Ascalon sunk deeper into the bloodsoaked mud quietly, its once glistening, holy aura having fled long ago. It was beautiful, crafted and gilded like one would expect of a weapon of renown. Now, it was a sword. A piece of steel used to carve his enemies asunder. Dirtied with mud and violence, as a sword is.

[Breathe.]

A once wise and powerful voice reduced to a distant tired echo within his mind. His partner did not speak aloud, lest he wishes for him to be swarmed and executed. Although not enough remained to rally towards him as their previous numbers could, one or two were enough in his state. The gods once reigning over death and the various afterlives had passed long ago. What was left for his soul once he inevitably died to the onslaught of machines was a mystery to any scryer or foreteller, not that any were left unslain.

'Thank you.'

Issei Hyoudou was what remained of humanity, of devilkind and the supernatural. The product of most magic kept for oneself by the strongest of the world. Born human, albeit endowed at birth, forced to test any teachable or begrudgingly gifted magics by all those laid to waste before his moment. The wicked creations of man had taken everything from him alongside all others, leaving nothing but an unflinching resolve to not let the billions of lives lying at his feet go to waste.

Hehoped to die a good death.

Perhaps the next fight would finally be his last. Although built by man, these piles of scrap were designed to rip and tear through armies. Using blood as fuel, they ravaged the defenceless humans and the comparatively strong supernatural pantheons.

Heaven was the first to fall of the Three Biblical Factions. Those machines, nicknamed 'mirages' by Azazel before he too fell in bloody battle, wielded guns that pierced barriers like paper, were covered in metallic plates that deflected magic like water and with their four pairs of glowing yellow wings, they were designed to be airborne one man armies. They were once hundreds of millions in number, reduced to mere fractions after many of the battles to cut down the Hindu Faction, mostly by Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu; a more recent example of the devastation caused by the fight over Hell finalised by Sirzechs Lucifer, the last standing Maou, before he gave his life on the steps to the Underworld.

The only other beings to exist were those that chose near certain death as opposed to seemingly feeble attempts at combat. Very small groups of people fled into the Dimensional Gap, a crack between spatial dimensions where the laws of physics weren't even meagre suggestions. It was a poisonous void to any without a clearly defined existence within the universe. Most of these groups died immediately, the rest dying a short while later.

By his knowledge, he was the last frontier of existence. The last task for these hellish creations to complete, with their final motive unknown.

But what is a frontier with nothing to protect?

Worthless. Pitiable.

Issei was worthless. A shell of a reincarnated human, fighting not unlike a puppet to protect a corpse-littered battlefield. His light had long vanished. The mirages had attacked his home while he was protecting the Grigori from the first wave by earnest request of the Governor General.

His lovers, his parents. Slaughtered. Like mere cattle.

That day marked the beginning of the end, as the Underworld trembled when the grim curse of the Boosted Gear descended again. The condemned souls contained within let cry their hatred; Kuoh was consumed in his crimson malevolence. He did not have Vali to help contain his wrath that time either.

Issei had killed thousands of mirages, along with hundreds of thousands of innocent humans, within mere minutes. The people he grew up alongside, his friends, his schoolmates. Despite being worse than devastated at what happened to his family, he was so horrified by his actions that the Boosted Gear shut down immediately in response to the regret and guilt. It would always respond to his emotions, positive or negative.

The grief was too much that time. He couldn't handle himself, not any longer.

It had taken a month for the Gear's function to return, but it had taken his spirit with it when it had left. His ambitions did not return. His lifespan, once within the thousands of decades due to his demonic nature, was reduced to less than a year. The ghastly and manipulative former users inhabiting his Sacred Gear just laughed at his hatred, regrets and longings. He would weaponise them in turn. That night had altered him, and with supposedly less than a year to his name, he set a rather simple goal.

He sought an ideal death for someone of his partner's reputation. Issei would not disservice him, as the last host of the Red Dragon of Domination, The Welsh Dragon Y Ddraig Goch. He had already done so years prior, with his stupid fucking perverted behaviours. The Oppai Dragon title, how repulsive.

Issei thought to find this kind of death at the hands of humanity's murderers, yet here he stood. Exhausted, wheezing and entirely drained of his magical reserves. Denying his own right to rest on already tainted ground, all so he can slay one more. A futile effort in every conceivable way. Blood had seeped into every crevice on his skin, and glued his dirtied brown hair together. His eyes, once a similar shade, had changed to a vivid emerald since the massacre committed with his hands. Small cuts left no inch of his complexion unmarred, having healed the larger ones to press forward.

He was left as the sole survivor, the last legacy of the Mythologies and Pantheons. He wasn't special. He was left behind because he could double his power, because he was the strongest Red Dragon Emperor. More likely, he had convinced the leaders of these factions that he was a friend, someone worth shedding the skin of life for. So many people, so many worthier names written in mythological books and tales.

History would end up forgetting their sacrifices. He would be the one to write it, but each robot gained strength through bloodshed, used the small amount of iron within massive quantities to create more weaponry, to regenerate and rebuild itself. They got faster with more fuel, stronger with each body's innards they covered themselves with. The ones that had slain Heaven had the second highest losses recorded in a conflict with them.

After those events, each mirage was comparable in battle to an Ultimate-Class. Between the later massacres of the Underworld and the human realm, each single battle he walked into now was against a being with the physical capabilities of Albion or Ddraig in their prime, just before the Biblical God had sealed them in prolonged battle.

Issei had Ddraig's assistance, and thanks to it, he had already killed what felt like hundreds of thousands. It was slowly tearing him apart in the process, both physically and mentally. Their numbers now were likely within the final hundred, but it'd still be impossible for him in his current state.

Facing the mechanical equivalent of a hundred Heavenly Dragons wasn't a feasible task any longer. If he was recovered and prepared, maybe. Issei was hoping to find peace in passing on, and his next battle would deliver it swiftly. His body, hardened through vicious wars and covered in scars of battles barely won, mangled to the point of disfigurement, would not hold on for one more kill.

Seeing his last red variant, a shade lighter than the crimson they coated themselves with, climb over the edge of the valley he had created through battle previous, Issei was ready. He was face to face with death. He was staring at it. He was already in his Balance Breaker thanks to the previous battle, and had boosted- doubled his base power a total of thirty four times within the instant he had before it noticed. It was all he could manage in this state, concentrated solely on his arms' strength. He poured every ounce of magic he could grasp from his environment into this one action.

The mirage looked at him. Glanced in his direction with their camera-reminiscent head.

On that day, 23rd November 2019, Issei Hyoudou took his last breath. It was not him choking for sweet nectar, like he had been for the last few minutes.

It was peaceful. Calming.

Fleeting.

With their bullets puncturing his thinned and fractured armour, he felt the blade it had crafted through bloodshed puncture his throat, shredding arteries and bone. He was already moving, and thanks to Newton's First Law of Motion, his hands grasped the writhing creation's neck and head. Ddraig was in control of his useless corpse.

Sanguine fuel, metal and various components burst from within the compartment. His battered and dying body slumped face down, the now decapitated scrap metal following suit. It spilled more blood than could possibly be contained onto the already stained soil.

Issei took one look at the glowing green gem beheld by the gauntlet covering just his left arm now, mimicking its influence on his soul in his last moments. Within the gem, he could see the crimson behemoth he was proud to call a friend looking back at him. Words weren't needed between them, he could see those slit emerald eyes and he knew what wasn't being said aloud.

Issei had spent long enough here, it was time to see what came next. To see whichever afterlife awaited him, if they even existed anymore.

'I wanted more. I could've done more.'

The swimming blurs within his vision faded as he let his eyes linger closed for the first time in too long.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

..

..

"Get up."

...

...

...

"Ddraig, get up."

...-

"-what the fuck?"

Issei kept his eyes closed, yet he knew he wasn't where he had died. Even if his sense of touch had dulled what the ground felt like, this felt more like...

Like nothing. Akin to resting on compressed air, like that one time he had put a gravity seal on himself for training and put the entire magical complex on backwards. It had propelled himself sky high resting on antigravity. He had felt this before.

What he felt now however, or couldn't remember having felt at least, was the lack of pain. The tenacious aches, the shredded flesh refusing to bend to his will, the shattered bones bending at unnatural angles. It was absent for the first time since his last stand against them began.

"I thought I died."

"You did."

That voice, sounding void of emotion and content, could only belonged to one being. The last existence untouched by the massacres. Even the strongest being of all, the DxD, Great Red, had perished alongside him as the last dream of creation died in battle. Ophis, the Ouroboros, was the last soul remaining.

"Then why am I here? I thought you stopped caring once you regained your silence?"

"I did. There was nothing interesting within my silence anymore though. By the time that happened, you were the last and only that could entertain me."

The very concept of Infinity, everything and nothing together in an impossible contradiction. Felt entertained. By him, no less. Was this the influence of everyone's actions while they were still around?

Issei shoved off from his hands and stood. He was adorning his old school uniform, Boosted Gear attached to his left wrist in its base form. He was most familiar with this appearance of his. It's because of this familiarity that he knew what he was.

"My soul?"

"Yes."

Once again in that monotone, detached voice. It had disgusted him at a primal level every time he heard it before. Now, it was somewhat comforting. Even nothing was benevolent when you left a less than sacrosanct war after...

After...

How long had it been.?

...

..Did it really matter?

Oh well.

"I can't entertain you while I'm dead, unless you want to keep my soul here and treat me like some kind of jester."

"What's a Jester?"

"It's someone that- No, nevermind. It's not important. Why did you take my soul here?"

"I wanted to speak with you."

"About?"

"Trying again."

?

Trying again? Trying what again?

Asking this, he was met with a response that left him speechless. Issei sat there in stunned silence, just staring into the pitch black eyes of the Ouroboros.

"You want me to... To go back? To keep entertaining you?"

"Yes."

"My whole life since this began has been.. TORMENT. And you want TO SEND ME BACK?"

"Yes."

"...I'm not a puppet for you to play with. Neither is my life."

"Do you not want to see your family again?"

...

..

.

He did.

Oh so desperately, he wanted to see them again.

...

"...Fine. How will you send me back anyway?"

"The Dimensional Gap is a place in which the laws governing space and time hardly exist without intervention. It is entirely separate to the dimension of time within your universe."

"What makes you able to manipulate something that doesn't exist here then?"

"This is my home."

Ah, right. Born as the first proof of existence, the eyes within the abyss. Issei wasn't facing a mortal, a god, a machine or even an entity. He was facing the definition of a concept given exalted flesh.

"Right. When will you send me back to?"

"When can you entertain me best?"

After a few minutes of careful consideration, he had decided. During this time, Ophis was just...staring.

Not at him. Through him. It sent flowing chills down his spine.

"Take me back to when I first joined Kuoh Academy."

"Back when you were uselessly weak?"

Ouch.

"Not a necessary comment, but yes. What will happen to the me that exists then?"

"Either I can replace his soul with yours, or I can send you back as you are now. You'll have to deal with him if you do, though."

"Replace our souls. I don't want to have to explain why I'm a big glowing scar, nor do I want to have to assassinate him."

"Alright."

Alright? Was that all?

"Close your eyes."

"Thank you Ophis, I guess. What will happen to you?"

"I will exist, as I always have. Great Red may—"

His senses flipped. He could taste sounds and feel sights. His stomach emptied itself nigh immediately. He could smell the feeling of his abdominal muscles clenching. How very putrid.

Actually, all of his muscles were tensed. Issei was sure his brain was tensing too, somehow. He couldn't comprehend time anymore. It had felt like he stood still as the universe died around him, yet only a microsecond had passed simultaneously. When his senses seemed to work again, his muscles refused to contract, to obey his will.

He forced his eyelids to open at the very least. What greeted him was the blinding sight of his bedroom ceiling. Many nights were spent just staring at it, before it became dust and ash. His quilt, an ugly blue that covered his form, was covered in vomit. A beautiful sight he had the chance to behold once more, even if the pungent stench was burning a hole in his nostril. His partner remained silent.

Issei's face contorted into a sick grin, a genuine smile. He was happy for once. He would have to relive the torment of humanity and most flesh-kind beings being torn asunder, but he could change everything!

He would need a plan, with the knowledge he has now. The memories would fade in time, so he had to compile everything he could. Once his body responds.

Issei laid there, muscles laden with nerves firing at random, contorted and twitching for so long. He didn't mind. He had to meditate anyway, for many reasons. To reach out to his soul and commune with Ddraig, most importantly.

As he was born human, he had naturally low magical reserves, which did not change once he had died and was reincarnated by Rias Gremory. In his past-future, he had overcome this obstacle by having the magics he learned etched directly onto his soul, scarring him forever with burn marks in varying concentric patterns. With his soul transferred, these etchings should remain engraved onto his new body.

Magic obeyed the laws of physics, to a degree. It was how human magicians were possible, albeit through impossibly long decades of study. The laws of thermodynamics, mostly covering the conserved nature of energy, were those that could not be disobeyed with lone exception. They were laws of nature after all.

With him having to gather the colossal amounts of energy for his magics, the Boosted Gear was simply inefficient, multiplying fractions to eventually quantify enough. If he had even a billionth of the energy Sirzechs Lucifer, for example, used in one of his lower-tier spells, he would have to boost thirty times. Truth be told, it was more like a trillionth. That was the scale between the supernatural and untrained humankind. No, Issei did not use the Boosted Gear as an energy source. He used it as a medium.

As a creation of God, it was considered indestructible, with nigh unmatched magic-transferring properties. He gathered the energy for his spells from the atmosphere, stealing it for his own with the portion of the Divine Dividing he had stolen and assimilated from Vali. Everyone that used magic with almost zero exception had a reserve within their body, and they naturally refilled that reserve from the magic permeating the atmosphere, albeit slowly. Issei did it forcefully, pulling and concentrating the magical energy outside his body before filtering it through his 'Gift from God' and releasing it. It took time and resulted in a foul miasma of magical energy, positive and negative in nature, encapsulating him and stalking wherever he went.

He didn't mind so much, since it helped disguise himself from the machines. They had become rather sensitive to magic after toppling Heaven, and couldn't differentiate the magical aura from him, not with their extremely unreliable optical components.

He had too much time to think while immobile.

Before long, he had manifested his Twice Critical form, the precursor to the Boosted Gear, although Ddraig was not accessible in this form. He would have to continue later. He had to live as 'Issei' now.

Well, he was Issei, but a different Issei. Acting as a naive highschooler. Satan, have mercy on him.

"Issei, are you up yet?"

..

He sat there, entirely stunned as his mother opened the door of his bedroom to find him sat on his bed, various bodily fluids still clung to his bedding- and himself. Thankfully, he had dismissed his Sacred Gear in his stupor.

She immediately began fawning over his unmoving and shaking form, changing the quilt and providing him with a bin to be sick in. With a last nag to rest and drink water, she left him within a few minutes.

Issei couldn't think. He was frozen in time by the sudden atypical appearance of his passed mother, eyes chasing her as she moved around his room and eventually left.

After a long while of waiting for his brain to restart, he sat up as he wiped the tears he had unwillingly shed onto his now far less ugly grey quilt. His mother wasn't dead anymore. His parents.

He fell over himself trying to get out of bed, desperately crawling down his stairs in spite of his sudden onset of vertigo. His mother was here.

"Issei? I thought I told you to rest! You have school tomorrow, you need to be well enough to—"

Consumed in a death grip hug that claimed and beheld her very soul, she paused. Her son, who was so excited and joyful not just the day before, now sobbed into her collar.

"Issei.."
"Honey? All good in there?"
"Issei is- Issei? The fuck?"

He had vanished. Had gone from weeping to the wistful dust in the air.

Back in his room, Issei sprawled out against his bedside wall upside down. It seems his fresh body was not used to teleportation yet. With freshly dried tears littering his eyelids, he made the preparations to create a barrier around his home. Multiple, actually. Some of the strongest barriers ever composed by supernatural kind, that any passing Mirage wouldn't even dare to look twice at. It would certainly alert the devils present in Kuoh, but he was going to confront them anyway. No point in hiding just yet.

With swirling energies visible around his stilled body, he began his work.

"Amnesia. Judgement. Descending Circle. Heed and Still. He who watches with indifference, disobey the laws of nature. Govern this sanctified domain and disallow transgressions. In the name of the Spirit, I beseech thee. Let fly those who dream of flight. Violate the grant and fall in love with humans once more. Bestow Totality."

Even with his chant-shortening abilities, for a barrier this strong, he had to recast the barrier at a hundred and thirty-seven points equidistant in space, including in midair. It had taken around ten hours, and the atmospheric magic within a twenty kilometre radius was concentrated into a fifty metre magical fortress. By the time the barrier upheld itself, he had passed out for the final time. The devils would have felt that.

Since they absorbed the energies around them to refill their reservoir, angels and their less-holy derivations were naturally attuned to atmospheric magics. Experiencing a void in this sense would be akin to stepping within the Dimensional Gap, with the adverse symptoms of severe paranoia and minor psychosis.

In the middle of a meeting, Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, of the seventy-two Demonic Pillars of Solomon, were within this range. They had felt a strong pull on their own reservoir, as if it had magnetised itself to the air and they had to obey. They were discussing some menial task about strayed devils when they felt this force, and both dropped to their knees wheezing. Present was Akeno Himejima and Yuuto Kiba of Gremory, and Tsubaki Shinra of Sitri. All saw their Kings fall, then felt the force themselves. With the deceptively humanoid creatures letting their slick leather wings curl at their back, they permeated the atmosphere with their magic. As beings with reservoirs, they naturally bled energy into their atmosphere. Most knew to expend the energy to overcome this force, if they had to be stealthy. With the less atmospheric magic around them, the more energy taken to expend this energy. It was never a problem they ever had to encounter.

Perhaps if the Grigori's Governor General were present, he would have discovered the reason why. But these were fledglings in the beginning years of their lifespans, mere children in the faces of what felt like a calamity. They had lost consciousness after Issei had placed the twentieth point, sucking even more lifeblood from the atmosphere.

Humans would remain unaffected, thankfully. Some may experience drowsiness but with no worse symptoms.

Upon awakening, they would feel a sickening holy energy permeating the air, as if a Seraph-Class angel had descended and released their full aura. Too strong to track directly, it would take vivid investigation to find the source.

Issei Hyoudou rested meanwhile.