kid. You think to yourself, 'Ah, Issei was around 16 or 17 when supernatural things started happening in high school... If everything goes as planned, I'll be 17 or 18 years old, depending on the timing.'

'I figured I would start attempting to wake my sacred gear up around 16 to be prepped for cannon early. But nooooo~ this world just loves to fuck with my fate. Curse you 'All'; I am sure you're enjoying this.'

(-flashback-)

I am in Nagoya to compete in a Kendo youth tournament and a Judo one later tomorrow. Everything is going swimmingly well. I'm currently winning my bracket. Demonstrating my skills to my parents and, I suppose, the judges and on-lookers. Though I only truly care for my parents' reactions and from my stupid, childish desires,

I tightened my grip on my Shinai, the bamboo sword used in kendo, as I faced my opponent across the court. The rhythmic sounds of strikes and the occasional clash of bamboo echo through the hall. My opponent, a skilled young martial artist like me, determination filling his eyes. However, he appears to be about two years older than I am.

The referee signaled the start, and the match began. I moved with precision, my footwork agile and calculated. My strikes were deliberate, aiming for the openings in my opponent's defense. The opponent responded with swift blocks, showcasing their own expertise in kendo.

'Not bad for a kid,' I think to myself, like I am not in the body of a child myself.

As the match progressed, my parents watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mix of pride and anticipation. My Outa-san, who practiced kendo in his younger years, nodded approvingly and proudly at my techniques. My Okaa-san, despite her initial concern, couldn't help but marvel at the grace and intensity of the sport. Issei, on the other hand, was watching intently while mimicking Drag-so ball moves on top of the kendo techniques.

Absorbed in the flow of the match, pushing myself further. I anticipated my opponent's moves, responding with swift strikes and strategic feints. The crowd watched in awe as I, a young martial artist, displayed a level of skill beyond my years.

'I feel slightly bad for going all out on this kid and playing with him a bit. But he's the best competition I have faced yet; I need to see what my body is capable of!'

The match reached its climax, both of us locked in a series of rapid strikes. Fueled by a desire to impress my parents and my competitive spirit, I executed a perfectly timed strike, landing a clean hit on my opponent's men (head).

The referee signaled the end of the match, and the hall erupted in applause. I bowed respectfully to my opponent, acknowledging the mutual respect that martial artists share. As I walked off the court, I could hear the cheers of my parents, their encouragement echoing in my ears.

Having finished my bracket for the morning hours until the afternoon bracket began, I was going through the crowd to head to my parents when everyone around me disappeared. Stood before me was the most alluring woman I have ever seen before.

A woman who seems to be a living portrait of ethereal beauty. She has long, flowing silver hair that cascades down her sides, neatly tied into two braids. That gently frames the delicate contours of her face. Her striking orbs of violet hold enchantment as her gaze deepens into mine. Her eyes hold an elusive wisdom and whisper secrets and power simultaneously. They gleam with timeless knowledge as if she has witnessed the ebb and flow of centuries. Finding myself captivated by the mysteries hidden within the depths of her gaze.

Her attire, a harmonious blend of tradition and mystique, further enhances her allure. She adorns herself in garments inspired by traditional Japanese female attire, with subtle, intricate patterns that weave a tale of mystical origins. The fabrics seem to breathe a life of their own.

Her regal and poised presence resonates with an elegance that defies mere mortal standards. She smiles at me as she walks towards me.

I can't help but stare at her star-struck momentarily before readying myself as I comprehend what is happening.

'Everyone is gone. This is magic. Fuck. Who is she? Is this fight or flight ... definitely flight?' I think to myself as I remain stoic on the outside.

"Well, aren't you an interesting one~" Her voice rings out. It carries a melodic symphony that weaves through the air like a gentle breeze, leaving a trail of enchantment in its wake. It carries a delicate allure, each word a carefully chosen note that resonates with a captivating sweetness. Her voice has a subtle, seductive undertone, an enticing quality that draws me in with its irresistible charm.

Despite the seductive allure, her voice maintains a soothing gentleness akin to a mother's comforting lullaby. It wraps around me like a warm embrace, creating a sense of security and calm. Her words flow with a rhythmic cadence, creating an almost hypnotic effect, inviting those who hear her to be captivated by the harmonious blend of allure and maternal warmth.

I feel at ease and drawn to her before I quickly shake my head and speak up.

"Who are you?" I seek cautiously as she approaches me, but stops a few steps away, her gentle smile never faltering. A hand raising to her mouth, she stifles the cutest laugh I have ever heard.

"Interesting. ~ No fear or confusion? Seems you already know more than you should?" She speaks in the same melodic, alluring tone.

'What? I guess there's no playing off innocence at not knowing magic exists.' I muse to myself before speaking again.

"Why are you here? Do you know the 'all'?" I ask as stoically as I can, asking about the 'all'; she's a supernatural being I have never seen or read about before. I need to cover all my bases.

She tilts her head slightly as she muses on my words before stifling another laugh.

"I do not know this 'all' that you speak of. But you are aware of the larger world around you. ~ I mean no harm Takumi-chan~," Her voice rings out, her expression softening as she conveys the truth with her words.

'Crap... So she knows my name, too; that makes flight harder. So diplomacy it is!'

"Okay, so what is it you want?" My tone neutral as I try to gauge her body language or reaction, to no avail.

"Nothing truly~ I simply was around and felt you, a familiarity. Something I have not seen or felt for a long, long time. Mind Takumi-chan, may I ask how you are aware of the ..." Her voice is gentle but trails off, prompting me to finish her sentence for her.

I muse as I try to figure out how to answer her clearly. 'I have to lie. But I need to embed some truth in it.' I take a breath as I attempt to weave a bullshit excuse with sprinkles of truth.

"I dream... in a void, a voice often speaks to me about things. They feel too real to be simple childish dreams." I respond, mixing in the void aspect from my past life. I pray it has enough truth to bite.

Her eyes widen slightly before narrowing again.

"He talks to you, engages in conversation? Not just ramblings or fragments of memories?" She pauses, clearly intrigued by the development. "Even in his not fully awake state, interesting. My senses have not deceived me." She lets out a laugh while releasing a happy sigh.

'She seems relieved. Did that work? What does she mean, he talks to me? Does she mean my sacred gear? Does she know what it is?' As she speaks again, these thoughts run through my mind, pulling me from my thoughts.

"To think you would carry all his pieces is most interesting. How no one else has noticed you is truly a mystery... Consider this a gift, Takumi-chan~," she says as she approaches me. I don't react. In fact, how she carries herself means good, at least for now.

She smiles as she crouches down to my height, placing a necklace around my neck and kissing my forehead, causing my face and ears to turn red. She giggles at my reaction and ruffles my hair.

'Great, I'm more entertainment.' I huff childishly as she does so.

"What was that for, and what does this necklace do? Why are you being so nice?" I fire off my questions as I narrow my gaze at her.

'No way someone knows I have a sacred gear and wants nothing in return. Seems bribery and flattery transcend realms.' I muse to myself as I wait for her response.

She chuckles as she stares at me.

"So scary~ But to answer your questions, the necklace conceals your sacred gears. Not entirely, but enough that they will only notice if they are close to you. The more powerful you become, the more its ability to hide you will also weaken. The kiss was because I wanted to fluster you~," she says with a teasing smile.

'Sacred ... gears? As in plural...' My eyes about pop out of my head.

Her head tilts at my reaction.

"What part of my explanation has you ready to explode in confusion?" She asks, intrigued.

"Gears... you said gears, right?" Staring at her intently, causing her to smirk and stifle another laugh.

"I did; it seems you even know what sacred gears are, too~ You really are an interesting one, Takumi-chan. But it seems like you are not aware of what you possess. So, I will not steal his thunder; you will most likely see him truly in your dreams tonight~ I feel him stirring awake." She responds, another teasing but hopeful? Smirk on her face.

'Gears... Fuck you, "all" the fuck you doing to my peaceful dream!' I click my tongue in annoyance, causing her to snort.

"Are you actually a child? You seem more like a teenager, maybe even a young adult." She asks, amused by my reactions.

"11, you don't like it. Find another kid with multiple gears." I huff out, causing her to snort again and pat my head.

"No can do~ You are stuck with me, hopefully." She says with a playful smile.

'Stuck with you? Fuck, I really am glorified entertainment for others.' I huff, annoyed.

"You never answered my question. Why are you being nice and helping me? What do you mean, stuck with you?!" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her again.

'What bullshit lie can you cook up, huh? Going to tell me you just wanted to be nice to a kid? I can see through your alluring bribes, woman!'

She shrugs lightly as she answers.

"In a way, you are my," she pauses, deciding her following words carefully. "... mentor's heir. So, I want to mentor you. But our time is up, so take this and call me when you're ready." She says, tucking a business card in my gi before disappearing in front of me.

The crowd of people reappeared, and time moved again. I look down at the business card, and it reads,

'Sakura Fujikawa'

It adorned the back of the business card with an intricate circle containing a mystical formula.

I am pulled from my thoughts as I am hit with the homing missile, an Issei hug, cheering for my martial arts win.

(-End Flashback-)

As I lay in bed, a torrent of thoughts races through my mind, each one more bewildering than the last. Tonight's sleep feels like an impending storm, ominous and unpredictable. Her words echo in my head, a haunting reminder I should speak to him tonight.

'Who the hell is he, anyway? Why am I burdened with the enigma of multiple gears? And mentorship? What does she want from me? Maybe the life I left behind in the void, with its eerie solitude and the haunting whispers that threatened my sanity, was a better deal after all.'

The weight of uncertainty settles over me like a heavy blanket. Every attempt to make sense of the surreal circumstances feels like grasping at elusive shadows. In the night's quiet, I wrestle with questions that seem to have no answers, and the prospect of facing the unknown in my dreams becomes an unsettling reality.

As I contemplate the mysterious figure she spoke of, I can't help but wonder about the implications of having multiple gears. What does it mean for my identity and my purpose? The concept of mentorship adds another layer of complexity, a layer I need to figure out how to unravel.

'Is this a test, a cosmic joke? The 'all' sees me as a glorified entertainment program. If you watching me now! Go trip on a moon rock or something!' Letting out an annoyed huff at my torment and my childish insults.

Dread and curiosity become strange bedfellows in the quiet solitude of my room. The prospect of confronting whatever awaits me in the realm of dreams seems both daunting and inevitable. As my rambling muses, I slowly but surely drift into a slumber. I found myself standing in a realm that seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of reality. The landscape was ethereal, a dreamscape painted with hues of indigo and silver. I stood alone in this otherworldly place, surrounded by quiet serenity.

As I take in my surroundings, a profound stillness envelopes me, broken only by the distant echoes of a gentle breeze. Then I noticed a subtle vibration, a low hum that resonated through the air. The hum grew louder, transforming into a melodic hum, and before I could grasp its source, the ground beneath me trembled.

Out of the mist emerged a colossal figure, a dragon of immense proportions, its scales as dark as the midnight sky. Violet eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom, and a third eye adorned its forehead, casting a penetrating gaze. The magnificent creature, with seven light purple tentacles flowing behind it, was none other than the dragon I saw and read about Vritra.

'Fuck me... I have an evil dragon as a sacred gear.' I gulp.

Vritra's form was imposing yet graceful; as it approached me, the vibrations in the air intensified. Vritra's form loomed large in the dreamscape. This majestic and imposing presence seemed to defy the very essence of the ethereal realm. As the colossal eastern dragon drew nearer, the air pulsated with an almost tangible energy, and the dreamscape, in its indigo and silver hues, trembled in response to the dragon's approach. The dreamscape itself seemed to respond to the presence of this majestic being.

In that surreal moment, caught between fear and awe, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. The sheer magnitude of Vritra's existence eclipsed my surroundings, leaving me in a state of frozen amazement. The dragon's violet eyes, radiating ancient wisdom, bore into mine, creating a connection that transcended the boundaries of the dream.

My thoughts, normally racing with a torrent of questions and musings, were now fixated on an oddly mundane concern. 'Is it possible to piss yourself in a dream?' I wondered, a quirky reflection of the fear that had taken root in my subconscious. The line between the dream world and reality blurred as I grappled with the absurdity of my own musings in the face of such a magnificent and imposing being.

Vritra lowered its massive head, bringing its eyes level with mine. The connection between us was palpable, a silent understanding that transcended words. The dragon's voice echoed in my mind, with a loud blend of distant thunder and soothing whispers.

{Ah, the slumbering soul of Takumi,} Vritra's voice resonated, its tones carrying a mixture of confusion and intrigue. {I sense a familiarity, a connection that spans eons. You are not a mere dreamer but a vessel that cradles the essence of existence.}

I can't help but swallow nervously as I stare into his eyes, seeing the reflection of my tiny 11-year-old self before this massive dragon. The words he speaks allude to my ability to comprehend. I let out a small breath as I built my courage to speak.

"Vritra... is that you?" I ask, nervous about having an evil dragon as my gear.

The dragon nodded, its eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. {Indeed, young one. I am Vritra, the dragon king of darkness, the prison dragon, among many other names. Most importantly, the ancient dragon fragmented by the currents of time and fate. And you, Takumi, bear witness to a union that has never transpired in the annals of my existence.}

'Fuck... I don't know where to even start.' I think to myself as I gulp.

"Union? What do you mean?" My voice somewhat timid as I process all his words and titles.

Vritra's colossal form shifted, the violet eyes gleaming with a sense of newfound awareness. Awareness of me, of my lack of knowledge and age. {You hold within your soul fragments of my being sacred gears that echo with the pulse of my existence. But never before have I been united in such a manner, a convergence that defies the flow of destiny.}

'Multiple gears... I forgot he was split. That's what she meant by me having multiple gears and being truly unique.' I connect the dots, my eyes widening at his words. Vritra seemingly nods, as if he is acknowledging my conclusion.

As the dragon spoke, the surrounding dreamscape seemed to ripple, responding to the resonance of our connection. I could sense the profound energy emanating from the dragon.

{I am both confounded and intrigued, Takumi,} Vritra continued, his voice echoing through the ethereal realm with a resonance that seemed to transcend the confines of mere sound. Each word carried the weight of millennia, a timbre that resonated with the echoes of ancient battles and the wisdom of ages. It was a voice that held the authority of a dragon king, a symphony of distant thunder and soothing whispers interwoven into a melodious cadence.

As Vritra spoke, his colossal form shifted, the violet eyes narrowing with contemplation. His massive head, crowned with the imposing third eye, inclined slightly, bringing his gaze level with Takumi's. The dragon's body language was both regal and curious, a silent acknowledgment of the unprecedented nature of their union. The seven light purple tentacles flowing behind him swayed with rhythmic grace, responding to the currents of the dreamscape.

{Together, we stand at the precipice of a journey that defies the threads woven by fate. Shall we explore the depths of this enigma, young one?} The final question hung in the air, a declaration wrapped in a veil of curiosity. The vibrations in the dreamscape intensified, responding to the profound connection between dragon and human. The unspoken promise of an extraordinary journey echoed in the stillness of the realm, and I felt the weight of the dragon king's gaze urging me to step into the unknown.

'That sounds... diplomatic. Like a partnership.'

"A partnership?" I ask, my voice carrying a mixture of hope and apprehension. The dreamscape responded to the weight of the moment, swirling patterns of indigo and silver dancing in tandem with the profound conversation.

{Indeed, you are my first host to hold all my gears. To hold not but fragments of my consciousness but to hold me.} Vritra's voice looms out, resonating with a depth that hints at the complexities of his existence. The dragon king's eyes, violet orbs that held the knowledge of ages, seemed to lose themselves in a contemplative gaze.

'That sounds... like a good deal, but I must ask more.' My internal musings echo the unspoken question that lingers in the air. The dreamscape awaits the next exchange, a silent witness to the negotiation between dragon and bearer.

"Do you not have questions to ask me? I have so many I wish to ask you... but you seem content with a partnership already."

Vritra looks at me once again, a softer expression on his face. The colossal dragon's eyes betray a hunger for wisdom and knowledge, an insatiable curiosity that transcends the boundaries of time. {I have many, albeit I am afraid most of you won't be able to answer. Unless?} He states, almost egging me on.

'Can he not read my memories? I was thinking he could.' I muse, the dreamscape hanging in anticipation of the impending exchange.

"Can you not read my memories?" I ask, my gaze meeting his violet eyes. The very eyes that have witnessed the ebb and flow of centuries.

He lets out a huff of smoke from his snout, a gesture that seems almost human in its casual dismissal. {I can, but yours is a maze. Your memories begin at 3 but somehow transcend beyond and before that. They read of that of a madman, ramblings of light novels, stories, anime, and 'the all.'}

I let out a nervous chuckle. 'Fuck it.' The surreal nature of my own existence is laid bare, and laughter becomes a coping mechanism.

"Are you really an evil dragon?" Seizing the opportunity to delve into the core of Vritra's identity.

{Evil? Yes, by whose definition it depends. I am not a mindless husk of a dragon hell-bent on internal desires.} His response carries a hint of annoyance, as if tired of being defined by simplistic labels. Yet, his tone remains gentle, a reassurance perhaps tailored to my youthful understanding.

'Thank god, this makes him trustworthy, hopefully?' I muse in response. The complexities of morality and perception weave into the fabric of our conversation, adding another layer to Vritra's enigma.

{Now answer mine, Takumi. How are you aware of me and the supernatural? Your memories of journal entries paint me as a fairy tale from a book.} His tone and inflections shifted. It wasn't a mere inquiry; it was a demand that resonated through the dreamscape.

"Because you are. This world was a series of books for me. I am from a distant, alternative future, where society has advanced to space flight and now-day sci-fi dreams. I died as a soldier fighting in the planetary wars. I was brought to this world by 'the all,' it called itself. It wants me to provide entertainment for it." I spoke with raw honesty, laying bare the peculiar truth of my existence.

Vritra mused, his eyes narrowing and swirling like a cosmic vortex as he processed my words. The dreamscape, a canvas of indigo and silver, pulsed with the energy of our conversation. His immense presence lingered in the air, an intangible force woven into the fabric of our shared reality. His violet eyes flickered with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity as if deciphering the complex tapestry that was my past and present.

{A soldier from the stars, plucked from the cosmic expanse and woven into the threads of this world by 'the all,'} Vritra mused aloud, his voice carrying a weight of contemplation. {Indeed, your story is a kaleidoscope of paradoxes, a tapestry woven with threads of fate and chance.}

'I can't get a read on him. Is he about to call me a liar or say he believes me? Am I about to be mince meat... dragon meat?' The uncertainty echoed in my thoughts, a natural reaction to the enigmatic being before me.

The dreamscape responded to the intensity of our conversation, swirling patterns of indigo and silver dancing in harmony with the ebb and flow of our connection. It was as if the very essence of the dreamscape was attuned to the revelations unfolding in the dialogue between an otherworldly dragon and a soul plucked from the cosmic expanse.

Despite the vast difference in stature and power, I held my ground, meeting Vritra's gaze with unwavering determination. The dreamscape, a canvas of shifting indigo and silver, bore witness to the exchange between an otherworldly dragon and a soul plucked from the cosmic expanse.

"Vritra, now that you know my truth. What of yours? What drives you, and what binds you to this existence beyond the currents of time?" With boldness, my questions lingered heavily in the intangible atmosphere.

The dragon's colossal form seemed to shift, a dance of shadows and light playing across his majestic scales as he contemplated how to articulate the complexities of his own existence. {I was once a dragon aligned with the Asuras, a part of the cosmic dance that unfolded in the realms beyond mortal sight. The war with Indra, the god of gods, shattered the harmony of that dance. I faced him in battle, and in my defeat, my soul was cleaved and scattered into fragments—sacred gears that would echo through time.}

I listened intently, the echoes of Vritra's ancient tales reverberating through the dreamscape. {In this fragmented state, I am Vritra, the Evil Prison Dragon King, a label bestowed upon me by the East. Yet, Evil is a subjective notion, a shade painted by the perceptions of those who witness the dance of existence.}

As Vritra spoke, a certain solemnity underscored his words, revealing a depth of wisdom that transcended the mere passage of time. {Now, Takumi, our fates are entwined in a union that defies the norm. Will you stand as my partner in this journey, navigating the currents of destiny and unraveling the enigma that binds us?}

'Well, fuck me, he's good at dramatics.' Wry thoughts crossed my mind as I grappled with the gravity of the dragon's words and the destiny that now lay before us in the dreamscape.

I take a moment, the weight of the dragon's revelations settling on my shoulders. It's a surreal alliance—an 11-year-old boy and an ancient dragon bound by the threads of destiny. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. Life certainly has a penchant for the absurd.

"I may be a mere 11-year-old with memories beyond my years, but I am not one to shy away from a challenge. If our union can unlock the mysteries that confound both of us, then I stand with you, Vritra," My voice steady despite the swirling uncertainty in my mind.

'Seems like he's not some evil dragon-like he said. He's as confused and as intrigued as I am. He could help me figure out and navigate this world better. I guess for once, thanks all for this.' Musing to myself.

A flicker of acknowledgment gleams in Vritra's eyes, and the dreamscape responds to our shared understanding. {Very well, Takumi, bearer of my sacred gears. Let our partnership transcend the boundaries of time and space, unraveling the mysteries that echo throughout existence. May the world welcome the new Black Dragon.}

'This is going to be fun, I hope.' Amused as the dragon's voice reverberates in the ethereal landscape. The dreamscape dances with the subtle energy of our connection, a symphony of ancient tales and whispered secrets.

Vritra, in all his imposing glory, speaks up again. {So tell me, Takumi, all you know of this world. I will fill the gaps with what I know as well.} His voice carries the weight of ages, and I realize this partnership is a journey into the unknown—a journey where the boundaries of reality and stories blur, waiting to be unraveled.

As the first light of dawn painted the dreamscape in hues of gold, I felt a strange mix of anticipation and tranquility. The revelations of the night had created a new understanding, and the weight of the ancient dragon's wisdom lingered like a comforting shadow.

What felt like an eternity had passed during my eight hours of rest spent in profound conversation with Vritra. I laid bare my knowledge of the supernatural, the intricacies of the world of DxD, and the fragments of memories from the light novel series that had shaped my perception of reality.

Surprisingly, the exchange flowed smoothly. Each revelation met with an understanding nod from Vritra. His vast knowledge filled in the gaps in my understanding, offering insights into various mythologies, gods, world events, and the intricate workings of sacred gears. The dreamscape responded to our discourse, its colors shifting in harmony with the ebb and flow of shared knowledge.

As Vritra bid me farewell, his massive form dissipating into the indigo mist, I was left alone with the lingering echoes of our shared symphony of tales. The dreamscape itself seemed to hum with the resonance of newfound connections and ancient secrets. This serene melody whispered of the journey ahead.

In the quiet stillness of the dreamscape, I contemplated the path that lay before me. With Vritra as my guide, the boundaries of time and space became an intricate dance of our partnership.

The next night promised further revelations—a dive into the depths of Vritra's sacred gears, the exploration of dormant powers within me, and the unraveling of the enigma that was Sakura Fujikawa. Her name echoed in my thoughts, leaving an air of anticipation that danced with the swirling patterns of the dreamscape. Vritra's reaction to her name had piqued my curiosity. He did not speak of her but simply nodded to confirm he knew of her.

With a newfound sense of purpose and knowledge, I closed my eyes, allowing the dreamscape to fade away as the first light of dawn embraced me in its gentle warmth.

End Chapter 1: War, Shadows and New Life

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