Don't Own DxD or anything else, Only The Oc
'thought'
"Speech"
System Text
"Tvs, Radios, and Text via book or newspaper... when those are around..."
My eyes snap open as I look around blearily.
Ah.
So I survived.
Good.
My body aches as I glance around, I appear to be alone in some sort of medical room.
It lacks the amenities you might see in a hospital room and is frankly a little barren.
There's just a large- and very comfortable- bed, a bedside table, and a string on the wall that seems to be absolutely begging me to pull it.
I fall victim to my urges... then I hear it in the distance *Ding-Ding*
The ringing of a bell.
I look over my body, letting out a low hum. It appears my dirtied clothes have been replaced with a basic white dress shirt, like you'd see medieval aristocrats wear.
My body aches, but there appears to be no lasting injuries.
I slowly turn, placing my feet on the floor as I look around the room once more. My throat is quite dry.
The door eventually opens, revealing a woman, her power is low. Clearly low class. Of lesser importance.
She is clearly some sort of maid or nurse. Her hair kept back in a bonnet, her dress dark in color, presumably pretty useful to disguise blood stains. In her hands is a tray with a crystal glass of water on it.
"Ah! Lord Decarabia." She then flinches slightly as my eyebrow twitches, she looks down at the floor. "I... apologize... that must still be quite a painful memory."
"U-Uh... H-Heiress Sitri has told me to bring you to her the moment you wake up."
"I see." I casually mutter as I rise from the bed. "Where is she?"
"U-Uh... just outside, organizing a medical transport for the Gremory Army... Heiress Sitri mainly deals with Logistics and resupplying the two main attacking fronts."
"I see." I note. I also didn't ask... about that last bit, that is.
"Would you like some water, my lord?" She questions.
"No. I'm fine." I frown. "Just take me to the Sitri heiress."
As she turns I wordlessly create water with my demonic magic and guide it into my mouth.
I'm not about to trust some random woman moments after almost being assassinated. She could be an old satan faction spy... and that water could be poisoned.
No chances.
I follow her through the hospital, eventually leaving through the front door.
Outside, numerous tents sit within the yard of this hospital.
Many people go around, carrying healing supplies, I can see a woman spooning a second inside of a tent that we pass by.
Ah. Right. That technically heals people, doesn't it?
Eventually I am led to the largest of the tents. The woman in front of me briefly poking her head inside. "Miss, Sitri. Gaius Decarabia has awoken."
"Good." A voice from within states. "Is he well enough to come meet me?"
"I am." I cut in as I step past the woman who has guided me here, offering a sole nod as I do so.
I my gaze shifts to the purple eyed woman with long black hair stood in front of a large map of what my implanted knowledge tells me is the underworld.
"Gaius Decarabia." She greets with a small nod, with a wave of her hand, a spell seems to descend on the room. Some form of privacy ward. "I am pleased to see you unhurt."
"Serafall Sitri." I reply. "Thank you for saving my life... as for injuries? Physically I am fine, yes. I can deal with the mental scarring later. Where is the nearest blacksmith?"
"Ah... yes..." The girl mutters, bowing her head slightly as her voice becomes quiet and solemn. "I am deeply sorry that I was not even a few minutes sooner... I... I take this as you wishing to join the anti-satan faction?"
"What do you think?" I question with a half-lidded glare. "My family is dead. My home and everything that I have owned... burnt to cinders. All that I know and have known has been irreversibly changed because some fools desire to make every pantheon the devil faction's enemy. Those Inept few who have hastily attempted to follow in their parents footsteps, who try desperately to fill the shoes left behind by their predecessor... they feared what might happen should I join the opposing side. Now, I plan to show them that those fears are very well-founded."
Her eyes widen as she glances to her arm, it appears that a brief chill crossed her body.
"I... see." She gasps. "I... do not know if your abilities would be better suited as a general... or as a blacksmith."
"I can assure you. It is blacksmithing." I frown. "I may be able to invoke emotion with words thanks to my Decarabian clan trait... however, my Malthus clan trait has mutated into something truly monstrous."
"You- You have a mutated clan trait as well?" She whispers.
"As well?" I question.
"Ah..." The woman whispers, raising a hand. "The Sitri clan trait is greatly enhanced water affinity. Water spells are more powerful and are far cheaper. I, however, unlocked the same... but for ice."
"I see. I suppose you would be wanting to know my specialty, then." I mutter. "I assume you know of the Malthus Clan Trait? To grant weapons and armor an additional minor magical trait during the smithing process, be it enhanced durability, greater sharpness, or a greater affinity for fire enchantments."
I raise a finger. "Let me tell you first and foremost. I cannot do that. I lost that ability when my clan trait was altered. But, what I have gained in exchange is something far greater."
"There are two core aspects of my current ability. The first, is less impressive, however it is still something of note. When I create something, it starts out weak... but over time it begins to grow stronger... rapidly. If I were to make you a sword as of this moment, it would possibly be worse than your current blacksmiths, as, I will admit, I am still relatively new to blacksmithing... my father only started teaching me the craft five years ago... however. By the end of the year, that blade would have not only reached the capabilities of what they made, but well and truly surpassed it."
"That is-" her eyes widen slightly.
"And allow me to say, this improvement? It never stops. It merely slows down... and for a long-lived race like devils? A sword I make now might very well become a weapon comparable to the strongest known weapons in the world in a thousand or two thousand years."
"Is that true?!" She demands.
"The concept of an item growing stronger endlessly? Yes. Though I'm unsure of the strength of legendary weaponry. Plus, I did mention it would grow stronger slower the older it gets." I nod once. "I haven't experimented with it much, to be honest, so I'm not sure how fast something grows stronger."
The woman cups her chin, her eyes flicking over the map nearby. "Hrn... to have weapons that grow stronger over time. Even if it is extraordinarily slow... one percent per year. For a race like ours- but, to be actually noticeable... it would have to be more that just a mere one percent..."
"Oh wow." I mutter, a small smirk on my face. "For you to this serious, honestly, I sort of don't even want to tell you the second thing."
Her eyes flick back to me, seemingly begging for me to go on.
"I can invest the concept of experience into items." I admit.
She looks confused at my statement. "What do you... mean?"
"Weapons I create- and exclusively weapons, sadly- gain experience through battle like any soldier. My weapons will grow stronger with each and every engagement- provided they aren't broken- through every battle. With each and every kill they will steadily reach a point where I can 'promote' them, absorbing other weapons to increase the original weapon's baseline statistics... and, there's even a chance that a weapon can evolve into something greater... Theoretically, I could turn a butter knife into the holy sword Excalibur if it is used in enough battles."
The woman's mouth opens slightly, then closes.
She tries to say something, but no words come out.
Eventually she decides on just two simple words...
"Prove it."
I wipe sweat from my brow as I let out a long breath, the heat of the forge slowly getting to me.
I have never even seen an anvil, let alone used it to beat a piece of hot metal into place... yet... this just seems so familiar. Like riding a bike, only, I've never actually learned how to ride a bike in this scenario.
I look over the edge as I lift the blade from the spinning grindstone, letting out a quiet hum.
The blade is straight. The edge, sharpened to a point that surpasses even the greatest mundane human works.
The durability is also far greater.
I nod once and turn around, offering the blade to the black haired woman who is stood back observing me.
She looks over it. "It... is a bit weaker than what our soldiers normally use, yes. However... if what you say is true..."
She lets out a low hum. "Fluffy."
With a flash, a strange icy bird that also appears to be on fire at the same time appears on her extended arm with a flash.
Ah. a Familiar?
She walks over to one of the nearby strewn sheathes for weapons, picks one that fits my sword quite snugly and offers it to the strange ice-fire falcon. "Can you take this to Latia?"
It lets out a quiet shriek, then disappears out the door
"Couldn't you just teleport that to this... Latia?" I question.
"Teleportation magic can be tracked." The woman replies simply. "It is used so much, but, after our skirmishes, their best trackers have managed to pinpoint the energy auras of Myself, Seras, Latia, and Iryuka."
'Who?' She doesn't seem to see my confusion and continues speaking. "Thus, whenever we use it, and someone is either at the starting location of the teleportation, the end, or somewhere in between the two points, they can get a general idea of where we were and where we are going... thus, teleporting to one of our armies- in myself in particular- teleporting to one of our armies has a fairly substantial chance to reveal its position. That is why I used my Familiar to transport that weapon."
"I... see..." I mutter slowly. "Should I continue creating weapons?"
The woman lets out a low hum. "At the moment? No... I will show you to where you will be staying for the time being."
My eyes snap open upon hearing a quiet 'ding' noise, I sit up, fist clenching.
Congratulations! You have escaped from the clutches of the Old Satan Faction! This is quite the achievement! As a reward, we shall grant you one of three randomly selected perks!
Smith (100 CF)
You have a particular talent for creating anything a blacksmith/armorsmith/weaponsmith might create. Any such crafted object is half again as durable as it would otherwise be.
Creation times are halved and your natural talent increases with each purchase of this knack.
*Can be Purchased indefinitely for creation time modifiers
Beniemiya (50 CF)
It might just be something in the water, both what you're drinking and what you serve to the guests that adore every meal you make. You're a savant when it comes to making meals, not just limited to Eastern dishes either. With a little experimentation, you can make almost anything into a mouth watering feast for both the taste buds and the eyes. The real problem isn't making a good meal but keeping all these greedy pigs from eating you out of house and home. Now, while cooking good food is a prize well worth it, you do also have a more useful aspect here. By channeling magical energy into your tools and ingredients as you work, you're able to 'enchant' the meal with a variety of useful effects. A hearty beef stew that lets a warrior heal their wounds much faster than normal, sugary sweets that give people the speed of the wind, a mighty hamburger that temporarily bulges the muscles to greater heights. Even negative effects are possible, if you want to taint your food that way. They only last for a temporary period and the effects tend to be fairly weak without a lot of mana put in but it makes your food all the more popular.
Nanotech Wizard (200 CF)
You acquire a basic understanding of nanotech. Use it to fix yourself up when you get hurt, or use it on others.
If integrated with weapons or armor, it gives them the capacity to upgrade over time and to potentially change their abilities.
"…"
I can only pick one, huh?
The options are becoming a vastly better blacksmith, magic food- which theoretically should synergize with Patient Magic, right? Magic alcohols that grow power potent over time?
Then... nanotech?
Weapons upgrade over time...
Or rather, weaponsfurther upgrade over time?
On one hand, I know nothing about cooking, so the cooking ability will let me woo all the ladies by being incredibly skilled at baking. Making me appear to be the perfect house husband.
On the other hand. The underworld is currently in the middle of a war. A nice soufflé won't save me from getting murdered by incredibly powerful bullshit.
So, sadly cooking is out. Sad.
unless, of course, I could convince Ophis to be my guard dog, but it's likely that Great Red hasn't run her out of the dimensional gap yet.
The real question I should be asking myself is 'do I value my time or quality more'?
On one hand, I'd be able to make twice as many weapons and armor, plus they'd naturally be fifty percent more durable.
On the other. Nanotech healing and upgrades.
I tap my finger on my bed, narrowing my eyes slightly. But Nanotech begs the question of 'if I am granted the knowledge and capabilities to create it'.
How basic is the 'basic understanding of nanotech'?
I... guess the only way to find out would be to pick it.
Pick something good now, rapidly improving the rate I can make things and improving durability by a drastic fifty percent... or something that would have more benefit in the long run but might be a total trap for me.
I stare at the screen for a long moment. Then let out a small sigh and choose 'nanotech'.
Information begins to slot into place.
Malthus Mutated Clan Trait combined with 'Nanotech Wizard' to further empower itself.
Huh?
My eyes widen as realization sets in...
'Heh... heheheh.'
I look to my hand, and suddenly a wave of silver seems to roll and crash over my hand.
It surrounds my hand, flaring and flickering like fire... frankly it looks a bit like a dragon ball z aura...
Ulturah instinctu.
Honestly, that was probably a good comparison.
It does look like the ultra-instinct aura.
I quietly rub an eye, rising to my feet with a sigh. 'Well, I doubt I'll be able to get back to sleep. Let's go see if I can make anything.'
Pov: Elsewhere.
A black haired woman slowly makes her way through a large network of tents in the yard just in front of a large hospital building. At her side is a woman with long blonde hair that has blue tips.
"So... this is the place?" The blonde mutters, there's a sudden glint to her eye. "My, how interesting."
Serafall gazes upwards, spying smoke spewing from a chimney towards the back half of the larger tent. "It seems like he is up early."
Serafall's past two days have been... interesting to say the least. First she went to go plead her case to last of the Decarabia and Malthus clans... if they agreed, the war effort would surely tilt into the anti-satan faction's favor.
Both the Malthus and Decarabia clans truly shone during the great war that ended nearly one hundred years ago. The Decarabian voice, capable of bolstering or weakening an entire army... and the Malthus sword smithing, capable of making any blade created by them just... better.
And while Gaius Decarabia called that enhancement 'minor', the truth is, it wasn't actually that small of an increase. It was a fairly impressive increase.
Not enough to match an enchanted blade on its own, mind you, but if you actually enchanted the weapon... it'd far surpass any weapon made of similar materials by someone with similar skills.
But. Compared to what Gaius claimed his clan trait can now do? She supposes that is a 'minor enhancement' in comparison.
Regardless, Serafall was going to them to plead her case for joining their side in the war... only... by the time she had arrived, the Decarabia estate was being burnt to the ground, with the last Decarabia and Malthus about to be murdered by the leviathan general of the pro-war faction.
Luckily, she was distracted, thus allowing Serafall to punch her in the throat, pick up the younger devil who had ruptured organs, and quickly bring him back to their current back-line. At which point, she used one of their very few Phoenix Tears on him.
Regardless of the Phoenix Tear, he was utterly exhausted, recovering for almost a full twenty-four hours.
After that... she officially met Gaius Decarabia for the first time.
She had heard of his existence beforehand, but the post great war devil society was tense, there are not 'get togethers' or holidays. No gatherings. The only time you meet another pillar devil is typically through sheer happenstance or when you are told to engage someone to better improve your future bloodline.
She didn't know what to expect from him, then she heard the Decarabian voice for the first time.
Chilling.
He has so much wrath inside his body... and rightfully so. His family faithfully served the four satans for centuries during the long-raging great war. Not only his parents, but his grandparents and great grandparents as well. To be cast aside and murdered merely for deciding to stay neutral...
Those war mongering fools genuinely have no sense, do they? Why would you kill the underworld's best rally speaker and swordsmith if you wanted to fight against the other pantheons?! That's just asking for the devil race to be rendered extinct.
The lack of foresight that the descendants of the original satans have is... frankly a little terrifying, and luckily, most of the twelve remaining neutral houses thought the same. With nine of them coming to the Anti-Satan faction's side.
Now that they are both here, they can hear a faint banging noise. It appears that he put some sort of silencing enhancement on the tent itself.
The two women step forwards, entering the tent only to pause.
Standing before them is a shirtless figure, he has black hair, purple eyes and a surprisingly well-muscled form. A sheen of sweat coats his body. He has apparently been at this quite a while.
Clinging to his body is a streaming, gleaming light. It flows around his form, creeping down his arm and exploding outwards in a shower of glittering sparks as the hammer in his hand makes contact with the sword below.
"Hm? That is... interesting." Latia mutters, giving away their presence.
The young black haired devil glances over his shoulder, letting out a low hum. "Hn? Oh. It's you. Do you need a special order, or should I just start making as many swords as I can?"
"I..."
"What is this energy thing you are doing?" Latia questions abruptly. "You are... controlling your very demonic power, giving it a sort of pseudo-intellect to assist you within your blacksmithing... you are also beating it into the metal each and every time you swing your hammer."
He's doing what?
Giving his demonic energy... Intelligence?!
"Oh? I sort of just figured this out early this morning... I couldn't sleep, so I decided to work instead just laying around all night doing nothing." The black haired boy casually admits, seemingly not realizing just how utterly impossible what he is doing is. "As for why I am forcefully placing this 'Intelligent Energy' into the blade... if I am correct, it should allow the weapons and armor to adapt and upgrade in a manner that is different than my 'leveling up'."
He picks up the sword he is working on and quenches it, causing rainbow fire to lick up at his hand. His face twitches slightly, but overall, he doesn't show that much discomfort from the flames. "I take it that you are this 'Latia' Serafall mentioned?"
"I am." The blonde woman nods once.
He takes the hammer and lazily tosses it underhand to the blonde woman who snags it out of the air, looking down at it.
"I made that hammer earlier using my 'nano-energy' technique. There's another on the countertop that I made alongside it. They were originally the exact same, but, the more I used that one there, it began to change, little by little." He explains as the blonde glances over, taking the other hammer and looking over both.
Visually, they appear to be quite similar, but the one he was just using has a more 'blackened' part near the actual flat part of the hammer.
Be that from getting scorched by the extremely hot temperatures or through some sort of deeper change, Serafall is unsure.
"It... It is changing." Latia observes. "Your energy runs through these hammers like blood. It is fixing any minute cracks and damage received from your forging... and not only that, whatever it fixes seems to have become better, more durable, heat resistant, and harder in general."
Serfall's eyes flick to her fellow general, eyes wide.
Getting such praise from Latia is unusual. Especially after she started trying to develop her own sort of 'clan-trait-like' power that is different than the typical Astaroth Clan Trait of affinity for mental magics.
These two are... monstrous in sheer potential.
"I would like to observe you as you continue blacksmithing... at least for a while." The Astaroth Heir smiles brightly.
"Do what you want." The teen shrugs as he looks to the blade clutched in metal tongs.
"Wait... there is actually something I'd like to check." The blonde begins as a weapon appears in her hand.
The sword that Serafall had sent to her early yesterday.
"Does this have enough experience to 'Promote'?" Latia questions.
The black haired teen lets out a low click with his tongue as he steps over. A low hum leaving his mouth as he takes the blade. "Huh. You've already killed people with it... yeah. It does, actually."
He turns walking over to a nearby weapon rack.
He looks between the blades for a moment before deciding on one and picking it up.
He gently presses the blades together, aligning them as the original sword glows brightly.
With a flash of light, only one of the swords remain.
He walks back over, offering the sword to Latia.
The woman gazes over the blade for a long moment, casting numerous diagnostic spells, her eyes widening fractionally. "This intelligent energy... it now permeates through this sword... in addition its sharpness has improved by five percent... but it's durability increased by a staggering forty percent."
"That sword I infused it with had a durability enchantment on it." The purple-eyed boy explains blandly before going back to the one sword he was working on that he laid aside. "If it had evolved it likely would have gotten far more powerful. Though, I am unsure how to invoke evolution... perhaps I just need to upgrade those weapons enough."
"Incredible..." Latia whispers. "This is... this could allow us to easily win the war."
Once more, incredibly high praise from a woman who has tremendously high standards.
Perhaps Serafall was lucky that she decided to go on ahead from the rest of her group to see the Decarabia clan.
Heyooo here with another chapter! I hope you enjoy!