Famous rapper Drake, known by his real name Aubrey Graham, found himself caught in quite a mess. The night before, he'd been out partying when he suddenly woke up with a splitting headache. He rubbed his temples, groggy, realizing he wasn't in any place he recognized. The room around him was unfamiliar, almost creepy. Where am I? he thought, blinking against the harsh light. This place was strange... Too strange.
He knew a bit of various languages from touring the world, but that didn't help much now. Most of the signs and symbols in this new place didn't make sense to him. Not that he could speak many languages fluently anyway.
After wandering through the unfamiliar streets for a while, Drake found himself standing in front of a large school: Kuoh Academy. One of the few places he'd seen that still had English on its signs. Relieved by this small comfort, he decided to head in, hoping someone there could help him figure out where the hell he was.
As he strolled through the campus, taking in the architecture and the groups of uniformed students, something felt... off. The peaceful chatter and laughter of students were in the air, but beneath that, there was something else. The atmosphere was thick, heavy with a tension he couldn't explain. It was almost as if there was some kind of unseen swirling around the place.
Drake squinted and took a deep breath. 'How do I even know what this place feels like?' he thought, frowning. It wasn't like he could sense energy or anything. He wasn't into that spiritual stuff. Yet, somehow, the air here felt different from what he was used to back home in Toronto. It made him uneasy.
He wasn't sure what to make of it, but that wasn't his main concern. He needed to figure out where he was and how to get back home. 'Not that I even remember how I got here in the first place,' he thought, frustration biting at him.
As Drake wandered further, he stumbled across a group of students practicing martial arts on the academy grounds. He stopped, watching them with a raised eyebrow. Their movements were fast, sharp, and precise. It was impressive, even for someone like him who had never been much of a fighter. He never claimed to be. After all, beef with Kendrick Lamar was about as close as he'd ever come to a real confrontation, and even that was over a microphone.
Ever since that point in his career, things had felt like they were spiraling. It was as if the world was against the "6 God."
Drake found himself momentarily lost in thought, watching the students spar. 'How did I get here?' The question echoed in his mind. Confusion grew in him, and with it, a growing sense of unease. He had question after question, all unanswered, and no idea where to begin.
One of the students noticed Drake watching them and approached him. The student spoke in Japanese, asking if Drake was looking for something. Drake blinked, completely lost. He hadn't picked up a word of Japanese in his life, so he decided to wing it and speak in English, hoping for the best.
"Uh, I'm lost. Can you tell me where I am?" Drake asked, trying to keep his tone casual. The student furrowed his brow, clearly confused, and turned to whisper something to his friend. Drake sighed deeply and moved on, deciding to head into the school building. He knew he stood out here with his expensive designer clothes, foreign looks, and lack of the local language made him stick out like a sore thumb.
'This has to be Kendrick's doing... damn that midget,' Drake thought, shaking his head. He needed to get home fast. His son, Adonis, was probably missing him by now. His team would take care of Adonis, but still, Drake didn't like being away for long. The situation was getting weirder by the minute.
As he wandered deeper into the school, he saw a sign that said Student Council. 'That's gotta be the place to get some answers,' he thought, heading toward the office. After knocking on the door, he heard a voice calling him in.
A girl with short, black hair styled into a neat bob, glasses resting on her nose, and striking violet eyes greeted him as he stepped inside. She blinked, looking slightly confused at his presence but kept her composure. Despite her calm demeanor, there was an unease about her, as though she was sizing him up, trying to figure out if he was a threat.
Drake flashed his signature charismatic smile as he sat down, speaking in English once again, hoping she'd understand.
"Yo, what's up? So, my name is Aubrey Graham, but you probably know me as Drake. I'm kinda lost here… Can you help me out?" He said, leaning into his stage name, fully expecting her to recognize him.
To his surprise, her expression remained neutral.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Graham," she began, her tone polite yet firm. "I've never heard of anyone going by the name Drake. But I can help you figure out where you need to go."
Drake's smile faltered for a second. 'She doesn't know who I am?' That was a first. But before he could process it, she continued speaking, her tone sharp and analytical. She wasn't the type to let anything slip through her fingers, and she could sense something unusual about him. While she wasn't the kind to forcefully turn humans into devils, she certainly wasn't one to let potential slip away easily either.
"Alright, cool," Drake said, nodding. "Glad you can speak English. So yeah, I was out with my OVO crew, just partying, and next thing I know, I'm here. Look, I really don't wanna be here. I need to get back to Toronto. Like, ASAP."
"Toronto? So you're from Canada," she said, crossing her arms as she thought for a moment. "I'm sure I can help guide you, but there's one problem. You don't have any money, right? You won't be able to get overseas without it."
Drake raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. No money? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his credit card, showing it to her confidently.
"I've got my card. I'll be fine," he said, flashing it like it was the key to all his problems.
But Sona frowned, examining the card from a distance.
"That card looks... odd, Mr. Graham. I can't confirm if it's real or not," she said, her curiosity clearly piqued. She had studied everything about financial systems from different countries, and while she knew what Canadian and American credit cards looked like, this one didn't match. It seemed foreign, in a way she couldn't quite place.
Drake's confidence wavered. 'What do you mean you don't know if it's real?' He was about to protest when Sona suddenly stood and bowed politely.
"Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself properly. My name is Sona Shitori. I'm the head of the Student Council here at Kuoh Academy," she said, her voice even. "Unfortunately, I'm not familiar with your situation. As much as I would like to help, I don't have a clear understanding of how you got here or how to get you back."
Drake understood Sona's limitations but was still disappointed. As he continued wandering through Kuoh, his thoughts racing, he suddenly heard a loud commotion. Curiosity piqued, he followed the noise and stumbled upon a startling scene: a young guy being attacked by a beautiful woman... with wings.
Drake's heart raced, a mix of shock and confusion taking hold of him. 'What the fuck?' he thought, but even amidst the chaos, he couldn't help but notice that the woman had everything he liked to see, dangerous or not.
The woman introduced herself as Raynare, revealing she was a fallen angel, and then continued her assault on the kid, who she called Issei. Drake watched in horror as Raynare easily overpowered Issei, striking him with brutal attacks, leaving the boy defenseless.
Instinctively, Drake's body moved before his mind could catch up. He sprinted toward the battle, determined to help somehow. But just as he got close, a group of students appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and got ready to fight.
Drake skidded to a halt, staring in awe. 'What the hell is going on here?' he thought, wide-eyed. These student, whoever they were, began fighting Raynare with supernatural abilities, firing off blasts of energy and incredible strength that rivaled anything Drake had ever seen. They managed to drive Raynare away, leaving the scene eerily calm once more.
After the battle, Drake cautiously approached the group. They introduced themselves as the Occult Research Club, led by a striking redhead named Rias Gremory. She, like Sona, seemed to sense something unusual in him. Something about his presence caught her attention.
Rias's eyes lingered on Drake, her expression thoughtful. 'Interesting...' she mused. He didn't know it, but Rias could feel the same potential in him that Sona had. She would keep a close eye on him.
Meanwhile, Drake's mind was spinning. He had so many questions, but none of this made any sense. 'I feel like I took way too many pills last night...' he thought, shaking his head. He loved partying, sure, but this? This was next-level insanity. Was he in a world filled with demons? As the Occult Research Club began to leave, Rias handed him a pamphlet with a small smile and a wink before she disappeared.
Over the next few days, Drake couldn't shake what he had seen. His curiosity got the better of him, and he sought out the ORC, desperate for answers. To his surprise, Rias was more than willing to explain.
"This world is basically run by supernatural factions like devils, angels, fallen angels with all of it hidden from humans," Drake repeated what Rias had explained in short, who nodded in response.
Drake, sitting across from her, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, you're saying you're all devils? And you're the leader of a 'peerage,' with everyone in your group being your... servants?"
"That's right," Rias confirmed, picking up a chess piece from the table, a bishop. She eyed Drake carefully, sensing the incredible potential within him. His magical power was off the charts, but so was his physical strength. She wanted to gauge him properly.
Curious, Rias asked, "If you were a chess piece, how would you describe yourself? What role would suit you best?"
Drake chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, I'm not much of a chess player. Last time I played was years ago against P. Diddy, and I got smoked... don't even want to think about that one." He waved the thought away, disturbed at the memory. "But if I had to pick? I don't know, I always go for the queen. Best offense, right?"
Rias nodded approvingly. "Good choice... though," she began, diving deeper into the intricacies of the supernatural world. As she explained, Drake found himself feeling overwhelmed, his head spinning with all the new information. 'This is crazy... what am I even doing here?'
But amidst the confusion, one thing was clear. Drake needed to adapt, fast. Whatever had brought him here wasn't just a mistake. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to survive in this world of devils and fallen angels.
His thoughts drifted back to Raynare and the attack on Issei. "So these fallen angels... they just attack people? Indulge in hurting humans?" he asked, his voice tinged with disgust. Drake wasn't exactly a people person, but watching someone get attacked like that had stirred something in him. He wasn't about to stand by and let people get hurt, especially not by creatures like her.
Rias observed the way his fists clenched. 'There's a sense of righteousness in him,' she thought. He wasn't just a typical human.
"Tell me, Rias," Drake said, his voice more serious now. "How do I learn to use this magic you keep talking about?"
With everything more or less explained to him, Drake had a crazy idea. He'd use his talents the only way he knew how: by dropping a diss track aimed directly at the fallen angels, especially Raynare. Fueled by anger and frustration, he spent time writing and recording, pouring all his hate and fire into the lyrics.
When the track was finally done, Drake uploaded it to a popular music-sharing site, not expecting much. But to his surprise, the song went viral. People from all over the world were sharing it, praising its catchy beat and sharp bars.
Even the supernatural community took notice. Fallen angels, devils, and other beings tuned in, with some fallen angels even dropping their own diss tracks in response, taking shots at Drake. But he didn't back down. Instead, he doubled down, using his platform to call out anyone who hurt innocent people. This wasn't just music anymore. It was a weapon, his weapon.
Rias Gremory and her inner circle caught wind of Drake's efforts. Akeno, the queen of teasing, joked about his tracks being his "Sacred Gear." They saw it as a funny parallel to the supernatural weapons they wielded in battle. But in a way, his music was a weapon, one that seemed to shake up the entire supernatural world.
As Drake worked alongside Rias and her peerage to fight the fallen angels, his disdain grew, especially towards Kokabiel, a war-hungry fallen angel leader. Kokabiel thirsted for conflict between devils, angels, and humans, wanting to tear down the fragile balance that existed. Drake had enough.
He dropped another diss track, this one titled "Hummingbird," aimed straight at Kokabiel. The lyrics were scathing:
"He think he tough, he ain't no Mike Jack / Suit on, hair down, he think he is black."
This time, the track wasn't just shared globally but also hit the supernatural social app "Splitter," a version of Twitter used by devils, angels, and other non-humans. The track blew up, causing a stir among the fallen angels. Kokabiel, known for his brutality, was not one to take disrespect lightly. He was furious, but Drake didn't care. His music had already sparked resistance. People, both human and supernatural, began speaking out against Kokabiel's tyranny, emboldened by Drake's message.
Drake's diss tracks weren't just entertainment anymore, they were a rallying cry for justice. His bars inspired others to stand up to Kokabiel and his followers. The battle lines were drawn, and eventually, Drake's antagonistic jabs led to a direct confrontation with Kokabiel himself.
The cold, ruthless fallen angel was no stranger to battle, but Drake's challenge wasn't one of fists or magic but was a freestyle battle. Kokabiel, surprisingly enough, accepted, respecting the art of the contest. Drake didn't know what to expect. Was Kokabiel secretly a lyrical genius? But despite the tension, Drake was confident in his ability to spit bars. He'd been praised for his freestyles back home, and now, it was time to show what he was made of.
The battle took place before a crowd of supernatural beings like devils, fallen angels, and even a few humans aware of the supernatural, all eager to see how this strange clash would play out. Kokabiel started strong, but Drake was better. His flow was smoother, his punchlines hit harder, and his energy was unmatched.
Kokabiel had never experienced anything like this. For a leader of the fallen angels to be publicly humiliated in a battle of words was unheard of. Drake destroyed him, his lyrics cutting deep and leaving no room for recovery. The crowd roared with approval as Drake had won.
In that moment, the races of the supernatural world were all united in one undeniable fact: Drake was the real MC. The king of the mic. Even the most fearsome creatures in existence couldn't deny his skills.
After the battle, Kokabiel, humbled by his defeat, approached Drake and extended his hand. "You're a true spitter," he admitted. "And a worthy opponent."
Drake accepted the handshake, nodding respectfully. He knew there would be more challenges ahead, more battles to fight, but he felt ready. Armed with his music, his words, and his passion for justice, Drake had found a new purpose in this strange supernatural world.
He wasn't just a rapper anymore. He was a voice for change, a symbol of resistance against tyranny. And in a world filled with devils and angels, that made him more powerful than any magic or Sacred Gear.
Drake had become the real MC this world needed.